Hello from Hogwarts Part 1 & 2

Darkness Unhinged

It all ends now. And I'm not just talking about my life though, it sure feels like it. It's much worse than that. My soul grows more strained like it is draining away from my body, my mind, and my heart. It's tainted with this unnerving darkness that I can't rid myself of.

Erupting from the silence of the crowd around me, a yelp escaped my lips. I could feel my arms pushing away from Draco, my knees crashing deeper into the rigid ground as my hand covered the hole where the knife punctured Voldemort.

"Get up! You son of a bitch, wake up. You can't leave, not now. Take it back," I clawed at his chest.

Even as the blood still gushed out onto my hand, I could already feel the satisfaction creeping in. The desire within my mind to spill more, hollering like alarms no one else could hear.

Draco's harsh hands ripped me from him, bringing me into his warm chest. Usually, I'd be thrilled, a skip of a heartbeat would persuade me that all is right in the world, but that love within me no longer resides in my motivation to pursue him.

With that being said, my arms wrapped around his back. I gripped onto him, knowing nothing will be the same.

They say when you are young, parents want to mold you in the best way possible, sparing you of the dangers of the world. Voldemort was never the exemplary model parent, but through his shared, regret, and anger, he still protected me of my destiny.

Many would say he created those Horcruxes out of selfishness, to be an evil leader unplagued by death, and yes to a certain extent it is true, but he also did it for me. He is (was) no saint. I know that for sure, but he spared me of that world he had to suffer, just as long as he lived.

Shut up, shut up, shut up. Voldemort was never a father to you no matter what. What am I even saying?

Without it, without his magical barrier, I shall suffer the most dreadful life others will never understand. He was the only one who knew, and yet, I am the one to kill him.

My whole life has been surrounded by sorrow and torture, but he intended to train me, to prepare me for what lies ahead. He knew death would come knocking on his door one way or another.

What are you talking about? He TORTURED you. He hurt you instead of telling you the truth.

When I thought he was taking hold of my life, changing me, it turns out to be the exact opposite. He was releasing me. He was giving me a taste of my true self.

HE IS A MONSTER IN LIFE AND IN DEATH!

Stories always portray two groups of people, the good and the evil. We thrive off of supporting the ones with the best of intentions while looking down upon those who dedicate their lives to ruining the hero's lives. Of course, there are the rarest of occasions where some succeed in provoking pity for the enemy because of their pathetic backstories. But what if it's deeply rooted in our beings. What if being "good" was never a viable option for the doomed?

Almost upon instinct, my shaky hand raised the blade against my own throat. I have only lived in Voldemort's shoes for a couple of seconds now, but I cannot bare the burden that has been bestowed upon me.

Is it my time now?

I never realized the future would arrive as soon as it has, but it's my time. My eyes glow upon the sun breaking through the clouds one last time before I will be engulfed in darkness. I slowly inhale the morning air one last time, the freshness of the earth bringing me little comfort as I close my eyes.

I've seen Voldemort's wrath, I've seen what he has done, I've suffered because of him, but there are a lot of problems in this world, and I will not allow myself to be one of them. I will not allow myself to become anything like him.

I creep into one of the last corners of my mind, untouched by the darkness seeping throughout my mind.

Our hands intertwine, the warmth of his body against mine.

"I don't know if we're going to make it out alive, but know that I will always love you," Draco's eyes pierce into mine.

We stand in the astronomy tower, our hands tightly intertwined around one another. I could feel the desperation in the way his hand dug into mine. He's committing this final moment into his memory, and so was I. But with all things, it had to come to an end.

"I must go," the words slip from my lips, knowing this was best for the both of us.

The slightest nod appears before me, though deep down, I selfishly want him to protest against my choice.

"Don't be scared," he responds as though he has been reading my thoughts, "I'll be right here next to you this whole time." He is, after all, a figment of my imagination, comforting me in my final moments.

I smiled weakly, as I know death has come to collect. There are no more sunrises or sunsets left for me.

I exhale sharply.

"Goodbye."

"Don't!"

My eyes snap open to see Draco staring into my eyes. The real Draco Malfoy.

A crimson liquid drips onto my chest, but it's not mine. I look down to see his hand tightly wrapped around the blade, which was meant to be against my throat.

Just that one moment was all it took. That one second of resistance, that minuscule amount of time was enough to let the darkness fully consume me.

What have you done?

The words try to leave my lips, but they begin to curve up into a smirk. I can't control it. Not any longer. I'm drowning, and no one can see. No one can hear me as I scream in my mind for help.

I choke. The dark liquid of pure evil funnels down my throat and into my lungs. I begin coughing uncontrollably, I attempt to scream, I spit up as much as I can, but there is no more air left. I claw through the darkness, trying anything to surface, to warn everyone I love, but my time has run out.

My empty eyes bore in Draco's concerned ones. I think he could see the light burn out in me. My head tilts slightly at the sight of such a weak boy. A boy who would sacrifice everything to protect his precious little heart. Loyalty is admirable, and I'd have to agree with my father that he possesses some form of it. Interesting.

I pull the blade out of his grasp, wiping it clean over his white button-up, before stuffing it in my pocket. I grab his wrist, my hand hovering over the fresh cut. Within moments, I move my hand away to reveal his hand which now bears no mark. Draco's gapes down, astonished by what he sees.

'What," I snap.

"What happened to you," his words lace with fear.

My mouth seemed to go numb with the fact that I had to give him something he can hold onto. But what do I say? Maybe the person I used to be would lie, say something kind, even comforting, but honesty is so much sweeter cause it causes the deepest wounds.

"I drowned, Draco."