I hate everything about you. Absolutely everything. There is not on teensy, tiny detail about you, your history, your lifestyle, your friends, and your "home" that does not fill me with disgust.

I hate you. I hate your smirk. It's atrocious, scummy, and irritating. I hate your damn smile. I have seen a genuine smile from you before. It was never under noble circumstances. I hate the way your hair falls in your face. I hate how greasy it looks, especially when I know how soft it is. I hate that that stupid mane of gorgeous, platinum hair is so Merlin damned silky under my fingers. I hate your clothes. No person as pale as you should look so good in all black robes. It's ridiculous! Even when you wear small amounts of emerald or silver, it is still utterly bonkers.

I hate your father. I hate the way he sneered at me when you brought me home. I hate that I know what he's done before I was ever formally introduced. I hate your mother. There was no need to force me into wearing those horrible, bubble gum punk robes. My normal robes were fine. She took secret enjoyment at my discomfort, I hope you know that. I hate that you cannot keep your room tidy, unless there's a Houseelf cleaning up after you! It's simple really, love. Clean clothes go in the drawers and closet. Dirty clothes go into the laundry shoot. I hate that you were raised to think that you are better than someone like me. You will never be a better person. You were raised to be rich, rude, and tenacious with your love. That's your past. A rude, insecure little boy who never grew up.

I hate how often you go out to pubs and clubs. The firewhiskey makes you completely horrible. I hate going out every other night to Zabini's pub. There is no need to be there so much. We have sat at every single table and stool possible in that place. I hate watching you go off with every tramp that asks for a dance. Then when you return an hour later you smell of them. Once there was lipstick on your collar. You had the white one on that night, with the emerald tie. Really, love, did you think I would not notice. She wore bright red lipstick, for Merlin's sake! I saw it, you pig. It was hard to miss.

Speaking of Zabini…he is worse then you! He has propositioned me for sex more than once. You tell him about me and suddenly I'm a wanton whore. Parkinson's an imbecile. She can never use magic to safe her life. She has no training, no knowledge, and certainly no class. She can't carry on an intelligent conversation with a Horklump*. I won't even speak of Goyle. Him trying to force himself on me was bad enough. Thank you for defending me though. Oh, wait a moment…you didn't. Friends before broads, I suppose.

I hate Malfoy Manor. Every room is decorated in such splendid detail. The carpets are lush and gorgeous. The walls are painted and hung with impeccable tapestries, paintings, and portraits. Yet it is so cold. Its occupants hold no love for the Manor nor each other. Every one of you walk the place as if it is a chore. There isn't a touch of a woman's hard work. You're mother should never be proud of that place. She has never lifted a finger to clean it and keep it a home. She made the Houseelves do it.

I hate everything about you. But do you know what I hate the most? I hate that I am so incredibly and irrevocably in love with you. The very strength of my love for you cancels out the hate I feel for your life and your friends. I hate that I thought you had changed. The thought that you could love me as much as I love you has killed me. I hate that you don't! I hate that you've only ever called me beautiful when you are sliding into me. You only call me by my real name when you orgasm. I have been nothing to you but a sex toy…a distraction. The time we spent in public places was just to strength the image of a reformed family. You did what your father asked of you.

Well, I have been unfaithful too, my dear. When you went missing for hours on end after work, I was entertaining a certain friend. He knows all about you. He disapproves but he wishes for me to be happy. That's what this letter is about. My unending happiness. He will take care of me. He has a great job, and a beautiful flat. He love me. One day I hope I can love him as much as he loves me. Ron is just better for me then you are.

Here are the earrings you gave me for Christmas. Also enclosed is the bracelet from after that particularly lengthy and troublesome blow job. It has been fun. I've enjoyed parts of it. I hope you find someone worthy of you. When you find her…well… I hope she makes your life a complete hell. I hope you suffer.

Always,

Hermione

Draco lowered the letter for the third time that day. He felt the inescapable sting of tears in the corners of his eyes. Swiping ferociously at them, he set the letter on the table in disgust. How could this letter still affect him this badly?

It's been 15 years since Hermione Granger walked out of his life. Her children, those ugly redheaded things, go to school with his Scorpius.

There has only been one woman who ever made Draco Malfoy suffer. There is only one who makes his life a living hell. She does it from afar.

Damn you, Hermione Granger. May Merlin damn you for this….with that thought, the tears start again.

Well that's a new one! Kind of sad. I think I really enjoyed doing a pissed off Hermione. More to come…

*Horklump- A Scandinavian fleshy, pink mushroom. It is covered in sparse, black bristles. It can breed enough offspring to cover a garden in days. It is a delicacy of gnomes, but has no other use. (Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them- Newt Scamander)