Lucius Malfoy snapped The Daily Prophet up off the table and shook it open and a look of horror crossed his face when he saw his dead lover's picture splashed on the front page along with a photograph of the message the boy had left scrawled on the wall in his own blood.
Luc, it was never just a shag
The eldest Malfoy stood from the table and would have ran for the washroom, if not for the fact that Malfoys' do not get sick and they most certainly do not run.
Once he reach the washroom however, Lucius broke his first rule and threw up all over the porcelain tile.
Harry, his Harry, had killed himself. The boy wonder who survived dementors, a basilisk, the Tri-Wizard Championship, inferi, snatchers, torture and even Lord Voldemort, had killed himself over rejection.
"What have I done?" He asked himself as he curled into a corner of the bathroom. "What the fuck have I done?"
Lucius continued to rock himself in the corner of the bathroom repeating the phrase "What have I done?" until an idea came to him.
He stood and reached into the vanity above the sink.
Pulling out all the potions in the cabinet, he uncorked them and swallowed them all, one by one, and sat down on the floor to await his fate.
He had never treated Harry as if he loved him in life, but he would go to him in death, and attempt to make amends.