Disclaimer: I own all the good parts! (You have to search for them for awhile) Oh except the marvellous characters, they belong to Rowling, as you know. I just manipulate them to my whims.
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Draco lay on the grass and moaned, savouring the warm sun drumming onto his motionless body. Seven years he thought idly, seven years and today is what it came down too. Walking heavily through that hall that I've dragged my self into for what seems like an eternity. Shaking my hands with the old fool Dumbledore, and with my trademark smirk making the Malfoy lineage proud. Beating that mudblood Granger, shock huh? I finally did it, after six years of being second to the mudblood, I finally topped her. I would saunter in there, every pair of eyes on me, waiting for me to deliver my valedictorian speech and for me to pronounce the grandeur of Hogwarts. It was meant to be the day that I left beaming and finally feeling genuinely pleased of what I'd achieved … so why did I want to bash my head through the nearest solid object?
It was her fault for being weak; she let him overpower her. It was his fault for being a bastard, which drew power from those, defenceless to him. It was his fault for being a merciless … thing that didn't even qualify for human status. It was his fault for always saving the day. It was his own fault for thinking he could change himself, and be something that … but no. Most of all it was her fault for believing that he was a good person that he could change. Draco snorted under his breath, yeah and the pope isn't a catholic. Draco rolled his eyes at the muggle saying that he used, was there any part of his life she hasn't touched? She was young and naive and thought the best of everyone, she didn't know the harsh realities of life. She wasn't in his league. She thought too good, hell even her name was young and innocent! She … She … She … was everything to him; Draco broke down, in such a short span of time she'd started meaning more to him then anyone he ever knew, he loved her so much it scared him; that's why he had to leave. He had to say those things he did last night, the words that cut him more than she could ever imagine it was the only way of making her leave. To save her.
His jaw tensed the only movement from his body for the last hour. He was the picture-perfect image of someone purely enjoying basking in the sun, no signs at-all of the ripping of his chest. He toyed with the head-boy badge, he glanced idly at the parchment that was his speech, he thought about the fresh face of a girl completely scar-free with a youthful sparkle and the hopes of a promising future. It was for the best. He looked over the lake to the ancient stone castle and the files of older wizards and witches entering for the graduation. He saw a sea of red and cursed under his breath, was there no escaping them? Her? He focused in on the youngest and a ghostly smile formed on his lips, she watched him and a silent tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly turned away.
Draco ignored the jerk his heart gave and turned sharply around. The floating of the parchment was all that was left of the figure in moments. He thought once again of a certain copper haired siren and sighed, he was doing her the favour, He was being noble, he was saving her … his first truly unselfish, heroic act. As the dull ache pulsed through he body he thought he wasn't ever cut out to be the hero Leave that to Potter, she'll thank me one day … MrJohnny Walker and Heathrow here I come.
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A/N: Well that's technically the end, not all that good I admit … but hell who knows, maybe I can continue? This is just being put up cause I'm bored and had it lying around. Bittersweet. He loved her more then she'll ever know. Oh by the way … "It was her fault for being weak; she let him overpower her. It was his fault for being a bastard, which drew power from those, defenceless to him. It was his fault for being a merciless … thing that didn't even qualify for human status. It was his fault for always saving the day." – that is referring to in chronological order: His mother, his father, Voldemort and Potter. (In case any of you got confused)
Also, for those of you not familiar with England and what not, Heathrow is the airport at London … and Mr Johnny Walker is referring to whisky, and drowning his sorrows in a bottle of alcohol. Oh well um yeah, first fic. I'll go now enough of my chatter … hell this A/N is probably longer then the whole story! Ciao tutti!