Author's Note: This is the last chapter but it's not over. Tomorrow I will post an alternative ending and the day after that I have a rewrite of chapter one from Magdalena's perspective.

Chapter 8

Five Years Later

So few words she said to me before leaving.

'I won't tell a soul. Goodbye Tom.'

The words still stung like I had just heard them. They haunted me in my dreams along with her icy eyes, her raven hair, her soft full lips. She was always there, more beautiful than I remember. I'm about to kiss her when a tear stains my cheek. Tears have never fallen from my own eyes. Her pale skin is now translucent. Her icy eyes turn blue as more tears fall.

"I won't tell a soul. Goodbye Tom." she says before turning around and running off.

In the most recent dream, I ran after her. I've never been desperate and I've never run after anything but nonetheless, I ran after her. I shouted to her.

"Magdalena, wait! Please stop! I know you love me and that you will help me! You're just shocked. That's all!" I was probably trying to convince myself more than her.

She fades away down to the last wisps of hair and I'm alone.

It has been three and a half years since I last saw her but she still haunts me.

After that night, I hardly saw her. I didn't go outside during the free period anymore and in the dining hall, she didn't look at me. Not even by accident. We never had another class together even though we were taking practically the same courses.

In spite of this, I still kept tabs on her by listening to the word around the school. I wanted to know if she had found someone else. The very thought made me cringe. I had her first.

But she didn't date anyone else. In spite of how sneaky we had been, she didn't sneak around at all. She pretty much just acted how she did before and during...us. Still wandering the grounds at night, still having morbid discussions, and still listening to music that no one understood.

I heard she got offers though. A few offers from random boys who needed dates to one function or another and a few from guys who weren't looking for anything but a girl for the night. She always declined though. The other students were baffled by her disinterest in finding a boyfriend but she just shrugged it off.

I thought she had somehow dropped out of the Slug Club too; she never came to another meeting. I had seen Slughorn talking to her in the dining hall, asking why she always has to do homework on the meeting days. She would give him an explanation of her priorities and he would unwillingly leave her alone.

But then she turned up at Slughorn's annual Christmas party. She didn't come alone but she didn't bring a date. She had brought her friend from Hufflepuff, Adonia, who I knew was a mudblood. It was as if she was making a statement to me. It was part of our one flaw.

I came alone. I had gotten a few offers but I wasn't interested in taking some airhead who would talk about clothes and how hard her life is all night and then end up in the closet with some other guy because I wouldn't dance with her or because I 'wasn't paying attention to her.' Instead I stood by the punch, frequently getting joined by other people. Slughorn took this as an invitation to chat up one of his favorite students. Most of the night he talked about his many connections with the Ministry of Magic and how he could get me an internship.

Then he moved onto a different topic.

"Tom, why don't you ask Magdalena to dance?" he suggested, looking at her standing with Adonia against the wall.

His proposition nearly gave me a stroke.

"She looks kind of bored just standing over there. She's pretty. Smart too. You two have a lot in common. And I hear she's single. You'd make a good couple so go on!"

A good couple? Slughorn has no idea how good a couple we made: powerful personalities, intelligence, charisma, passion, trust. We were almost perfect. Almost.

I mumbled something to Slughorn about not being able to dance. He was about to continue badgering me but some girl distracted him with a question.

He left me alone and I had a clear look at her. She certainly stuck out among the crowd. Her earrings sparkled under the flashing lights. Her red halter dress was a sharp contrast to the pastels that filled the room and her hair was in soft curls. Her eyes however seemed to be missing something. They were still captivating but they had somehow lost...something.

She drummed her fingers on the outside of her cup until she noticed something interesting to her right. I looked and saw a bunch of the guys from the club all standing together whispering.

"Come on, Avery! You're such a wuss. Just do it." said Lestrange, like he wasn't even trying to maintain a hushed voice.

"Fine!" said Avery before turning around and muttering, "bloody wanker," under his breath. He smoothed down his greasy hair, loosened up his shoulders, and smiled like he had just done something bad. To my surprise, he walked straight for Magdalena. She looked very suspicious.

Adonia was off dancing with some guy so the two of them were alone in the corner. He started talking to her but I couldn't hear what he was saying. He had a complacent smile like he thought he was impressing her. Then he put his arm on the wall behind her, like he was claiming territory. I clenched my fists tightly.

Magdalena's expression remained characterless as he continued to talk to her. He was to close to her. I wanted more than anything to go over there and rip his head off. What the hell does he think he's doing!

Then Magdalena's red lips curled into a smile. Avery continued to smile back at her, looking cocky as ever. Magdalena's smile looked strange though, a bit too syrupy and a bit like she was sneering. It wasn't real. I know what her real smile looks like.

Before I could think about her smile anymore, she lashed out and grabbed Avery by the ear, pinching it fiercely with her fingernails and pulling his head down.

"If you ever try a stunt like that again, on anyone I will have no remorse in kicking your sorry ass. You're lucky that I'm not in the mood to do so right now."

I felt my heart stop beating. We were almost perfect.

While his back was to the group, I saw a wave of fear rush over Avery's face. He was afraid of her and she hardly had to do anything.

She continued smiling and threw his head down before releasing his ear which had practically turned purple. He didn't even look at her. He simply dusted off his clothes and walked back to the guys saying, "She's gotta be a lesbian."

"Sure Avery!" laughed Lestrange.

I found out the next day that the group of guys had a bet. Avery had announced that he could easily get any girl so they targeted Magdalena because she was 'the crazy girl who has never dated anyone.' How ignorant they are. They said they would pay him a certain number of Galleons for how far he gets with her on the night of the Christmas party. Avery was my expendable follower after that.

The last time I saw her was when she and I had received the titles of Head Boy and Head Girl. The Daily Prophet took pictures but we didn't make eye contact. Just standing near her filled me with her familiar clean smell, the feel of her body heat, and the steady beat of her heart. I wanted to strangle her. I wanted to get her out of my life. But I also wanted to do things to her that would make her desperate for me again. I could do neither of the two. We could just stand maladroitly and force smiles for the camera.

Three and a half years. It's been so long.

I rolled over. The clock read 12:00am. I had stayed up all night and then worked until four. I don't even remember lying down. I usually sleep about four hours a night because I have better things to do. I felt sickly. Why does she do this to me?

I got out of bed and looked in the mirror. I was still wearing the suit I wore to work. It was slightly wrinkled and my hair was messed up too. Three and a half years since she last saw me. I haven't really changed. Has she? I bet she's still as beautiful as ever.

I looked back at my bed. The sheets were in such a disarray, you would think that I had been fighting off trolls in my bed. Or doing something else.

And then I saw her, sitting up but under the covers. She was in my bed. The clock behind her now reads 9:00am.

"It's so great that when people ask me 'Magdalena, what does this boyfriend of yours do?' I can hold my head up high and say, 'he charms rich, old ladies for a living.'"

I'm combing my hair in the mirror as she talks.

"Oh, funny girl." I say to her. "You know I need the job to pay rent. And it's useful for learning more about dark magic."

I grab a black shirt from my wardrobe and start buttoning it up.

"Hm, maybe closing deals would be easier without the shirt." she says laughing.

I smirk at her. "Regardless, I'm not prostituting myself for whatever object Burke wants. I'm persuading them to accept his offer for them."

"Well, that's a relief. And yet somehow, it still seems weird." she says.

"It's a cycle actually. They have trinkets which they sell before they die to Mr. Burke who sells them to more obscenely rich people who can afford them easily and who will eventually grow old and sell them back before they die. In the end, they get the items for their lifetime, and money is made in Mr. Burke's favor so I get a bigger paycheck."

"And how much longer will you be working there? I really hate Mr. Burke." she asks.

"I'll know when to leave." I say cryptically.

"Are you going to try to get a job at Hogwarts again?"

"Yes. I'm sure that a job there will be even more beneficial."

She nods and climbs out of bed, stretching her arms above her head and groaning. She was never a morning person. She walks over to me, smooths down the collar of my shirt, and moves a few of my out-of-place hairs.

"So what's your agenda for today?" She says, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"Working in the store from ten to two and then visiting Ms. Smith at three. Trying to get her to sell the goblin-made armor."

"So you have about forty-five minutes to spare right now?" She says as she moves closer, pressing her body against mine so I can feel every curve of her form.

I smile and wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her into a fierce kiss...

I blink and it's all gone. I am standing alone in my room. My hair, still a mess, suit still crumpled, and no Magdalena, threatening to make me late for work. It's not even nine o'clock in the morning, it's now twelve forty-five in the morning and I have no where to be.

She's probably at her flat right now. She may even be wide awake. Maybe she's listening to music or reading. I'm sure she still enjoys those things. It's cold outside with a full night sky. Maybe she's taking a walk outside-

-with her boyfriend.

No. No, she doesn't have a boyfriend. She can't have a boyfriend. She must know. She must know that she will never be able to find someone who would be as good a match for her as me.

If only there wasn't that one flaw.

As if I need constant reminders. As if I need all these dreams of her; dreams of her leaving me over and over again and dreams of her crying because I wasn't everything she thought I was. As if I need these visions of her: visions of how we could have been and visions of where she is now.

I had seen her name in The Daily Prophet a couple of weeks ago. She had made some sort of discovery or something. I remember the article mentioning something about her talent and that she is 'up for grabs.' It said she preferred not to talk about relationships during the interview. At least I know she's scarred.

Now, it's one o' clock. I bet she's sleeping. I bet she looks like an saint when she sleeps.

I can't take this anymore. I can't take all these distractions. I need to focus on my one true goal. Magdalena is the past. She was the closest thing I could ever have to finding a life partner and it failed. I can't allow her to remain here. The memories will keep haunting me. The worries that she will find someone else will always be there no matter how unlikely they are. I can't allow the one person who could control my emotions to continue to do so.

I grabbed my wand, closed my eyes, and allowed myself to be transported to a place I was sure would bring back more memories than I could handle.

I ended up in a large bedroom. The walls were painted a dark blue and had various pieces of abstract and impressionist art on them. The room was mostly black, purple, and blue with unlit candles on the larger pieces of furniture. There was a low table in the corner with cushions around it and a bottle with two wineglasses set out. It resembled what I had pictured a gothic enchantress' lair to look like. The focal point, the bed, was large with blue satin sheets and sheer black drapery surrounding it.

There she was.

In spite of the cold temperature, she was lying on top of her sheets so I could get a perfect view of her.

The past three and a half years have been very good to her. So many of the things that I loved, I mean liked, about her appearance remained unchanged. Her hair was still long and black as night, her face was still pale as snow, and her lips were still full and so tempting.

However, there were subtle changes. Her face was more carved than I remember. She had more pronounced cheekbones that made her look older and dignified. Her body was more sculpted too. It had been nice before but now it seemed even better, like she had been really taking care of herself. Her legs were practically completely visible because of her attire. She was wearing a black silk nightgown that had thin straps and was very short. It seemed impractical in such frigid temperatures but she seemed overheated anyway. I imagined myself running one of my cold hands along her leg...oh, and her reaction.

But then, on the plump pillow she was sleeping on, that graceful hand that I swore I'd never let go off started to move in short spasms. She was stirring. I stood very still and quiet and she did not wake. She merely moved onto her back.

I sat down on the edge of her bed and ran my thumb over the outline of her closed lips. They felt so fragile. I could feel movement beneath my thumb as if she was pressing them against my thumb, giving me a sign. She wanted me to keep going.

I ran my fingers through her hair so that it lay neatly on the pillow and I replaced my thumb with my lips.

It's been so long without this drug and what a seductive drug it is. Just as sweet and soft as I remembered.

And she kissed back. She kissed me, still asleep but as if she knew it was me. It was like we were back in the Astronomy Tower, suffering until we'd finally end up together like this after being deprived of it for so long.

I rested a hand on her inner thigh and she let out a low moan in her throat. I smiled to myself at her reaction and continued the gentle caress.

I've missed her passion so much. I missed her willingness and her sex appeal and I wanted her, but not just how I've had her before. I wanted to take her.

I could do it so easily too. A simple spell to keep her from waking would suffice or maybe one to make her forget her well-balanced thinking and act solely on desire.

Then she released me and turned her face away slightly. Feeling vampiric, I kissed her neck and moved down to the space between her breasts, right above her heart.

"Tom."

She said my name on a sigh, one that was filled with want but with a hint of disappointment. I got off the bed quickly and stepped away from her. How does she know it's me?

"We could have..." she started before taking a deep breath. Her voice was sleepy and barely audible but I could still understand it. It occurred to me that she didn't know I was there. She was dreaming about me like I've so often dreamed about her.

"I could have loved you."

I froze. She could have loved me. She almost loved me then and would love me now had it not been for, what? For the fact that I wanted to rid the world of mudbloods? For the fact that she didn't share my beliefs?

I offered her everything. More than I would ever offer anyone. I gave her all of my mind and the chance to be with me as my accomplice and life partner. And she turned it down. I'm disgusted with her. How could I have let her in so close?

I can't continue like this. If she can't be the biggest part in my life, I don't want her in it at all.

I raised my wand to her heart. The heart I almost had. And those two words that I couldn't even think to say at her all those years ago, flowed from my mouth so effortlessly.

In a bright flash, it was done. Her head fell onto its side and her chest no long moved up and down. Her once red lips grew ashen. I laid my ear upon the now silent heart. It's over. No more dreams or visions, no more worries that she will move onto another, and no more thoughts that she may reveal my secret if I start to take action towards my plan. After five years, though, she never told. If I had given her something, it was trust.

But how can I be so sure when she wasn't even what I thought?

I can't explain.

I never saw her eyes that night. I didn't want to. They were probably more lifeless than at Slughorn's Christmas party. I want to rid myself of her. It's best that I don't create any more memories of her. If I have to think about her eyes, I want to remember them full of joy, in a trance, or under the moonlight.

On her nightstand, I saw them: her moon earrings and the rose, now dried out. Do I really want to forget everything about her? Maybe I don't. Maybe I want to at least remember that I'm not supposed to feel strong emotion for anything but myself. People have only let me down. They are only useful if they can help me with my own pursuits.

And yet, I wish things could have been different. I wish that she could have been everything I thought she was. But this was how it had to be.

I pocketed the earrings and I picked up the rose and laid it on her body. She looked so natural with a rose. The rose that was our relationship. It was once so beautiful but now it was dry and, in spite of our greatest efforts, it still had that one thorn. A single thorn that could still cause a bleeding cut.

When they found her body, it was declared an obvious murder by way of the killing curse. No one knew of anyone who had anything against her; most felt indifferent towards her. No one found any evidence that someone had been in the house that night. Everything was neat and tidy with no fingerprints on her. The only piece of evidence was her moon earrings. Her family and friends agreed that it was bizarre that they weren't by her bed. Usually, she'd lay them down on her nightstand before bed and put them on in the morning. They searched her entire flat and everywhere she had been that day. Nothing.

No one could ever find her moon earrings.