Harry POV

Harry walked in a blind rage, not entirely sure where he was going, until he found himself at home. He wasn't sure if Sirius was here—he'd gone out for a bit to stretch his legs—but he wasn't in the mood to find out. Sprinting toward the staircase, he didn't notice the very person he was trying to avoid coming out of the sitting room.

"Ah, there you are, Harry!"

Damn. "Oh, hello, Sirius," he mumbled. "I, er... I'm headed to my room."

"Are you all right?"

"Fine," he muttered, before racing the rest of the way, and closing the door to his bedroom firmly behind him. He knew Sirius would give him hell for that later, but right now, he couldn't take it. It was still to fresh.

That woman!

That outrageous, infuriating, ridiculously tempting woman! She dared to refuse him? He was Harry Potter! Son of two of the most respectable Aurors in the Ministry, when they were alive! Descendant of Godric Gryffindor, himself! And what was she? She was a Muggleborn! He shouldn't even be stressing over this. She wasn't worth it.

"Harry?"

He started at the voice on the other side of his door. "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

Harry was tempted to say no, but even if he did, Sirius would probably come in anyway, so he opened his door. "What?" he snapped.

Sirius eyed him. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, there is. Something's eating at you. Is it that Granger girl?"

"Don't talk about her," Harry growled without thinking.

He sighed. "I thought so. What happened? Did you tell her how you feel?"

Harry paused for a moment, debating whether or not he should tell the truth. Then he remembered his own words to Hermione just a few minutes ago. He'd said he refused to lie, whatever the consequence. Damn it. Now he had to tell him, lest he be labeled a hypocrite.

"Yes," he said in response to his godfather's question. "I told her."

"And?"

"She slapped me, and called me an arrogant prick." Sirius laughed heartily, and Harry scowled at him. "You think this is funny?"

"I'm sorry, my boy," he wiped a tear. "I can just picture her saying that. Now, what did you say to make her think that?"

"Nothing!" Harry shouted. "I told her exactly how I felt! And she had the audacity to tell me I was 'the last man in the world she could ever love'!"

Sirius grimaced. "Ouch. Well, walk me through it. What precisely did you say, and what did she say?"

Harry took a breath, and recounted the experience. When he was finished, Sirius watched him for a moment, then out of nowhere, his hand collided with the back of his head. "Ow!" Harry cried. "What the hell was that for?"

"You blockhead!" Sirius scolded him. "Insulting a girl repeatedly is not the way to win her heart!"

"I wasn't aware that I was insulting her," Harry said, and Sirius hit him again.

"Calling her a child? Going after her status? That sounds insulting to me!" He shook his head. "I know your parents didn't teach you to judge a person because of their blood status, so when did you start doing so?"

Harry frowned. "But... but I thought that was..." He faltered, realizing he had no idea who or what had caused his disdain for Muggleborns in the first place.

"Do you realize your mother was a Muggleborn?"

He stared at his godfather. "She what?"

"Your mother was born to Joseph and Margaret Evans, both Muggles. When she went to Hogwarts, she became more and more distant from them, until, by the time she married your father, they were no longer on speaking terms."

Harry sat down on his bed, slowly digesting this new information. His own mother, a Muggleborn. Oh, how could he have been so stupid? So blind? He'd always wondered why no one seemed to know anything about his maternal grandparents—he'd met his father's family numerous times, but never his mother's. And now he knew.

"Was she... ashamed?"

"Not at all," Sirius insisted. "They just didn't have anything to talk about anymore."

"I... I had no idea."

"Well, now you do," he said. "So... what are you going to do about it?"

Harry thought for a moment, then went over to his desk. "I'll write Hermione a letter," he said. "The spoken word has failed me more than once around her, so I'll stick with the written word."

Sirius chuckled and patted him on the back. "Good man. Be sure to apologize a lot."

As his godfather left his room, Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment, a quill, and began to write.

Hermione POV

It rained again. Hermione attempted, again, to skip about in the puddles and have her silly fun, but it was marred by the previous day's events. Harry's words echoed in her brain, tempting her further and further into the depths of fury. She splashed in the next puddle a little more forcefully than was necessary, effectively soaking the bottoms of her trousers. Not that she cared. That was why she was out here.

When the storm began to ease, she turned to head home, only to find her path once again blocked by the infamous Mr. Potter.

"Miss Granger," he nodded, then held up an envelope. "This is for you."

Hermione accepted the envelope, gazing curiously at it. She was tempted to chuck it back at him and stomp off, but he was already gone by the time she looked up. And besides, her curiosity prevailed. Tucking it safely in her pocket, she strolled back to her flat, locking the door behind her. After hanging up her coat and hat, she plopped onto the sofa, and pulled it out to read.

To Miss Hermione Granger,

If you are actually reading this, rather than setting it on fire or ripping it to shreds, I thank you. I wouldn't blame you if you did. My behavior yesterday was abominable, to say the least. I was born into a life of privilege, and was led to believe that I was above everyone else. I never said this aloud, of course, but the thought was always there. And then I met you, and you made me question everything. With some recent discoveries, I've come to realize how incredibly wrong I was. A person's worth is not determined by blood status, or family connections, or anything like that. I should have known this from the beginning, but better late than never, I suppose. I hope you will accept my deepest and sincerest apologies for how I have treated you.

My regards,

Harry Potter

Hermione sighed as she set the letter down on the coffee table, burying her head in her hands. For perhaps the first time in her life, she didn't know what to do. True, he had behaved abominably, but that had to be the most sincere, heartfelt apology anyone had ever given her—aside from the time Draco accidentally singed off a section of her hair in Potions, and then gave her a bouquet of lilies and a piece of parchment with the hair-replenishing spell on it.

This prompted a thought: Draco. She hadn't told him any of this! And she called herself his best friend! Hermione pulled out her mobile phone and dialed his.

"Hello?"

"Draco, it's me," she said.

"Hey, you!" he replied, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "What's up? You enjoying the rain?"

She bit her lip. "Well, I was... but then... something happened."

"What's wrong?"

"Erm... well... it's kind of a long story."

"I'll be right there."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks, Draco. See you in a minute."

Mere seconds after they'd hung up, her fireplace roared, and Draco appeared. He gave her a hug. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," she insisted, pulling back to smile at him. "Just... overwhelmed."

"Is it work?"

"No, it's... well, let me start at the beginning." She gestured toward the couch, and they sat down. "Yesterday, I was out, enjoying the rain—" he smiled briefly, "—when I ran into Harry Potter." His grin faded into a puzzled frown. "He... well, it was rather odd... he told me I shouldn't be in the rain. I said that I liked the rain, and I didn't care what he thought, and I was going to play in the rain no matter what—"

Draco laughed. "You always were stubborn."

"—And then he kissed me," Hermione went on.

His grey eyes widened. "He what?"

"And he told me he loved me."

"He WHAT?"

"And then we took turns insulting each other. I called him arrogant and conceited, he called me inferior and childish. Then I slapped him, and told him he was the last man I would ever love, give or take a profanity." She paused, picking up the letter. "I ran into him again, today, just a little while ago, and he gave me this."

Draco took the letter, and silently read. When he was finished, he looked up at her with a stony expression. "Wow," he breathed.

"Pretty much my same reaction."

"This... I just... wow."

"Is there a bit of advice for me in between those wows?"

He sighed. "I don't know, Herm. He seems pretty sincere... but from what you told me, he was a real prat to you."

"That's an accurate description," she allowed. "But yes, he does seem sincere."

Draco sighed again, rubbing his hand across his face. "I suppose... you just wait and see what happens. Who knows? You might never see him again. He may end up falling for some other bird, and this all just becomes a story you laugh about in fifty years." He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, gazing into the distance. "Who knows..."

A/N: Sorry about the lame ending. I didn't know how else to do it. So, the whole thing about Harry being a descendant of Gryffindor. Is that true? I've heard it many times, but never checked to see if it's accurate. Well... for the sake of this story, let's pretend it is. If it's not, I'm sorry, but this story is AU, so just about anything goes. Anyways... did you like it? Did you hate it? Do you even care? Please let me know!