Failure to Love

Note: This is just a short story idea I had, and wrote up quickly. Shortest story I've written, I guess. Enjoy...or not. And do tell me what you think.

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So the news was out. Draco Malfoy was a Veela. Not only that, but sadly, he was fated to mate with the one boy who wanted nothing to do with him. Even Ron Weasley would have been willing, once he sensed the Veela magnetism, but his best friend, the Boy-Who-Lived, Potential Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter, wanted no part of Draco Malfoy.

Veela magnetism did nothing to the brunette wizard. Draco could beg, plead, or cry. He could offer his body, his money, or his family’s power and status. Harry Potter wanted none of it. He had no interest in any of it. He glared down at the suffering Veela, when he chose to acknowledge him at all. His most common response was to walk away.

Harry was often found with Ginny. She cared nothing for the blond Veela either. She laughed in his face when he begged her to help him. She cruelly told him she’d try, led him on, and then mocked him in front of everyone.

The brunette young man and the red-headed young woman took to making out in public. Fucking where Draco might catch them. Teasing the other man with Harry’s body, touching and enjoying another. A body that wasn’t that of his fated Veela mate.

Rumors grew about Harry’s cruelty to Draco. Everyone knew they had been rivals, but Harry was taking his revenge too far. Besides, who didn’t want the chance to fuck the blond Veela? Harry Potter was a lucky man – but one without the sense to see it.

When Draco fell sick, dying inside from being shunned by his potential mate, Harry continued to publically downgrade Draco. He continued his relationship with the Weaselette. He ignored the looks of concern people gave Draco, and the glares of disgust they sent him.

Then, one day, the end battle started. Draco was on his deathbed, having waited for his mate for over a year and a half. Harry faced Voldemort, thinking he had the skills and power to beat the evil wizard.

As things went on, on the battlefield, Harry sensed he was screwed. He watched Ginny die, but felt nothing. He watched his friends die, and felt only disgust that they weren’t ready for the fight as they had claimed.

And then, he felt the break as another life left the world, leaving him with piercing pain and sorrow. He knew Draco was gone, and felt how horribly he had made the other man suffer. He felt his soul rip. He died a bit inside. And when Voldemort delivered the Killing Curse, he welcomed it. He had no reason left to live.

When the papers published the final story, it was read by all that Harry Potter was dead. People speculated that the Dark Lord was too strong; but those who had known Harry and Draco knew the truth. Harry had failed his mate, and had lost his power of love. He couldn’t fight against Voldemort without that great power.

After Voldemort died, killed by Lucius Malfoy – who claimed it was his son’s last wish that Voldemort be destroyed if he hurt his mate, Harry’s portrait was made. He was placed inside the walls of Hogwarts, his only real home.

When asked about the last battle, and his death, he said only a few words.

“I made my choice. I made the wrong choice. May I suffer for it.”

And people knew. And people understood. Love is too precious to throw away.