How far can one go before he completely loses it? How far can one go before he crumbles into a heap, before he completely destroys himself……knowing that he gave everything up…everything; for her.

He was upset, she was hurt, both of them were heartbroken. How long had they been avoiding this only for it to come crashing down on them the moment they had let down their guard.

He stood over her, inside he was screaming, he was trying to ignore the agonizing pain that was threatening to burst out of his chest. But he kept it inside him, he wasn't about to show fear, he wasn't about to let it all go away.

He smirked outwardly; in his hand was a letter, a letter that she had written for him. She was supposed to be dead. Yet here she was, lying on the ground before him. Dying.

She looked at him before she uttered her last word and left the world.

Love.

Love. The world had little meaning to one who had not experienced it before. But to him. But to her. It had all the meaning in the world. The simplicity of it all, a four-lettered word with such dynamic meaning to him, it was what had brought them together. And it was what was slowing tearing them apart.

He could still remember the cold chuckling before his own father had slid the knife into her body, a father's love for his son; a son's love for his dearest friend.

Ironic wasn't it?

There was nothing he could do was there? By the time he had gotten to her, her crimson blood had already gotten all over to carpet, he felt as he his world was ending. Nothing he could do.

His own blood relative, the man he had called father all his life had killed his only love. As he stood there solemnly, he closed his eyes and he thought of all the good times he had shared with her.

Memories.

People held on to them because it was the only thing that reminded them of their happy past. But to him, they were painful. They were the one thing that he had always dreaded recalling. Memories, each and everyone of us have them. He recalled all the happy times he had with her and decided to slowly let them fade away.

Humans are imperfect by nature. Yet we always want what we can't have. Perfectness.

His father was one of those people who spent their entire lives trying to be prefect but never actually being able to.

The human brain always tries to do what it thinks is correct, it is when we do something wrongly that we start blaming. Nonetheless, we live in a constant reminder of what we are, the imperfectness of our human mind, the flawed sense of sheer perfection that we all have seemed to acquire while growing up. We all live in a warped sense of time now, we always wish to be something in the future and when it finally does happen to us, we realise that we don't actually want it anymore. It all takes us different times to realise that we are all flawed no matter how hard we try not to be, we try to be direct and we have an intellectual mind to go with it. But is it actually worth anything? It is when the times comes that you have to decide, whether to take that chance and deliberately disobey yourself, or live by those morals that you've religiously stuck to since you were told what they where. But if you decide not to, can you really, truly say that you've thoroughly enjoyed your life when the time comes for you? It is impossible to say that unless you've gambled with all that you have, when you've threw in all your morals, virtues and all of yourself and taking that terrifying leap into that black hole. When you've won, it is only then and there that you can say that you've enjoyed your life and done something that was worthy and something that made you feel proud, content and satisfied. It is only when you win that you have this huge sense of elation that you never want to get rid of. It is when you fall that life becomes hard, it is when you've fallen when you realised why going back was so discouraged in the first place. It is when you've fallen that you realised and finally know why it was so prohibited in the first place. But as said, humans will forever want; what they cannot have.

Draco Malfoy opened his eyes and looked in front of him, the war was will going on ahead, potter and weasel still had no idea that their best friend was dead.

He said reassuringly, to himself, as well as to Hermione, "I will avenge you my love. For you. And for me."

In his hand the letter than she had specially written for him dropped to the ground, along with it was a diamond ring, his engagement ring for her if they had managed to get out of the war together.

As the paper slowly floated downwards, the first part of the letter could be seen in Hermione's scrawl:

Dear Draco,

I love you….