One Day Earlier

Hermione sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor, quill and parchment in hand. "We already decided on this an hour ago. You agreed that 'Dear Draco' was classical and timeless. He's a snob. I bet he never deviates from the proper letter protocols. Salazar Slytherin always began his letters with 'Dear so-and-so'. It was in Salazar's Correspondence, 3rd edition."

Myrtle pranced over to the sink, adjusting her glasses in the mirror. "But 'Dearest Draco' is more sensual. He needs to know that I'm a girl of passion. Just because I wear glasses doesn't mean I spend my time cuddling with stuffy old books."

Hermione rested a hand defensively on her stack of books. They were stuffy and old. That was what made them so valuable. Quills and Me was a first edition from one of the Wizarding World's most respected 18th century authors. "You don't spend your time cuddling with anyone."

Myrtle stuck her nose in the air. "I'll have you know I died when the flower of my youth was about to bloom. I would have had dozens of lovers. Ones far handsomer than that blonde lug you've been dallying with. He has a head like a watermelon. And he isn't at all shy in the prefect's bathroom. He may brag about his quidditch skills, but his equipment is third-rate."

Hermione couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. She had always thought that McLaggen's inflated ego had to be compensating for something. She was sure there was no shortage of girls willing to sneak him into the prefect's bathroom. She would overlook the trespass. Anything that kept him away from her was a blessing, and she had bigger fish to fry. "Back to the task at hand. I'll just leave the greeting blank. What do you want to say next?"

"I thought I would begin with a poem. I just need to find the right word to rhyme with grey."

Hermione dutifully scribbled down all of Myrtle's dreadful rhymes.

Ten minutes later, Myrtle decided to abandon the poem. "Poetry's too restrictive. I need to let my heart soar like an eagle."

Hermione erased the poetry with glee. She hadn't wanted to be responsible for unleashing that on the world. "Good call. Ginny Weasley wrote a poem for Harry once and they're both still traumatised by it."

Myrtle rounded on her with a ferocious glare. "That red-headed twit! She wouldn't know romance if it hit her on the head. I bet she dyes her hair! Harry will see right through her."

"She's a Weasley, Myrtle. They all have red hair. You must have seen dozens of them come through this school. We're focusing on Malfoy, remember?"

Myrtle was making her dizzy. She was floating upside down, spinning around and around at high speed, chattering away non-stop. Apparently it was part of her creative process.

"Riddle had eyes like lasers. Like bullets."

Hermione sighed. "He's a Pureblood, Myrtle. He won't get your Muggle metaphors."

"Eyes like a stunning spell…"

Hermione wanted to cover her ears and scream, but she kept on writing. She felt like a hostage to Myrtle's madness. She couldn't stop.

"They were pretty eyes, but not half as pretty as yours. Even then, he had no soul. But you do. I could tell the first time I saw you. I don't know if ghosts have souls, but if you have one you shouldn't throw it away. You'll end up looking all bald and snakey and gross."

Hermione almost dropped her pen. Now they were getting somewhere. She wasn't sure Myrtle had actually ever seen Tom Riddle's eyes, but under the circumstances some creative license was called for. If Myrtle could just stay on point, they could have a semi-readable soul-saving missive in an hour. Malfoy was very susceptible to flattery. He and Myrtle had that in common.

"But let me tell you about the summer of my fourth year. There was a boy next door with golden locks…"

She groaned and put her hands over her ears. "Make it stop."

"What? I'm just trying to inspire some jealousy. Every good romance needs a love triangle and you already banned Harry's name."

Hermione dug through her satchel and pulled out a book with a glossy pink cover. "If I promise to give you this copy of Veela in Venice, will you skip the trip down memory lane? Please?"

Myrtle raised a ghostly eyebrow. "Interesting choice of reading material. So Hermione Granger does have a-"

"I brought it with me for bribery purposes only." That was the absolute truth. She had thought Myrtle might need some persuasion to spill her guts about Malfoy. But she would leave out the fact that the book had been buried at the bottom of her suitcase for months. It had been a gag present from Ginny. She couldn't bring herself to throw it away. She had been a little curious, okay?

"Read it to me," Myrtle demanded imperiously. "I need some inspiration."

Hermione scoffed. "No. After we're done here, I'll set up a page-turning charm for you. You can read it yourself."

"Then my lips are sealed." Myrtle mimed zipping up her lips.

They had a short staring contest before Hermione gave in. Their plan was seeming more and more ridiculous by the minute, but she had already committed half of her Saturday to it. She was going to see it through. If nothing else, this letter would give Malfoy a good laugh. Maybe soften him up for a more direct attack. "Fine. But you will never speak of this to anyone. Ever."

Myrtle hovered cross-legged above the sink and motioned for Hermione to start. Her eyes were wild and eager. Hermione guessed that ghosthood could be boring sometimes. "As the sun went down, Violet twirled a radiant lock of her hair and looked out over the canal. Was he out there? The one destined to see her true heart beneath the beauty? She could feel him calling to her…"

"Enough," Hermione said half an hour later as Violet was about to greet a mysterious caller, slamming the book shut. "Time to get back to work."

"One more chapter? Please?"

"No. Carry on with the letter. I want three pages within the hour." She had skimmed ahead a little, and the book was on the verge of heating up. She was not reading those scenes out loud in a grimy bathroom.

Her decision was just in time, as a first year darted into the room. The little girl took one look at Hermione and Myrtle before backing out into the hallway like her tail was on fire. Hermione hadn't even needed to drag out her excuse about interviewing Myrtle for a History of Magic essay. When the footsteps faded away, Hermione straightened up and touched her quill to the parchment. "How about something on how it feels to be a ghost? Surely Malfoy wants to avoid that fate for himself."

Myrtle sniffed. "Well, I always feel cold. I wasn't wearing my warm socks on the day I was murdered…"

One Hour Later

"Screw it," Hermione said suddenly, cutting off Myrtle's long metaphor about plumbing. "This is silly. I'm not co-writing a letter to Draco Malfoy. I'm going to set up a Quick Quotes Quill and come back in an hour."

"Granger-"

"I told myself I was just acting as your scribe. But as I read this again, I can see way too much of myself in it. I'm influencing it too much. I can't help myself."

"Then be my ghost writer. Wouldn't that be ironic? Malfoy would never know."

"He would know. And if I thought that a merry little chat between childhood enemies would be enough, I would have done it already. It's your voice he needs to hear. You're the key to getting beneath his armour."

"We really didn't bond that much. I just rambled on like an imbecile and he stood there looking tense." Myrtle tucked her hair behind her ear in what Hermione had started to recognise as a nervous gesture. "Stay. Please. I haven't written a letter in decades. I need you to tell me which words to use."

"You really don't. I looked up your academic record. You were a smart witch. And there hasn't been a conclusive study disproving Tenger's hypothesis of ghostly memory retention, which means you're still a smart witch." Hermione eyed the letter one more time. "Probably."

"I was good at reading stuffy old books. That was all. I'm a complete dunce when it comes to social interaction. People hated me."

"I know the feeling," she said wryly. "But this isn't about being cool or popular. To reach Draco you need to use something real. Something raw. Your passionate side, just like you said."

"He'll never listen to me. When Harry and Draco were fighting, I kept shouting and shouting but they ignored me."

"Sometimes with Harry and Ron it can feel like I'm talking to a brick wall. But then one day, maybe weeks later, I realise that they were actually listening. We just need to whisper some new thoughts in Malfoy's ear and then let them fester. Enough to get him to a place where he's open to a longer conversation."

"Boys can be so stupid. And girls too. They call me Moaning Myrtle, but I've heard some ridiculous whining in here over the years. Those stalls are not sound proof."

"Malfoy might be an idiot, but he does have a brain in there somewhere. Or at least so his marks would suggest. He didn't have to drop any classes for the N.E.W.T years."

Myrtle floated forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. "What do you really think of Draco? Not of his grades, but him as a person. Is he just a silly little boy? You must think he's redeemable, to go to all of this trouble."

"I think he's weak. And lost. But that means that he's vulnerable. That we can reach him. And if we can, then we should. He may be a generally awful human being, but I don't think he's crossed the line into evil. Not yet."

"I don't know if I can do it."

"I know you can. You're the right person for this. Someone he can relate to without feeling threatened or preached to. Someone who can speak to both his soft spots and his hard pride. I could never pull that off. I trust you. I won't even read the letter, I swear. I'll pick it up off the floor with my eyes closed and seal it in the envelope. I'll just be the delivery girl, nothing more."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Just please keep it G-rated, okay?"

Myrtle gave her a heavy wink. "I'll try, but no promises."

Hermione laid out the parchment on the floor with a sticking charm and set up the Quick Quotes Quill. "Give it a test."

"Dearest Draco comma."

Hermione laughed. "That worked, but you don't need to say the punctuation out loud. The quill is very intuitive when it comes to formatting, but otherwise it's purely dictatorial. It will write down exactly what you say. No flourishes or embellishments."

"Okay good. Now shoo. This is private, for Draco's eyes only." Myrtle blew a kiss in the air. "Give that to Harry for me."

Hermione shook her head. She would not be telling Harry about any of this. As far as he was concerned she had spent the day deep in the bowels of the library. She walked to the door but hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. "Myrtle?"

"Yes?"

She took a deep breath. "There was a troll on the loose in my first year. I was alone in a bathroom, crying, when it showed up. Harry and Ron blundered in and somehow we all miraculously made it out alive. But it was a close call. That's why I resented you a little, when we first met. I felt like I could have been you, and that scared me. I'm sorry that I didn't see you properly. But I'm glad we had a chance to talk today."

"It wasn't wholly unpleasant. You aren't as much of a stick in the mud as I thought."

"I might drop by some time. This bathroom is really close to my Charms classroom. It's convenient."

Myrtle shrugged. "You know where to find me."

Hermione left Myrtle to her letter writing with a sense of fragile optimism. Myrtle was certainly something. Draco wouldn't know what hit him.