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Author of 4 Stories |
Prologue
"But I may pass the old church door,
And pace the floor that covers thee."
- Anne Brontë, A Reminiscence
Too late. I was too late. I chose the wrong path, and didn't find my way back until I had gone too far. I followed my father, my friends, my inheritance, my duty, but never made my own decisions, never stepped back and did what I thought was right. I bullied you, I mocked your friends, I hurt those close to you, and you knew. You know what I was, what I'd done, what I had become. Yet you still saved me. You saved me when others would have walked away. Only a Gryffindor would be so foolish...
And now... Was it worth it? What will I go on to become, now He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is defeated? Now I have no father to follow, no friends to lead, no master to serve, and so many enemies to hate, to fear. I was saved too late...
Draco Malfoy turned away from the grave of the Boy Who Lived.