Summary: Lycanthropy has always made her life harder. Draco Malfoy was the peace among all the chaos. Now she thinks of him, one last time.

They say that when you die, you see your life flash before your eyes. That may be true for some, but I can't seem to think of anything but him.

My life before Hogwarts feels distant, like looking through a dirty glass. I remember the endless full moon nights. I remember the constant pain and the taste of the wolfsbane potion. I had to take it every month for my whole life. My father was a wizard turned into a werewolf, my mother a witch. They prayed that I would be born without the wolf gene. That did not happen. I had to live with a curse I never wanted. Nevertheless, I never blamed my father. My father... I saw his corpse in the great hall two hours ago. My mother is gone too. Still, the only thing I can seem to focus on is gray eyes.

I met Draco Malfoy my first year of Hogwarts. We were part of the same house, after all. For a little while, we were close. That was until the entire school discovered my condition in my third year. I stopped having friends from then on. Still, gray eyes seem to always find an excuse to talk to me. Not rudely, just a simple hello or a brush of the hand. He would always find his way to me. He became a constant amidst the uncertainty of my life. He became what I would think about when I felt down. Those beautiful gray eyes never despised me, yet never welcomed me back.

It was until my sixth year that things changed. When he couldn't handle the dark mark, he would come to me. It was... quiet. We would sit for hours in silence. Our company was enough. The unsaid words lingered between us. Calmness surrounded our rendezvous. And yet we were never more than strangers. Perhaps that's what we needed from one another. I refuse to believe it. I remember I tried to be more once, but the look he gave me told me he wasn't ready. It wasn't our time. So I smiled, broken-hearted, and remained still. Perhaps I wasn't ready either.

Then he started to give me chocolate after full moons. He never said it was him, but I saw him once leave the box outside my door. They were pretty and expensive... and I never ate them. Now I wished I did. It's stupid, but I wanted to save everything his. His gifts, his smile, his gray eyes, all of it was fixed in my mind. He was a drug I could gladly take till my death. I guess that's what I did.

Our meetings were every so often in the astronomy tower, at midnight. When the day would break, we would become nothing again. Or were we always nothing? Still, our eyes would always find each other. In the common room, classrooms, great hall, yard, lake... He would look at me with intensity, and I would stare back. Maybe I should have learned legeremens because his gaze seemed to be telling me something I could not comprehend. Or maybe it was all in my head.

The problems I had, the pain of the change, the rejection of my classmates... it all became nothing beside him. I would look into those gray eyes and tranquility would find me. Just like magic. I often wondered if it was a spell. At night, after our meetings, I would whisper his name in the silence of my room. No one would answer back. I thought maybe one day he'd be beside me. Then, I would murmur sweetly his name and he would look at me. I often dreamt of swimming in his irises and kissing his lips. They were soft and peaceful. They felt like nothing I've ever experienced before. Then I would wake up.

They say love is passionate. They say it makes your heart beat fast and your palms sweat. I never felt that with him. What I would feel, was like the world coming together. Finally making sense. I would feel serenity. He would smile and I would feel complete. He would murmur my name and I would need nothing more. But then... then there were the moments when not even the thought of him could calm me down. I would break, scream, cry, mourn and weep. Fantasies can only take you so far. Because when he pretended that I didn't exist, then I truly felt like I didn't exist. Then the pain of the curse would find its way to me. Things would just... not make sense anymore. I would need him by my side. I'm not sure if it was love or obsession. Perhaps both.

Now, he is not beside me. Everything is chaos. I feel agony coming off of my wound. I feel life leaving me. The noises from the battle are multiplied by ten. I want to scream, but there's something stuck in my throat. I think is blood. I can't feel my legs, maybe the wolf ripped them off. He wanted me to fight with him 'like wolves'. I refused. He attacked and now I'm dying. I know I am. I have no regrets, I chose the right side. My parents are gone, I should go with them. The only thing I wish before that is gray eyes. If... if I could see them one more time...

If I could go back, I would tell him how much he meant to me. I wouldn't wait for the war to end. I would grab his face and tell him. Kiss him. Touch him. Love him... And those gray eyes would love me back. Or maybe they wouldn't, but at least I would know for sure. I'd know if he'd love me. I wished we would. I imagined it so many times. He'd cup my cheek and murmur my name lovingly... sweetly... desperately... painfully... Like now. He is here.

I didn't notice when he arrived. I notice now. He is hugging my body toward him. His gray eyes are sad. I wonder what happened to make him feel like this. I want to erase all bad from his life. I open my mouth to tell him it'll be alright, but nothing comes out. His hands caress my forehead. He is saying something, but I can't figure out what it is. Now that he is here, the world has gone quiet again. I cannot longer hear the uproar of the war. It's just gray eyes and peacefulness. But also, not. Why is he crying? Or is it me? I feel tears fall on my face and I have to blink to make them go. Maybe it's both of us. Or maybe it's blood. There's so much blood.

I feel sleep trying to sweep me away. I think he is telling me to hold on. I want to listen to him, but I also don't. I have nothing left. And if I go, the pain will go away. These wounds' pain, as well as lycanthropy's pain. Oh! The joy of not being a werewolf anymore. I won't have to stand being despised any longer. Oh, the joy. The only thing holding me into this world is gray eyes. Yet... it seems not to be enough. I want to tell him that I love him. I can't. I can't move anymore. After my parents' deaths, I thought no one would weep me. Now I know. I guess gray eyes will.

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