Star Pricked

How could he have ever done this to me? I have lain awake a million midnight blue, star pricked nights thinking about that one question and never finding the answer. I used to cry for his beaten soul and tend to his bruised paleness for hours on end wishing his pain away. I never wanted him to suffer, but he did.

It has been a year since he left me crying alone on the Astronomy Tower ledge, wanting to fling myself over the edge and fall forever, becoming one with the swirling blackness. Sometimes I wonder if there is peace where he is, in death. Is he happy? Do they walk around in purely spun gold robes and play wizards chess for hours, laughing and dancing alongside little cherubs with melodic harps? Or is there darkness there... are they scared? Does evil lurk around the shadowed corners of death? So many questions and not one answer. Hmm, I guess I will find out soon.

There has not been one minute that went by that I didn't think about his pale skin or his silver eyes. Or the way he whispered my name in lust, making every inch of me feel wanted and free of any imperfections. I could have been laid before the gods and not felt an inch of shame or fear of acceptance. Oh, how I wished that we could have shown ourselves, walked hand in hand to a world of happiness. I truly loved him, Draco Malfoy.

Me, just being a bushy-haired, buck toothed mudblood, had never felt beautiful to anyone. If you would have told me any time before our strange addiction that Draco Malfoy, Slytherin God would accept me beyond being a mere acquaintance, I would thought you to be mad. But it was true... we were both addicted to the strange feeling of imperfectness we shared when we were near each other. We craved it like a drug.

It was more to me than a strange love... it was an obsession. I knew that Draco had never, ever loved me as I loved him. So much so that his heart would burst under the pressure of my absence. So much that every fiber of his being would rip and send his soul crashing down to misery if I was gone. I knew he never loved me at all.

I wipe a single tear from my hollowed cheek. It has been like that since my other has been gone. Harry and Ron never say anything to me about my weakness or my pale, sunken appearance. They try to help, but it does no good because they have no clue what goes on inside my mind. So I stay in my room, supposedly studying, and skip dinner for the third night in a row.

Being here again where he left me makes me want to end it right now, which is what I plan to do. I have written a note to leave in the Gryfindor Common Room for the others to see, explaining my obsession and my reasons for leaving them. It was carefully thought out and written on yellowed parchment in graceful, curving motions. The note was beautifully crafted, something wonderful left behind in this world.

I prepare myself with deep, reassuring breaths. I am scared, but I know soon that I will see Draco's angelic face and all will be right in my world. Pulling a smooth wand out of the pocket in my robes, I grip it with my right hand and it feels foreign in my palm. It is Draco's wand. I take one last look into the star pricked night and let myself go, surrendering to the peace.