Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. "'Tis some visiter," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more."


Draco looked up from the book he was reading. The one he had received from his lover. So beautiful, brave and Lion bold, Lost to the darkness during the war. An in being a Malfoy he knew what lost meant. When you went missing in a war it meant you were dead.


Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had tried to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore - Nameless here for evermore.


He still couldn't believe how the war ended. How a Weasel like Ron killed the great Lord Voldemort. Apparently the Weasleys knew what 'missing' meant as well. And he wasn't the only one affected by his lover's apparent death.


And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating "'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more."


He lay on the couch staring at the tattered pages of the leather bound book while the fire crackled making the shadows dance in the room.


Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you " - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there and nothing more.


He held his breath looking towards the dark wooden door as if to hear something, but no sound met his ears except the sound of the fire and the turning of the pages.


Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before; But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore!" This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" - Merely this, and nothing more.


Breathing out a sigh he closed his eyes for a second thinking of his loss. Softly as if he were afraid his voice would break the sereneness of the room he let his lovers name slip from his lips. Quickly gone like that of the poems man's whispers of his maiden, tone full of sorrow.


Then into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon I heard again a tapping somewhat louder than before. "Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;- 'Tis the wind and nothing more!"


There was a soft tapping at the window and startled, Draco looked its way. An immaculately white owl fluttered outside. Placing his finger in the book to hold his place he walked over letting the bird in. It flew to him taking perch on his shoulder and nuzzling his slender neck. He closed the window and walked softly back over to the couch as not to disturb the bird. He lay back down the owl taking rest by his head and looking at the book as he opened it.


Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore; Not the least obeisance made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more.


The large bird twittered pushing at him and staring at the book.

"What?" he asked startling both the bird and himself with the sudden intrusion into the silence of the room. She pecked at the book pulling at the pages gently. "Oh you want to here?"

She missed her owner as much as he did. "Alright." Softly he began from where he was, glad to have a companion.


Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no sublunary being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as "Nevermore."

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."


The bird cooed tenderly nuzzling him again as his voice trembled with the thought of ebony and fleeting hopes.


Wondering at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster Followed fast and followed faster so when Hope he would adjure - Stern Despair returned, instead of the sweet Hope he dared adjure - That sad answer, "Never - nevermore."

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he hath sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore; Let me quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."


The soft owl fluttered when another joined them in the room. Draco never wondered how he ever got into the house by himself it really didn't matter. It had always been that way. The new owl maple colored and large as well took perch on the other side of his head staring at the book. So turning the page he continued.


"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore." Quoth the raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign in parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting - "Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!" Quoth the raven "Nevermore."


There was a rapping at the door and the three in the room shot up. The two owls flew taking perch on the back of the couch as Draco grabbed his wand. Cautiously he walked towards it. It was far too late for visitors and both birds were in the room. Any other owls would have tapped at the glass of the window. Draco knew not all the Death Eaters were dead and many were out for him, the greatest traitor of the Darkest Wizard, The deceitful Malfoy. Opening the large oak door he noticed no one outside. Just as he was about to close it he saw something large and black pass him, quickly flying inside.

He closed the door never letting loose the grasp on his wand. Walking back into the room he noticed a great ebony Raven sitting still before the fire. The bird turned to him and he held his wand towards it.

Draco's eyes widened as the birds form shifted into that of a long broad man with Raven black hair and piercing emerald green eyes. His lover was alive and sitting by the fire in front of him.


And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!