"I love you."
Those were the words you always told me. Three simple words. Powerful, yet empty at the same time. But I never cared about what you felt for me, and I waved them aside as if they were nothing. I didn't want anything going on between us except a mutual shag here and there, a quickie in between classes, or a wild night in the Room of Requirement. In my opinion, there was nothing that I could have benefited from your presence. After all, we were of different Houses, different Sides. Of course, you didn't give up.
The nights we spent together gave different results, but the same aftermath. I remember how you would wrap your strong arms around me, and I would push you away in annoyance and slide off the bed. But before I would take my leave, you'd yank me to your side once more and kiss me goodnight, followed by your usual, "I love you." I never thought twice about the meaning of those words, and would quickly forget about them once I exited out the door. It never occured to me that you would want the same response, but by the look of it, it seemed as if you didn't mind. So I left it at that. After all, Malfoys weren't supposed to love.
This routine that had developed in our sixth year continued on, even as we reached graduation. You never tired of speaking those words to me, and you'd whisper them in my ear each night after our lovemaking. It made me wonder why you'd want to love someone like me: a pale, almost ghastly looking man with hair as white as the moon itself, and a name that was as old and powerful as time. But I never once questioned you about it, and instead, played along.
Then the War started, and everything began to fall apart. Our family, our friends, relationships, and even we began to break apart. Incidentally, it didn't occur to us that we would end up fighting against each other, but once realization dawned upon us, it became much harder to continue our teenage play. Instead, you worked hard and non-stop with the Aurors, while I slaughtered mercilessly with the Death Eaters. Every now and then, there would be a time where we would spend the night together, but instead of the passion and fierceness once held in our school years, our shagging became raw and angry, leaving us exhausted and even more stressed. We would leave feeling dissatisfied and uncomfortable.
Our last night came, and I realized you hadn't told me you loved me since the War began. I had stared at you, waiting to hear you utter those words, expecting you to say something. Anything. But nothing came, and it dawned on me that you had finally given up on me. On us. And when you left me to lie alone in my bed, I remember the feeling of coldness rush over me, and the regret that etched into my heart, knowing that not once have I ever told you I loved you.
And now here I am, standing before you once more, though it appears you do not sense my presence. In fact, you do not sense anyone's presence, nor do you hear their cries, or see their tears. You do not even feel yourself being lowered into the ground for your eternal rest. And as we leave your body, I can't help but look up into the heavens, wondering if you'll ever know how much I wanted to tell you.
"I love you too."
