Dumb. Stupid. Idiot. Futile. Senseless. Ludicrous.

The must dumb founded ill witted cock sucking idiot that this world had ever seen.

That title. Belongs to me.

If stupidity was a part of the Triwizarding Tournament, I would win, hands down. Without a second thought.

Because I am THE dumbest person ever.

But I still folded the paper, and I still laid it on her table, and I still wrote it. I still signed my name and broke her heart, I even laid down with her while she slept, planning out how to write the letter.

And if she hates me. I wouldn't blame her. Not one bit.

As much as I hated to admit it, I love Ophelia Clark. And as much as I refuse to tell her that, I mean it with every single fibre of my being.

But I'm a walking black cat, cursed and she can't become involved.

***********

I always remember my mother telling me the muggle belief that the flap of a butterflies wing can create a tsunami somewhere else in the world, and that the actions of one person can decide or change another person, or change their course. And that even your own paths were or could be swayed by someone else flapping their wings.

I always scoffed at her, finding it ridiculous that they could believe in something so mundane. Believing that if we wanted something we got it by choice, not by the stupid fucking butterfly that would land on the flowers.

That a tiny little butterfly didn't have the power to move a petal let alone a ocean of water, and that if something was really started by a butterfly, then couldn't we crush it before it finished its flap?

She would frown at me, and pat me head almost in sadness accepting that at that time, I didn't understand the concept.

"Advara kedabra"

But staring into terrified eyes of Ophelia Clark as Lucas Charles fell to the floor, I suddenly felt the butterfly flap and the tsunami hit me all at once.

Fuck.

My heart skittered, my mask faltering for a second before I shoved the fear back down, Ophelia catching my straight in the eye the fear prevalent on her face.

I told you to stay at home. I think to myself.

She stares at the boy, tears welling in her eyes and I watch as a scream wells in her throat, but it's clamped down when Bellatrix holds her face, my fist clenching.

Greyback makes a comment about her looks, and Ophelia whimpers, the noise breaking my heart.

My vision blurs as the anger crawls up towards the surface as Bellatrix slaps her hand across Ophelia's face, the hand print making itself known quickly.

And suddenly we are moving toward the great hall, Ophelia grabbed with us, her head rolling as she tries to focus.

They aren't gentle with her, pushing and pulling her each way as we walk, her head bleeding at the side where she hit the floor.

Life tends to not make much sense 99% of the time, the mark on my arm can detest to that, and Dumbledore lying at the bottom of the Astronomy tower dead, could also detest to that.

But Ophelia made sense to me. How she laughed, how she cried and needed my help. The smell of her hair made sense to me, and the small mole on her ribs made sense to me. How her nose would scrunch when she was reading, made sense to me. The way her eyes melted when she would cum, made sense to me.

But her hunched body and bleeding head, ripped the logical sense she had in my head right out, and instead made me feel sick. Scared even.

We rounded into the great hall. The mechanical taste of blood seeping across my tongue as i bit down hard.

"Bellatrix please, she isn't worth it. Really. You're wasting your time on a silly Slytherin girl."

Bellatrix looks at me and then back at Ophelia, the cogs turning in her brain before she speaks.

"I want to have fun with her Draco, Don't ruin it or me"

The silver blade glistens against the floating candles, the blade glistening in the black of Ophelia's eyes as Bellatrix toys with it, running it up and down her arm, the blade eventually resting on her sternum pricking her. Blood tricking out of the small cut.

I must have made a noise, as Bellatrix glances at me

"Leave us. Let me see if we have use for her"

I stand rooted, weighing up my options. Tackle Bellatrix. Kill Bellatrix. Stab her with the knife. Gouge her eyes out with the spoon beside me.

Before I'm able to roll the dice of fate, Greyback has me by the neck, leading me out of the hall. Ophelia piercing her eyes towards me, pleading....begging.

I'm led down the hall, Greyback not letting go of my neck.

"Find anyone that isn't a follower and give them the message that the dark lord is arrived. And that there will be a change coming, Then go and pack your bags, Hogwarts is no longer your home"

With that he grunts and stalks towards the courtyard, his wand spitting out red flames as he scorches the ground as he walks.

I turn straight on my heels, walking towards the great hall. Breathing ragged.

Please let her be alive, let her be alive. Let her-

I stop dead in my tracks, the walls reverberating the scream into my ears.

Ophelia. Begging for her life. I feel myself sway, dizzy and overwhelmed, staggering forward towards the screaming.

It goes on and on, the pitch cracking and sobbing as she loses breath, only to inhale and start again, a record player stuck on the same line.

The screaming was shrill, deafening as it continued on a loop. Her pleas and begging jumbling into long winded sentences between each screen, sometimes overlapping each other in panic and hysteria.

I stand at the entrance way, unsure on what to do. I exhale the breath I had been holding watching,

Ophelia is alive, her body pressed against the large wooden desk of Hufflepuff, her arm bleeding from something i cant see, the blood pooling at her feet as it tricked down her leg. She is whimpering, in pain.

"Crucio" Bellatrix waves her wand, red erupting around it as Ophelia screams again, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she arches her back, convulsing and gargling.

In a wave and a rush, the vomit uplifts from my stomach and I turn and vomit, burning my nose as it rushes out. Stomach tensing and clenching as it slaps onto the floor among the rubble of broken lights and fixtures. Emptying myself completely.

I don't know how long it goes on for, it feels like hours. But soon Bellatrix stands back and with a crack and a whip of wind, apparatus leaving the hall in silence.

I wait. Counting to one hundred, waiting for her to come back and continue.

She doesn't.

I walk forward, my feet crunching and splintering more glass.

Ophelia doesn't move. She lies twitching, blood circling around her, her hair matted with as her eves flutter open and shut, her breathing shallow and unsure.

Taking her in my arms, I feel her tense and then relax. Her voice tumbling out in a broken chord.

"Draco....she- she- Crucio- she on me..."

Her words don't make sense, but she spoke enough for me to gulp down hard, my eyes trained ahead of me as I carry her out the hall.

I sign the letter, folding it Ophelia sniffles in her sleep and turns, her hair covering her face.

She will hate me. And this will break her, but it wont kill her. And that is the one goal I know I can keep myself, even if she grows to hate me the way she should, the way I always secretly wished her to.

I used to pray that she would despise me, snarl at the mere mention of my name.

But instead she would moan my name, curse it with full lips as I filled her. A prophecy I never expected to hear, let alone experience.

I used to pray that she would shake out of her crushing daze, and decide that liking me was like liking the taste of coal.

But instead she began begging for my taste, and I was so selfish i let her have it, giving into her. My own brand of Opium. Sour to know, heaven to hold, euphoric to taste.

And as much as I wanted to crawl back into her bed and wake up beside her the events of last night raptured around my head, like someone was playing ping ball with the memory. Bouncing around each emotion and the deep cuts of the makeshift scar branded into my brain, never leaving...just like it would never leave her arm.

I closed the door behind me, gliding down the stairs, refusing to turn around.

I apologise Ophelia if this makes you feel bad, but in life good people deserve good, and bad deserves nothing. And you are too good for me. Too pure, too kind. Too whole and too Ophelia.

In life people deserve to feel safe, secure. In life people deserve someone that is not me. Someone that is not Draco Malfoy.

I turn glancing at the house, and then I apparate, the smell of Ophelia swept away from my nose and it is replaced with death, and the marble of Malfoy Manor.