For Draco

For Draco

The morning he received the letter wasn’t any different from the morning before, or before the morning before that morning, or the morning a week ago, no different than all of his mornings put together. He woke up beside the beautiful mass of red curls and freckles that was his wife, jammed his glasses onto the bridge of his nose, and went downstairs in his bathrobe and slippers. As soon as he got to the end of the stair, he picked up his special Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet, which a Ministry owl had carefully distributed through the mail slot. He walked into the kitchen, opened up a new package of bread, slipped a few pieces into the toaster, got out a plate, a knife, and a jar of marmalade, set it on the table, and took a seat. He unfurled his paper, sat back, and started to read.

No, this morning was no different than any of the other mornings that Harry Potter had lived while married to his wife, Ginny Weasley. Nothing different at all.

Until an eagle owl came swooping through his open window.

The owl screeched loudly, swooping through Harry’s kitchen, going too fast for Harry to keep up with it. Before he could try to catch it, or calm it down, the owl dropped two letters on the floor and fluttered out of the house.

Harry quickly leapt for the open window; not keen to have another rendezvous with the insane owl. After he had done so, Harry curiously eyed the two letters on the floor.

Adjusting his glasses, Harry made his way toward them. He picked them up and read the addresses on them:

Ginny Weasley

England

And:

Harry Potter

England

There was no return address.

Harry shook his head, and put the letters on the table. He would open them later.

As if nothing had happened, Harry went back to reading his paper.

A few moments later, Harry heard Ginny bolting down the staircase. She burst into the kitchen, clad in only a bathrobe. Seeing Harry, she smiled.

"Morning, love," she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. Harry turned his face and returned the kiss on her mouth, and for a few seconds, both were lost in complete bliss.

Grinning, she turned her face and started to fix herself something for breakfast, and Harry went back to his paper.

"Hmm," said Harry, "Listen to this, Gin. Just last afternoon, Lucius Malfoy was caught in the Forbidden Forest with a bunch of other Death Eaters, ‘partaking in a Dark Arts ritual’. Says he’s being ‘detained in Azkaban’," Harry took a bite of his toast.

"They give a list of names on who was caught. Nott, Moon, Parkinson…I’m surprised Draco Malfoy wasn’t with them. Too bad, I would have liked to see the little bugger rot in Azkaban."

"Oh," said Ginny half-heartedly, her voice strained.

Harry put down the paper and took another bite of his toast, obviously oblivious to his wife’s reaction.

Taking her own toast, as well as a health-conscious omelet, Ginny strode towards the table and took a seat across from her husband. Noticing the letters, she picked them up and started to observe them.

"Love?" she asked, "Who are these from?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno. I was waiting for you to open them with me."

"Let’s do it then, shall we?"

Harry nodded. He finished off his toast, took his letter into his hand, and opened it, Ginny looking at him curiously all the while. He started to read his own letter:

Potter (Harry read to himself):

This is Draco Malfoy. Yes, Draco Malfoy. I don't know why I'm writing to you. I think it may be because I feel guilty, and since these are my last hours, I would like to say sorry…

Harry gasped.

"What?" queried Ginny, quite concerned, her own unopened letter lying in front of her.

"It’s from Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

All color drained from Ginny’s face. "Read it aloud," she said softly.

Harry nodded, and started to do so:

"Potter (He read to Ginny):

This is Draco Malfoy. Yes, Draco Malfoy. I don’t know why I’m writing to you. I think it may be because I fee guilty, and since these are my last hours, I would like to say sorry. I know, it is strange that I, who you have always thought to be an arrogant pig, am apologizing for the times that I made your life hell. But I am. And I apologize.

You and I are alike, Potter. We both bend the rules, we both have pride, and we both are hurt inside. I could see it when we were in school together, Potter. You always seemed happy, yet I could tell that you felt there was something missing, in both our cases, family. I saw that in myself, and I didn't wish to see it, so I tried to get rid of it, the loss that was in you. It was stupid of me, Potter, to hurt you, when there was nothing wrong with you, but something wrong with me. And now, no one will hurt you anymore, Potter, as I have. We are on the same level. I wish you a happy life Potter, and I hope you accept my apology.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy.

Ginny let out a small noise, one that Harry couldn’t quite place. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Without a word, Ginny quickly started to open hers, and read it to Harry:

Dear Ginny:

I loved you with all of my heart and soul. Please visit my grave.

Love,

Draco

"We need to get over to wherever he is, now!" said Harry.

"Probably at his Manor," replied Ginny.

Seconds later, they Apparated.

Harry and Ginny arrived an instant later at the wrought-iron gates Malfoy Manor. Both knew, as they ran across the grounds and to the doors of the Manor, that all hexes and curses had probably been lifted, along with the capture of the older Malfoy. They unlocked the grand entrance with charms, and started to run madly through the Manor, empty of all house-elves and servants, opening doors, trying to find Draco, and maybe stop him before he did anything to himself.

They found him fifteen minutes after they had started looking, lying at an odd angle by a windowsill, in what appeared to be his room. A knife lay in his right hand, a silver dagger encrusted with emeralds, the blade stained brown. Dried blood stained his chest, and a fly had landed on the corner of his mouth.

Ginny crumpled to the floor, over Draco’s body, and started sobbing.

Harry, flabbergasted, shook his head. Draco Malfoy was gone. Gone.

He started to remember the note…

"…You and I are alike, Potter. We both bend the rules, we both have pride, and we both are hurt inside. I could see it when we were in school together, Potter. You always seemed happy, yet I could tell that you felt there was something missing, in both our cases, family. I saw that in myself, and I didn't wish to see it, so I tried to get rid of it, the loss that was in you…"

Draco had been right. They were both hurt inside. Harry had, and was still, trying to forget his pain, a pain that he had never shared with anybody, not even Ginny. The pain of not having parents. The pain of the people he had lost ever since Voldemort had been resurrected, Cedric Diggory, Justin Finch-Fletchy, who had been killed in a battle with Voldemort’s minions, Colin and Dennis Creevey, who had been killed in the same battle, Dean Thomas, who had been found, dead, with his wife and baby daughter and a Dark Mark hanging over his house, Cho Chang, who had been attacked with the rest of her team at the Quidditch World Cup…people were gone and were going faster…Harry could only imagine what Draco had been through with his cold, cruel, and calculating father. The possibilities were endless.

They were both ugly inside. Harry knew this. Both of their souls were covered in scars, but beautiful with passion, intelligence, ambition, and courage. And for the first time, Harry saw in to Draco. He saw past the snide remarks, the duels, and the fights. He saw into his soul, his true soul, and finally started to see Draco. To really see Draco for the scarred, beautiful/ugly soul that he was. The misunderstood soul that wanted something to care for.

Harry realized that it was himself who had brought this upon Draco, with Harry’s ability to not understand him. Draco had been arrogant, but he had also had good intentions, in the beginning, when he had offered his hand and friendship to Harry on the Hogwarts Express, almost ten years ago, when both of them had embarked of the adventure of learning wizardry. Draco had offered, but Harry had turned it down, trying to remain loyal to his first friend, Ron. And then the rest had started, the pushes in the hallway, the insults and obscenities flying back and forth, the constant competition between the two boys. Who could outrun who, who could win Quidditch, who was better at Quidditch, who could get the better grades. When they became older, it turned into more, a battle between light and dark, a battle between good and evil. They had let it grow, and get out of hand.

And it all started because Harry had refused to shake Draco’s hand, when Harry had refused to understand.

And this, with troubles that Harry would never know, had drove him to kill himself, to commit suicide.

"Harry," Ginny croaked through floods of tears, "Harry…" she reached out to him.

He knelt across from her, over the body, as she grasped Harry like she would never let him go.

"I loved him," she said into his ear, as she wailed uncontrollably, "In Hogwarts. I loved him. He loved me. I wanted…I wanted him so badly. And he left me. No reason why. No reason…no reason…but I think I know now. I know. He couldn’t…he couldn’t love me…and please his father…Lucius…at the same time…he couldn’t, Harry, he couldn’t…I loved him…"

Harry took her face in his hands and kissed her, let his emotions seep out into the kiss. He kissed her like he had never done before. And he found that he was crying. He was crying…

They ended the kiss and fell into each other’s arms, and started to cry harder and harder and harder. They cried for the loss of humanity around them, for the love inside of them, and the pale, porcelain fallen angel between them. They cried for the world.

But most of all, they cried for Draco. All of it for Draco

Fin.