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The True Confessions Of Draco Malfoy

By Alison

Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of this except for the idea. Everything else but the title belongs to JK Rowling and Scholastic, and the parody on the title came to me after reading "The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle," which was written by Avi and also doesn't belong to me.

~*~*~

I don't really know when I started to like Hermione, when I thought she was maybe more than just a filthy little Mudblood. It wasn't at the Yule Ball, when most other guys started to see her in a different light. I think it was in my second year, when she made that remark about how nobody on Gryffindor had to buy their way onto their Quidditch team, and that they had gotten in on pure talent.

I was a little surprised at that. I didn't think she had it in her to stand up for someone, even for Potter, her best friend. I called her a Mudblood after she said that. Looking back on that, three years later, I still can't believe I called her that. How I called anyone that. Just my father's words coming out of my mouth, I guess.

My father's powerful, more powerful then I could ever be, ever wish to be. He seems to be able to control me, even when I'm at Hogwarts. So now everyone thinks of me as the big bad wolf of Slytherin. I've never really talked to anyone. I mean, sure, there's Crabbe and Goyle, but they're more of my bodyguards than my friends. I mean, honestly, I call them by their last names. They can't be that good of friends if I don't call them by their first names, are they?

I've seen her talk with Potter and Weasley. Really talk. Makes me wish I could do that, too. Be able to spill out all my feelings to someone. To her, especially. Pansy Parkinson, I can't stand her. Only went with her to the Yule Ball because I knew that Hermione would never say yes. Why would she say yes to a Slytherin who's been mean to her since day one? But Pansy, she's such a…such a girl! I mean, yeah, Hermione's a girl, too, but she doesn't giggle all the time and put on makeup all over her face like Parkinson does. Except at the Yule Ball.

She was so pretty there. Dressed up in those beautiful blue robes. She looked like an angel that night. A light seemed to follow her wherever she went. That Krum, he went wherever she went, too. Bloody Krum. Can't believe he asked her to the ball. I mean, isn't there enough girls in his little fan club? Him and Potter, I swear, they think they've got the whole world in their hands. And that Weasley! That red-headed Weasley. Thought he'd go with Hermione to the ball, for sure. He's the only one I have to get through. He loves her, I can tell. Can't tell if she loves him back, though. Hope not. That'd be torture, losing her to stupid Ron. My father hates his father, I guess that's why I hate his son. Father controlling me again.

Speaking of Father, he gave me the worst beating he's ever given me over the holidays. Found out about my detention from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I tried to tell him it wasn't true, that I was still faithful to him and the Dark Lord. No good. He hit me so hard I fell unconscious. I don't remember him ever being so harsh on me. Then he-then he took out a club and beat me three times with it. I drew blood, a lot of it. My mother's such a stupid prat, she wouldn't fight him. Wouldn't stand up for her own son. She sometimes watches me being beat, like it's all a show. If my father started charging her admission to watch, he'd be rich now.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione think that I'm just some spoiled little rich kid who gets sweets from his parents every week. I got them from my grandmother, but she passed away last year. Now I'm alone, all alone with my thoughts of Hermione.

Speaking of her, I see her in the library, just a little way from the desk where I'm sitting. Maybe I'll talk to her today. Here she is, coming out from the bookshelf. She's giggling. Good, she's in a happy mood. Maybe if I just go up to her and--

No. No, no, no. She's with…she's with Ron. Giggling like mad. His arm's around her. He pulls her towards him and they kiss.

No. This can't be happening! I feel…so dead inside. I swore under my breath. They look towards me. I busy myself with a book so they won't see me. Me and my tears and loneliness. I feel like my hearts been ripped out and fed to Hagrid's bloody blast-ended skrewts. Bloody Ron. I hate him more than I ever had in my whole life. I hope you're happy with him, Hermione, I think as I walk out of the library, leaving the happy, giggling couple behind me. I walk back to the Slytherin common room. I pass Crabbe and Goyle on the way. They motion for me to sit with them, but I breeze past them, all the way up to my dorm room.

I sit myself down on the bed. "You can have her, Weasley," I whispered. The tears I had been trying to hold back erupted. "Just don't hurt her." I take my wand out. "Please don't hurt her, because I won't be here to mend her heart back over again." I point the wand to my chest, knowing what I must do. "Goodbye, Hermione," I whisper softly one last time. "I love you. Avada Kedavra."

And with that, Draco Malfoy's body slumped onto his bed, never to see or hear his loved one again. For it is better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all.

FIN

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