Butterfly

Yesterday I went outside with my momma's mason jar, caught a lovely butterfly...

A party; I'd been at a party. That would explain the massive headache, the puke aftertaste in my mouth mixed with a moderate bit of mouthwash, and the body next to me. Damn I must have been really smashed.

The girl is still asleep. I feel her chest go up and down steadily. I can't see her face, I'd have to move and wake her to do that. I can't feel my arm so I pull it carefully from beneath her. It tingles painfully as the blood rushes back to my fingers. I rub my eyes, scattering gold dust. The girl sighs and puts her arm around my waist more tightly.

I can see a bit of her hair now, furious copper curls. The thick blanket around us is our prison, but one I stay in willingly. I have an idea who this might be. Yet I ignore the suspicion and settle back into my pillow. A pit in my stomach warns me that if I break this fragile moment, all hell will break loose, and everything will crash down about my ears.

I run my hand softly down her hair, like waves of silk. I smell her hair, and I feel her stir. She feels right here, like no other girl has, maybe-

Then it's gone. With a simple rap on my bedroom door, it ends. This utopia of warmth, and color, is gone. For the half a second before she looks up I am so afraid of the look I know I will see on her face.

When I woke up today, and looked in on my fairy pet, she had withered all away...

The first look on her face was confusion. Eyes big and doe like with their brown eyed affection. When she started to comprehend who I was, her eyes changed form soft cups of hot chocolate to hard packed dirt in the deep of winter.

"What's going on?" her voice is oddly subdued; her eyes rove the room searching for an answer or an exit.

I couldn't think of anything to say. All snide, clever remarks went from my mind. All I wanted was to lie down and sleep off this hangover with her still clutching my middle.

Besides, I didn't know any better than she did what had happened. The knock sounded again. I stood up; aware I wasn't wearing anything and tried to suavely tie my robe on. She clutched the robe to her chest tightly. She ducked under the covers after a moment realizing I intended to answer the door.

I found a breathless Blaise at my door, "Hi. Uh, we wanted to- that is the lot of us Slytherins. We uh, feel, uh, that um, know you should that we support you. I mean defying the old man like that and walking out. That was great, and then going to the party, it was a total statement. And yeah," he was sweating on his upper lip. Blaise shuffled from foot to foot.

"Thanks," I dismissed him, and he looked like he wanted to say more, but changed his mind and walked away.

I turned back to her, she was sitting again, eyes wide and frightened. Her whole self seemed to be withered and shook like a leaf on a tree. She was trying not to cry, anyone could see that. I had never liked her, but now, now she appealed to the few morals I possessed. I didn't want to hurt her or turn her out cold.

I walked back over to her and put my arms around her, she stiffened, and tried to turn away from me, but I pulled her closer, and after an internal battle she sighed against me and started sobbing. I held her limp form, unsure, and kissed her head.

No more sighing in her breast, I'm sorry for what I did...

Days later, she won't even look at me. I tried to catch her eye once or twice, but she resolutely kept hers from mine at all costs. Before I had seen her pulling away from her friends, but now it was far more obvious to everyone.

"They says she completely ignored Snape yesterday, he took away 25 points and sent her to Dumbledore can you believe it?"

"It looks like she's sick or something; you'd think someone just killed her mum or something."

" I wouldn't be caught dead looking as bad as she has been recently, not so much as a bit of lip gloss."

They'd put a hand on her shoulder when they were around her though, the back stabbing beasts. She knew though, and would dodge it, grab her stuff and leave, making a hasty excuse.

It had to be my fault. Guilt. It was a new sensation, and one I wished I'd never felt. Guilt. What we had done must be eating her alive.

Caring about her should have been the last thing on my mind. As I had predicted ever since the knock all hell had broke loose. It seemed everywhere I went people were talking about how young Draco Malfoy had refused to be a death eater, turned his parents in(they still hadn't been caught), been disowned by all other relations, and was thus branded for death by all the followers of the dark lord. They were also talking about how other rich, influential, member of the wizarding community were disowning children left and right for following in my footsteps and forsaking the dark lord.

I'd already read the Melody Malladay article in the Daily Prophet, as to speculation why I had done this: My father beat me, my mother beat me, I was raped by the dark lord himself....they got more and more creative. All of it was false, my father had never raised a hand at me my whole life (he preferred verbal abuse), my mother was more concerned about how much a taking on a new house elf would cost, and I had never been closer than seven feet from Voldemort. His arms couldn't reach me, let alone his wanker.

No my reasons were a lot less noble than that and stupider too. My realization of this is what had taken me to the party, where I promptly got drunk and made a huge mistake. The only thing was it didn't feel like a mistake.

...I did what my body told me to, I didn't mean to do you harm...

Memories of that night came back slowly. I'm dancing with a tall blonde, but all the swaying was making me sick. I totter outside; my eyesight impaired even more by the lights flashing on and off.

Whilst I'm getting sick in the bushes, I hear voices. It's her and that moron Potter.

"Why not?" He seems drunk too, as much if not more than I.

"Why not? Why the fucking hell do you think?" she hissed at him angrily hair sweeping creating a fiery arc. He tried to stroke it, but she slaps his hand. I'd laugh, but it's too pitiful.

"I was stupid-I'm s-rory. I-I..." He slurred.

"Shut up and leave. You're drunk. I don't care what excuses you have, none of them are good enough, leave."

But the dumb ass digs himself deeper, "Hannah and I were only fooling arou-"

"LEAVE," she screams. She collapses on the ground, and I heard Potter crunch off.

I wasn't sick anymore, but wasn't sure if I wanted to walk past her. Afraid I'd only piss her off more (unintentionally of course). So I sat morbidly transfixed as she summoned a bottle of tequila and drank shot after shot. I pulled a packet of mouthwash from my pocket (I never leave home without one), and swished it around, it helped me think. Eventually I got tired of the bushes, and decided to take a chance and walk past her.

I should have realized how bad off we both were when she grabbed my robe, and pulled me onto the ground. We sat there for the moment and then she spoke, "You're like that guy, from that one movie."

I nod sagely and acknowledged that. She hiccups and starts to cry, "I always thought he loved me, and then Elski and Hannah-"

I did the only thing I could think to do to make her stop crying. I mean it had worked for many other guys before me. So I used past precedence and kissed her. After that I had thought it would have gotten hazy but instead those were the memories that came back strongest. I remember everything; every touch, every sigh, ever breath. I dream about them.

Every time I pin down what I think I want it slips away, the ghost slips away...

Before that night I had been Lucius Malfoy's son, proud of that because it gave me an identity, but hating it because it overshadowed me. I went to my first Death Eaters meeting, excited and scared, and nervous.

When my father and I got to the designated spot, I was surprised and disgusted. I had expected an underground dungeon, where Voldemort sat upon a throne of bones and commanded a regal appearance that would make me fear and adore him.

Instead we were in a decrepit old house reeking of mold and mice. Voldemort stood by a fire, which was weak at best. He was tall, taller than me and my father. Yet he seemed shrunken and shriveled. His bald head looked dirty and his eyes were red, like a rat. There was no bone throne, he was not awe-inspiring.

It was worse when Voldemort called my father to him. I had always been so proud thinking my father was such a brave man, a man who commanded dignity. But for all that when he went to Voldemort he went down on his knees and kissed the dark lord's filthy robes.

It was so hypocritical, so against my very grain. I knew I would die before I'd sink so low as to be on my knees before that shadow of a man.

Smelled you one my hands for days, I can't wash away your scent. If I'm a dog, then you're a bitch....

I wanted to put her out of my mind. To claim she was just a conquered girl, anther notch in my belt; to not care. It was impossible. She was burned in my memory, every free moment my mind went to her clutching that sheet, holding back tears. Her hair falling like ripped copper ribbons in her face.

Every time I walk down a hallway I look for her. For the glitter of her prefects badge, a soft rustle of her skirt. In the few classes I have with her, I have to fight to keep my concentration. Her very presence, the thought she is right there distracts me.

Why? I had never cared for anyone as I cared for her, yet parts of me still hated her for her.

My whole body crackles with electricity as I bump into her in the hall. She jumps back and her books slam onto the floor. She sweeps them in a sinuous motion and runs in the other direction.

To her I am the plague; to me she is an awaking that everything I thought I wanted wasn't wroth anything. That my dreams were illusions fed to me by others. All I want now is her to look at me as she did that night.

I guess you're as real as me.....

Everything is changed near the ancient runes classroom. I had been walking to class when she had come barreling down the hall, not noticing me. She slams hard into me and falls to the ground, books every where. It seems this is a common interaction for the two of us.

"Stay out of my life!"

I'm angry; she wants ME to get out of HER life. How about the other way around? I can't think without her popping up.

"You think I want you in mine?"

I hear steps in the hallway; she pulls me into an empty corridor and into a broom closet. She was practically spitting with rage, "I hate you!"

And then her mouth is on mine, instantly my body reacts. Heating up I touch her face, her mouth. I can't drink in enough of her body. Her skin, her shoulders, her neck, I want to touch every bone, every piece of her. She catches my hand in hers, and has her other hand on my back to steady herself.

"I don't hate you," She whispers into my ear. Her breath soft, she looks at me deep in the eyes.

"I don't hate you," She repeats, burying her face into my shoulder.

"I love you," I say into her neck and kiss in up and down. She looks up at me and kisses my forehead. I could die happy.

Maybe I can live with that, Maybe I need a life of fantasy...

I am happy. Happier than is possible, so happy I could be in a flipping Doris Day musical happy. We would meet in secret, and talk or love, or whatever we felt like doing. We know somehow, that it won't last, that it won't be a happy ending. Every word is weighed as the last, every kiss sweeter for it might not be there tomorrow.

She tells me she was proud of me for standing up for myself, even if it get me killed. I tell her she didn't need Harry or anyone else, just me. I love the way when she talks her face makes the most extravagant facial gestures, how it lights up.

She giggles and plays with my hair, I pretend we are a normal couple fooling around in a common room. Sometimes in class we catch each other yawning in class and smile. I anticipate each evening more than I'd ever anticipated a quidditch match.

Still the fear is always there. That voice that said one evening I'd go to the tower and she wouldn't be there, that she would suddenly realize who I was, and how awful I'd always been and hate me. That she still came every time is what kept me going through the days.

Then it happened.

I told you I would return when the robin made his nest...

Harry Potter, my formal mortal enemy wasn't anymore. I couldn't help but not hate him when she talked so well about him despite his transgressions. She would always love him, in one way or anther, and that made me jealous beyond reason. Yet, I knew she loved me too, as much or even more than him.

I know something is wrong, she's late. She's never late. I am worried, maybe all my fears have finally come true, and I am desperate to do something, anything.

Suddenly the door opens and there she is, fear written across her. Initially I think we've been figured out and then...

"Oh Draco, they've got Harry! Your father has got Harry," Her face is ash colored. I know what I must do, if the wizarding world lost Harry, all hope is lost along with him.

"Don't worry, I'll bring him back. He's gonna be fine." I can't believe I'm about to risk my life for someone I had often wished dead.

"Be careful," she wraps her arms around me, holding me tighter than she ever has before.

"He's gonna be fine," I repeat, I can tell she wants to say something. The words won't come, yet I read it in her eyes. There's a lump lodged tight in my throat.

"Come back, promise you'll come back alright. Promise me!" She looks up trusting me with everything she has. I kiss her forehead.

"Goodbye love." I can't make promises I don't think I can keep.

...but I ain't never coming back...

Harry is in the dungeon, as I had suspected he'd be. Also the trap is there too, it's always a trap. They seemed surprised to see me of all people, but that didn't seem to stop them from sending curse after curse at me as I fumble with Harry's bonds. I try to dodge them as best as possible. It was really no use though.

I catch Blaise's eyes as I say the apperation spell, he looks down ashamed. Even as I apperate I feel my energy depleting.

I feel so tired. So old, I feel my life ebbing away. She is kneeling over me, frantic to do something.

"Don't you dare leave me," she says running her hand over the marks from the curses. She tries spell after spell, but it's no use. I grab her hand to stop her. I just want to look at her. One last time.

I'm sorry.

I touch her face, her hair. I want to say brave words, ones that will last a lifetime in her memory so I won't die here.

I'm sorry.

She is biting her lip, so tightly it's white. She knows what I'm thinking.

"I won't forget you. Not ever. Ever," She swears, as tears plop down on me. I feel my arms go numb followed by my legs.

It's true, she won't forget me. She might marry someday, maybe to Harry, but when she looks at him she won't forget me completely.

My eyesight is blurry now. I'll just close my eyes, and then maybe when I wake up I'll be in the infirmary or her arms and this is all a bad dream. Everything is white.

I'm sorry.

~*~

When the cold of winter comes

Starless night will cover the day

In the veiling of the sun

We will walk in bitter rain

But in dreams

I can still hear your name

And in dreams

We will meet again

When the seas and mountains fall

And we come to end of days

In the dark i hear a call

Calling me there

I will go there

And back again.

Draco Malfoy died on that day; four days shy of completing his Hogwarts education.

Virginia Weasley eventually became top Aurora in the academy, she brought down the infamous Lucius Malfoy along with the likes of McNair, Zambini(all three of them), and numerous others. She eventually married Liam Norsey, a private detective, and had a son, named Draco.

Harry Potter went on to defeat the dark lord a month later, sadly he was crippled for life in this battle. After his defeat he became the best minister the wizarding world had ever known.

A monument stands in Draco's honor outside Hogwarts, commemorating him and those that gave their life to save the world from the dark.