"Potter." Draco spoke gently into the night. "Harry fucking Potter." He spoke a little louder. "His name was Harry Potter." Draco wanted to sob, but he swallowed back the pain in his heart, stepping around to where the railing opened leaving nothing between him and the edge of the tower, the very spot Dumbledore had fallen from so long ago. And as Draco took tentative step after step closer to the edge he felt his heart settle and his mind quiet. How often he had thought of this very ledge, how often he allowed his mind to picture him falling from the ledge instead. He wondered if the fall would be something peaceful, if his death would be peaceful. Or if in the end he’d be just as scared as he always had been. Draco let the toe of his shoe cross over the ledge, the cold night air stealing the breath from his lungs. He was proverbially and quite literally teetering on the edge. 