Summer Breeze

Summer Breeze

It might have been a while
Since you've been loved
Like you should be loved

It might have been a while
Since you've been kissed
Like you should be kissed

In tending loving arms
Might be something you miss

Well summer breeze is blowing through your window
And summer breeze is blowing through your hair
And something in your eyes that you cannot disguise
Don't tell me it ain't there

It might have been a while
Since you've been loved
By one who really loves you

It might have been a while
Since you could trust
That someone really cares

When people like us
Meant to go 'round in pairs

Summer breeze is blowing through your window
And summer breeze is blowing through your hair
Something in your eyes that took me by surprise
Don't tell me that it ain't there

SUMMERBREEZE, by Emiliana Torrini

History repeats itself. I read that once, in a muggle book. I didn't believe it at the time- I laughed and told myself it wasn't true. I was nine years old, and I had no idea what the future held. How was I to know that I would love three men, one after the other, and each time know that they could never be with me?

The first time, I don't think you could call it love. Admiration, pity, hope, faith- almost obsessive. The second time, I was truly passionate, and that love has never quite left me because I never saw him die. He betrayed me, said he hated me, used me and drained my life away to gain his own power. But I loved him.

The third time, I love a man who I knew would never care for me except as a sister, and he saw it as his duty to protect me against the world, because I was the only one left who knew how he felt- to lose the man you love to darkness and then death.

They're all connected. The first one killed the second and loved the third. The second one hated the first and thought the third was his loyal follower. The third hated the second and loved the first.

Harry Potter, Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy. The golden boy, Lord Voldemort and the Slytherin prince. Not exactly a good track record. The first I thought about constantly knowing that he saw me as an annoying little sister of his best friend, the second tried to kill me, the third I married.

I am Mrs Virginia Malfoy. Richest witch in the world. Three beautiful children. Married the man she loved, the hero of the war. Lives in a giant manor with her family. Loads of friends. Luckiest witch in the world.

Until the night my husband killed himself. After that, the money drained away until we were left with just enough to live comfortably. But I don't blame Draco; even though everyone says he just snapped, I know what really happened. Because just the week before, he'd shown me the secret he'd kept close to his heart for forty years.

A tiny fragment of wood. Not just any wood- the wood from the wand of Harry Potter, the man who will go down in books as the second most evil man who ever lived. Because he switched sides, and joined Voldemort. Now, of course, they're saying that he always was evil. Do they think that makes the blow any softer? After forty years, my heart still bleeds for Harry and Draco. Draco, my husband.

I loved him for staying strong and continuing to fight, even when he knew that the man he loved was plotting to kill him. I loved him for saving my life on that rainy night a week before the war, when dementors attacked our base. I loved him for seeing in me what Tom had seen- the red-haired queen, standing on a hill, summer breeze blowing through her hair, beautiful. I loved him for staying by me for forty years without complaint. I loved him for who he was, I loved him unquestionably and unwavering.

That was love.

Now they say to me, 'you're so brave. So many of your friends died, and Harry as well. But you never broke, never cried useless tears. And your husband, well... he was a good man, but after what happened... that affair will go down in history as the most tragic affair ever. You have my pity, Mrs Malfoy, you really do.'

Well, you know what? I don't want your pity. I loved Tom, now he's gone. I loved Harry, now he's gone. I loved Draco, now he's gone. History repeats itself.

Over and over, history repeats itself.

But I will always remember my reflection in Draco's eyes, and in Tom's, of the red-haired queen who stands on a hill, with the summer breeze blowing through her hair. The luckiest, most beautiful woman in the whole world.

And I did cry.