He drowns in his dreams

An exquisite extreme I know,

He's as damned as he seems,

But more heaven than a heart could hold.

Hermione was woken in the night by a peircing scream. She sat upright. Her head girl room was opposite Malfoy's head boy one. The scream carried on for what seemed like hours. Hermione pulled the covers up and over her head. She had her hands clamped over her ears. She was scared for him. He never screamed. She was scared because her mind thought of all the things that could possibly make him scream. She herself had to keep from screaming. Her mind, like his must be, Was flooded with depression.

He hardly ever looked at her, Not that she was complaining. When he did, it was followed by an insult, or something of the sort.

If I were to save him,

My whole world would cave in.

It just ain't right, no it just ain't right...

Hermione wasn't stupid. She saw the Dark Mark against his forearm. She knew then that she couldn't help him. To Help a death eater was to surrender one's self to the dark lord. She would never do that. But still, his screams carried on. She couldn't silence it. No matter what charm, or how strong it was, it would never block out the dying screams of a young boy. She woke up every night, and had to endure the screaming.

I don't know,

I don't know what he's after,

But he's so beautiful,

He's such a beautiful disaster

Hermione went across the hall one night. She sat by his bed. Her eyes never left his face. For most of the night, it was contorted in pain. Of course, there was hell to pay in the morning. She was long gone by the time he woke up, but the chair was still there, and her scent was in the air.

He flew off the handle. She was crying, he was screaming, the red mark on her face wouldn't go away. She had no right, he said. He was screaming, she said. She should've stayed away, he said. She wanted to see if he was alright, she said. He said he was fine, thank you, now bugger off.

And if I could hold on,

through the tears and the laughter,

would it be beautiful?

Would it be a beautiful disaster?

Hermione often wondered what it would be like if he had never joined the death eaters. She wondered if he would be any different. She thought not. The screaming had stopped now. It was now more scary. She would go in his room in the middle of the night to find his an expression of terror on his face, and silent tears running down his face.

He's soft to the touch,

But frayed at the end,

He breaks.

That was the night Draco Malfoy died. Hermione thought it was silent tears, but there was an expression of such peace on his face. The sheets were soaked in blood. There was a long, deep cut at his throat, and a piece of parchment on his chest. It read

Never Love A Mudblood