Goodbye

Hermione found the letter on her bed. A small, nicely embroidered letter that looked so innocent, but Hermione had learned long ago looks could be deceiving. She opened it with trembling hands and gasped when she saw the words written on it.

Dear Hermione,

I know you'll hate me for this, but I've reached the point where it doesn't matter anymore. Anything is better than living my life ... even death. I want to thank you, because for a few short months you made it bearable, but things are getting worse and no matter how much you care and want to help, you can't. Even though I wish you could.

Love,

Draco Malfoy

Hermione felt her heart stop. She couldn't let him do this, not after all they'd been through, not when he meant so much to her. She pulled the Marauder's Map out of her robe, and thanked God she'd decided to borrow it from Harry earlier. The map revealed that Draco had just entered the highest tower in Hogwarts. Hermione ran; she ran faster than she ever thought she could down hallways and up stairs and was barely aware of the searing pain in her side.

She screamed his name as she barreled through the door of the tower.

He sat motionless on the ledge of the open window, looking out at the night sky and the falling snow.

"I didn't want you to be here," he whispered, "I didn't think you'd get the letter until after it was over."

"Why are you doing this?" she gasped, breathless from running.

"I don't know what else to do," he said. He pulled the sleeve on his robe up. Hermione saw the Dark Mark, clearly visible in the moonlight. "I'm connected to him now," Draco continued, "and it's horrible. I never wanted this, but I couldn't stop it. So now all I can do is end it."

"By killing yourself?" she cried. "You can go to someone for help!"

He shook his head, "This is my fault, and I'm the one who has to solve the problem. I've done horrible things, and this is how I'm going to take it back. My life isn't worth anything."

"To me it is," she said quietly.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes," she answered, surprised at how easy the confession was. "We could be happy together, you don't need to do this."

"I love you too," he replied, "and yes I do."

"If you love me you won't."

He sighed, and for the first time Hermione saw how weary he was and how much older he looked than merely seventeen, and she wondered why she never saw it before. "You might not understand it, but I wouldn't do this if I didn't love you."

Tears silently streamed down her face as she watched the man she loved. He was so beautiful, and when he was with her he was so gentle and caring, more caring than she ever thought possible. She wanted to help him, but she didn't know how, and it tore her apart.

"Oh God Hermione, don't cry," he said in a strangled voice.

She took a step closer to him, but he leaned a little further out the window and she stopped.

"Don't try to help me," he warned, "you can't. I just want you to know I love you and thank you ... for everything."

In a second that seemed to be all of eternity, he smiled a rueful smile, whispered goodbye, and fell back off the window ledge and into the bitter night air.

Hermione screamed and rushed to the window, afraid to look down, but knowing she had to. She saw his body on the ground so far below, sprawled out on the snow, accented by the moonlight. He looked like a fallen angel, so lovely, even in death. She wanted to touch him and stroke his soft hair, but he was too far away. Hermione slid to the floor and hugged herself as she cried for Draco and for all the broken dreams he took with him.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."