I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Tonight. It's just like every other night without her, except that now I know what I've lost. She leaves tomorrow, with her two sidekicks. Whoever said Golden Boy Potty was the hero was wrong… she's the main character, she's the everything.
She's my everything.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
Oh God, it hurts. To think how many times we watched the stars. To remember how many times I spelled her name in the constellations. How it began, under the watchful eyes of the night. How it all began with a kiss that made the whole world tremble.
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
The breeze blows my hair out of my eyes. Now the universe can see the tracks of my tears. I bet you can't imagine Draco Malfoy crying.
I'm hearing her voice everywhere. I hear her singing in the wind, her accusatory words replacing the happy tunes. I hear her crying echoing in my ears. She doesn't know I saw her cry. She thinks crying makes her weak, and I hate that, because she's the strongest person I know. She broke down my walls.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Only sometimes. She only loved me sometimes. After all, how could she love someone who could hurt her so badly? I do love her, I honestly do. But this was my destiny, it always has been. For my father's reasons and for my own. She hates me for what I'm about to do. To help the Dark Lord attack her precious Harry.
God, his name sickens me. I almost want to kill him, because he's the one she'll end up with if I don't.
When I fight him, I'll have to resist the urge to kill him. I'll have to resist the need to turn and run into her arms, I'll have to let him kill me. I'll have to help set her free.
Deep down, I think she cares.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
Those kisses were all promises, and they all got broken, but the memories are still there. They still hurt, in that bittersweet kind of way. They hurt in such a GOOD way. After so many years of unfeeling, it's good to know I can care. I thought my father had ruined me for that.
I held her tight, thinking I could protect her from the evils of the world…knowing full well that one day I would become one of those evils, and she would have to kill me in cold blood. She wouldn't hesitate to do it, because it would be the right thing to do.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
Sometimes I hated the girl. I mean, when we first met I hated her because of her blood. I didn't see the Mudblood as human. She was Muggle-Born. To my family, that was just as bad as being a blood-traitor, maybe even worse.
Yet somehow, she managed to break down my defences, We fought constantly, made each other angry. One day, that passion, that anger we both felt locked up inside manifested itself in the form of a kiss. And god, that kiss was like coming home. It was so good, like some sort of addictive drug.
And Merlin, her eyes. Those eyes that could see my deepest, darkest desires. They terrified me, enthralled me. The light in them kept me going.
Until I extinguished that light.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
When she saw the Dark Mark on my arm, she was speechless. She didn't blame me, or ask for an explanation. She just walked away, really slowly. I said her name over and over… Granger. Hermione.
She turned around once. She shook her head, and the sparkle was gone from her eyes. She looked cold, she looked dead… probably much the way I used to appear. She turned her back to me, didn't say a word. She understood… and I hated myself.
I don't know if she knew that. I don't know if she knew how much I cried when I lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
Pablo Neruda. Pretty smart guy. Half-blood. Surprisingly enough.
Never used his magic after he lost the love of his life. I used to not be able to understand how he could write such sad words, how he could feels such monumental pain… now I empathize with him. I get it now.
The poem falls to the soul as dew to grass… it falls the way I will fall tonight.
For yes, I will die tonight. Just because I could not escape my father does not mean I will join him. And if I joined him with her at my side, she would die.
So it is better that I die, and she lives on. Maybe one day she will understand.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
I thought love conquered all. I was wrong. Love cannot conquer the dark lord.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.
I hear that far away music again. Heh. Typical. Bloody muggle music, it's all so depressing. Strangely it fits my mood. Fits the emptiness inside me.
It's strange to think I'll never see this castle again. It terrifies me to know that I will not live tomorrow, to know that I will never be able to tell her.
Maybe I should write to her, tell her.
Explain that my soul is lost without her. But no, she would come to me. She would stop me.
And then, she would be killed.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
I step onto the battlefield in my mask. I cannot see her, and mostly I am glad. I don't want her to see me like this. Broken, angry, Death-Eater.
The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
Some light reflects onto my eyes, and I see light hit a silver spot in a window in the castle. I know it is her. I know she is watching. Maybe I can pretend I don't care. Maybe then Potter can kill me quick.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
No, it isn't true actually. I do love her. As much as I always did.
Harry comes at me. I scream.
Her name. Unwillingly. I didn't mean to.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
She will be his. God, I wish I could kill him. Still, I am under orders not to.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Perhaps I do. Perhaps I need her. Perhaps I want her to come now, fly from the window, to tell me it will be ok, that I can stop being a Death-eater. Without Dumbledore, I know there is no chance of that. I almost killed that man. And now it turns out, he is the only man who can help.
I knew I didn't want to join when they tried to get me to say it. Avada Kedavra, Dumbledore. I couldn't do it. My father made me join anyway. He said the dark lord would kill me otherwise, along with everyone I cared about. Those words were said with the Malfoy smirk. After all… he didn't believe I could care for anyone but myself. Let alone a filthy mudblood.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.
A month ago we were together, and so in love. God, I can almost feel her eyes on me. I need to go to her, I need to stay, I need to save her, I need to hold her one last time… I need to die before my heart breaks in two.
A wave of warmth washes over me. An owl swoops over my head, dropping the silver necklace onto my open palm. It is a lion pendant, with green eyes.
A hero in disguise.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.
And Harry looks at me, an odd sort of look on his face. I smirk half-heartedly at him.
"I love her" I tell him. "So tell her that when you've killed me. Tell her I died for her."
Something like admiration shines in his eyes.
Then he points his wand at me.
…
Oblivion again.
A/N: I don't care if you think Draco's OOC. I may or may not follow this up. Don't flame...please. This poem means so much to me. The fic does too.
I'm sorry if there's anything you don't understand. I'll explain if you ask nicely.
I hope you enjoyed it.
Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. All I own is this plot.