Rated PG-13 for slight slash (if you wish to call it that) and dark themes (suicide).
The snowy owl flew through the hall that evening, landing beside an extremely surprised Slytherin's pumpkin juice goblet. Hesitantly, he slid the letter off the bird's leg and broke the seal, unsure as to of what he was about to read. Draco-
The tears in my eyes threaten to fall as I write this letter, the last thing I will write, the last words I will say. This decision was hard for me. I'm sure you sit there, your back straight, staring at this incredulously as your year-mates talk around you. I bet right now, you are looking across the hall, trying to find me, yet I am not there, in my normal seat, the one I have sat in since we first came to Hogwarts, so many years ago. Funny, as I write this letter, that day is all I can think about.
I remember you offering your hand-slim, pale, and perfect, I recollect thinking at the time, the hand of an artist-to me, in what I thought of as contorted words of friendship. I realize now how grievous a mistake I made. It wasn't contorted- it was a plea for attention, your insecurity demanding it be hidden by pride. Yet all I could do was smirk as I coldly gave my reply. I remember your astounded look, seeing the hurt in your eyes, yet I thought at the time it was hurt pride, because you weren't used to anyone ever turning you down. How wrong I was.
As I confess this, your head snaps up, and once again you try to search me out, spot me, but I am still missing, the only thing that shows that I was once here an empty seat between the friends I had chosen-now, I'm not so sure I made the right choice.
I am sure you are currently wondering, Why is it me he writes his final words to, not one of his Gryffindor friends, not Dumbledore? My answer to that question is that it felt right. We have shared more, in my mind, than anyone else. I spent my childhood glaring at you from across the tables, getting into scuffles with you in the halls, throwing dirty looks and harsh words at you during classes. You, the son of my enemy, are the most important person in my life. You keep me steady when I have no support, because you are the norm. You are always there, arguing with me, sneering and smirking at me, and I have grown so used to this, so comforted by this constant. I feel I have grown to need it.
Yet you are still wondering. I can sense it. Why me? The question almost echoes through your brain. Because you have always been there, everywhere. I am surrounded by you, in a way I can't help but take comfort out of. Because, over the past few years, I have found myself growing farther and farther away from the rest of the world, and you are the only thing that keeps me attached-the trading of dirty looks, bitter words, angry fights, is what makes me keep hold on what is real. And, in a strange way, I trust you. I know what you will do-you will sit and smirk, no matter what happens. I can expect that, I am comfortable with it. Everyone else always changes, yet you always stay the same, sitting across the hall from me, glowering at me with your beautiful silver orbs.
You are appeased with that answer, I know, but now have moved on to another question. Why is he writing this? What does he mean? Yes, Malfoy, I know what you are thinking. And I know that you know, somewhere inside yourself, somewhere that you are currently pushing away, trying to deny what is true. But it is. I am currently standing atop the Astronomy Tower, readying myself for my final move, my final act of bravery, if you will. For this is foolish, Gryffindor bravery. My last attempt to save someone. But, for once, it isn't someone else, some faceless person, unknown. It is me. I can't go on like this- desperate, alone, depressed. I can no longer take all the pressure put on me. I can't defeat the dark lord, a fact that you know well. I will die, I know it. I can't imagine having to face everyone's disappointment if I told them that. And that is another reason why I am doing this. I couldn't face Dumbledore-he is a manipulative old coot, I realize, but I love him like a grandfather, or maybe a favorite great-uncle, or something of that sort. Or maybe a crazy old man who lives next door. That doesn't matter at this point. I can't imagine having to face Ron's anger, his face flushing that angry red, as I tell him that I, for once, can't do something, or Hermoine's quiet, if not disappointed, understanding, or even Hagrid's large, alligator tears as he weeps for me, roughly patting me on the back and telling me that I am, despite how we both know he's lying. The only thing I regret not being there to see is your cold smirk, the one that has become so comforting to me, as I tell everyone. Yes. I do wish to see that look directed at me just once more, just so I know that everything in the world is right. But it is not to be. However, I know that you are currently glaring at this letter, and as I can sit here and imagine it, that is almost as good.
Please remember that I hope that you continue whatever path you wish in your life, and I hope that you get to make the decisions for yourself. I hope that you never know loneliness, and I hope that if you do, there is someone there that will keep you attached to everyone else. But most of all, I hope you never quit smirking your famous Malfoy smirk.
Love,
Potter (Harry)
The-Boy-Who-Finally-Died
(Suiting title, isn't it? I find this, in a twisted way, amusing. I'm sure the Dark lord would too…he'd only wish he was there to witness my misery, which is absent now, has been absent since I began to form this plan in my mind. He'd wish to be here to watch as my cold body hits the ground with a cruel splat, dead on impact. Unfortunately, it is not to be. If only I had waited a little longer, we could've had a-what do the ghosts call it? Oh yes, I remember now- a death-day party. How amusing everyone would find that. Maybe I would get presents from my relatives…the first present they would have given me, and only then because they were finally getting rid of me. But the best reason to have one would be to see your wonderful smirk.) Goodbye, Malfoy, Draco, my Dragon.
The letter fell out of Draco's hand, his face slightlypaler than usual, but the famous Malfoy smirk-his security blanket- was firmly in place.
So, what did everyone think? Should I continue it? Now that you've read, REVIEW!
PS: I am completely open to corrections, comments, and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, but truthfully, I don't like flames. If you are going to insult someone just for the mere sake of insulting, don't bother to review. Now, please, continue to press that nice little purple button.