For Every Heartbreak
Chapter One—For Every Heartbreak
Lucius stared at his son sitting across the table and sighed a little at the image he saw. Draco's eyes were lifeless, the skin under them baggy from obvious lack of sleep. His blond hair was disheveled and messy, as if Draco was trying to rival Potter's rat-nest of hair. He'd lost weight as well, making him look rather haggard, and nothing like the proud Veela he was. Lucius picked up the day's issue of the Daily Prophet to prevent himself from staring at his son any longer.
Worry spread through Lucius as his mind brought forth Draco's image once again. It didn't make any sense. Lucius didn't understand why Draco was so broken, since the day he came back from his trip to Diagon Alley half a year ago. When Draco had found out about his Veela inheritance he had been so happy—him and Narcissa had been so proud of him—and practically jumping off the walls in his excitement to find his mate. But since Draco's shopping trip, those attempts had ceased and Draco had crumbled into a shadow of his former self.
He and Narcissa were dreadfully concerned. Many people presume that the Malfoy family were a bunch of cold-hearted purebloods who couldn't care less about anybody's well being and only did things that benefited them—well, actually that was part of being a Malfoy—but those conceptions never applied to family. Lucius couldn't care less about getting back into the public's good graces (not at the moment anyway) when his son was suffering from who-knows-what. He had failed his family enough by choosing the wrong side during the war and he wasn't going to fail them again.
But first, I need to find out what's causing the problem.
Draco never did tell him what happened on that fateful day in Diagon Alley, leaving him and Narcissa blind to the much-needed details. And Lucius really hated not knowing information. Especially when it was information that was harming his heir.
Lucius looked up from the paper, which he wasn't really paying attention to anyway, and resigned himself to his now-daily routine of 'Try to get Draco to talk'.
He cleared his throat, hoping to draw Draco's attention to him in a discreet fashion but Draco continued staring blankly at his plate of breakfast, as if he didn't even notice that Lucius made a sound. Lucius sighed. Looks like he had to do this the blatant way—again.
Though why I continue trying is a mystery… It didn't work six months ago and I doubt it would work now.
"Draco," Lucius called out. "Draco!" He raised his voice a little when he garnered no reaction. That managed to get Draco to look up at least.
"Yes Father?" Draco said, no emotion in his voice. "What is it?"
"It's been half a year, Draco. Are you ever going to tell your mother and me what's wrong?" Lucius began in a soft tone.
"I don't know what you are talking about, Father. I'm perfectly fine," Draco replied in a most unconvincing manner.
Lucius wanted to bang his head against one of his ancestor's antique vases, such an unMalfoy thing to do that Lucius could not believe his son was driving him to such desperation. How was he suppose to fix the problem when his son wouldn't even tell him what's wrong? Or wouldn't even recognize that there was a problem in the first place?
Lucius shook his head slightly and returned to the paper. The headlines caught his attention almost immediately, the words popping off the paper like fireworks. Lucius sneered but it became a sly grin soon after. Maybe this would be able to draw Draco's attention. Lucius recalled that in his schoolboy years, Draco was always emotional when talking about the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Look here!" Lucius exclaimed, feeling triumph and confident that he had finally found something that could perhaps bring the old Draco back for at least a minute or two. "Potter made the headlines again. Ha! When would the public stop fawning over their perfect little pawn? Who cares about an engagement between Potter and his Mudblood lover—"
"What?" Draco practically yelled as he snatched the paper from Lucius' hands, eyes skimming through the page so quickly that Lucius could barely even follow.
"No," Draco whispered, dropping the newspaper back onto the dining table. His breaths were short and gasping now, fists clenching and unclenching as if they would punch and break something if not otherwise occupied. Lucius stared at his son, confused and concerned. He hopped off his seat and approached him, only to be paused when Draco screamed.
"Draco! What's happening?" Lucius shouted while clutching his hands to his ears, Draco's high pitch screeching almost causing them to bleed. "Tell me!"
"No, no, no," Draco muttered over and over again, his wings beginning to emerge from his skin. "Don't come near me Father! Don't follow me!"
Draco dashed out of the Malfoy dining room, leaving Lucius in his wake, deeply disturbed and extremely worried.
Lucius stared at the seemingly innocent newspaper on the table with wary eyes. The eye-catching headlines yelling for the world to see: SAVIOR OF THE WIZARDING WORLD FINALLY FOUND HIS OWN SAVIOR TO SETTLE DOWN WITH.
Why would this have caused such a strong reaction from Draco…?
Of course! The reason why Draco had been so lost lately…why this is all happening… All the symptoms of a Veela who's resigned to never being with their mate.
As realization crashed his way into Lucius skull, he started cursing himself under his breath. How had he missed the signs? How had he—a Malfoy, who were best known for their quick accession of situations—been so dense?
I need to tell Narcissa. Then we can go find Draco's mate and make him accept their rightful duty as our son's partner.
No. No, no, no, NO! The mantra repeated itself in Draco's mind like a broken radio.
Draco ran as fast as he could to his room, his mind racing and his humanity slipping. As soon as he reached his destination, he magically sealed the door to ensure no one would come in, including house-elves. He wanted no one to witness this.
Once all the necessary charms were up, Draco crumpled to the ground and allowed his emotions to flood him.
I thought I was ready for this. I thought I was ready to let Harry go… Draco thought desperately as his wings finally broke through. I was wrong.
The next few hours were a blur. If anyone were to ask Draco what happened, he wouldn't be able to answer. All he could remember were brief flashes of red, endless screaming and wave after wave of pain.
When he came back to conscious mind, he looked around to find most of his room destroyed, either shredded or obliviated entirely, leaving no evidence that it had been there in the first place. Draco shivered at the empty feeling in his chest and magical core.
I must have depleted my magic…from a magical explosion most likely.
Draco never felt more grateful that the wards in the Manor were strong and practically impenetrable, and that the wards surrounded each individual room.
If my parents had been caught in the magical backlash—I would never have been able to forgive myself.
Draco closed his eyes as the prior events that lead up to his incident finally came back to him.
Harry's getting married. Draco winced at the very thought. Potter had been Harry to him for quite awhile now. It just seemed natural, calling Harry by his first name instead of his last.
And now he would probably be giving up his last name to accept another's.
Draco felt like crying. The books have mentioned that a Veela's life without their mate was painful and empty but they'd never mentioned that it would be this agonizing. Every day felt pointless and although Draco knew otherwise, he couldn't seem to convince his body and heart. Draco had tried acting normal for the sake of his parents—not well, Draco's thought regretfully, recalling his father's constant attempts at trying to find out what was wrong—but other than that, his life had basically been nothing besides moping around for the past six months.
I should have claimed him. I should claim him.
However, the picture on the Daily Prophet appeared in Draco's head, with photo-Harry yanking his kneeling boyfriend off the ground and pulling him into a deep kiss, his happiness virtually radiating off every pore on his pixelated body, and Draco couldn't bear to snatch that happiness away from his mate.
Jealousy flowed through his veins as the image of his mate kissing another man stayed in his mind, refusing to leave.
When did I start acting so Hufflepuff, putting someone else's happiness and needs over my own? No self-respecting Slytherin would ever do that.
But it seemed none of that mattered. Not when it involved one's soul mate. Not when one was in love.
Draco pushed himself off the ground—noticing that his wings had retracted some time during his Veela frenzy—and scanned his room. Or what was left of his room. There was rubble and shattered objects everywhere. Draco huffed in frustration and reached for his wand, which thankfully hadn't been destroyed, and started casting repair charms. Usually the Manor would be able to do so, if he commanded it to, but Draco needed something to do to take his mind off…everything.
And after this, I'll have to explain myself to Father.
Just bloody wonderful.