Chapter 4 Rating: PG.-13, still Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Just this little side plot, sort of.

At lunch Draco Malfoy received an owl. He read it with an apparent mixture of emotions. Any observer could the hope and frustration that crossed his features. He then finished the letter, folded it, put it in his pocket, and stood up with a marked look of determination on his face. He strode over to the Gryffindor table, and faced the three people who he hated most: Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter. He stood there with his arms crossed and a blank expression until they noticed him.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" Potter asked, with a guarded tone of voice.
"To apologize." Weasley immediately started choking on the piece of chicken he was eating. The other two simply went pale. Granger recovered her wits first.
"For what? For being the snarky bugger you are?" He turned to her.
"Well," Draco paused. They looked at him with anticipation. "Yes," he sighed. "I have been a snarky bugger to you all without a thought. I have been prejudiced against Mudbloods," Granger winced at that, "prejudiced against those who are less fortunate and idiotic," Weasley turned bright red, "and just plain mean," Draco finished, facing Potter. "I'm sorry." Weasley instantly fainted and fell off of the bench, catching the attention of the entire Great Hall.
Professor McGonagall immediately rushed over, bending at Weasley's side.
"What happened here," she demanded. She then caught sight of Draco and began, "Mr. Malfoy."
"Malfoy did no wrong here, Professor," Potter interjected, looking straight at Draco with, for once, a look of respect. Draco turned, and swept out of the Great Hall, oblivious to a pair of eyes watching him. ***

Draco was pacing around the Slytherin common room. What he had just done there, in the Great Hall, was the most difficult thing that she could demand of him. In saying what he had, no, he had not only said it, but believed it, he had simply denied all that Lucius had ever taught him. 'Simply'. Draco was just so confused he could cry. Instead, he burst into hysterics with tears running down his face. He fell to his knees and clutched his stomach. When at last he regained his composure, he stood up and saw the three Slytherins standing before him with looks of pure confusion on their faces. Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. It was Pansy who spoke first. "Draco? Are you ok? Do you want me to take you to the hospital wing, or write Lucius?" Then it hit him. That would be exactly what he would do. He rose. "No, thank you, Pansy. I shall write my father myself." He then walked up the stairs and into his dormitory. ***
Lucius Malfoy opened the owl he had received, no doubt from his son, bragging about how he had tortured people and full of explanations why that Granger's grades were better than his. Instead, he read:

Father,
I hope this letter finds you in horrible health. Good news: I
think I'm in love with Diane de Chêne, Lord de Chêne's daughter.
You may remember her. More news: I don't want to be a Death
Eater. There is no real reason to hate muggles or those who are
muggle-born. Voldemort, that hypocrite, himself is what you
call a 'mudblood'. He is your Lord, not mine. I wish for
nothing to do with the dark arts and pray never to see you
again. Send Mother my greetings, I hope she is well, though I
doubt it, since she has to share a bed with you.

Your son,
Draco

Lucius promptly crumpled the letter and threw it to the floor, where a house-elf named Dori would find it later and rejoice to learn that Draco had rebelled. He put one hand on his head and swiftly emptied the glass of wine that sat on his desk. This is all her fault, he thought. Those stupid de Chêne's and their morals. She corrupted him.