I don’t know why I didn’t speak up, say something, make her stay, stop her. Stop her making the biggest mistake of her life.
Now I don’t know what to do. And I never will unless I have her with me. She was my best friend, my soul mate and my life. She was everything to me and now I have nothing. Nothing in the world apart from regret. The painful feeling of regret stabs me in the heart and it never goes away. I try to forget but I can’t. Not now she has left me all alone in the dark, hidden away from the world because she was my world. My beautiful, happy, colourful world. Now all I see is the greyness, the darkness, the pain and the tears.
I keep on telling myself it was her fault, because it was. It was all her fault, not mine.
I sit on my bed, my head in my hands. I try to push back the tears, make them stay in and not let them flow but I lose my battle and they escape, coursing down my cheek.
My phone rings. I ignore it.
My wand sits on the table. I grab it and stuff it in my cupboard. I don’t want any reminder of that life. That world. The pain. The fear. The loss. Her.
But the memories still come.
The memories of Voldemort. Of the dead and wounded. Not just the wounded bodies but the wounded hearts.
I try to forget the war. I try to forget the pain and the fear and the terror. The darkness, the sadness and the hole in my heart.
When she left it just got bigger and now there’s a gaping hole that will never be filled.
There’s a knock at my door. A loud knock that just gets louder and louder. But I ignore it.
It stops after a while.
An owl- big and black, his eyes yellow and watchful-swoops down and lands outside my window. A letter is clutched in it’s beak. I get up and open the window, letting in a chilly breeze. The owl lets go of the letter and flies away. I sit back down on the bed, the letter in my hands, running my thumb up and down the seal. Part of me tells me I should ignore it. The other part, the stronger part, tells me I should open it.
I make up my mind and carefully tear the seal open. A small sheet of parchment falls out landing on my lap. I pick it up and read:
Regret, Regret, Regret
That’s all it said. Regret.
I do regret. Every second of every day. But why has someone sent this to me? Why now? And who?
I decide to ignore it. It’s probably someone messing around.
I walk down the stairs, trying to occupy my mind with something else but I just can’t seem to get it out of my head.
I make myself a cup of tea but I don't drink it. I get myself a peice of cake, but I don't eat it. I feel sick inside and it has nothing to do with the ammount of cake I ate the night before.
For the rest of the day I sit around, doing nothing. What is there to do? Nothing, is the answer. Not now that all I can do is sit down and feel sorry for myself.
I mean, I'm a young guy. Handsome and rich. I should have a beautiful, rich woman to share it with.
Yeah, like I said, she left me. She did, honest. And now, what do I do?
I go to bed, my mind still fully awake and don't sleep. How could I?
The next day I get another letter. It read:
Remorse , Remorse, Remorse
Right, it was really starting to freak me out. I mean, who wouldn't get freaked out by this?
And another one the following day:
Guilt, Guilt, Guilt
I chuck it in the bit, annoyed and slightly scared. Who were they from and how do they know?
But then I remind myself who I am. And I do not get scared. Not now. Not after I have used up all my fear.
People used to think I never got scared. They thought that because I was so mean and uncaring I didn’t feel fear. But they were wrong. Dead wrong. I did feel fear. Throughout the whole war I felt fear. Fear that I might get killed, fear that she might get killed and fear that my whole life would shatter. I was right about that. My life did shatter. But not the way I thought.
I was so afraid of death. Every second of every day I prayed I wouldn’t get killed. I would never give my life for someone else. Why should I?
The only reason I can think of is that I would have to live my whole life without them and I couldn’t bear the grief. So yeah, I’m pretty selfish.
That’s the reason she left.
I always talked about myself. I never once asked her how she was or what she wanted to do.
And also, the day before she left she told me she loved me and I said “I love me too.” I meant it as a joke but she didn’t see it that way.
My father was like that too. Selfish. My mother hated it but she put up with it because she loved me so much. I was her perfect son. She wouldn’t ever ask for anything more. But she was certainly not the perfect mother. The way she would try and make me more like her-more kind and selfless-annoyed me so much. Her attempts never worked, my father would always step in and tell her to leave me alone.
I go to the window and look out. The full moon hangs in the air, staring down at me, accusing me of what I know I have done. But nobody else knows. How could they? The stars twinkle like the eyes of the dead are watching me, whispering to me, telling me what I did was wrong.
I turn away. Trying to forget.
I go to bed, my mind full to the brim with thoughts of her and thoughts of me. I wander how I could make myself look better, how I could get through this and how I could make it easier for me. Then my mind wonders to her. What is she doing? Who is she with? Has she met anyone else? Does she miss me? Is she thinking of me?
I drift into a restless sleep, nightmares making their way into my head and lingering there trying to scare me.
I have nightmares of The Dark Lord, Harry Potter, my father, death. Her.
There's one I remember. I'm in Hogwarts, boasting about my brand new broomstick, telling everyone how amazing I am when she walks in. She hold her head high but she looks low. Her eyes don't see me. They don't see anything. Tears glisten in them, falling from these dark ovals and rolling down her cheek. I call out to her, ask her if she wants to hear about the latest thing I have done to potter.
And then I notice the blood.
She turns to me and whispers, her voice like a snake, hissing and hourse "How could you? How could you?..."
I wake up in a sweat, and hear a tapping noise. I think I’m just imagining it at first but it gets louder and louder and louder. Another letter. I lift my head up off the pillow to see the same black, sinister owl staring at me. I haul myself out of my nice warm bed and get the letter. I sit back down, my hands shaking. After a few moments, I pluck up the courage and look at it:
Remember, remember, remember.
I hear her voice ringing in my ear. “Remember, remember, remember.”
Sweat runs down my forehead and my heart starts to pound. Remember, remember, remember. It’s no more than a whisper now. A sinister whisper that sends chills down my spine.
I hear her voice again. The voice of Pansy Parkinson.
“Remember Draco, remember” She hisses.
I covered my ears with my hands trying to block it out. Fear takes it’s place in my heart and stays there. It gets louder and louder. Piercing my ears, turning into a deafening wail of pain and revenge.
Remember, remember, remember.
The wailing, the shrieking, the screeching is taking over me. I shout out into the darkness, trying to make it go away. But it stays, paralysing me with fear. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold back the tears.
Why is she doing this to me? She was the one who left.
Ok, I lied. She didn’t leave me.....
I killed her.
And the owl is no ordinary owl. That owl is death.
A/N Please leave a review because i really want to know what you think!!! And also could you tell me if you think I should do a sequel or not. If I did I think it would be five one-shots called Regret, Remorse, Guilt, Remember, Forget. So please let me know if you think I should because there's no point in writing it if nobodys going to read it!!!! xxx