C'est Fini

Click. Draco slumped against the door of the Astronomy Tower as relief flooded through him. After the events of last year, security had been tight at Hogwarts. He had almost been caught by Mrs. Norris and McGonagall on his way here. Draco carefully surveyed the room. He didn't expect any couples to be here, everyone was at the Halloween feast; but he wanted to make sure. Satisfied he was alone; he crossed the room to the north window. When he opened it and climbed out onto the roof, he felt that sense of peace he always felt there when he was alone. He just sat for a moment, looking over the grounds and at the sky. He sighed, wishing he could stay there forever. Suddenly, an image of himself and Pansy came into his mind; the two of them kissing passionately in this same spot. As he mentally shook off the picture, his resolve hardened. He knew what he had to do.

Removing his pack, he took out a stack of parchment, his quill, and a bottle of black ink. He put quill to paper, and paused. Who should he address the letter too? It's not like anyone cares anyway he thought grimly to himself. After another moment's deliberation, he wrote:

"To Whom It May Concern,

I have decided it is time for me to go. This life holds nothing for me. I am writing this to help clear up any confusion, and so everyone knows exactly who is to blame.

My father. He wants me to…go into a profession I don't enjoy. He won't listen to me when I say I don't want to. When I tell him what I really want to do with my life.

I know I am a horrible jerk, which is probably why I have no friends. Crabbe and Goyle only want a bit of my power. Ha! Like I would share it with them. And Pansy… Pansy doesn't love me! She just uses me for popularity." Draco stopped and looked at the sky, taking several deep, calming breaths. When he had stopped shaking with anger, he resumed writing. "Although I cannot say I've been entirely truthful to her either.

I cannot stand this fake life of deceit." Draco paused and chewed on his quill, deep in thought. Should he tell? His long-kept secret gnawed at his mind. It would be a great relief, to get rid of the burden he had borne since his fateful first day at Hogwarts. No, he decided, they probably couldn't handle it. With a sigh, he simply signed the letter,

"Goodbye,

Draco"

He folded the letter and stuck it in a pane in the window, half-hoping no one would ever find it. Sitting back down, he reached into his pack again, and pulled out a knife. It really was a beautiful thing, he thought. Silver, with sparkling emeralds and the Malfoy crest on the handle. His mother had given it to him. Gripping the knife tightly in his right hand, he looked at the moon, and allowed himself to cry. He hadn't cried since he was six years old, and his first owl had died. Lucius had beat him for it. With a belt.

But now he found he couldn't help it. Slowly he pushed up the sleeves of his robes. And then he decided to leave a clue; a key to the real reason for his pain. He lifted the knife, and watched it flash in the moonlight. Slowly, he cut open his left wrist, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Surprisingly he felt no pain. He watched the blood, red as the lips he had so often dreamt about, running down his arms, soaking his robes. He could feel his strength slowly ebbing away; he lay back against the roof, so he could see the stars. Stars had always amazed him. So close, so real, but so far away. As he watched, an owl flew overhead. Beautiful, white, and strangely familiar. He watched it, until his vision began to go black. His last thought was of a pair of emerald eyes, before he faded into the night.