A Thousand Years

Chapter 11: The Letter

Draco Malfoy tried to push his feelings for Granger away, hiding them in the darkest corners of his mind. He tried to push her away. But the feelings were still there, and so was she. He couldn't allow himself to let down his guard. She was a Mudblood, for Salazar's sake. That was the worst excuse he could use. Honestly, he didn't give a damn if she was a Mudblood. However, the same couldn't be said for his parents. Leading the two knuckleheads behind him to the dormitory, he found his deep thoughts interrupted by their annoying whispering. When Draco reached the familiar corridor, he turned to them and sighed.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?" blurted Weasley, quick anger flashing in his blue eyes.

"Because I said so!" the Slytherin retorted, ready to defend himself. He could use a good fight at the moment to get his mind off things. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Potter smack a hand to his forehead in apparent dislike of the show of idiocy.

"I don't bloody trust you, Malfoy," the red-head hissed. Potter elbowed him roughly on the shoulder.

"Whatever, Weaslebee. Just don't pay attention. You're pretty good at that," Draco snapped and turned to unlock the common room. So much for the fight. Weasley was such a chicken; he probably wouldn't want to throw a punch in case his perfectly manicured nails would be ruined. Oh wait - he was a Weasley. They couldn't afford manicures.

As the door finally swung in, Potter stepped over the threshold and pulled Granger to a red fluffy couch, plopping down beside her and looking very worried.

"Look, Malfoy, I figured we should at least be civil, seeing that something we both care about is fading away," he trailed off sadly and sighed, raking a hand through his black hair.

Draco snapped his head up. "Hold on." Conjuring a glass he filled it with water, drank some, and spit it out heavily, spraying it all over Weasley.

"Oi! Bloody hell, Malfoy! I'm going to murder you before the night's over!" he yelled, taking a threatening step towards Malfoy. Draco raised his fists, ready to deliver the first blow. Weasley's face was already messed up, so how much harm could he really do?

Huffing out of sudden irritation, Potter grabbed his best mate's arm and yanked him down to sit on the couch. Draco ignored the red-headed terror and turned to face Potter. Feeling his cheeks turn red in anger, he narrowed his silver eyes. How could Potty see through him that easily?

"Care? You really have fallen off your rocker, Potter! I would never, ever, care about a filthy little Mudblood!"

Hermione felt all the anger she held towards Malfoy bubble up inside of her. How dare Malfoy call her a Mudblood, after he had kissed her that very morning. How dare he act like he was better than her, like she was dirt under his shoe. He couldn't care about her and hate her at the same time. He made her insane in the worst way. He had acted like they were friends; he had acted like they were even more than friends. She had let her guard down and began to trust him. She had believed that he had changed. She couldn't have been more wrong. Hermione stood, her brown eyes seething. Walking straight up to Malfoy, she reached out her hand and smacked him across the face.

Malfoy's face scrunched up in pain as sweet satisfaction flooded her. He seemed startled that she would ever even do such a thing. Well, she had done it in Third Year, and she definitely didn't regret it. A small pink handprint laced across his pale cheek. His eyes were stunned, but the pain quickly faded away. His eyes flashed with a deeper hurt, but only for a second, and went back to his cold-hearted glare.

"You're the biggest prick I've ever known, Malfoy. And I hate you for it."

Storming off to her room, Hermione slammed the door shut and locked it. She flopped onto her bed, closing her eyes, but no sleep came to her. Instead, she heard the arguing of the three boys in the other room, and figured out that Harry was obviously trying to hold back Ron from beating the living daylights out of Malfoy. Flipping over onto her back, Hermione studied the red walls around her. The golden shelves that lined the walls were stuffed to the brim with all sorts of books. There were enough to keep her occupied for a lifetime.

Suddenly, a completely white-feathered owl appeared in her room. It didn't come from anywhere. It just... appeared. She was startled. Staring at it for a moment more, she reached out to it. Hermione untied a note from the owl's leg, who vanished into thin air once more without even stopping to collect money. The letter was sealed with a strange looking crest. A green M was in the center, two emerald snakes weaving in and out of the letter with rubies for eyes. Breaking the seal, Hermione began to read the contents of the note.

"Greetings, Mudblood,

 I am aware that you have figured out who was behind your visit in the Room of Requirement. If I didn't want you to know, you would be absolutely clueless. But unless you would like another visit, I suggest you come to my manor this time next week, at precisely 2:30 a.m., when no teachers are patrolling. If you notify anyone of this message, I will hunt you down personally, and - well, you most likely do not wish for me to finish that thought. I will tell you this, however. It will be worse than death itself. If you come at the scheduled time however, I may spare you of any life-threatening physical punishment. But do not come thinking that your stay will be pleasant. I need you for - certain purposes... that I think you may already know of. I will be seeing you soon, whether you choose to do so, or not. And no, there is not a way out of it. Have a pleasant evening.

 - L.M."

Hermione froze, taking a moment to soak in the note's contents. Her hands trembled, blurring the hastily scripted letters. Her vision went red. Draco had betrayed her. He must be in on this horrible plot against her. It made her sick to her stomach. She swung the door open quickly, turning the heads of the three boys.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice shaking. Ron looked hurt that she hadn't said his name, but he didn't say a word. They both jumped to their feet with questioning looks crossing their faces. The crackling fire casting a warm glow on their faces did nothing to comfort her.

"Hermione, what is it?" Harry asked worriedly. She handed him the note. Harry read about a sentence before he snapped his head up, his eyebrows knitting together.

"What happened in the Room of Requirement?"

"Just keep reading," she pleaded.

Harry's face paled dramatically and he ran a shaky hand through his hair, his green eyes ablaze with rage.

"Who is this - this - L.M.? And Hermione what does he mean by visit?" he asked weakly.

Ron's face drained of color as he snatched the letter from Harry and read. Taking a deep breath, she began to tell them everything: from her rape, to the Potions class, her encounter with the seventh year boys, Goyle's remarks, her own story of her poverty, and finally ended at McLaggen's apology.

Harry and Ron's expressions were horrified, confused, and sickened.

"So - L.M. is..." Ron trailed off, his blue eyes widening.

"Lucius Malfoy," Hermione stated, and all heads turned to a very shocked looking Slytherin ferret.