Are you even capable of love, Draco?
Pansy's words haunted him throughout the day. Sure, she had said it in a teasing manner, but the more the day wore on the more he began to question himself. Was he capable of love? What was love anyways?
Draco thought about the many times he had heard a reference about love. It was supposed to be a light flowery feeling that somehow made you feel indescribably happy. It made you want to be around a certain person no matter how many times they did something that irked you. Yet most of the time love ended up hurting people more than it helped, or that's what Draco thought.
He began to think of people he might possibly love.
His mother was one, but his mother didn't brighten his day nor did she make her son feel in anyway like he was appreciated or loved. Draco and his mother acted more like friendly strangers than did mother and son. He often found himself dreading to go home to the holidays because he didn't want to face his parents.
Ah, this brings him to his father. How could Draco possibly love the man that had abused him every day? The man that wanted to force his only son into branding himself with the Dark Mark and become one of those horrid Death Eaters… how could Draco feel anything but hate for the man?
Of course, the feeling of hate and loathing lead him to think of his Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange. The woman was quiet mad. There was nothing more to say on that topic.
After running through every person in his family, his mind rested on a Muggleborn witch with long wavy brown hair and beautiful brown eyes. He thought of all the secret meetings they had in the library, all the secrets they shared, and all the moments they had. He thought of how she made him feel speechless and breathless. How he had whispered he loved her in the library on the day of the Great War. He remembered how she hadn't answered him, but instead ran away.
Now he thought of how she was getting married to that damned Weasel. How she was pregnant, engaged, and in love with the man he hated. He thought of how what he once thought was love turn into hate for that witch for that… Mudblood.
Draco rolled over in his bed and his last conscious thought was 'No, I am no longer capable of loving someone. Not after what Hermione Granger did to my heart.'
Fin