Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor do I make any money off of it. (Life is so cruel, eh? =o)

WARNINGS: This story contains lots of angst, with references to suicide. It also contains SLASH (of the Harry/Draco variety). That means SAME SEX RELATIONS. Homophobes may leave now. =o)

Author's Note: Hey everyone, the plot, the story, and the poem are mine, so if anyone wants to archive, go ahead, but please inform me. =o)

Draco's POV You think you know me

You think you know me,

But you don't,

Not at all,

Though perhaps you understand that now.

I got a letter today

(It was from my former hero,

It was from my father),

Who wrote to inform me of a tragedy

Within the family.

It seems my mother is no more.

She was forever like a graceful bird,

So fair and vibrant,

But so easy to crush.

So very easy to crush,

And that is a terrible thing.

All she ever wanted

Was to escape her golden cage,

And flitter and flutter and float

Amongst the trees,

As free birds are wont to do.

But this never happened,

And it never will,

For now she is dead.

She tumbled down the marble stairs to greet the marble floor,

And though I'm told this was a ghastly accident,

I more suspect it was a ghastly crime.

But, either way, I mourn her loss.

(I know that I can't handle this,

I just can't seem to handle this,

I'm just not made to handle this,

I need someone

To help me!)

It wasn't like she loved me, or anything,

Neither does my father,

Because we're not quite made for that…

But at least she showed me some affection,

More so than the scanty scraps of approval from my father

(Which were so rarely had).

And so I adored her,

Though I adored him, too, until the beatings started,

But now that she's gone,

I am reminded that there's no one here to offer me solace.

No one can hear me,

And no one would care if they could.

But maybe I'm wrong,

As I so often am,

Because you found me in my wretched weeping,

And I do believed I shocked you,

Because, as we all know, I am the Ice Man,

And Ice Men don't cry

(Because to cry is to melt,

And that is death).

But there I was,

Sobbing anyway,

And I think I scared you,

Because you fled.

But don't worry, angel,

I'm not crying anymore;

There are no more tears left,

Now that I am resigned to what I must

To end the pain.

There are too many things to deal with here,

And to many things to say,

There's no real reason to go on anymore,

No one really loves me, anyway.

So I shall do what I must,

Though beforehand I whisper,

To a phantom image of you,

"Fare thee well, Harry…

I love you."