Dear Draco Malfoy,
I am writing you to express my utter disgust at your lack of ability to have feelings of any sort for anyone other than yourself. You are a complete disgrace to wizarding kind and you ought to know that you would be better off lying at the bottom of a trench somewhere out in the middle of the ocean, without a wand, air, or money. So, I would like to offer a choice to you: Either learn to care about people and creatures of all sorts or go jump in an active volcano for no living person cares about a snotty blonde teenage boy who acts as though the whole flipping universe revolves around him, his father, and his money.
Without the slightest bit of sympathy,
Draco Malfoy read the letter repeatedly, each harsh word being engraved in his brain like an overly sharp quill was writing it over and over again without mercy. Stupid mudblood, would have been his usual remark, but something about this letter changed his thinking.
Hermione Granger is an extremely smart witch, mudblood or not, and she was probably right about no one caring about him if he died in with the attitude he obtained, except for Pansy Parkinson of course. He knew he was a total jerk and he was known and appreciated for it in Slytherin, but now that he was out of school and about half of those witches and wizards had already been arrested and sent to Azkaban for one thing or the other (not literally half, only a few really), he didn't have all of those appreciative fans anymore. He was just a normal wizard who was a jerk. No one would care about him now.
Although he had always "hated" mudbloods for "disgracing the wizarding community", he considered truly taking Hermione's words to heart.