Time keeps turning. I can feel it vibrating in my soul, as I felt the weapon in my hand, the wand I used to end it all. But it does no good to waste this time, as the clock turns away the seconds, as the wound opens, as my breath catches.

My name is Draco Malfoy. This name meant something once, but now it is just a breath on the wind, a whisper to the night. My story is nothing more than a shadow in moonlight, but it is still a very deep and dark shadow. I have met villains, tortured heroes, killed men, women and children. And yet the minutes tick on as my life draws to a close.

My wife used to tell me that I was mad to talk about that time, the time when we were divided. She would toss her wild brown hair and roll her deep brown eyes at me, and then smile to show me it was all pretend. Maybe, now, I am mad. She was so wonderful, yet she is dead now, from my doing. She knew nothing of the plan then. Knew nothing about the lies I span to protect her. Her beautiful face haunts me still, as she lay dying in a pool of her own blood. All dead. All gone. And now I sit here alone in this chair, writing to nothing and no one, wasting my precious minutes as the blood seeps through my robes. This is how I want it. Nothing to say, no one to know what happened, except the thin air, and silence. Towards the end, towards death. I can now say that this I will look forward to. I will see her again, if the heavens are merciful. I will see her face, and apologise.

Hermione. Hermione Granger. I deserve to be roasted alive-no, pierced by that look on her face a thousand times or more for what I have done. I killed her. I killed her. My wife-no, not my wife. I was her husband, but I never deserved her to call my own. She always told me to look to the future, never the past, that old memories and grudges should be forgotten. Now, when my future is death, and only death, I can think back freely, back to a time when we were happy. Remembering.

Now my breath is rattling inside me. My hand is growing heavy as I write. One more thing to say now, only one. Goodbye.

And as his eyes drifted closed, he felt a hand on his cheek, a whisper in his ear. Brown curls drifted onto his shoulder as she held him, as tears began to fall from his eyes, as the silence pressed in, as the darkness enveloped them, Draco and Hermione.

Goodbye my lover

Goodbye my friend

You have been the one

You have been the one

For me