Part 1~~~ "I hate him," said Hermione, setting down her teacup. Hagrid sighed and shook his head discreetly. He'd heard this song before. Draco Malfoy is a jerk, Draco Malfoy is an idiot, Draco Malfoy is conceited, yada blah yada blah. Today it was Draco Malfoy wiped all their books blank. "He's such a pain,'' groaned Ron, taking a sip of tea and putting down the cup. "He's been torturing us for three years, and I'm not ready for another one," hissed Harry, poison coursing through his voice. "Yeah," said Hagrid absentmindedly. "He had no right whatsoever to wipe all our books blank!" shouted Hermione, and up she jumped, ranting and raving and waving her arms like Beethoven. Harry leaped up and joined her parading around the cabin. "I wish-I wish-" he began, tight-lipped. He thought of Snape yelling at him in Potions class and taking fifty points from Gryffindor House. "I WISH HE WOULD JUMP OFF A CLIFF!" Ron finished, shaking his fist in the air. "Me too!" said Harry and Hermione, not dropping their pensive looks. Little did the four of them know that a certain white-haired, gray-eyed presence was listening, his ear pressed against the wall, and his hair slightly wet with tears.
Part 2 ~~~ Hagrid said good-bye to Harry and his friends, then sat down. Much as he hated that Malfoy, he felt sorry for him. Obviously, Lucius Malfoy had carried on the family tradition of being a bad father. And, unlike his forefathers, Draco had no mother. She had died long ago. Hagrid wanted to cry for him. The next morning, Hagrid rolled over in bed and stepped on something as he got up. It was a piece of parchment, which he uncrumpled and read.
Dear (Professor) Hagrid, I'm carrying out Ron's orders. Yours faithfully, but not for long, Anonymous
Hagrid knew at once it was Malfoy and tried to remember what Ron had said. Something about jumping-something about-oh, he couldn't remember. Hagrid stretched and yawned and prepared to throw away the parchment, but then he reread it and placed it on his pillow.
Part 3~~~ He stood at the other edge of the Forbidden Forest, across the Hogwarts grounds, high above, watching...watching. He was about a thousand feet up. That was quite an accomplishment, since he'd done it in the night without equipment. But no, sir, he wasn't here to celebrate. He was here to plan his own downfall. He had burned his most prized possessions yesterday: his Nimbus 2001 racing broom and his diary. Now, he knew, there was no trace of his past, of his life, of him. He didn't exist to the rest of the world. Now he had to work on not existing to himself. Sitting at the edge of the mountain he had climbed, he contemplated the word. Death. What did it mean? It had so many definitions. For most people, it meant a loss, a sadness. For others, it was a journey. For him, it meant happiness. The world didn't want him. Neither did he. His eyes stung with tears as he remembered that his father didn't want him either. Suddenly, his face split in a sad smile. He had nothing to lose. But, said a nagging voice at the back of his mind, he might not want to do this. He should think of the people who wanted him. He argued back with the voice. Nobody wanted him. Nobody cared. It probably wouldn't make any difference if he listened to what Ron said at Hagrid's house. It definitely wouldn't make any difference. The smile vanished. He set his jaw and raced forward to the few inches of loose ground that meant so much to him. His freedom, his doom, his escape...his escape. Escape from this emptiness, this void that was his life. The ground vanished from beneath his feet and he streaked, his small body whistling as it went, towards the ground. All he could think of was at last being free. Free...free... He hit the ground with ungodly force and cracked at least five bones. As though to add insult to injury, a small shower of rocks kicked him up into the air and he fell again, being urged closer to death. Blood started to build up in his lungs and he could feel it working up to his throat...he couldn't breathe. Softly, he whispered, "Thank you", and his once-burning gray eyes closed. Forever. At last, at long last, Draco Malfoy was at peace.
Part 4~~~ Hagrid sat up in bed, sweating. He had seen Draco, falling from somewhere. Where? He wiped his brow and realized it was no dream. With a grunt, he gently nudged his dog aside and put on his slippers. The door opened with a creak and Hagrid strolled out into the beautiful calm of a night at Hogwarts. The stars and darkness twinkled merrily in the black-blue of the sky. Hagrid almost felt happy, and started humming "Moon River" to himself until he tripped, after a trek through the Forbidden Forest, and what he saw shattered the nocturnal peace. The small mangled corpse of Malfoy was sprawled out on the ground. He looked strangely peaceful. As if he'd brought this upon himself. And, like a back-handed blow to the face, Hagrid realized he had brought this upon himself. The remarks Harry, Ron, and Hermione made at his house had, in a way, killed him. "Poor little kid," Hagrid whispered, bending down and putting a huge hand behind Draco's head. But suddenly a new mood conquered his mournfulness. Hagrid knew the straps that held back the sad form at his feet for so long had finally snapped. "Yer free," he said, tousling Draco's hair and carrying him to his cabin.
A/N: Why do I seem to love the subject of Draco committing suicide? I HATE HARRY. Harry reminds me of Ash Ketchum from Pokémon. So darn outspoken and conceited. He gets too much glory. I rarely try cliffhangers. This is my first attempt. Hope you like it, and have a really cool day! Hey, short author's note. Cool.