1. Is This What They Call Life?

So the war is over. We each have won and lost. Yet in some ways, how can there be an end when salvation is still to come? How is it that every day I see rejoicing, yet I feel as though there is nothing that is worth my happiness? I am released, but in some ways I am forever trapped. Redemption is something only the foolish speak of.

How I have wished for that – so long has it been since the only battles in my head were which hex I should use on Potter. But to be redeemed is to be forgiven, and how can one begin to forgive evil if it has affected their lives so much that it has left a permanent scar – forever marred by a coward. For that is what I am.

And the cowardly can never be redeemed.

*

I turn the corner into a small, run-down road. It is quiet and just the sight of this familiar street brings an unsettling warmth to my restless mind. This is my place of solace, my sanctuary. It is what makes me go on living during the fruitless search for renewal. It is an odd place to find inner calm, but I feel an unexplainable connection to it. I reach the house I know will still be unlocked, and walk into a small room consisting of all basic necessities.

It is now that I realize how long it has been since I had thought about the time of year. I notice a torn and grubby calendar tacked to the opposite wall, and amble over to examine it.

Squinting at the tiny handwriting on particular days, I remember with a certain fondness the summer I spent devising this calendar of Hermione’s life. I laugh as I recall watching her every move at Hogwarts, trying to keep a cold indifferent expression on my face when all I had wanted to do was run and kiss her.

I flick through the calendar, stopping here and there to decipher my illegible scribbles and check dates against the yellowing copies of the Daily Prophet sprawled across the bed in the middle of the room.

Finally I work out that it must be December 29th – four days after Christmas. A year. A whole year of pain, deceit and cowardice. Why is it that I have so many memories of this year gone by? I barely remember what came before, for none of it had seemed useful or important before, yet now I realise that the memories of simple times are often the sweetest.

Flopping dejectedly on my bed, I force my mind back to the Hogwarts years, the years of innocence. Only one scene fills my head, and it replays endlessly, the pain of it more excruciating every time.

“Severus…please…�
Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.
“Avada Kedavra!�

Timeless. The thought of my contemplating Dumbledore’s murder makes me sick. I may have been destroyed at that point that I was too ‘weak’ to do my master’s bidding, but I have come to see it as a blessing. One less crime to my name. One less life taken.

I lie on my bed until it grows dark. The wet patches on my face glisten in the moonlight and reflect off the window. I can see a thousand seconds I want to change, a thousand words I should have said, a thousands lives I should have saved.

It kills me so.

*

Night is only just turning itself into day when I wake. There is no draught around me, yet I feel so cold, drained. I feel as though it is only my guilt that separates me from destruction, only these thin sheets that protect me from retribution. What if I were to rip them away, and discover nothing but air? Cold, cruel air. The kind that whips your cheeks when you are scared, that blows dust into your eyes when you’re anxious, that separates two pulsating hearts as they desperately search for each other.

I stumble towards the kitchen area and summon a bottle of Firewhiskey. Without thinking, I take a long draught. I look desperately at it in my hand. Is this what I have been reduced to? Mere Muggle ways?

I lift my arm with difficulty, and use the greatest force possible to smash it against the wall. I collapse once more onto my dilapidated bed, contemplating my life.

What can be done now? How to I proceed from here? Always the same questions, yet I can never find the answers. Do I pick up the pieces of my life and attempt to live again? Once more I could venture out; I could walk among ordinary folk with a fixed smile, living a lie. But in the end I would drive myself into madness – the name we give to blissful oblivion. I know that ultimately it will achieve nothing.

I have done nothing worthy of praise, I will achieve nothing in life. So what exactly am I now?

And so finally, I arrive at a question I can answer.

I am nothing.

2. Fate Leads To Mysterious Places

I hurry out of the shambles I call a house, my head bent against the heavens’ salty tears. They are crying for me, tears of remorse, of guilt, of self-disgust. They cry the tears I cannot muster, the tears that ran so freely just hours ago, but now are trapped behind the barrier of my pride. I know that it is stupid to still think that I have pride, and others’ respect, but I still keep my dignity in public, for there is still a miniscule particle of me that still hopes I can be recognised with something other than hatred or disgust.

I can see the town looming before me, its once blackened buildings re-painted, still decorated with cheerful Christmas trees and tinsel. The sight of all the colour and optimism makes me shiver – not at the thought of it, but at the contrast to myself.

I approach the main street tentatively, not wanting to be noticed, wanting more than anything just to blend in smoothly. I turn the corner of the street, and see there, walking towards me, a beautiful girl with brown wavy hair and chestnut eyes. The girl of so many of my tainted dreams. The one person I have never attempted to forget. Hermione Granger.

She walks with obvious joy, and bounce in her step, her hair swinging from side to side. A radiant smile is beaming from her face, her eyes gleaming in a magical way. Suddenly I realise that I have stopped in the middle of the pavement, transfixed by the oncoming figure of Hermione. I hurriedly begin striding down the street, determined for her not to see me – not like this.

I succeed. She will never know I was there. I am merely a shadow, passing through her life of promise. That is all I’ll ever be – a shadow that no-one knows or cares about. But at least I’ll have the memory of her…at least I saw her, if for the final time.

*

It is much later, the rain has ceased to fall and I have bought all I need, so I am ready to return to my solitary living. But I will stop for a drink, just to prolong the illusion of a meaningful life for a little while longer.

I find a small café at the end of the road, it looks fairly empty, but not desolate. I duck under the small door frame and enter a beautifully decorated little room. It is painted in waves of pale blues, with swirls of gold and silver. I am enchanted by the quaintness of the room, but the obvious care in which it was decorated. It makes me smile, for the first time in months, just to think of how much effort was injected into this café, how much it meant to that one person.

I walk over to the glass counter opposite me, and order a plain black coffee. Bitter, like the thoughts inside me. I walk over to an empty table and sit down dazedly, admiring the charisma of the room. The table in front of me is intricately carved with the emblem of a golden leaf. I trace it with my fingers, feeling the textured paint and soft indentations against my cold, white skin.

My coffee arrives, the young girl gently placing it on the tabletop and smiling mildly at me. It seems so long since someone has purposely looked at me. I force a smile back, and she ambles away happily. I must remember to tip her, not for the service but for the smile.

I drink deeply, feeling the hot sensation of boiling drink hit my tongue. The harsh taste of unsweetened coffee bites at my taste buds and my eyes begin watering. I hastily set my mug down and wipe my eyes with a nearby paper napkin. I then wrap my hands once more around the mug, warmth spreading trough my fingers. I take another gulp of the steaming liquid, now prepared for the scalding feeling in my mouth.

I hear the door open and close, but ignore it like everybody else. I once again stare at the design of the room, amazed by its odd beauty, taking frequent gulps of the gradually cooling coffee. Then I hear a woman’s voice above me.

“Sorry to disturb you, but it this yours?� she asks pleasantly.

I look up quickly towards the woman’s face, and there she is. My angel.

She is holding out a thick black ring set with a tiny crystal. My mother’s eternity ring. I look into her chestnut-brown eyes and reply softly, “Yes, yes it’s mine. Thank you.�

I extend my hand gratefully towards hers, but I can sense that she is staring at me in shock. I quickly look back up at her, hoping that she has not realised who I am. Confusion is clouding her dancing eyes, but when she sees me again her expression clears. For an infinitesimal moment, I hope that she is about to move away, but then I hear a disbelieving word escape her rosy lips.

“Draco?�

With one word, she brings my carefully crafted barrier crashing down around me. I look into her eyes once more and murmur tenderly, “Hermione.�

3. Darling, Can’t You Hear Me?

We are lost in each other’s gaze, until she breaks the connection by seating herself opposite me numbly. She places the ring into my palm, still staring at me searchingly.

She finally breaks the silence, uttering in barely more than a whisper, “I thought you were dead…all these years…I thought he’d killed you!�

I blink, not entirely registering her words, deeply touched simply by her tone. She actually sounds as though she thinks I matter. As though she cares that I had suddenly disappeared in our final year at Hogwarts.

I can see her urging me to speak, but I cannot find words to express how I feel. Eventually, I manage to stutter a response. “No, I…I wasn’t killed…�

Well, not physically anyway.

“Then where were you all these years?�

Hermione is talking to me as though no time has passed, as though it is as normal to see me as it is to brush her hair each morning.

She suddenly seems to realise what she is asking. Shaking herself, she changes her question. “How do you come to be here?�

This, I can answer with more ease. “I live here now,� I reply simply. “You?�

“Well, I’m editor of Witch Weekly now,� she says with a hint of pride. “I’ve been asked to appear at the New Year’s firework display here.�

I smile weakly in recognition. Yes, there are always fireworks over here. I also smile because it is comforting to know that the girl of my dreams is achieving what she rightfully deserves. She beams back at me, her warmth radiating towards me, filling the gaping holes in my heart.

“Congratulations,� I say, a strange sensation filling my body. “I’ve always known you’d get where you wanted to.�

She blushes a deep strawberry colour and nervously traces the leaf on the table just as I had done a while before. Abruptly jolted back to reality, I register properly for the first time what is happening. I see Hermione’s nervous smile, and know that I shouldn’t be here. I do not deserve her time.

Without warning, I stand up and find myself saying the phrase I keep repeating.

“I’m so sorry.�

I attempt to leave at that moment, but I feel her hand grab my wrist and pull me back. I turn reluctantly and she loosens her grip a little.

“Why are you leaving? What are you saying sorry for?� she asks, confusion once more clouding her enchanting eyes.

“I don’t deserve your time. I’m not worth it,� I insist. “It’s been great seeing you again. Good luck for the future, Hermione…�

Taking advantage of her slackened grip, I tug my arm away and march determinedly out of the door. I can feel a stinging in the corner of my eyes, but at the same time a sense of accomplishment. I could have fooled her into thinking I was a respectable person, but I didn’t. I was completely honest and I felt better for it. Really, she is better off forgetting me completely.

I amble along the street, pondering my life from here. Seeing Hermione again has given me a wake-up call, and it hurts me to think that I must go back to a life of solace and depression. But that is all I truly deserve, for one’s actions cannot be erased. I am a coward, and I shouldn’t even be standing here today. Why did I think that seeing the world outside my head once more would help me? All I have done is make myself even surer that I am not worthy of anyone’s time or respect.

All my life I’ve always thought that one way or another I would win. Yet I stand here today with nothing. I feel a lump rising in my throat, and my eyes are so full of tears that some spill over. I brush them away, feeling stupid for letting my emotions take control.

I continue my everlasting journey back, the guilt in my mind weighing down my soul, thirsting for forgiveness, forgiveness that will never come. So I am forever stuck in an abyss of despair. For who can ever heal this wound inside me that runs so deep?

Rain starts to fall again, disguising the tears now streaming freely down my hollow face. The cold water trickles through the gaps in my hair, making contact with my neck. I stand still, hoping that, in some way, the water can cleanse my soul too.

“Draco! Draco, where are you?� I can hear Hermione crying.

I hear the slap of shoes on the pavement growing louder as she approaches, and quickly hide myself in the shadows of a tall building nearby. She draws level with me, and I see her stop and cry my name hopelessly into the night. Suddenly, she stops and turns towards me. Too late, I realise that I am breathing heavily. She has heard.

Hermione walks over to me, determination glinting in her eyes. I stare back at her, my insistence equalising hers.

“Draco, why don’t you just tell me what it is that has made you like…like this…?� she pleads softly, gesturing at my face.

And, for the second time this day, I feel as though she has brought my delicate barriers of disguise down with a few words. I walk shakily towards her.

“Why do you care?� I ask, not sure what I want her to reply with.

“I care because I thought you were dead, and you aren’t – but you’re barely alive anyway…no-one deserves a life like that,� she reasons, pity filling her voice.

“You don’t understand…I do deserve a half-life…�

“Then make me understand, Draco I beg you…�

I look at her, straight in the eye, and my willpower begins to fade.

“Come to my place tomorrow,� she insists, scribbling an address down on a scrap of parchment. “Tell me everything then...I want to help you…�

I take the piece of parchment, an internal battle raging inside my head. Finally, I nod my head slowly, not knowing what this will mean.

“Oh Draco…� she whispers in relief, “…don’t forget…�

4. Forever’s Gonna Start Tonight

I stand in numb disbelief outside a large grand-looking building. The bronze lion that forms the beautiful knocker for the front door has no glisten to it, the metal sits, dull and ignored. I run my fingers over the crevices before taking a mental plunge and lifting it high before pushing it down to create a loud noise that reverberates around the small lane that I am stood in.

At once, I hear dainty footsteps approaching the door and I try to look cheerful as the door creaks open and I see the beautiful rosy cheeks of Hermione Granger appear. My eyes travel around her face, the beautiful chestnut colour of her eyes drawing me in, the innocence of her pale lips enticing me. I finally speak, the words squeezing their way through fences of pure awe in my mind.

“I didn’t forget…I came just like I said I would…I kept my promise,� I manage to stutter.

“That’s right,� she replies, her ivory teeth glinting in the wintry morning sunlight. “I’m so glad you did.�

With that, she releases the door, allowing me to enter the most entrancing hallway I have ever seen. The walls are a light tan colour; the different shades swirled into one with smooth ease. The walnut floor beneath my shabby shoes looks to be made for royalty, the light from above glancing off it, making it look like a shimmering pool of walnut liqueur.

I follow her into what seems to be the main room, its plain scarlet walls creating warmth without a fire. She sits down, and invites me to do so too.

“Do you like it?� she asks tentatively, casting an eye over the walls and furniture.

“Do I like it?� I say with incredulity. “Hermione, it’s exquisite.�

She blushes and looks away. “I designed it,� she remarks in a small voice.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. You’re an amazing person, Hermione,� I say on impulse.

She gazes at me pensively, and suddenly says “Can you still recall when you never used to call me Hermione?�

I stare at her, memories racing through my mind, replaying like a film. My eyes glaze over, and I turn away so as not to show my emotions so blatantly to her. “I don’t like to remember,� I mutter, more to myself than to her.

I watch her in the mirror opposite me as she gets up slowly and ambles over to me, her footsteps like those of an angel. She kneels down beside me and I feel an overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms, but I resist. Once again, I turns away as my eyes begins to fill with salty droplets of emotion.

“Tell me,� I hear her plead, so tenderly that I can barely make out her words.

I turn to face her, forcing my tears to recede into my cold, empty eyes. I gaze at her, so perfect and beautiful, yet so caring for filth like me. I feel as though my heart and mind are somehow magnetically drawn into her words, and I find myself replying, “Yes. I will tell you. I will tell you everything…Hermione.�

She reacts, not with joy, but with an understanding smile. She settles back down on her chair, and looks at me expectantly.

“Now I want to make this clear,� I warn her insistently. “This is not the story of a martyr. You will be left with an image of me so truthful I will be but a skeleton of what you thought I was.� She nods slowly. I recognise that she understands that I must not be interrupted, lest I lose the one chance to reveal my darkest secrets to another living soul.

“I will begin from when I left Hogwarts. I joined the Death Eaters in our sixth year, thinking that it was the one way I could truly avenge my father’s imprisonment. During this time, I was given an assignment by Voldemort, and I’m sure Potter told you all about it. After my failure, I was sure that I would be doomed. But not this time. Snape told the Dark Lord that I had done what I was supposed to. No-one else spoke of it. I thought I was safe.

“Then later on, in our seventh year, I was told by Voldemort that I must be sent on another, more dangerous mission. I, being his eager young servant at this time, was thrilled to have been chosen for what seemed to be an important mission. I was to find the rare plant Aeternitas, found only in the heart of the Himalayas. I began my long journey there and then.

“It was easy enough, even enjoyable, to begin with. I was embarking on the mission of a lifetime. Yet, as the journey continued, my perseverance began to fail. I found it increasingly difficult to keep going. I eventually reached the mountains, and began my seemingly fruitless search. The task was endless, and I had been traveling for over a year. I decided to leave. I knew that I must never return to the Dark Lord, for it would mean certain death if I did. As I left the mountains, I picked some beautifully formed, cornflower-coloured flowers. I was to later discover that this was they very plant I had been sent to retrieve.

“I made my way towards Bulgaria, hoping to find refuge in the Durmstrang Institute. One night, I was lying down to rest when I noticed the shriveled flowers poking out of my bag. I picked them up, and decided to look up what they were. I checked my copy of Plants Moste Exotic and realised that I had just the plant Voldemort had wanted. I wanted to leap for joy! I began my return trip to England early the next day.

“I finally arrived back in England and made my way to the Dark Lord’s secret headquarters. I knelt before him and presented him with the strange plant. He carelessly tossed it onto the table near him, and then began talking about the night Dumbledore died. It turned out that one of the Death Eaters present had told him what actually happened, and he was understandably livid.

�I was terrified. I was certain that he would do away with me. I…I…� I trail off, my voice becoming hoarse for the first time. Hermione looks at me in concern, before encouraging me softly, “Draco, I’m not here to judge. You can confide in me.�

Hearing her sweet voice, an enchanting melody in my ears, I am strengthened. “I…was a coward. I was more cowardly than anyone who walks this earth. I feared for my own life, so I said Take Bellatrix. Take her instead. It was her who prevented me from killing him. And so Voldemort, upon hearing my lie, tried to perform Legilimency on me, but I blocked his advances. He took my words for truth and went to hunt down Bellatrix. I fled, terrified of the stone-hearted monster I had become.

“From then on, I lived in fear, moving from place to place, desperate that he would not discover me. Then I heard her screams one night, in my head. I knew he had killed her.

“It tormented my dreams every night from then on. Yet, one day I felt an agonizing pain on my forearm, where the Dark Mark was burnt into my flesh. The snake was writhing, and it suddenly disappeared. The next day I found out that Potter had finally defeated Voldemort. I thought my life would be whole again.

“But the pain just got worse…I returned here, to my very first hideout…I tried to run away from the world…but every time I remember…I can’t take it…�

Tears flow freely from my eyes, letting my feeling of guilt flow through every fibre of my mind. Hermione leans over and touches me on the hand, offering her comfort to my wounded soul.

“Everyone makes mistakes Draco. No-one is ever truly untarnished, but it is recognition of our faults, repentance and above all, others’ forgiveness that leads us back to light.�

“But who will forgive me?� I ask, my voice fragile.

“I forgive you, Draco, and I will help you repair your soul. I will do whatever it takes,� promises Hermione. I see now that she is crying too. I wipe away her teardrops, feeling her smooth skin beneath my cold touch.

“That means more to me than you will ever know…� I whisper, my voice stronger.

I wipe my streaming eyes, emotion taking hold of me, then I rise to leave. Hermione follows, her face glistening with tears. She opens the door, and we both walk outside.

“I have to go and introduce those fireworks,� she laughs.

Suddenly, our eyes meet and I see the blaze of electricity I saw before in them. She touches my cheek, bringing it closer to hers, and then her soft pink lips descend on mine as she pulls me into a tender kiss.

After what seems like only seconds, I pull away, staring determinedly into Hermione’s eyes. I can see the confusion and hurt before me, but I stand my ground. I know that it’s what we both want, but sometimes human desire must be set aside. I already knew, from the moment our lips touched, what I must do.

“Hermione…I can’t…you – you saved me…and I’ll always remember you for it…but I can’t…we can’t…I’m so sorry,� I force myself to insist.

She considers my words for a fraction of a second, then gazes at me in a solemn, finite way. “I understand, Draco,� is all she murmurs.

She stumbles away, and I can see tears forming in her eyes. Reaching the end of the street, she faces me once more and calls, “Never forget me…�

Then she turns away, the girl of my dreams…the angel of my heart…the saviour of my soul. She walks slowly away, out of my life forever.

Forever…

And I need you now tonight,
And I need you more than ever.
And if you'll only hold me tight,
We'll be holding on forever.
And we'll only be making it right,
Cause we'll never be wrong together,
We can take it to the end of the line,
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.

I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark,
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.
I really need you tonight,
Forever's gonna start tonight,
Forever's gonna start tonight.

Bonnie Tyler, Total Eclipse of the Heart

5. Only Love in the Dark

I head back to my meagre living, knowing in my heart that I have passed the final test. I have put her happiness before mine. She is better off without me in her life. I can finally appreciate what it is to love, and she will be in my heart for all eternity.

And once more I am alone, yet I am different. I can see my past stretching behind me, but I accept it now, though I cannot move on. I will always see my past and be left trapped in it, even if I am not utterly repulsed by it anymore.

Hermione helped me see that the world is merely a place for mistakes and lies, but although the land may seem dirty and tainted, underneath it is pure and innocent. I can become part of it that suffers forever under the burden of mistakes, or I can wrench myself out of the quicksand of self-loathing.

I push open the door of my ‘home’ and make steadily for the calendar on the wall. On the day marked ‘31st December: New Year’s Eve’ I scrawl a quick reminder of the day I was saved. Saved from myself.

I consider the little note next to the date. ‘New Year’s Eve’. Yes, they say that the New Year is a time for new beginnings, for starting over again. I guess that is what I’m doing. I’m letting Hermione begin again without me, and I can begin again away from here.

Some would regard it as running away, as a cowardly action. But I know differently. I have given up my one true love, just to save her, and now I’m going to let her go on with no constant reminder of me still here.

I wander around the room, picking up my possessions and throwing them into an abandoned suitcase in the corner of the room. Once everything is in, I seal it without difficulty and bring it to the door. I then proceed to wash all the dirty crockery on the side and place it all carefully in the cupboards. I make my stained bed, and clean the carpet and walls. The place looks clean and unused once more.

I grab a piece of parchment from the table on the far side of the room, and write a final note to Hermione – just in case she ever finds my old house.

Hermione,
I knew you’d find this place eventually…so I wanted to say a few things.
You are my saviour, you pulled me out while I was sunk into my own depression; you cared when no-one else did. For this I am eternally grateful.
I’m so sorry I had to leave, but I know it was best for both of us. Good luck with your new life; I wish you all the happiness in the world.
I will love you always,
Draco.

*

After placing the note neatly on my bed, I scramble out of the house, clutching my small suitcase. I glance at my watch. It is ten to midnight.

Maybe I should go and watch the fireworks one last time. I could say my final goodbye to Hermione…

I find myself half-running down the tiny lanes until I reach the main street. I slow down, panting heavily. I spot the crowd of people standing by the large stage, heads upturned in order to watch the fireworks explode into dazzling shards in the air. I dare not walk over and join them, but I look up, just as they do, so as not to be noticed.

I gaze up at the wonderful colour explosions above me, their awe-inspiring nature capturing my childish joy. I look over at the stage, and see a glassy-eyed Hermione staring unseeingly up the sky too. I wrench my eyes from her, reasoning that I am being stupid – utterly stupid – about how I feel.

Once the show is over, I glance down at my watch once more. Five minutes to midnight. I watch as the crowd go and collect a glass of punch from the buffet table beside the stage, before settling themselves down in a seat in front of the stage.

It is like watching a pantomime, a meaningless charade, as I see all their faces turn towards the stage, ready to drink up the same drivel concerning improvements to the town in the next year and evaluations of what has been achieved already.

As expected, they all listen to a short speech by the local Mayor, the drink in every glass slowly disappearing. I turn and wonder if I should leave when finally, Hermione steps forward.

“It is only a minute to midnight now, so if you will all stand and join in a countdown…sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight…� I watch her encouraging the crowd. My thoughts are caught up in the parting of her lips, in the voice that travels right across to where I am standing.

I hurriedly reaffirm my grip on the suitcase in my hand as they reach twenty, and then walk a few paces away.

“Ten, nine, eight…� they chant. I turn to face Hermione, who is staring around at all the happy couples. I feel a familiar stinging in my eyes, but, knowing that crying will achieve nothing, I do not submit to its overwhelming power.

“Seven, six, five…� I stand stock still and stare at her beautiful outline. No sound escapes my lips as I stand there, taking in the very last time I would see her.

“Four, three…� I see her eyes roving the crowd, as if searching for something. Then I see them come to rest on me. We simply look at each other, and it is as if she knows. She understands what I am.

“Two…� I arrange my collar begin to turn away, but I still keep my eyes firmly planted on her. It feels as though neither of us have the fortitude to take our eyes away.

“One!� I hear them chorus, and finally, I break her gaze. My eyes prickling with restrained tears, I turn towards the road leading out of town, fireworks exploding in the sky above me.

I walk slowly away down the street, the sound of my shoes barely audible over the shouts echoing from behind me. I can hear the laughter, the joy, and Hermione’s voice in the microphone.

But not once do I look back.

Once upon a time I was falling in love,
But now I'm only falling apart.
There's nothing I can do,
A total eclipse of the heart.
Once upon a time there was light in my life,
But now there's only love in the dark,
Nothing I can say,
But total eclipse of the heart.

Bonnie Tyler, Total Eclipse of the Heart