I do not own Harry Potter or any other of J K Rowlings characters. Though I really wish I did.

This story is a little depressing, but I was too happy at the time to make it really sad, but please leave helpful hints and enjoy!

Draco Malfoy stood there, hands tied behind his back, facing a cold stone wall which he couldn't see due to a thick blindfold.

He cried quietly.

"I never wanted this!" he called, hoping somebody would hear him and understand.

"Everyone has so many expectations of you. 'You're a Malfoy you should worship the dark arts preach about pureblood and own everything.' They expected me to become a death eater, all of them. Mum and Dad, Voldemort. The whole fucking world!"

He took a deep, shuddering breath and continued.

"You can't let people down. You have to live up to their expectations. You don't disgrace the Malfoy name: people tell me these things all of the time!"

"And I do it, I do everything they expect, even though it means people hate me, convict me and steriotype me…As long as everyone else is happy."

He fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"But nobody knows the real me. I detest the dark arts. I like, quidditch and, and music! And I'm in love! I'm in love! But I was too busy keeping everyone else happy, I never got to tell them. I will now!"

He clambered roughly to his feet and screamed

"I LOVE YOU, H----"

The kiss had been administered. But nothing came to the dementor.

It was too late, Draco Malfoy had already poured out his soul….

….To an empty room.