Warning: Slash, suicide attempt, possible character death, and violence
Disclaimer: Situations and characters do not belong to me. All I own is new characters and plot.
He stared up at the ceiling blankly. Thinking. Remembering. Missing. He was a fool, this much he knew. How else could he explain this loss? He had been cocky, arrogant, confident he would never leave him. But he was wrong. After all his lovers it had been hard to stick to one, but he made it easier. He had sworn never to cheat on his little one ,and failed.
It had been months since he'd last had him, seen him, held him. It had been months since his last lover. He didn't know what he should do. What he should say. Scenario over scenario raced through his mind, all ending in the same way. He ended up alone, without him there. He was dying. He needed Harry like he needed air.
Suffocating.
This silence, this room, this house no longer a home. All suffocating him with memories of what was. Malfoy Manor once more felt bleak, lifeless, cold. Like his heart. He'd written millions of letters, found himself besides the fireplace, ready to go to him. But not a single letter was delivered. Not once had he thrown the floo powder in.
'I can't believe…how could you Lucius? Those words. They echoed through the silent manor, his mind, his heart. Over and over again stabs to the heart, hearing, remembering those beautiful-lively, emerald eyes always dancing, in that moment filled with so much pain, betrayal. But those two couldn't bring guilt and pain to his being as the last could. Despite everything, love. Despite everything, Harry stilled loved him, Lucius.
How?
How? Could he love someone as undeserving as him? Someone so kind, beautiful, loyal, love a worthless piece of scum like him? He couldn't understand. It just hurt all the more. Made him feel all the worse. More and more like the scum he was.
So he drank.
And drank.
And drank until he was one with the memories of him, of his love, of his Harry. How late he came to realize how he truly did love him, loved him like no other. 'Too late,' he thought despairingly, 'Too late.' the glass he was drinking from shattered from the pressure oh his hand holding it too tightly.
He watched, fascinated. Watched the crystal shards throw a rainbow of light across the dark room. Cast by the shards' receiving the few rays of the sun penetrating the covered windows. He preferred the dark, to fit his heart. The fire from the fireplace in his study cast a warm glow on the shard. Enticing.
A year.
A year since he had last seen his little one. A year since he had felt anything but an all consuming numbness. Cold. A year since he'd seen another living person, being. The house-elves knew well to stay out of his way. A year.
A year.
He picked a particularly large shard and stared at it in wonder.
Watched the light bounce off the glass.
And dragged it across his arm, from his wrist to his elbow.
Beautiful.
The crimson blood soaked into the expensive leather, Persian arm-chair; he caring very little about it.
Not caring at all.
"Harry…" he whispered.
Lucius Malfoy closed his eyes. A smile on his lips for the first time in a year.