Unrequited Love

Unrequited Love

He had come to me in the late hours of the night. I was in my study, pouring over senseless documents reminding me that my wealth and privelage was edging away. He was a welcomed distraction when he'd first arrived, something to bring a smile to my face. I have been losing my fortune but I still had my heir.

He was a picture of perfection, just as I was at his age. His silver bathrobe dragged the floor behind him and his blonde locks hung in his eyes. He knocked, even though the door was open. Such manners, I had taught him well. He smiled faintly when I looked up from my papers and motioned for him to enter. I watched his bare feet pad across the marble tiles and made a mental note to remind him to wear socks. The Manor is far too cold in the winter to be traipsing about in such attire.

He closed the door behind him. That was my cue, this was to be a private conversation that he didn't want his mother to hear. We had those from time to time, I would sit and answer his questions with calculated responses. He ate it all up as a good son was expected to. They had become less frequent as he aged and I had been wondering when another would come. He was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, I had thought his days of confiding in a father were long gone. Perhaps I was wrong.

I stood from my desk and walked toward the couch where he made himself comfortable. The leather made squelching noises as he moved around on it, curling up into a ball. I sat at his feet and threw a lazy arm over the back of the couch. I never spoke first, he would say what he needed to when the time was right and I would oblige his words with some of my own.

We sat silently for some time. I had conjured a brandy and was enjoying the last few drops. I assumed he had nodded off. Maybe he had come down just for the company, to know that someone was there. As I was just about to stand he spoke.

"Father," he said in a mere whisper.

"Yes Draco."

"Do you love me Father?" he asked in such a child-like voice that I almost scolded him. Still, there was something so endearing in that voice that I couldn't help but smile. It reminded me of days past when he was only a boy and he spoke to me with such reverance.

I thought about telling him no. It was my cruelness that had made him so strong. He would only work harder to make me love him if I told him that I didn't. He would be stronger than even I am. Yet, that voice and the memories it ignited were firing away in my mind.

"Of course I love you," I said insistently. "You are my only son."

"Do you love me because I am your son or do you love me because I am worthy of your love?"

I sneered in spite. What was this line of questioning and where was it leading? Draco Malfoy was many things and cunning was among them. I reminded myself how much alike the two of us were and I thought hard. I went through all the possible scenarios in my mind and none seemed to fit.

"Both." I sighed deeply, rather miffed by the sheer oddness of this entire meeting. "You are a son who is worthy of his father's love."

"Unconditionally?"

Ah, it all comes to light now. He had done something that he feared I would disapprove of. He was worried that I would not love him if he were to disappoint me. I found it almost lovable but my curiosity and years of cruel nature got the better of me.

"What have you done Draco?" I prepared for a silly anecdote about a misplaced spell or a broken window. I often forgot he was no longer a child and that his skill with a wand had increased. He hadn't broken a window in ages.

"Do you love me unconditionally?"

I was getting annoyed with this. "Yes, yes, now what have you done?"

"I haven't done anything," he responded in what sounded like the cracking frightened voice of a boy just passing through puberty. It allowed me to forget his age yet again and picture him as the young boy I had trained to be just like myself.

"Then what are you about to do Draco?"

"I've...I've fallen in love Father," he said in the most melancholy voice I had ever heard in my life.

I was elated, of course, and the melancholy voice faded from my thoughts at once. I smiled, the first true smile in a long time. I went through a long list of worthy ladies that he may have decided on.

"Tell me then," I said. My voice was that of any proud father when their son comes to tell them that the family line will continue on. "Who is the lucky lady and why haven't you spoken of her before now?"

He didn't answer. I looked over at him, peering over his curled up body. There were tears in his eyes. Why was he crying? This was an ocassion to be celebrated. I had already conjured a bottle of champagne and I was two seconds from waking his mother. Still, he just laid there as the silent tears dripped down his cheeks.

"What is wrong?" I demanded. "Does she not love you back? If that is the case than she is not worthy of the name Malfoy. You just..." I was about to go into a long over-due speech regarding the pangs of unrequited love. He cut me off just in time.

"He loves me very much."

I said nothing. There was nothing to say. My mouth had gone dry and my heart had lurched up into my throat, my stomach was doing summersaults. I stood and walked briskly to the door. I left my only son on the leather sofa with thick tears streaming down his pale cheeks. What more could I have done?