2 Hours: 35 Minutes: 6 Seconds
(Draco Malfoy)
Draco Malfoy sits alone and forgotten in the Slytherin Common Room. It's the evening of the Yule Ball, and things are not going well. He's supposed to have found a date already. He knows that he has always been only a loner, yet the fact that no one has asked him leaves him feeling hollow and sad. Like he always feels on the holidays. Not that his life is very easy. Sometimes, he just wishes he could go back and change everything. But now he knows it's too late.
Why did everything has to be so hard? Draco places his head in his pale hands, feeling useless. In the back of his mind, he knows who he wants to ask. And he also knows that it would be impossibe. She would laugh in his face. And the thing that hurts Draco the most: it's his fault that she hates him.
He wishes he could make things better between them. Potter, Weasley, and Granger. He just can't stand how close they are, every fiber of his being longs to have a friend that close. But he excludes himself, as he always has. And no one has noticed his silent desperation, the depression, the screaming inside his head for someone to notice him. So he lived alone. And would die alone. He was sure of that. How else would the life of a Death Eater who was too scared to actually do anything end? He would die silently, miserable and cold, as lonely as he would be in life. With no friends to find solace, no family to turn to. It is only pain that he knows, pain and blackness and bleak misery, for Draco Malfoy has never known love. And love, however small, is the only thing he craves from Hermione Granger. And what's killing him inside is that he will never get it.