A/N: Yes, parts of this are in French. I wanted a one-shot, and here it is. Be prepared: The story may not end how you think it will.

Le Garçon Qui Ne vit Pas plus

I was just a rookie journalist. My first job, it seemed, was a rather lucky one. I was to interview the boy who had defeated Voldemort. Though a boy he was no more, at the age of 22, he had sadly lost his mind and sanity to the cause. Supposedly, the story went something like this-

The last battle was conducted on the night before his last day at Hogwarts, in his 7th year.

Pity, the boy never got to see his graduation. Through his own eyes, of course. That tragic night affected him forever.

The two wands had counteracted, causing a deadly chain reaction. Voldemort was able to escape the terror just in time, as opposed to the poor boy, who had only a second to react, and was struck down by the curse.

So, in most views, He is still living. Yet incapacitated in so many ways. It seemed that a piece had been torn out of his soul; rendering him helpless.

I will never forget that interview-

Never.

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When I walked into the room, I looked toward a corner and saw a huddling mass. It looked like a small boy was trying to pry his way out of the room. His tousled hair was hanging over his eyes, shadowing his pale face. As pale as ivory. It looked as if he was shivering from the cold, yet the room was very warm.

He was still as brilliant as ever, said the nurses. He only speaks in French, and stares as if he knows a void into your soul. They kept him in an Asylum on the south side of France, the Esprit torturé de Dieu. Made for only the severest of patients, or those with a large amount of cash to spare, in some form. Rather upscale, for a wizarding mental hospital.

The facility had given up on trying to give Him therapy, feeling that He was an overall lost cause. Days on end, he just sat in His padded cell, supposedly thinking over the world.

Or about his own demise.

He was a living legend: A household name. Everyone knew who he was. Even his enemies, one in particular, acknowledged that He had saved him from a terrible fate regarding the dark lord. Forgiven by His worst enemy, yet I feel that the feeling wasn't mutual. Some grudges just don't disappear. It was supposedly deep rooted, stemming from their first day of school together.

His nature was usually forgiving, yet the enemy who had forgiven Him was the only one whom he would not forgive.

He decided to speak:

"Qui êtes-vous, et que voulez-vous ?" Who are you, and what do you want?

"Mon nom n'est pas important. Je suis venu pour vous parler." My name is of no importance. I have come to talk to you. His eyes really did seem to be a window to his soul. I felt as if I could be sucked into those glossy pools, filled with such intense emotion.

I suddenly realized why I was given this troublesome job- I was the only reporter who spoke fluent French. Shame, it had made me feel so special at the time. I sighed, not realizing that He had moved, and was now sitting right in front of me. He was wearing black clothes. All black; as it draped on his frail bones. He frowned, with a plaintive look on his face.

"Je n'ai aucun temps pour des jeux. Conduisez vos affaires, et partez. Je dois aller de nouveau à ma rêverie." I have no time for games. Conduct your business, and leave. I must go back to my musing.

Hmm, fussy, were we? I'd just see about that…

He turned toward the wall again, ready to start again, when I interrupted him-

"N'êtes-vous pas curieux au sujet de ce qui est continué puisque vous étiez dedans ici ? Au sujet De Virginia ?" Aren't you curious about what's been going on since you were in here? About Virginia?

I knew that I had struck a low blow, but I didn't care. The doctors had told me that it was the one way to get information about him- Virginia. The one person whom He loved. She was married to his worst enemy, the one whom He would not forgive. I figured that she would live a cold and miserable life, in that large mansion of hers. Locked in a room like a songbird; expected to sing for everyone who asked. She came weekly to talk to Him about everything and anything. The weather, the news, her husband- sometimes she would even cradle him close and sing to Him. He needed the comfort in his life. I supposed that her husband kept her so close was because everyone had been taken away in his own life, and that he didn't want to lose Ginny.

He turned abruptly, "Que savez-vous de la Virginie?" What do you know of Virginia? He had asked it in a calm voice, yet I could tell that he was dying for information about his beloved.

"Répondez à mes questions, et je vous dirai." Answer my questions, and I shall tell you. He grumbled slightly in approval, though I could tell that there was a glimmering hope in his eyes.

"Que voulez-vous connaître moi ? Je dirai vous autant que je bidon, pourtant pas assez de vous satisfaire. Je ne donne pas loin tous mes secrets à ceux sans noms." What do you want to know about me? I will tell you as much as I can, yet not enough to satisfy you. I don't give away all of my secrets to those without names. He smirked slightly, and I grinned.

"Je ne l'aurais pas aucune autre manière." I wouldn't have it any other way. Taking out my notepad and a pencil, I prepared to begin. He laid down on the floor of the padded cell, staring at the ceiling.

"Pourquoi vous avez donné votre santé d'esprit à la défaite de Voldemort?" Why did you give your sanity to the defeat of Voldemort?

He slowly blinked his half-lidded, translucent eyelids. I could tell that he was interested, yet wary enough to consider not to reply. I wondered where he had learned his caution from. Or from who.

"Madame, je dois vous assurer que je suis toujours très raisonnable. C'est vous qui est aliéné. Ma santé d'esprit reste avec moi, aussi bien que mon bon sens. Juste parce que je parle en français ne signifie pas que je ne suis pas à l'aise en anglais." Madam, I must assure you that I am still very sane. It is you who is insane. My sanity stays with me, as well as my common sense. Just because I speak in french does not mean that I am not fluent in english. He laughed, a happy tinkling laugh. As confused as I was, I retained one thing from his convoluted explanation-

"Wait a minute, you understand English?"

"Oui." Yes.

"Then why the hell was I speaking in French?"

"Ne me demandez pas que, je n'ai aucune idée." Don't ask me, I have no idea. I even laughed at that statement, said so arrogantly, in spite of myself. He really WAS rather dashing.

"Alright, second: Do you feel that you were sorted into the right house?"

He paused for a second, considering the question.

"Je suppose que j'étais. Il était où mes seulement amis étaient, et j'ai prié le chapeau pour moi pour aller là. Je pense qu'il l'avait fait est décision avant main, mais j'ai un sentiment qu'elle a voulu m'envoyer au polaire vis-à-vis de la maison de celle que j'ai été sélectionné pour." I suppose that I was. It was where my only friends were, and I begged the hat for me to go there. I think it had made it's decision before hand, but I have a feeling that it wanted to send me to the polar opposite house from the one that I was picked for. He twisted a strand of hair around His finger, still staring at the ceiling. I decided to proceed.

"Third: Why in Merlin's name do you only speak in French?"

"Puisque je ne parle pas le latin très bien. Après ?" Because I don't speak Latin very well. Next? I laughed again, surprised by his abrupt answer.

"Fourth: Why didn't you marry Virginia when you had the chance?"

He stopped moving. Completely. I could barely distinguish the sound of His breathing.

"Je ne comprends pas l'anglais qui bon. Svp, passer à la prochaine question. Je ne pourrais pas distinguer la signification de vos mots." I don't understand English that well. Please, move on to the next question. I couldn't distinguish the meaning of your words.

I realized that I had reached a touchy subject. He wasn't going to give me a straight answer on that one. Still, I had one more chance. I decided to grab it and run:

"Why won't you forgive Him?"

He became even stiller, and then grinned manically.

"Excuse me?"

He spoke in a slow and steady voice, slowly growing in tone, "Il peut l'avoir gagnée, mais j'ai gagné la liberté tellement de beaucoup qui sont innocents. Ce n'était pas simplement une inimitié entre les écoliers, non. Il était beaucoup plus que cela. J'ai réalisé mon but, alors qu'il n'a rien. Je suis raisonnable, alors qu'il est encore torturé par ses mémoires passées. Je vis toujours dessus." He may have won her, but I have won the freedom of so many who are innocent. This wasn't just a feud between schoolboys, no. It was much more than that. I have achieved my goal, while he has nothing. I am sane, while he is still tortured by his past memories. I still live on.

Confused, I asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"Le garçon qui ne vit pas plus. Il est mort, à l'intérieur. Il juste ne le sait pas. I, naturellement, ont l'amour à accrocher dessus à. Il n'a rien de n'importe quelle importance." The boy who lives no more. He is dead, inside. He just does not know it. I, of course, have love to hang on to. He has nothing of any importance.

I decided that this was my cue to leave, as he closed his eyes. Packing up my materials, and opening the door to the padded cell, he left me with one statement:

"Dites-lui que je l'aime." Tell her that I love her. His stormy grey eyes were filled with sorrow.

I smiled slightly, "Don't worry, Draco, I will."

I shut the door, and heard the loud clang of metal.

It was the most successful article ever for the Daily Prophet.

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That was my Halloween treat to you all! And now, the glossary:

Le Garçon Qui Ne vit Pas plus- The Boy Who Lives No More

Esprit torturé de Dieu- The Tortured Spirit of God.

Now, as those of you who may know me will state, I do NOT take French. I take Spanish. I used an online translator for this story, but was sure that I made the translated sentences as simple as possible, yet still conveying the meaning that I have in italics. Please: Tell me whether you liked my idea. I love reviews, and since this is my first serious fic, I'd love to hear from all of you. Thank you so much for reading, and have a very happy Halloween!

~Ming~