Dumbledore entered the room to find two letters on the table. One opened, the other sealed. He sighed deeply and read the open one first. It was Hermione's. But this other one, who's was that? With trembling hands Dumbledore fingered the seal, before opening the letter.

I loved her, more than life itself, more than Potter or Weasley ever could have, I saw the sadness in her eyes. How her two friends could look her in the eye and not see past her façade, I cannot describe my disgust. She hated me, I could not save her. But she loved Potter and Weasley, they could have made a difference, if they had bothered to ask her why she never laughed, never showed emotion anymore, why she walked with her head down, arms crossed and feet shuffling. Why didn't anyone help her? I tried, oh god how I tried, and I failed. I cannot live with myself for failing her, when she has never failed me. How did people not notice the bruises covering her petite body? It doesn't matter anymore. Have you read Romeo and Juliet? Maybe you have, but be content to know that she will be happy where she is, and I will keep an eye on her, as she always did for me in the first year. I can't take the pain anymore, the ache deep in my heart telling me I failed her, telling me to make it up to her, somehow. But I do know that she doesn't want that bastard at her funeral, the bastard that beat her and took her innocence. It was her only wish, she prayed it every night, I heard her. "Lord, please let me die, and when you do, leave him to suffer with the guilt, keep him locked up, and then send him on his way to hell where he rightfully belongs". Please keep her wish, whoever reads this, please don't let Blaise Zabini anywhere near her funeral. Together in death, at last.

Draco Malfoy, who is in love with Hermione Granger.