Goodbye, Harry. I wish you a happy, wholesome life that you deserve.
                              
Draco Lucius Malfoy
                              
He couldn't stop a few tears from falling to the parchment. He was almost out of time as clock hand had ticked forward. He folded it up with the others and approached the bars.
                              
"Guard?" he called, hoping they answer.
                              
"What, Death Eater?"
                              
"Can you put these in the post, please?" he said, hoping. The guards weren't exactly friendly. They were all Aurors guarding the specially built Death Row, in the basement of the Ministry.
                              
"Post? Your family is dead. Who are you writing?" he asked, walking to the door and snatching them and reading the name on the outside. "Harry Potter?"
                              
He nodded and stared at the ground. "I needed to apologize for the things I've done."
                              
The Auror stayed in his spot. "You're the only one of them that did that, you know? Fine, I'll post it for you. Shift change is coming up. But it's almost time for you, Death Eater. You know that."
                              
He nodded and glanced at the time. The letter had been a considerable distraction... a blessing, really. The guard went back to his chair. The guards switched out at five and were loudly talking about how glad they were that this duty was finally over. They were taking bets on if he'd cry and beg for his mother or not. He tried to resolve himself not to, but he wasn't sure he had that strength. The prolonged torture of his impending death had nearly broken him.
                              
Minutes ticked on. Five after. Ten after. Half-past. Quarter to. Fuck, it was going faster. The clock was just laughing at him. He went to the sink basin and washed his face in an attempt to stay the tears. Time was up.
                              
The door to the ward opened. Footsteps came down the hall and stopped outside of his cell. His heart felt like it was turning sludge as breathing became nearly impossible. They were here to take him down the one-way hallway.
                              
"Death Eater! Put your hands through the bars!" one ordered.
                              
Though they had the power of magic, they enjoyed manhandling him and others.
                              
"Death Eater... we can pull you out by your fingertips just like your scummy father!"
                              
Draco swallowed and glanced at them, before making the slow walk to the door. He offered his wrists which they bound. They opened the door, and he tried to back away, but they each grabbed an arm and pulled him out. The one on the left put restraints on his legs, too. No running. He looked up at the clock, one last time. Five-fifty. He couldn't stop shaking.
                              
"Set. Let's go."
                              
"Dead man walking!" announced the Auror on his right.
                              
The other chuckled. Laughed. Like this was funny. Like his execution was a joke. The cruelty and callousness made this so much worse. Like he was worth nothing. He guessed he was. He lowered his head while they forced marched him through the cellblock doorway past the guard booth toward another big door.
                              
"I like when they're quiet," left Auror muttered. Draco was just trying not to give them the satisfaction of breaking him and they weren't making it easy.
                              
"Nah... I like them scared shitless. Crying and begging... it makes it all the more sweeter."
                              
Draco had a hard time maintaining his composure. Holy Salazar... his legs stopped working, and they dragged him forward. He couldn't stop this. It was really going to happen. No, he didn't want to know what was on the other side of the door. The Aurors gripped him painfully, and there was no way that he could resist them. He was going through the last door, willingly or not.
                              
"You just had to say something, John? Come on. You're not going to escape. Your time has come, Death Eater."
                              
Draco didn't cooperate still, and they pulled him through the door. The room was white. Everything. Walls, floor, ceiling. Everything but the eight-foot dementor. He seized up. He could take the Dark Lord's wrath and even death itself, but none of that compared to his fear about losing his soul to one of those things. He whimpered and tried to push away from the Aurors but failed.
                              
"End of the line, Death Eater," the Auror growled.
                              
"Please... please...no..." he cried, as the right one laughed.
                              
"Gonna beg for your mum?" he chuckled.
                              
"Please, don't feed me to that thing!"
                              
"It's what you all deserved. A Kiss goodbye!"
                              
Draco couldn't help but cry. He had tried not to think about the Kiss while waiting in his cell. It only horrified the more he thought about it. Dementors keep the souls. They consume it. There was no coming back. He honestly believed that he would be tortured forever in the gut of that thing. Slowly disgusted for hundreds if not thousands of years. It wasn't just Death in front of him. It was hell itself. Why did it have to be a Kiss? Why not Avada Kedavra him?
                              
Hundreds of years ago, the Wizengamot elected to have a more humane way of executing their criminals and stop forcing Aurors to be executioners and having to do the act of killing. How was this humane? Why not feed him to a chimera or dragon, if they wanted to ease their conscience. Why this thing? This fiend? Who was going to hold his soul for all eternity? Was that the reason? Death was too good?
                              
Draco didn't have much time to answer his mental questions. It moved closer. Though the Aurors could have frozen him, they gleefully held him as the dementor's clammy, gray hand advanced toward him. It pried whatever resolve and strength he had left out of him by sucking the hope and vestiges happiness out of him, before it grabbed his weakened arm from the Auror. It pulled him closer and lifted its hood, revealing a toothless, black hole. Draco cried hopelessly as it descended on him, latching onto his jaw.
                              
Harry, he thought, desperately.