wiza My parents never really loved me, I was just another possession to them. Something to control, to mold into what they thought was the perfect heir for the Malfoy Family. By the age of 12, I was determined to break that mold, even if I died in the process. My father was evil; everyone including myself knew that, but what gain would be had to those who spoke it to his face? Death was what was to be gained if a soul muttered those words in front of him by the Killing Curse my father was taught by Lord Voldemort.

The first time I ever defied him was at Hogwarts. He never knew I did it; to this day I shudder to think of what the now dead man would have done, even to me, his only son. I fell in love with a Weasley.

Yes, a Weasley. This particular romance was not the worst I've ever experienced, but how my father would have reacted to my marriage to a redheaded Weasley... He would roll over in his grave, cursing every wizard he could think of, especially me.

Ginny Weasley was a year younger, but what did that matter? My mother was two years younger than my father; she was only twenty when I was born. I was born with white-blonde hair and blue eyes; I was a beautiful child. However, as I grew, my beauty faded into the awkward appearance of adolescence. Ginny, however madly in love with Harry Potter she was, turned to me when her beloved Harry ignored her. I would have thanked him, but under the circumstances, I didn't believe it appropriate.

Her youngest brother, Ron, died in our seventh year. Killed by my Lord, Lord Voldemort. After I saw her grieve as if the world had ended, I vowed to remove myself from the Dark Lord's clutches. As I was a child of one of his greatest supporters, this was an especially hard task. I am still not completely freed, but the past few years have been the most riveting of my life, the most fulfilling.

Hermione, Ron's fiancée at the time, killed herself less than a month later. Harry Potter had now lost his two best friends, one of which was pregnant with his child.

Ahh, the Potter-Granger-Weasley love triangle. Everyone knew about it except the two boys. Hermione wasn't at all pretty; she wasn't at all ugly either. She was plain, but somehow she managed to have her two best friends fall in love with her, and somehow she managed to fall in love with them.

As the story goes, the day before Ron proposed to Hermione, she and Harry had demonstrated their love for each other… To each other. Consequently, a month later, June, Hermione announced she was pregnant only to her close friends and family. Naturally, the whole school knew the next morning. Ron assumed it was his; Gryffindors, however brave they are, are also the dirtiest of the lot.

Harry, stricken with grief, attempted to find comfort in Ginny, who was my steady girlfriend at the time. This went on for over three years, even after she and I were married. Ginny asked me one day to try and put a banning spell between the two of them. Try as I might, my spell backfired. Both of the people involved died instantly.

Now it was my turn to grieve, but grieve I did not. Instead, I went crazy. I went and tortured people, trying to make them feel exactly what I was going through. It was impossible, but I tried. God, did I try… However, not a week later, I was apprehended and taken to Azkanban without a trial. The days of Lord Voldemort were quickly fading, but many witches and wizards were still as fearful as ever of one of his minions taking over. I was sentenced for life. However, by the grace of all things good, I was declared mentally ill and I was transferred to St. Mungo's.

As much as I hate to admit it, I like it here. There's no one but a pesky nurse to bug me, and this is where I was write down all my thoughts. Peace and quiet, like I've always dreamed of.

I, Draco Malfoy, am officially free.