Just Let Me Die

I don't want to live anymore. Life has nothing more to offer me. Hasn't it given me everything already?

Draco, where are you? Why can't you return?

Besides, what more do I have to live for?

You're gone, Draco. You'll never come back.

I remember when they brought you back. You had carefully held your wrist out to the side, so that the blood would not stain your clothes. You always did like everything to be perfect.

I miss you so much, Draco. I can't bear it any longer.

The funeral was nice. You would have liked it. They magically preserved your body so that you would be beautiful forever. I placed a white rose on your grave.

Why did you do it? I can't stand being away from you.

After, everyone kept coming up to me. Most told me not to be sad, that you had sold us all to the Dark Lord.

I need you, Draco. Why did you do this?

I thought you had betrayed me. I thought you had joined the dark side. But you didn't, did you? Something about the smile on your cold lips told me that.

Please, Draco, try to understand. I never meant to hurt you.

I never cried, Draco. You told me, a long time ago, that Malfoys don't cry. So I was dry-eyed as I burned your diary, your robes, everything but the silver-and-ruby ring you gave me for my eighteenth birthday. I wanted to destroy the memories of you, to destroy the hurting and the pain. It did not work.

Don't be dead, Draco, please don't. Let this all be a trick.

I don't know how much longer I can live. I keep staring at the dagger, and the blood, and the rubies in the handle. They look the same.

Draco, I believe you. You never joined Voldemort.

I almost thought that your blood would be Slytherin blood, cool and emerald. It's Gryffindor blood though, strong and pure and red.

So red, Draco. Red staining pale white flesh and soaking into the blackness of your tunic.

Everyone talks in hushed voices around me, and the razor is gone from the bathroom. It is like they expect me to break, to shatter into millions of pieces.

I want you back, Draco. I think I will die without you.

I can't handle it anymore. I never could, I was just a shell trying to hold back the world, waiting for the dam to break.

Draco, will you lend me your strength, your iron will. I need you now more then ever.

I know that when I finally cut, and watch my dark blood spill out, and laugh my dying breath away, that you will be there, and you will not be happy, but I don't care.

Oh, Dragon. You always wanted me to follow, to be more like you.

I know that Ron, or Hermione may find me, that I was careless in my death and that they will try to save me, but I just want to die.

Just let me die.