Work Text:
To the esteemed Harry Potter,
These are the final and official words of Prince Draco Malfoy of Wales, eternal Dray to Hazz:
Firstly, I must confess and seek absolution for one of many failings: I beg your forgiveness for my falsehood; I know I declared last night that it would be our final communication, yet here I am, represented by words in cursive script on paper duly sealed, striving not to appear more wretched than I truly am. Secondly, I wish also to atone for all other transgressions: that of encountering you, becoming enchanted by you, and, the greatest and most ruinous of all, loving you, and still loving you as fervently as the unceasing rain that wets the cobblestones of London and floods my soul. I am deeply sorry.
However, this does not signify that there is any remorse within my breast, my dear, for nothing can remove from my heart the feeling that it was to behold the bright stars in your olive-green eyes, which invited me with as much force as my desire to meet them. Nothing could ever erase the memory — dare I say eidetic — of my body when it first drew near to yours, sliding amidst the shadows of your curves and burying itself in the birthmarks that adorned your form. There exists not a magic potent enough to free us from our shared history with the wave of a wand, even if it be doomed to conclude before I can claim you as mine.
And yet, the refusal to die still burdens my conscience, but the weight of my concern for you outweighs any selfish desire that might seek to tempt me in moments of emotional frailty, however enticing the damned urge may be to tuck my tail between my legs and follow in your wake. Thus, I have learnt to embrace exile for your sake. The answer was clear; any soliloquy would envy the perfection of this solution: I would let my precious head roll before the populace, Christian accusations shouted at my corpse, and the entire court gratified to be rid of yet another heretic, even if this one had once belonged to the royal family. It is not so melancholic as it seems, I assure you.
Nevertheless, I do not wish to depart as a cold and unfeeling being, at least not to you; my affections shall remain affixed at the end of this letter, like an appendix, and my soul shall stay with yours, the only place where it truly belongs; for it did not truly dwell within me. In contrast, I hope others deem me frivolous, for there shall be nothing directed towards them; only you need understand why I am a condemned man. Thus, here shall perish the emotions of a young heir who denied all that was bestowed upon him, casting aside the crown that was placed upon his head to the supposed stray and crippled dogs of the common people.
Body and soul, yours,
Your Royal Highness, Prince Draco Malfoy of Wales.