Confessions by DracoLovesPansy

Harry has never hated his life as much as in this moment.

In this moment, this horrible moment that will haunt him for the rest of his life, all he wants to do is to scream out and fall to his knees. He wants to cry and cry until he will break apart.
This is it, he thinks and the words hits him with a shock.

Harry doesn't feel his heart beating.

He has just defeated the Dark Lord, and he should be happy. Should be. But how can he? When so many have died because of him? When people comes up to him, eyes shining with tears, honouring him, but silently wondering why their husband, wife, daughter or son is dead when Harry Potter - the great Harry Potter - is alive.

He let them die. He could have handed himself over...
He let them die.

Harry has never hated his life as much as in this moment.

Draco doesn't feel anymore. He's just numb.
He does not show any emotion. Just flirts.
He brings home different girls every night. He only continues to live for the pleasure. Those brief moments of feeling like nothing can destroy his world keeps him going.

He visits his mother's grave every day. He visits his mother's grave every day and cries. Cries until he stumbles down in front of her gravestone, shaking and trembling, crying in hysteric sobs. It gets hard to breath, and he gasps in a rattle. He cries until everything he's empty, until everything has come out of him, until he's done. Then straightens up, sniffles slightly and walks away with his head held high, showing no signs of weakness.

Then he meets his friends at his local bar. He smirks and flirts and brings home another girl. His friends envy him.

Draco thinks of Pansy Parkinson every day.

Draco doesn't feel anymore.

Pansy used to be afraid of the dark. When she was little, she was. She used to think there were monsters under her bed and ghosts in the darkness outside of her window. She used to tiptoe over the the upper floor, over to her parents' bedroom, clutching her teddy bear. She used to look around her worriedly as she hurried away from her room, from her warm bed. And when she had slipped in under the covers of her parents' bed and she lay there, safely tucked in between them, her father would say, "There is nothing dangerous in the dark, Pansy, I assure you that."

"But what about the monsters under my bed, then, Daddy? And what about the ghosts?" she would whisper.

"There are no monsters and ghosts, love."

He would carry her back to her own room and her mother would still be sleeping.
Even though Pansy would try to convince him about the monsters and the ghosts, he wouldn't believe her. He would laugh a little and say that there was nothing hiding, lurking, in the dark. That it was fine. That she was safe.

In the last battle of Hogwarts, Pansy's best friend was killed right before her eyes right as the Slytherins left the castle. She was killed by mistake, by one of their own. Some cloaked Death Eater. She died for nothing.

Pansy is not afraid of the dark anymore. She thinks the darkness is beautiful. She wishes she could sink into it.

Pansy saw Draco Malfoy today. At a bar.
She saw him leaving, too. He was not alone.

Pansy thinks she can never love again.

And Pansy used to be afraid of the dark.