Draco sat on the floor staring at his wrists and wondering where all the blood was coming from. With every beat of his heart the blood seeped out, painting his pale skin in crimson red. And it hurt. Merlin did it hurt. Yet at the same time it was beautiful. The ebb and the flow of it. The contrast of white against red. Beautiful. He tried to ignore the pain.

This was the only option left.

Had always been his only option.

There was nothing left.

Nothing worth living for.

He was an accessory to Dumbledore's murder.

Had planned it all out he had.

And failed.

As usual.

He was sure he was expelled from school. His father was locked up and the Dark Lord was furious with him.

Where was his redemption?

He'd finally found it.

Maybe he would become a ghost like Moaning Myrtle and be able to go back to Hogwarts. The only place that had ever really felt like home to him.

The only thing in his life that he'd ever loved. A stupid castle.

He was getting weaker and blood was every where.

So red... and so tainted. He was finally washing the taint away.

His vision began to dim and the world began to spin. He lost consciousness.

His blood continued to seep from him.

Then it stopped.