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I stared unflinchingly at the suited man sitting opposite me. Neither of us moved.

I blinked once, determined to at least last a little longer. He raised an eyebrow and waited.

Seconds passed.

I threw my hands up, exasperated. "Okay, fine! I..."

Up went the other eyebrow.

"I..." I gritted through my teeth.

He cocked his head and asked calmly, "Do you really want to be sued?"

I growled, and my shoulders slumped. I knew a lost cause when I saw one. Still, it was nice while it lasted.

"I don't own Harry Potter."

I'd just like to point out that some of these things have a sort of 'double meaning', I like to call it. Sort of. Ugh, I don't know how to explain. This is the 'sad' ending, so if you don't like sadness, skip to the next chapter. You won't miss much.


I thought that I would feel so much pain that I wouldn't be able to breathe. That my chest, empty as it seemed, would freeze over from all the cold gusts of air I took in while hyperventilating. That I would feel an overwhelming wave of nausea, and my head would spin madly. That once again, you would turn my world upside down.

So imagine my surprise, diluted it may be, when none of that happened. Instead I feel even more numb at seeing you look so… well, so different, and yet it seems that you haven't changed a bit. I still see the man I loved –love- after all this time in the way you bite your lower lip, in the one hand clenched into a fist at your side in determination, in the way your eyes burned fiercely behind those dreadful glasses.

Oh. I see you've changed your glasses. And you didn't even want to when we were together, despite the hundreds of thousands of times that I told you to do so.

Luckily I have the hindsight now to see that my opinion didn't matter, since we were never really together.

I look at you, not with the love that I used to pour in every gaze I sent you, and not with hate either. I look at you like a person greets a guest at a doorstep. Like you're a complete stranger. And I suppose you are, because I never really knew you.

"I…" You start, flushing slightly and shifting from foot to foot. I make no attempt to invite you in, nor do I try to drive you away. So we just stand here, like two idiots, out in the cold night air.

Finally, you seem to have gathered your wits. You look back up at me and ask if you can come in. And what kind of host would I be to turn away a guest, even if that guest is unwanted or uninvited?

You look around at the place warily, as though you expect something to jump out of the shadows. Wearily, I wave my wand and turn on all the lights, closing my eyes as I do so. The room is immediately flooded with light, and I resist the urge to run down the hall, back to the safety and comfort of my dark bedroom.

Opening my eyes moments later, I squint at you-Potter, who is standing around looking mildly uncomfortable. I need to stop thinking that you're still in my head.

"Nothing's changed, H-Potter," I sigh. Of course nothing's changed. "Come on, off to my bedroom. Whatever it is you came for, we can talk about it there."

Without waiting for him, I turn and slowly walk back down the hall. I am pleased to note that my legs have calmed down to small shivers. Together, we walk down the empty corridor, plunging back into safe darkness.

I turn into the room, and gesture for him to sit on the couch I previously occupied. Potter looks at the bottle of Firewhiskey on the side table in trepidation. I tiredly assure him that I am not drunk, usher him to his seat and proceed over to the fireplace, leaning against it for support. Potter turns to face me with a careful mixture of ease and tension in his posture.

"So?" I ask.

"Draco… you look like shit." Potter comments, and is that worry in his voice?

I laugh without any humour. "How do you think I feel, then?"

Potter flinches, and looks guiltily at the hands fidgeting in his lap. Looking back up, he says, "So."

"So."

"Tomorrow's your birthday."

"Yes, yes it is."

"I… well…"

"You forgot something else, Potter."

"I…what?"

"Oh do close your mouth, Potter, you look like a goldfish. Tomorrow's also…" I pause dramatically, then wave my hands in the air for emphasis, "your wedding! Ta-dah!"

Potter cringes, and if it weren't possible, he looked even guiltier.

"I'm just… I'm sorry, Draco."

I tilt my head to the side in mock confusion. "Sorry? Sorry for what?

"Are you sorry that you're getting married? Or are you sorry that you won't be celebrating my birthday with me, like you promised you always would? Are you sorry for breaking so many promises? Are you sorry for breaking my heart? Are you sorry for having to lie to me? Are you sorry, for, for, what, for the pathetic Death Eater who actually believed you gave a crap? Are you sorry that you wasted so much time, years even, on something that wasn't even real? Are you sorry that I still live and exist, because believe me Potter," I spit out the name like a curse, "I sure do."

He pales with every word, and my heart breaks with every word. Is there something left to break? No matter, because every word is true, anyway.

"Gods only know why you're here Potter, because you sure as hell aren't sorry for any of it." I wave a hand airily. "Now go off, shoo! Shouldn't you be with your wife? Or your friends, to celebrate your very last night of being a bachelor?"

He stands up angrily, his eyes flashing, and yells, "Now stop right there, Draco!" I flinch unnecessarily at the use of my first name, and curse myself over and over for doing so. Hah, I can't even keep the Malfoy mask up; look at how you broke everything, Potter! Yet another thing to not be sorry for.

Potter notices, and immediately softens his tone. "Don't… don't put words in my mouth, Draco. I… I never meant to hurt you. I really did love you, but I made a promise to her family, and I can't break a promise to those close to me."

"So that means that I wasn't one of those close to you, then?" I hiss. "Gods, I never should have believed you when you promised never to leave me alone. Do you remember when you promised that?"

I was met with silence.

"You promised me that, in 2000. When my father died, and we went together to visit his grave. I confessed one of my deepest fears right then and there, that I would be left all alone. And you assured me that would never happen."

Damn it, my hands have started shaking again. I mutter another Petrificus, trying to cast it wandlessly, but it seems our short truce has ended. Sighing again, I lift a trembling hand to push my overgrown fringe away from my face.

Potter's eyes widen and he takes a step forward. "No!" I snarl and move away from the fireplace.

"Don't you dare touch me," I growl. "Not with those hands that have touched her."

I bring my shaking body (oh great, a perfect time for my whole body to shake like a leaf) back to the window, where the moonlight shines as brightly as ever. I turn away from him and speak. Unsurprisingly, my voice has started shaking too.

"I trusted you. I really trusted you, when I didn't trust anyone else. And you took that trust, and absolutely crushed it." A shaky laugh rattles out, that sounds not the last bit hysterical. "How stupid must I get? The stupid son, the stupid Slytherin, the stupid Death Eater, the stupid fool. And don't you dare try to contradict that statement Potter," I say, sensing more than hearing him open his mouth to speak. "Because you've already proved that it's true."

"But I didn't want to." His words are coloured with anguish.

Another laugh. "Like hell you did."

"You have to understand Draco, that I never, ever meant to hurt you."

"But you did!" I practically wailed, and choked on a sob. My control snaps, and I whirl around and grab him by the collar. "You did, and now I'm supposed to just take it." I feel wetness on my face, and never realize that those are tears.

On the lenses of Potter's glasses, I can see two twin reflections of me. And gods, am I a mess. True, I have showered sometime in the day, but my hair was never combed and hung like lifeless clumps across my face. My eyes are bloodshot, and are not far from those of the Dark Lord's. But the thing that gets to me most, the one that really irks me, is the despair etched into every nook and cranny of my features.

And just like that, I release my clamp on his robes, leaving him to flop back in the chair. I look down at my hands, which are shaking more than ever; so much that they've become one big blur. Instead, I grab him by the shoulders, and pull him up towards me.


Our last kiss was a few seconds ago.

I remember, because I have been savouring the lost feel of his lips on mine until now. I close my eyes and moan into the kiss, if only a bit.

I missed this.

He pushes away, and again he has broken my heart. I feel the violent clench in my chest and my eyes fly open to watch him, who has somehow in the span of a few seconds crossed to the other side of the room.

He's wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his robes.

Oh my god. I am that filthy.

My gaze grows shuttered and his voice is ringing in my ears, but I don't understand a word that he's saying.

He looks desperate. I'm sorry for dirtying you, I won't do it anymore.

Anymore.

I know what to do.

I slowly pull out my wand from my pocket and point it at my forehead. The white noise coming from him stops, as does the rest of him. I open my mouth, and slowly, carefully, recite the list of words that have formed in my mind.

"I once heard… that the Killing Curse can never be used on one's self. Because one person could simply not have that much self-loathing. It was technically impossible but deep down, one would always have the will for self-preservation, no matter how small. Because they always had something to live for; even if that something was just living.

"But what happens when you just don't have that will anymore?"

The world suddenly moves in slow motion, except me. I still move at the same speed, and watch as he starts to sluggishly bolt across the room. To me.

Oops, wouldn't want you dirtying yourself of me again.

I open my mouth again, quite slowly this time, to give him the idea that he actually has a chance.

And at a normal speed, I say the words.

"Avada Kedavra."

I see a flash of green, the same green that's haunted my dreams. I hear a sickening crack followed by a pained cry.

"Draco!"

It seems that this takes longer than I thought. Guess I actually had some tiny shadow of that will after all. But I persevere nonetheless, throwing myself into the blissful darkness.

For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep.


So that's it. My 'sad' ending. The next chapter is the happy ending.