A/N: Sorry about the delay in this. My internet connection fucked up. (Pardon my language, oh pretty please). I hope everyone understood what happened in the previous chapter. Just to clear things up, the disk PA lost, we found it again, so what you read in the last chapter was the original one. We decided to put it in together with the very short letter Harry sent, just in case ff.net gets pissed off at that post for being too short. Both of us worked out the big action-scene part, 'cause we couldn't bear to just mention it in a letter and leave it at that. I know it wasn't particularly funny (everyone expected insults, didn't they?), but you have to realise that Draco and Harry can't throw witty insults at each other for the rest of their lives. It's all gonna finish sometime, though whether this fanfic ends up with the both of them still alive yet remains to be seen …

^^^^^^^^

14 January

Hospital Wing

4:02 PM

Well, Mister Four-Eyed Geek of a Bastard, (alright, Potter, I admit that was lame, but I'm in pain right now, you can't expect me to come up with the usual witty and sophisticated insult.)

What am I supposed to do now? I'm stuck in a hospital bad, with that Pomfrey bitch coming to check on me every two seconds. God, that woman doesn't understand the meaning of privacy. And that puke stuff she makes me drink … how come you didn't end up all battered like me? Figures, doesn't it, that the hero is never hurt?

Well, before I go on, I shall answer the whole bunch of questions you threw at me in your previous letter.

Question 1. :"Did you know that you nearly broke my Firebolt?" Answer: Yes, I do know. It was all intentional. I staged this whole crazy suicide thing just for the purpose of breaking your lousy broom. I'm that sad. (I'm being sarcastic.) Right. Well, I didn't break it, okay, so CHILL!

Question 2: "And I should've won an award for that awesome dive. Anyway, what were you thinking?" Answer: Umm … how about: "Stupid fucking Potter, you just stole my "dramatic exit" and I HATE YOU FOR IT!" Oh, and I don't give a damn about your fancy dive, talk about showing off!

Question 3: "How could you do that?" Answer: I can and I will. In the history of Malfoys, no one has ever stopped us from doing or getting what we want. NO ONE. Ha, I might kill myself again, just so to rub it in your face.

Question 4: "Are you out of you mind? I really should tell Dumbledore." Answer: Yes, I am out of my mind. Madness runs in our family, you see, along with wealth, looks, charm, and sexual appeal. And if you tell Dumbledore then I shall tell him about you running off to rescue me in the middle of a storm without telling the professors. Call me an ungrateful git if you want, but that's the way it works.

Now that we've got the housekeeping over and done with, can I mentioned the fact that I am extremely bloody EFFING pissed off at you, you stoopid idiot? Why did you have to come and ruin every bloody thing? Trying to play the hero again or something? Well, you can just go stuff that shit up your arse. And that Draught of Death potion took ages to prepare too - even for a top-grade potions student like me, it was a bit too much. And I thought you hated me … I thought Gryffindor would throw a party the moment they hear of my death.

Ugh … head hurts. Vision becoming blurry. I think the psycho fit is coming up again …

So what was the point of that incredible dumb act of bravery anyway? To show off your flying skills (or lack of)? To impress Granger? Why did you even fricking bother? Well, either way, I guess it sort of worked, didn't it? Concussion, broken ribs, and a bad case of frostbite has caused Father to push back the date of my Initialling. I have two more weeks. Wonderful. Hurrah. Let me rejoice. I am overjoyed yippy yeah ay.

(In case you're incredibly thick and still haven't got it: Step 1: Open the bottle; Step 2: Apply a liberal amount of sarcasm.)

There you go. Your hero bullshit has accounted to nothing. I'm still going to get my Dark Mark, and now I have two more happy weeks to contemplate my cheerful fate, thanks to you. Well, I suppose I'm going to have fun wrecking evil and havoc on the world, living up to my Big Bad Evil Death Eater role. I swear Granger will be the first to go … Hogwarts will be burned down to ashes … you yourself will be cursed straight into hell, where you will burn and be tortured with the fact that this could all have been avoided had you not stuck your fucking meddlesome beak in … Yippy yeah ay. Yippy yappy hippy yay …

6: 18 PM

Okay, rant over. Turns out you pissed me off so badly I fainted. (Fainted? WTF? MALFOYS DON'T FAINT!) Pomfrey chucked an absolute spasm. Gave me a long lecture about letting my rage and frustration run wild … that happens sometimes. One moment I'm sane (or as sane as I can get, anyway), the next – BOOM. Maybe I have Split Personality Disorder or whatever. Anyway, being bedridden is really pissing me off. It's bloody boring the pants off me. Even Ginny hasn't been coming. Is she angry at me or something? Tell my baby I'm going to be fine, and could she please come and visit me? Fricking hell, I miss her.

Well, that Pomfrey is coming to nag at me about resting again. It's a wonder patients here recover at all – her blabbing must drive them absolutely crazy. Mmm … though the chocolates aren't all bad …

Signed,

A munching yet still terribly pissed off Draco.

P.S. I think I do have Split Personality Disorder.

^^^^^^^^

A/N: Yes, I think he does. *Evil chuckle*