He grimly looked up at the sky, as if to ask why this was happening to him.

"Why?!" Draco screamed inside, "Why me?? Why did my family get chosen to be torn apart by a monstrous maniac on a power-trip?"

It had been raining for a few hours already, but now the sky rumbled and lashed out at Draco as if to say 'You deserved it.'

Something in him broke, and he collapsed onto the sidewalk, completely invisible to anyone or anything in this world. He had lost any incentive to continue living, and was drinking himself into oblivion every single night, just to numb the agonizing pain deep within his chest. As he sank down within himself for the final time, he recalled those few memories that were still there, the ones he couldn't seem to drink away.

The old, creaky wooden bench beneath him creaked as he shifted his weight for the seventeenth time this hour. He couldn't stand this, he couldn't stand this waiting for the horrendous ending he knew, yet vainly hoped against, would come.

It was his parents' trial for their crimes while serving the Dark Lord. He sat there, in an impatient annoyance towards the members of the Wizengamot who were just delaying the inevitable.

'Come on, already,' Draco thought, 'Just hurry up and say what we all know you're thinking! Sentence them to their punishment, so I can grieve their loss, and move on.'

Then, finally, the speaker of the house stood up and stated, "We, the members of Wizengamot, hereby find Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy guilty of countless crimes against the wizarding population, and sentence them to the Dementor's Kiss."

Draco's eyes widened as his heart stopped beating for a moment. His thoughts raced. 'Dementor's Kiss? No! Not possible! They should just be sent to Azkaban to rot, not be forced to suffer the Kiss!'

The date was set, and the courtroom began to empty out. Draco rose, and filed out robotically, feeling like part of him had died inside.

The rain kept pouring down, soaking Draco through to the bone. He was now sitting curled into a ball, shaking from the horror of the next memory.

This was it. This was the day he got to watch his parents become nothing but shells of the human beings they once were. Malfoys may act like they are cold and heartless, but no one, not even a Malfoy deserved to have every happy memory sucked out of their soul and become a living doll that can't do anything by itself.

Draco sat there, feeling his blood run cold as his mother and father were strapped to their chairs to prevent them from thrashing too wildly when the kiss was performed.

Just as Draco's heart had calmed a little, the dementor was brought in. They had decided that Lucius was guilty of more crimes than Narcissa, so he was going to be forced to watch his wife having every happy inch of her soul sucked out. If that wasn't inhumane punishment, Draco didn't know what was.

The screams. The gut-wrenching screams of his father, watching his wife quietly, unwillingly succumb to a fate worse than death. Draco squeezed his eyes shut as tight as he possibly could and rocked himself back and forth.

Then it was quiet. Narcissa was a living doll now. The Ministry's minions hauled her away to rot as something less than human in a prison cell. Lucius was up next and he wouldn't go without a fight. Draco didn't think he could bear to hear those final screams and thrashes of his father.

Draco's worst fears were confirmed, and much worse. Lucius fought more than even Draco had expected, but he should have known the instinct to live be a powerful one. The haunting screams and terrified look in the eyes of someone losing the fight to live became a sickening movie that replayed in Draco's head over and over again.

Another part of him had died today.

The rainwater rushed like a river down the dirty alleyway. It rushed right to Draco, soaking him even more than he already was. He looked to the sky again, searching for anything to make the end come faster. Since it seemed he wasn't going to get his wish at this time, Draco turned his head down, and immersed himself into another memory.

It was his own bed chamber; for he recognized the dark crimson curtains and black silk sheets on his dark cherry wood four poster. His silver dagger with the Malfoy family crest gleamed in the dim candlelight. He outstretched his pale, untouched arm towards the dagger. Draco hated himself for everything that had happened to his parents, to himself, everything. He hated how his skin didn't show the turmoil that raged inside his mind, heart, and soul. Draco decided it was the time to change that.

He gripped the dagger so tightly that his knuckles turned as white as the moonlight that shone in from the window. He raised his right hand above his left forearm and brought the tip of the dagger down to the vein that pulsed in his wrist. The metal was cold, and it left a trail of burning skin in its wake. The crimson liquid flowed out of his arm, dripping onto the floor without Draco even attempting to prevent it.

He felt the darkness closing in; it was warm, welcoming, and whispered to him like a lover. Draco was ready to let go, he submersed himself in the darkness. He then fell into a steady, but ever growing weaker, unconscious rhythm.

A part of him died that night.

Draco felt as if he had been lead on by Fate in that memory. Fate wasn't nearly that kind to someone who had screwed up so terribly. This memory threw his failure in his face every time he opened his eyes.

He awoke with his wrists strapped to the bed in a bright white room that smelled of antiseptic. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the blinding light.

'Where am I?' Draco thought. 'What is this place?!??!'

He got his answer soon enough, for a nurse chose that moment to walk into his room.

"Hello there. I see you've finally woken up. I bet you're wondering where you are and why you are here. You are in St. Mungo's in the Mental Ward. A beautiful young lady brought you in, bawling her eyes out thinking you were dead. And what a state you were in! Blood all over your arms and clothes and barely alive. For a few minutes we thought we had lost you."

"Oh, okay," Draco replied absentmindedly. His mind was on who the supposed beautiful young lady was. But he needn't wonder long, for she walked, no strutted, in. Slytherins always strutted, even when in despair, like one Miss Pansy Parkinson was.

"Draco!" Pansy nearly shouted as she ran over to squeeze the life out him in a hug. "I was so worried about you; you looked so awful when I found you…" By this point her eyes were tearing up again. Then she seemed to suddenly realize whose presence she was in and immediately brushed off her tears and regained composure.

Draco smiled and chuckled at Pansy's total un-Slytherin like reaction, and her immediate cover up of it all. Pansy noticed and rolled her eyes at Draco's predictable reaction.

The nurse then decided to break up the reconnection of two friends because her shift was almost over, and she wanted out of this place.

"I'm sorry," the nurse said with fake syrupy sweetness, "but you have to leave, miss. Draco here needs his medicine."

"Bye, Pansy," Draco said as a farewell.

"I'll be back, Draco; you know I will be," Pansy replied.

Draco smiled goodbye to his dear friend as she walked out the door.

The nurse watched the little scene unfold, and smiled at how bittersweet it all was.

"She's very beautiful and cares for you, you know," she told Draco.

"More than you know," Draco sighed in reply.

Now he was feeling rather drowsy, and glanced over at the syringe of clear liquid the nurse was putting into his IV.

"Goodnight, Draco. Sleep well," the nurse told him as his eyes fluttered shut.

Yet another part of him died that night.

But he didn't sleep well that night, or any night after that. He had let Pansy walk right out of that door without saying anything.No apology, no explanation of what he did, nothing. He let her walk away yet again. He left her hanging yet again.

This realization hit him blindingly hard again, for the billionth time since he had broken out of that horrible hospital. So many parts of him had died, he was shocked every day to wake up and realize this part of him was still alive for one more day, one more heart breaking and gut wrenchingly awful day.

Draco sat, feeling completely lost. He had thought he was ready to let go of it all, but he realized he wasn't until he had completely come to grips with his failure with Pansy, with his parents, with his life.

He was ready to leave this earth, and knew the earth was ready to let him go. He closed his eyes, and peacefully drew his final breath. "Goodbye Pansy," Draco whispered into the chilly night air, as the last part of him quietly died.

But that wasn't the last part of him. The last part of him died years later, when one Miss Pansy Parkinson passed away.