I don't ever recall having such stealth, such cunning as I make my way out of his room and past a few house elves, sleeping on the job. I let them, knowing that is likely the only sleep they ever get. I pass Lucius' office; from the little I saw in passing, he treasures all things clean and white, like death's light. Kind of ironic, considering he deals in death and black magic, or the dark arts as we call it.

I am almost where I need to be when I hear something stir. I hide as quickly and quietly as I can, laughing at myself when I realize it's only Narcissa, Draco's mum.

Oh no. I've forgotten about her. She will be a widow and lose a dear son all in the same day. Although Draco was absolutely rotten, she adored him. She brought out the good in him. I watch as she knocks lightly on his door. Obviously there has been no answer, and so she walks in. I cannot bear another second. I must finish what I was set out to do.

I am nearly to the Malfoy library, where I know Lucius is studying something difficult, I can tell by his furrowed brow. I set one foot in, when suddenly:

"Lucius! Come quickly!" Narcissa has discovered her son; her voice is flooded with tears. I notice that his expression is uncaring as he sets the book he was reading down. He gives off an air of annoyance at the fact that he was interrupted. "Lucius!" The sorrow has become a scream. She knows now, so I must act now.

He passes me. I find it... odd that he doesn't feel my presence in the room. Often people know whether or not they are alone. No matter. I pull my switchblade and come behind him with the same stealth I executed earlier, and all it takes is one quick swipe. The adrenaline has heightened my senses. The feeling I receive is incredible, as though I am tearing open his throat with my bare hands. Exquisite.

I figure Lucius to turn and fight, and that he does. He pulls his wand with such speed that I never saw his hand move. "Just let it happen, Malfoy. Evil deserves no place here."

I am ignored, obviously, and he points his wand, forgetting one important element. How does one speak with a gaping throat wound? His cravat is soaked with his own blood (there was not one trace of potion left on the blade),and from the looks of it, the flow is so severe that it is rolling down his chest and stomach in thick droplets. He opens his mouth, still fighting on, and tries to say... anything. Nothing will come forth from his parted lips, save his own life flowing from between.   I hear his wand hit the hardwood floor.

In looking up at him, his weakening stature, I see that in his eyes stands the realization of what he was being called for. He showed genuine hurt, images of his son's ruin most likely the things flashing before his eyes. Backing himself up against the wall, he slides down into a sitting position; his head falling forward once his body had made contact with the floor.

Through the hair hanging in his face I can barely see that he has died with his eyes open. They look already as though covered with cataracts, what was once dark blue now simply light gray.

I can hear sobbing coming from Draco's room, and so I head toward it, my curiosity getting the better of me. I look in from the mirror on a vanity dresser placed directly against the wall across from his doorway, and I can see her there, cradling her son in her arms.

She has stopped calling for her husband, knowing he must not care. My chest tightens as I look at the tears rolling down her face.

My deed has been done, and as I walk away, I can't help but look once more, the words to familiar poetry playing in my mind as though she is reciting them.

…She thinks of when the boy was young,

All the battles she had won

Just to give him life.

That man.

She loved that man for all his life.

But now we meet to take him flowers,

And only god knows why.

For what's the use of pressing palms

When children fade in mother's arms.

It's a cruel world,

We've so much to lose,

And what we have to learn, we rarely choose...

...'Take care, my love,' she said.

You have been loved...

...If I was weak, forgive me.

But I was terrified.

You brushed my eyes with angel's wings, full of love.

The kind that makes devils cry.

So these days,

My life has changed.

And I'll be fine.

But she just sits and counts the hours,

Searching for... Her crime…

...So if it's god that took her son,

he cannot be the one living in her mind...

...'Take care, my love,' She said.

You have been loved.

Long may you live, Narcissa Malfoy.