Sometimes I look back on that fateful night, the one that ruined my life. When I do, I feel paralyzed. My bones go stiff and I don't move a muscle. I stare blankly in front of me, repeating the words in my head, hearing her footsteps walking away again, feeling the sorrow surging through me; pain that was worse than the Cruciatus Curse, flowing through my blood every time. And for the next few days afterward I would feel weak, unable to move. That's how awful it was. That is how much I regret my mistake.

Draco waited patiently in the corner of the dark library. He had sent out a letter to her earlier that day, to meet him in the library, in their spot. They would always come to this corner, sit and talk for hours. He quite enjoyed their meetings there. It was always the best part of his day.

Suddenly – making him jump a little – he heard light footsteps coming towards him. He could also hear the faint sound of humming. That's Luna Lovegood for you.

She appeared out of the shadows, wearing her bright yellow Muggle pyjamas – they're much more comfortable than wizard's pyjamas, she'd always say, and Draco knew better than to argue with Luna. Her dirty-blonde hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, strands falling out of it with every step she took. Her eyes shined, seemingly giving off brighter light than the moon from outside.

"Hello, Draco," she said, smiling. He'd always love the way she said his name, as if it belonged to her, as if no one else was permitted to use it the way she did. It made his heart fly and he'd fall under a spell every time she said it. But not tonight.

"Hi, Luna," he said flatly, failing at his attempt to smile back. "H-how are you?"

"Quite alright, thank you," she said. "How are you doing, yourself?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," she said immediately. "Why are you lying to me, Draco?" He really wished she would stop saying his name.

"I'm not lying to you," he insisted.

"You're lying again."

Draco sighed. He didn't want to do this; he really didn't. So why was he? He could've just left without telling her. She didn't need to know. She would find out eventually, and they would've been left with those wonderful nights where they laughed and talked for what seemed like forever. They wouldn't have had this messy ending.

Maybe it wasn't too late. He could just say that he felt down tonight, and she would say that it must be the nargles' faults, and they would sit on the floor and talk again. Then he could leave without a trace. But Draco looked into her big, iridescent eyes. He couldn't lie to her. He could've, if it wasn't for her unavoidable eyes.

"We… can't do this anymore," he said quietly.

"Do what?" she asked, cocking her head to the side curiously.

"Meet up, like we do every day," he said. "We can't be friends anymore."

"Why not?" she said. She was clearly trying to hide it, but her face turned bright red. Draco couldn't tell if it was embarrassment, anger or sadness. Maybe it was all three.

Here it came. Now he had to lie to her, just like he'd rehearsed in his mirror for the last three nights. Even talking to himself, it was hard. But he had to do it, for her own protection.

"I don't like you," he said, looking her dead in the eye. "I don't like talking to you. I want you to leave me alone from now on."

Luna stared blankly at him; something in her died in that moment. He saw it in her eyes. Something had died in him as well.

"Oh," she said. "But just last night we were-"

"I was acting then," he said coldly. "Crabbe and Goyle thought it'd be a good laugh." His heart failed for a moment when he said, "And it was."

Luna opened her mouth to say something; for the first time ever, she was lost for words. She'd nothing to say. Draco had never seen her like this. Luna Lovegood was always the chatty one, the one who'd always say something to break the tension in a serious conversation, who always said the right thing at the wrong time.

But despite the grief shining in her eyes, Luna smiled as kindly as she could and said, "Alright, then." She turned around and slowly walked away.

The sound of her footsteps burned in his ears. This was the moment; the moment where he had broken an unbreakable girl and himself. When she left the room, Draco fell to the ground weakly. His face twisted in heartbreak and he began to cry. He sat there, all night, drowning in his own tears and misery. For a while he thought he deserved to feel like this; after all he'd put everyone through during his years of bullying at Hogwarts; after realizing that the only reason he didn't want to tell Luna was for his own selfish reasons of not wanting to be alone.

It was no secret that he was in love with Luna, very much so, and that maybe she loved him too.

Sometimes I wish I had just left. Sometimes I wish I could track her down and tell her everything.

The last time I saw her was at the Battle of Hogwarts.

Draco raced down the hall, wanting to get as far away from the Room of Requirement as fast as possible. That idiot, Goyle. He'd been told forever not to use that spell, but he did anyway and it got him killed. Draco felt no grief for the nutcase at that particular moment. But he was frightened enough to let Potter help him. Why had Potter helped him? Draco had not exactly been a good friend to him all these years.

It was then that he saw her, through the smoke that filled the area. It was easy to spot her; she was the only one wearing bright, cheerful colors in all this chaos. He stopped dead in his footsteps, his heart rocketing up to the moon.

Her hair was full of dirt, as well as her clothes, but she was still vibrant. Draco couldn't help it; he did what he never thought he would do again: grinned, ear to ear. He felt relief flow through him. All these months, he was convinced he wouldn't see her ever again. But here she was, happily humming in the middle of a war. He had never loved her more than he did in that moment.

I didn't talk to her; it would've been both risky and heartbreaking. But considering her eyes sparkled, she must've forgotten all about me. That was good; at least one of us was alright.

Nothing hurts more than my regret. I should have told her the truth about why we shouldn't have been socializing. I should have called out to her and told her I needed her. I still need her.

I don't know where she is now, but I've heard rumors that she recently got married to a man named Rolf and had twins, Lysander and Lorcan – just the kind of names I would've expected her to pick. Her name is now Luna Scamander. I hate hearing it. It could've been my name with hers if I had just been honest.

It's strange that two or three minutes changed the entire course of our lives. It hurts that I never tried to contact her again.

And I regret it.