“My little dove, why do you cry?”
A question Draco only ever heard his mother say. Because who else would love to care for a failure besides its creator? Draco likes to think himself similar to a muggle monster named Frankenstein.
If you were to mention the word 'Frankenstein’ to Draco a couple of years earlier he would have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. He knows now due to his self reflection on muggles and muggleborns. Call it character development if you will, Draco himself thinks it as well. Oftentimes Draco talks to himself simply because he knows no one else is listening.
How does he know that? Because there’s no one around him to hear it.
His Father was sentenced to life in Azkaban, with no visitation rights allowed. His mother died 3 years ago, killed by a hidden Death Eater wanting revenge after finding out about her betrayal. He killed himself afterwards and wrote one word on his blood stained suicide note. “Loyalty.” Draco wanted to laugh after hearing about it, because what bigger joke could be told by a man. One whose loyalty got him nothing but death, is not loyalty at all but stupidity.
Draco lives alone in the Malfoy Place, he has spent 3 years alone in this place. He will never consider it a home, because his home was buried 6 feet under with her favorite black pearls and her beautiful sage green dress. A small dove carved into her headstone.
He doesn’t consider it a house either simply because it is too big to be one. Calling it a Manor now seemed inappropriate after the whole ‘He Who Shall Not Be Named’ and multiple Death Eaters resided in it. It is surprising how there are no lingering ghosts haunting him considering the amount of people killed in this horrid place. Their screams and pleas still etched into his head, though he thinks that their yells and cries are stuck in a continuous loop here. Their voices bouncing off the walls, and well he doesn’t want to admit that he just might be losing his mind. When Draco no longer resides in this world he has written in his will to tear down the place called “Malfoy Manor.” He thinks that it will bring peace to the victims and give the wizarding world a chance to say he at least did one correct thing in his life.
Draco is no longer a child, and his mistakes are no longer excusable. He is twenty two and will no longer age after today. Because today he is taking his last breath and giving himself a humorous death. He is going to kill himself. Draco doesn’t like the word suicide, sounds too serious and uptight to his liking. He no longer is a snickering kid who curses and laughs at the pain of others. The smirk that he sported when he was younger has been completely erased from his muscle memory. Well. not really that’s just an overdramatic way to say he no longer smirks in a cold way. He has been one known for the dramatics.
The last few years Draco has spent apologizing to those he’s hurt and making up for his actions after the war. He’s sent multiple owls full of apologies to everyone he hurt in Hogwarts, and also received some back. He got forgiveness from those who are truly kind, majority he’s been ignored, he's also gotten some curses sent back at him, etc. He understands it all and is grateful that at least his efforts got to those he’d like it to. Speaking of forgiveness he surprisingly received it from a couple of people. People like Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Neville Longbottom. People who he can say are truly good, they’ve probably never made a bad decision in their life. After being forgiven Lovegood has never stopped sending him owls, he used to reply but this last year he hasn’t responded once. He doesn’t want anyone to mourn his death.
He has spent his last years with absolutely no one to keep him company, though Lovegood once asked to meet up and with his immediate no, she never asked again. Seems weird that the closest person he can call a friend is Lovegood and they’ve never met up once, and he hasn’t even contacted her for over a year. She sent another owl today and he hasn’t opened the letter. He’ll never get to see what she’s written to him for the last time. Seems only far as he deserves it for not messaging her back. She once wrote in her letter that she thinks Potter and him would be a great match. Something about sharing the same whatever creature she believes in that he had no idea existed.
Potter huh? The boy he spent his whole life obsessed over now just a second thought in his mind. He wouldn’t remember his face if it wasn’t plastered in every newspaper. Does Potter remember his face? He wonders if Potter thinks about him? Does he miss having someone to pick a fight with? Probably not. He and Weasley were some of the many that ignored his apology. Who is he to be remembered?
When he dies he’s pretty sure it’ll take months, maybe years to discover his body. His body will be rotting all alone just as he feels he is now. At least he won’t be able to feel it by then. Draco was so terrified of death when he was younger that he completely changed himself for a chance of survival. He took a mark that burned into his pale skin like a million daggers. Forever with him. A boy so terrified of death, now a man who willingly welcomes it. His arms wide open to embrace it. The only thing that will gladly accept him.
Draco wished he could say he's leaving with a quiet smile one his face, but he’s not. He has tears running down his face, a never ending river pouring out of his skinny frame. He’s crying like a small child again, yet now he has no mother to hold him.
“My star in the sky. My Draco” She would whisper to him, holding him tight.
Now he’s here alone, bent down crying his face to the ground. His tear droplets slowly formed small puddles. His arms tightly wrapped around himself, in a way that pathetically mimics an embrace. Trying his best to comfort himself, when he is only a tall child. His last time crying before he no longer exists in this world.
Draco has donated all of what's left of the Malfoy money to charities, he has turned in all Malfoy and Black magical items and heirlooms to the Ministry of Magic, donated all of the furniture in this place leaving only himself inside. His will has more details on where whatever leftover things go to. After today there will have been no trace left of Draco Malfoy. Nothing will say he has lived on this earth besides the stories of those who’ve met him. Even then those old memories people remember him as are no longer him. The person he is now will be dead and absolutely no one will grieve him. No one.
He drank a potion earlier, one that will bring him to his last breath. Anytime now Draco will close his eyes and no longer open them. And as every second comes his eyelids grow heavy. His heavy breathing and choked sobs are becoming settled. He is growing tired. He felt like a boy again, a reminder from one spring day that he had spent playing outside. He had grown so tired that he fell asleep on the grass outside. The warm sun kissed his cheeks, the trees moved due to the light wind, the light air caused his hair to slightly move, and the sound of his mother calling him.
Only today even though he feels like a child again he’s not. He’s twenty two and he’s dying. He’s curled up in a small ball holding himself close to keep himself warm from the cold gray floor. He can hardly feel his body due to how cold he feels. The only sound he can hear now are his small cries, his vision growing dark and his eyes are shutting close. This is completely different from that day, yet one thing remains the same. His mother calling for him.
“My little dove, Why do you cry?”