Night Sky

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N I G H T  S K Y

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He had written his woefully short story in the darkness of nights. This night was the final chapter.

Many a times strangling oneself seemed much better than coming back. Their insults, their jeers, their life threatening pranks... It was sickening. Death eater, they chanted, endlessly, ceaselessly.

It seemed as if those two words had become his life. Stuck on him like his infamous surname.

He should have never come back. He should have hidden in his home like the coward he was, he thought. Everything he was familiar with had distorted irreparably. The hunter had become hunted; the bully had become the meek victim. What shattered him was the fact that all of his tormentors were right when they viciously remarked, "You deserve to die, you Death Eater scum."

He had have enough of this miserable existence. First his family forced him to do something he never wanted to do, now his fellow schoolmates were doing their best to make him shrivel up and die everyday. So tonight, under the cloudy, dark, stark and unlit night sky, he was going to end it all. His steps led him towards the infamous astronomy tower slowly and steadily.

They could never understand what he had gone through. How could they? They were children of happy and unbiased families. Not that he wanted to help them understand. They didn't listen to him anyway. The cold night air pressed on him as he hugged his robe tightly around himself. It was a long walk. It was his last walk.

He thought of a certain girl he used to torment a long time back. Is this how she felt, useless, depressed, suppressed and alone when he insulted her? Lovely brown eyes and soft wavy hair filled his imagination on his lone walk to his death. Secretly, he used to like her a lot. However, appearances had to be kept and he couldn't do a single good thing for her and now he had lost her forever.

His life was tragic game and he was a mere pawn in a shameful scheme.

The steps to the top were dark and damp. The sound of his steps echoed and reverberated throughout the passage, reminding him of the time he was last there. He had climbed the steps fearfully, not wanting to do it at all. His mind had screamed an anguished last cry to turn back. But he hadn't.

Now he was climbing with a heart full of golden hope, not fear, for he was sure that whatever lied after falling from that height was better than his miserable present. He was going up the stairs almost pleasurably. For it was a pleasure for him to jump down his death.

As soon as he reached the top, various memories invaded his mind. The cold night air was further forcing him to remember some of the most fateful days of his life. He remembered the night when he had received the condemned mark. It had seemed that there was no hope for him any longer.

He saw the night he had been assigned to kill. The world had seemed hellish then. He was lost in the memory of the night when the boy who lived had cut him up. He should have died, he thought sadly. His life was written in pitiful nights full of nasty sights. At last he reached the edge. The night which had led to his present abysmal state played in him front of him.

He had grabbed his wand weakly, trying to mutter the unforgivable killing curse. He saw himself stuttering, eyes bloodshot, body appallingly weak. The old man in front of him had been anything but fearful.

"Good evening, Draco," he had said calmly. He vividly remembered himself replying, "Don't you understand, I have to kill you, or he's going to kill me!"

That night seemed faraway. He should have let himself be killed. Anything was better than being endlessly taunted for a thing he had never wanted to do. Anyone had never cared to see his inner light. So lost was he in his sorrowful dwellings of his pasts that he had never noticed the dull sound of pattering footsteps that had been following him for sometime now.

This night, the brilliance of the sky was hidden behind a thick curtain of dark clouds. Even the moon was nowhere in sight. Just like my life, he remarked internally.

He peered down and saw the unfathomable dark depths that awaited him. But he only saw the promise of a white light beyond them. For it was his firm belief that once he jumped past the dark clouds, he would be able to live amongst goodness. He thought no one cared whether he was gone or not."No one cares," he said aloud, his voice wavering and full of turmoil and anguish.

"You're wrong. Someone does care," a very familiar voice came from somewhere behind him.

He turned around, startled. "What are you doing here?" he asked timidly.

She didn't answer him directly and a strange silence reigned for some time. "Looking out for someone," she said at last.

"I don't need your pity Granger. Leave me be," he replied emotionlessly.

"I am not pitying you. I am just saying that I know you're not a great pretender, at least not any longer." She neared him.

"You think you know everything? Eh, Granger? Do you know what it feels to be me—"

"I..." she cut him off but could not continue.

So he quickly continued. "Do you know that someone longed you for so long that he felt that he might just defy everything familiar to him?"

She stayed silent, not clueless but shocked nonetheless.

"Do you know what it feels it be left alone? No, you don't Granger. So leave my pathetic self alone," he finished off furiously.

"Don't do it Draco. I just wanted to say that. For me. I don't know what it feels to be you or any of the things you mentioned but I know one thing. You're tired of pretending," she said and turned away to go.

"Don't go. Stay."

She stopped. A wry smile graced her lovely face as she faced him once again.

And for once, he swore he saw a faint glimmer of milky moonlight through the dark and thick clouds.

Maybe this night wasn't the final chapter after all.

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