"The Love Letter" ::: Implied!D/Hr
For a writing contest.
9. And finally, a topic with a potentially lighter bent: Person A sends an anonymous owl to person B. Person B thinks a third person (C) sent the letter. What follows? The letter writers/recipients can be students, teachers, others or a combination.
NOTES: This is kind-of in an alternate universe…as in it’s during HBP, but it’s not all ZOMG-DRAMA!!!-ish. It’s Christmas holidays and HRH are staying for the holidays, along with Ginny, Luna, Neville, some random Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that shall remain nameless, and some Slytherins.
Title: The Love Letter
Author: pyrogrl
Rating: PG for suggestive comments
Draco Malfoy threw himself down on the couch in the Slytherin common room and tucked his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to go blank, forgetting all the events of the day.
It was Christmas holidays at Hogwarts. There were few students left in the school, seeing as most wanted to spend all the time they could with their families. It seemed as though the only ones staying were Wonder Boy and his admirers, some seventh-years from other houses, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and himself. Draco stayed because he had a job to do; Pansy wanted to be near him; Daphne had been kicked out of her home for being a menace and Blaise simply hated his family.
Today hadn’t been a very good day. Pansy and Zabini had gotten caught under mistletoe and while he simply kissed her without thinking much of it, she had thought the world was ending and had apologized to Draco ever since it happened - which was stupid, really, since they weren’t even dating. Daphne, who had a huge crush on both Blaise and Draco, had tried desperately to trap them both under mistletoe and almost caught Draco. Zabini had kindly warned him two steps before he met what he was sure would be his doom.
Zabini came in through the entrance and sat in the chair across from Draco, sipping a bottle of Firewhiskey he’d obviously nicked from Hogsmeade. He handed it to Draco, who took a long gulp and handed it back. “I needed that,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” Zabini agreed. He and Draco had been friends as boys, but Lucius had forced them to sever ties after Mrs Zabini married a Muggle. They hadn’t spoken to each other much, even in Hogwarts, until the end of fifth year when they were preparing for their Potions OWL. Although there was still an awkward feeling between them, and though Zabini didn’t say much, Draco was relieved that he hadn’t taken it personally. He enjoyed having someone with a brain to talk to.
“Got another one of those?” Draco asked, indicating the Firewhiskey with a nod of his head.
“This is my last,” Zabini said, raising the bottle to his lips and drinking. Draco glared at him and rolled his eyes. “Are you bored?”
“Dreadfully. I hate holidays. Torturing Mudbloods gets old after a while.” He glanced over at Zabini, who had his eyebrows raised in surprise. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. And they don’t have to know that.”
“Alright.” He threw back his head and downed the rest of his drink, then took out his wand and levitated the bottle. Draco took out his wand and sent a spell non-verbally at the bottle that blasted it into tiny pieces that fell onto Zabini’s lap.
“Whoa!” Zabini said, standing up, the glass falling onto the floor. “Where did you learn that spell?”
Draco’s eyes widened and he tucked away his wand. “My father’s…friend. Forget about it.” He repaired the bottle and transfigured it into a tissue box. “God, I want to do something.”
“Like what?” He sat back down.
“Normally I’d say torture Mudbloods, but like I said, it gets old.” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
“We could make it interesting,” said Zabini. Draco sat up slowly and stared at him.
“I’m intrigued,” he said. “Go on.”
“We could…send an anonymous love letter to a Mudblood.”
Draco crinkled his nose in disgust. “Why on earth would we do that?”
“For fun…I thought that was the point.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Draco frowned. Zabini continued, “What if you were to receive an anonymous love letter? Wouldn’t you obsess over it?”
“No.”
“Fine. What if you received several love letters, and you didn’t know who sent them? Even cold, heartless you would be curious.”
“Touché.” Draco sat back and pondered over Zabini’s idea. “We should send it to Granger,” he said.
“Granger?” Zabini blinked. “Why her?”
“Because she’s Granger. Plus, that Weasley twit is head-over-heels for her. If she got a love letter and began to obsess over it, do you know what that would do to him? It would tear him apart.” He smiled, almost gleefully, and rubbed his hands together. “I must hand it to you, Zabini. I’m impressed with your scheme.”
Zabini grinned and summoned a parchment, quill and ink from his bag beside the chair. Draco summoned the coffee table closer to them.
“Your writing is more feminine than mine is,” said Draco, reaching for the quill.
“She might recognize your writing. Granger only knows me from Slughorn’s meetings.”
“Very well. Let’s see…‘Granger’ - no, ‘Hermione’-”
“How do you spell that?”
“H-E-R-M…erm…let’s just leave it at that.”
Zabini looked up. “ ‘Herm’? Really?”
Draco shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Zabini stared at him questioningly (did he not have another expression?), but kept his mouth shut and simply wrote ‘Herm’. “Now what?”
“Uh… ‘My beautiful bushy-haired beaver-’”
“Malfoy, this is a love letter.”
“Right. ‘From the moment I saw you, I knew that I loved you. I loved all your imperfections: your bushy hair that I think has character, your large teeth which flashed with every smile, your…’ Uh…this is difficult. I hate her; how can I come up with a bloody love letter for her?”
“I think you’re doing well,” Zabini said. “Keep going.”
“No. You try something.”
“Fine. ‘The way you watch over Harry Potter and Ron Weasley is adorable. You are like a mother to them, and I only hope that someday I can be like a father…’ That ought to drive Weasley insane.”
“Brilliant. ‘You are a very strong young woman to stand up to Draco Malfoy-’”
“Leave yourself out of this. She might get suspicious. ‘You are a very strong young woman and very brave.’”
“ ‘I only wish that I had your courage. If I did, maybe I could express my love for you to your face instead of this letter which I am too frightened to sign. Perhaps if you’re interested in me, you could leave a letter for me…’”
“Letter?”
“Zabini, you have to get inside my head,” said Draco. Zabini looked ready to say something sarcastic back, but Draco didn’t give him time. “What if we convince her that some guy is in love with her, and then try to get them to meet? What if she goes to meet this guy who never shows up?”
“I like that, but would she fall for it? She may be a Mudblood, but she’s not stupid. Even Snape admits it.”
“She’s been hanging around two guys for six years and hasn’t had any romantic interaction. Even Mudbloods have needs. Now, write: ‘Leave a letter for me underneath the foot of the statue of the knight to the right of the Great Hall.’”
“Nice sentence,” muttered Zabini sarcastically, but he wrote it down anyway.
“I think that’s good enough for tonight.” Draco stood up and stretched. “Well, I’m less bored than I was before. Thank you, Zabini.” He nodded at him, then headed towards the boys’ dormitory. When he was gone, Zabini looked over the letter, then wrote something else down on it before rolling it up and heading up to the Owlery. He was smirking slightly as he went.
***
“Morning,” said Harry, sitting down at the Gryffindor table beside Hermione. She gave a curt nod and continued to read. “Hermione, it’s Christmas holidays. Can’t you just put the books down?”
“Maybe I’m not reading a schoolbook,” snapped Hermione, not looking up at him.
“Yes, because you’re the type of girl to read Archie comics behind a textbook.” He leaned over her shoulder and glanced at the book. She shut it quickly. She really was reading a textbook, but it bothered her that Harry and Ron found her so…unpredictable. “Hermione, what are you reading?”
“Erotic novellas,” she answered shortly. “The main couple in this one just went skinny-dipping in a tropical pond.”
Harry looked at the spine and raised his eyebrows. “What chapter of Confronting the Faceless was that in? I missed it.”
Hermione sighed and put the book down. “Very well, I was studying.” She reached for the pumpkin juice and poured herself a glass before pouring some for Harry. “Where’s Ron?”
“Saying good morning to Lavender.”
“…Oh.” She grabbed French toast with her fork and began to mutilate it with her knife. “Well, I’m glad they’re up there instead of down here then. Honestly, all they do is snog. I doubt Ron even knows when her birthday is.”
Harry remained silent. He always did nowadays whenever Hermione talked about Ron. She knew that she liked him, but he could be such a mindless prat sometimes that she refused to admit it.
“Margarine?” asked Harry, and Hermione took a pinch. It didn’t take long for the Great Hall to fill up. Ron and Lavender entered, holding hands, and sat down together across from Hermione and Harry. She watched as Lavender cut a sausage into pieces and playfully fed them to Ron. Harry kicked her under the table and she averted her gaze.
“Watch it,” said Harry a moment later, grabbing his goblet as owls began to swoop into the hall. Hermione picked hers up right before a tawny owl landed in front of her with a letter attached to its leg. “That’s a school owl,” Harry observed. Hermione untied the letter, which was rolled up and tied with a white ribbon. Curiously she untied the ribbon and unfurled the letter. Her eyes roamed over the words, widening with each, and when she reached the end she let out a tiny squeak and leaned against Harry in case she fainted. She certainly felt dizzy enough. Ron and Harry looked at her in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. Wordlessly, Hermione handed him the letter, her fingers shaking. He read it over, frowning, then handed it to Ron. “Well?” he asked when Ron finished. “I don’t get the joke.”
“Neither do I.” Ron looked over at the Slytherin table. “Malfoy’s looking this way,” he said.
“What about Malfoy?” Lavender asked, reaching for the letter. Hermione came to her senses and snatched it out of Ron’s hands before Lavender could read it. She reread the letter, then turned to put it in her bag. She glanced at the Slytherin table as she did, and sure enough Malfoy was staring at her. He caught her gaze and looked away. She felt herself go pale.
“Oh God,” she muttered. “I feel ill.” She stood up, grabbed her bag and rushed out of the Great Hall. She automatically headed for the library, and once there she pulled out the letter again.
My dearest Herm,
From the moment I saw you, I knew that I was in love with you. People may say that you are the least-perfect girl in Hogwarts, but I beg to differ. Your bushy hair gives you character, and I admit that I miss your old teeth. Your smiles don’t flash as much as they used to, but that doesn’t change my feelings towards you. I love how caring you are. The way you watch over your friends like a mother is adorable, and I hope one day that I can be like a father to them. You are a very strong young woman and very brave - I realized this in third year when you became the first person in school to truly stand up to me. I wish that I had your courage. Maybe instead of being a horrible prat to you all these years I could have told you how I truly felt. I’m doing that now, though I know in my heart that it’s too late. However, if you have it in your good, warm heart to forgive me, please leave a letter under the foot of the statue on the right of the entrance to the Great Hall with the date, time and place of where we could have a discussion.
All my love,
Draco Malfoy
PS. I’m sorry that I do not know how to spell your name, though I feel that ‘Herm’ is better than ‘Granger’.
Hermione couldn’t believe what she’d read in the letter. What was she supposed to think about it? She didn’t believe that Malfoy was sincerely in love with her. It must have been some sort of sick joke. Yet, looking back, there were subtle hints at his liking her…he was the one to cast the charm that fixed her teeth after all…That sick prat! She would send him a letter alright! She made her way to a table and sat down, reached into her bag for a parchment, quill and ink, and began to write:
Malfoy,
I never have and never will understand your sick, twisted humour. That you find it funny to send a love letter to a Muggle-born that you’ve hated since day one and expect me to take it seriously is not only appalling, but it’s also insulting to your intelligence as well as mine. I may have a low opinion of you, Malfoy, but as you were intelligent I had some respect for you. That is now gone. Congratulations.
Hermione Granger
PS. Harry and Ron have both read the letter and due to your immaturity I will not stop them from telling others about your new-found affection for me.
Satisfied and relieved, she let the ink dry and folded up the parchment. She allowed herself to calm down before grabbing her bag and heading out of the library.
***
Blaise watched quietly as Granger stormed out of the Great Hall. He glanced at Malfoy, who was smirking as he stared at her departing back. He looked over at Blaise and winked.
“We’re brilliant,” he said. Blaise didn’t bother pointing out that it had been his plan. Anyway, he anticipated this from Malfoy. He was a selfish, rich and spoiled brat who only cared about blood. He’d been like that when they were children as well, and Blaise had been hit hard when they couldn’t be friends anymore because his mother married a Muggle. Malfoy had continued to ignore him in school until last year around the OWLs. His mother had married another wizard, and Blaise was back in the “good books”. He had vowed to himself to get revenge for Malfoy’s superficiality, and he found his opportunity yesterday. True, it was at Granger’s expense, but she would never trace the letter back to him. And even if Malfoy told her that Blaise had written the letter, she wouldn’t believe him. Blaise smiled as he poured syrup on his pancakes. He was brilliant.
Granger didn’t return to the Great Hall. Blaise left before Malfoy did, but he hung back and hid in the shadows under a set of stairs. Malfoy left last and looked under the statue. Sure enough, there was a letter there. Malfoy’s back was to him; Blaise crept up and read it over his shoulder.
“Wow,” he said as Malfoy folded the letter back up. Malfoy jumped and whirled around. “She’s quite the clever little Mudblood, isn’t she?”
Malfoy was nearly trembling with rage. “Zabini, did you write exactly what I told you to write?”
Blaise smirked. “Define ‘exactly’.”
A group of girls that had been talking to Potter and Weasley on their way out passed by and giggled when they saw Malfoy. Malfoy paled - his version of blushing - but some pinks spots appeared on his cheeks. Blaise sighed happily and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I suppose Potter and Weasley let your…how does she put it?” Blaise took the letter and found what he was looking for. “…New-found affection for Granger slip.”
“Why?”
“Because they hate you, Malfoy. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“No, not that, you prat! Why did you do this to me?”
Blaise rolled his eyes. “Ah, Malfoy. Look at the irony. A pureblood chauvinist in love with a Mudblood! It’s perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suppose that I mean it’s not always about blood.” Blaise winked, clapped him on the back, and headed towards the dungeons. Yes, he decided, he was satisfied. After nearly ten years, he finally had his revenge. And it felt good.
I know, I know. The title is nothing great or original. And I’m not proud of nor fond of the ending. So anyways, Person A is Blaise Zabini, Person B is Hermione Granger, and Person C is Draco Malfoy. Yay for Slytherin-Gryffindor-Slytherin love triangles!
9. And finally, a topic with a potentially lighter bent: Person A sends an anonymous owl to person B. Person B thinks a third person (C) sent the letter. What follows? The letter writers/recipients can be students, teachers, others or a combination.
NOTES: This is kind-of in an alternate universe…as in it’s during HBP, but it’s not all ZOMG-DRAMA!!!-ish. It’s Christmas holidays and HRH are staying for the holidays, along with Ginny, Luna, Neville, some random Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that shall remain nameless, and some Slytherins.
Title: The Love Letter
Author: pyrogrl
Rating: PG for suggestive comments
Draco Malfoy threw himself down on the couch in the Slytherin common room and tucked his hands behind his head. Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to go blank, forgetting all the events of the day.
It was Christmas holidays at Hogwarts. There were few students left in the school, seeing as most wanted to spend all the time they could with their families. It seemed as though the only ones staying were Wonder Boy and his admirers, some seventh-years from other houses, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and himself. Draco stayed because he had a job to do; Pansy wanted to be near him; Daphne had been kicked out of her home for being a menace and Blaise simply hated his family.
Today hadn’t been a very good day. Pansy and Zabini had gotten caught under mistletoe and while he simply kissed her without thinking much of it, she had thought the world was ending and had apologized to Draco ever since it happened - which was stupid, really, since they weren’t even dating. Daphne, who had a huge crush on both Blaise and Draco, had tried desperately to trap them both under mistletoe and almost caught Draco. Zabini had kindly warned him two steps before he met what he was sure would be his doom.
Zabini came in through the entrance and sat in the chair across from Draco, sipping a bottle of Firewhiskey he’d obviously nicked from Hogsmeade. He handed it to Draco, who took a long gulp and handed it back. “I needed that,” he said.
“Tell me about it,” Zabini agreed. He and Draco had been friends as boys, but Lucius had forced them to sever ties after Mrs Zabini married a Muggle. They hadn’t spoken to each other much, even in Hogwarts, until the end of fifth year when they were preparing for their Potions OWL. Although there was still an awkward feeling between them, and though Zabini didn’t say much, Draco was relieved that he hadn’t taken it personally. He enjoyed having someone with a brain to talk to.
“Got another one of those?” Draco asked, indicating the Firewhiskey with a nod of his head.
“This is my last,” Zabini said, raising the bottle to his lips and drinking. Draco glared at him and rolled his eyes. “Are you bored?”
“Dreadfully. I hate holidays. Torturing Mudbloods gets old after a while.” He glanced over at Zabini, who had his eyebrows raised in surprise. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. And they don’t have to know that.”
“Alright.” He threw back his head and downed the rest of his drink, then took out his wand and levitated the bottle. Draco took out his wand and sent a spell non-verbally at the bottle that blasted it into tiny pieces that fell onto Zabini’s lap.
“Whoa!” Zabini said, standing up, the glass falling onto the floor. “Where did you learn that spell?”
Draco’s eyes widened and he tucked away his wand. “My father’s…friend. Forget about it.” He repaired the bottle and transfigured it into a tissue box. “God, I want to do something.”
“Like what?” He sat back down.
“Normally I’d say torture Mudbloods, but like I said, it gets old.” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
“We could make it interesting,” said Zabini. Draco sat up slowly and stared at him.
“I’m intrigued,” he said. “Go on.”
“We could…send an anonymous love letter to a Mudblood.”
Draco crinkled his nose in disgust. “Why on earth would we do that?”
“For fun…I thought that was the point.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Draco frowned. Zabini continued, “What if you were to receive an anonymous love letter? Wouldn’t you obsess over it?”
“No.”
“Fine. What if you received several love letters, and you didn’t know who sent them? Even cold, heartless you would be curious.”
“Touché.” Draco sat back and pondered over Zabini’s idea. “We should send it to Granger,” he said.
“Granger?” Zabini blinked. “Why her?”
“Because she’s Granger. Plus, that Weasley twit is head-over-heels for her. If she got a love letter and began to obsess over it, do you know what that would do to him? It would tear him apart.” He smiled, almost gleefully, and rubbed his hands together. “I must hand it to you, Zabini. I’m impressed with your scheme.”
Zabini grinned and summoned a parchment, quill and ink from his bag beside the chair. Draco summoned the coffee table closer to them.
“Your writing is more feminine than mine is,” said Draco, reaching for the quill.
“She might recognize your writing. Granger only knows me from Slughorn’s meetings.”
“Very well. Let’s see…‘Granger’ - no, ‘Hermione’-”
“How do you spell that?”
“H-E-R-M…erm…let’s just leave it at that.”
Zabini looked up. “ ‘Herm’? Really?”
Draco shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
Zabini stared at him questioningly (did he not have another expression?), but kept his mouth shut and simply wrote ‘Herm’. “Now what?”
“Uh… ‘My beautiful bushy-haired beaver-’”
“Malfoy, this is a love letter.”
“Right. ‘From the moment I saw you, I knew that I loved you. I loved all your imperfections: your bushy hair that I think has character, your large teeth which flashed with every smile, your…’ Uh…this is difficult. I hate her; how can I come up with a bloody love letter for her?”
“I think you’re doing well,” Zabini said. “Keep going.”
“No. You try something.”
“Fine. ‘The way you watch over Harry Potter and Ron Weasley is adorable. You are like a mother to them, and I only hope that someday I can be like a father…’ That ought to drive Weasley insane.”
“Brilliant. ‘You are a very strong young woman to stand up to Draco Malfoy-’”
“Leave yourself out of this. She might get suspicious. ‘You are a very strong young woman and very brave.’”
“ ‘I only wish that I had your courage. If I did, maybe I could express my love for you to your face instead of this letter which I am too frightened to sign. Perhaps if you’re interested in me, you could leave a letter for me…’”
“Letter?”
“Zabini, you have to get inside my head,” said Draco. Zabini looked ready to say something sarcastic back, but Draco didn’t give him time. “What if we convince her that some guy is in love with her, and then try to get them to meet? What if she goes to meet this guy who never shows up?”
“I like that, but would she fall for it? She may be a Mudblood, but she’s not stupid. Even Snape admits it.”
“She’s been hanging around two guys for six years and hasn’t had any romantic interaction. Even Mudbloods have needs. Now, write: ‘Leave a letter for me underneath the foot of the statue of the knight to the right of the Great Hall.’”
“Nice sentence,” muttered Zabini sarcastically, but he wrote it down anyway.
“I think that’s good enough for tonight.” Draco stood up and stretched. “Well, I’m less bored than I was before. Thank you, Zabini.” He nodded at him, then headed towards the boys’ dormitory. When he was gone, Zabini looked over the letter, then wrote something else down on it before rolling it up and heading up to the Owlery. He was smirking slightly as he went.
***
“Morning,” said Harry, sitting down at the Gryffindor table beside Hermione. She gave a curt nod and continued to read. “Hermione, it’s Christmas holidays. Can’t you just put the books down?”
“Maybe I’m not reading a schoolbook,” snapped Hermione, not looking up at him.
“Yes, because you’re the type of girl to read Archie comics behind a textbook.” He leaned over her shoulder and glanced at the book. She shut it quickly. She really was reading a textbook, but it bothered her that Harry and Ron found her so…unpredictable. “Hermione, what are you reading?”
“Erotic novellas,” she answered shortly. “The main couple in this one just went skinny-dipping in a tropical pond.”
Harry looked at the spine and raised his eyebrows. “What chapter of Confronting the Faceless was that in? I missed it.”
Hermione sighed and put the book down. “Very well, I was studying.” She reached for the pumpkin juice and poured herself a glass before pouring some for Harry. “Where’s Ron?”
“Saying good morning to Lavender.”
“…Oh.” She grabbed French toast with her fork and began to mutilate it with her knife. “Well, I’m glad they’re up there instead of down here then. Honestly, all they do is snog. I doubt Ron even knows when her birthday is.”
Harry remained silent. He always did nowadays whenever Hermione talked about Ron. She knew that she liked him, but he could be such a mindless prat sometimes that she refused to admit it.
“Margarine?” asked Harry, and Hermione took a pinch. It didn’t take long for the Great Hall to fill up. Ron and Lavender entered, holding hands, and sat down together across from Hermione and Harry. She watched as Lavender cut a sausage into pieces and playfully fed them to Ron. Harry kicked her under the table and she averted her gaze.
“Watch it,” said Harry a moment later, grabbing his goblet as owls began to swoop into the hall. Hermione picked hers up right before a tawny owl landed in front of her with a letter attached to its leg. “That’s a school owl,” Harry observed. Hermione untied the letter, which was rolled up and tied with a white ribbon. Curiously she untied the ribbon and unfurled the letter. Her eyes roamed over the words, widening with each, and when she reached the end she let out a tiny squeak and leaned against Harry in case she fainted. She certainly felt dizzy enough. Ron and Harry looked at her in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. Wordlessly, Hermione handed him the letter, her fingers shaking. He read it over, frowning, then handed it to Ron. “Well?” he asked when Ron finished. “I don’t get the joke.”
“Neither do I.” Ron looked over at the Slytherin table. “Malfoy’s looking this way,” he said.
“What about Malfoy?” Lavender asked, reaching for the letter. Hermione came to her senses and snatched it out of Ron’s hands before Lavender could read it. She reread the letter, then turned to put it in her bag. She glanced at the Slytherin table as she did, and sure enough Malfoy was staring at her. He caught her gaze and looked away. She felt herself go pale.
“Oh God,” she muttered. “I feel ill.” She stood up, grabbed her bag and rushed out of the Great Hall. She automatically headed for the library, and once there she pulled out the letter again.
My dearest Herm,
From the moment I saw you, I knew that I was in love with you. People may say that you are the least-perfect girl in Hogwarts, but I beg to differ. Your bushy hair gives you character, and I admit that I miss your old teeth. Your smiles don’t flash as much as they used to, but that doesn’t change my feelings towards you. I love how caring you are. The way you watch over your friends like a mother is adorable, and I hope one day that I can be like a father to them. You are a very strong young woman and very brave - I realized this in third year when you became the first person in school to truly stand up to me. I wish that I had your courage. Maybe instead of being a horrible prat to you all these years I could have told you how I truly felt. I’m doing that now, though I know in my heart that it’s too late. However, if you have it in your good, warm heart to forgive me, please leave a letter under the foot of the statue on the right of the entrance to the Great Hall with the date, time and place of where we could have a discussion.
All my love,
Draco Malfoy
PS. I’m sorry that I do not know how to spell your name, though I feel that ‘Herm’ is better than ‘Granger’.
Hermione couldn’t believe what she’d read in the letter. What was she supposed to think about it? She didn’t believe that Malfoy was sincerely in love with her. It must have been some sort of sick joke. Yet, looking back, there were subtle hints at his liking her…he was the one to cast the charm that fixed her teeth after all…That sick prat! She would send him a letter alright! She made her way to a table and sat down, reached into her bag for a parchment, quill and ink, and began to write:
Malfoy,
I never have and never will understand your sick, twisted humour. That you find it funny to send a love letter to a Muggle-born that you’ve hated since day one and expect me to take it seriously is not only appalling, but it’s also insulting to your intelligence as well as mine. I may have a low opinion of you, Malfoy, but as you were intelligent I had some respect for you. That is now gone. Congratulations.
Hermione Granger
PS. Harry and Ron have both read the letter and due to your immaturity I will not stop them from telling others about your new-found affection for me.
Satisfied and relieved, she let the ink dry and folded up the parchment. She allowed herself to calm down before grabbing her bag and heading out of the library.
***
Blaise watched quietly as Granger stormed out of the Great Hall. He glanced at Malfoy, who was smirking as he stared at her departing back. He looked over at Blaise and winked.
“We’re brilliant,” he said. Blaise didn’t bother pointing out that it had been his plan. Anyway, he anticipated this from Malfoy. He was a selfish, rich and spoiled brat who only cared about blood. He’d been like that when they were children as well, and Blaise had been hit hard when they couldn’t be friends anymore because his mother married a Muggle. Malfoy had continued to ignore him in school until last year around the OWLs. His mother had married another wizard, and Blaise was back in the “good books”. He had vowed to himself to get revenge for Malfoy’s superficiality, and he found his opportunity yesterday. True, it was at Granger’s expense, but she would never trace the letter back to him. And even if Malfoy told her that Blaise had written the letter, she wouldn’t believe him. Blaise smiled as he poured syrup on his pancakes. He was brilliant.
Granger didn’t return to the Great Hall. Blaise left before Malfoy did, but he hung back and hid in the shadows under a set of stairs. Malfoy left last and looked under the statue. Sure enough, there was a letter there. Malfoy’s back was to him; Blaise crept up and read it over his shoulder.
“Wow,” he said as Malfoy folded the letter back up. Malfoy jumped and whirled around. “She’s quite the clever little Mudblood, isn’t she?”
Malfoy was nearly trembling with rage. “Zabini, did you write exactly what I told you to write?”
Blaise smirked. “Define ‘exactly’.”
A group of girls that had been talking to Potter and Weasley on their way out passed by and giggled when they saw Malfoy. Malfoy paled - his version of blushing - but some pinks spots appeared on his cheeks. Blaise sighed happily and crossed his arms over his chest.
“I suppose Potter and Weasley let your…how does she put it?” Blaise took the letter and found what he was looking for. “…New-found affection for Granger slip.”
“Why?”
“Because they hate you, Malfoy. I thought you were smarter than that.”
“No, not that, you prat! Why did you do this to me?”
Blaise rolled his eyes. “Ah, Malfoy. Look at the irony. A pureblood chauvinist in love with a Mudblood! It’s perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suppose that I mean it’s not always about blood.” Blaise winked, clapped him on the back, and headed towards the dungeons. Yes, he decided, he was satisfied. After nearly ten years, he finally had his revenge. And it felt good.
I know, I know. The title is nothing great or original. And I’m not proud of nor fond of the ending. So anyways, Person A is Blaise Zabini, Person B is Hermione Granger, and Person C is Draco Malfoy. Yay for Slytherin-Gryffindor-Slytherin love triangles!