Title: To the Point of Exhaustion
Author: Yih
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, but this plotline is my own.
Note: This will be slash, that's your warning.
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1: Fortified Misery (August 10, 2003)
"No, it's not true," Draco whispered harshly, disbelief covering every line that etched his worn and weary expression. "It's not true. It can't be true!" His face was anguished, and he had every right to feel this way.
News like this didn't arrive everyday. It was a crushing blow to the vibrant and aggressively ambitious young man. He was a Malfoy, things like this simply didn't happen to him. Great things were suppose to occur for him, not devastating events like this. No, not like this.
He was not the only one dealt the cruel blow. Draco had never seen his father look quite so helpless, if he had ever looked helpless one day of his life. It was almost amusing to see, almost humorous but the circumstances wiped away any laughter that possibly threaten to erupt from his dry throat.
"I'm very sorry," their physician responded in a grave and serious voice. "But your son has all the symptoms. We'll have to do more tests to make sure, of course before we go ahead and try some supportive medication. However, I'm rarely wrong with my diagnosis. He has chronic fatigue syndrome, and if we begin the treatment right away he could learn to live with it or even recover from it."
Lucius narrowed his eyes into venomous slits and aimed it menacingly at the doctor. "That still does not explain how my son contracted this syndrome," he hissed out angrily. "You still have not explain it. All you have done is diagnosed my son with this--- this debilitating syndrome!"
The look on the doctor's face was relaxed and patient. He had dealt with many patients and parents that reacted in the manner that the Malfoys were reacting. He considered it only normal considering their financial situation. Not only were the Malfoys titled, they were extremely wealthy to boot. Being so rich and privileged, they were use to getting the most out of life. They were not use to life dealing them a bad hand.
He sighed and stealed himself to handle this with proper sympathy. It wasn't hard. He really did feel bad for the young man. He wasn't one of the youngest patients he had seen stricken with CFS, but he was one of the most active he'd seen suffer the crushing blow. Talented polo player and gifted equestrian rider, Draco Malfoy was the gentleman's sports person.
Physical activity was not impossible for those that suffered from CFS, but they had to learn to pace themselves. If they pushed themselves too hard, it could take them more than 24 hours to recover from the physical set back. It was a hard reality to face for someone that had once had all the energy in the world. Draco Malfoy would have to learn to cut back and to adjust. It wouldn't be easy, but it was necessary.
"It probably occurred when he was recovering from his bout of influenza," he responded gently. "That is most likely when it happened. His immune system was already weakened from the bug, and well CFS used that as the launch board. It could have happened without the the influenza, but that undoubtedly made it easier. His extreme exhaustion should get better with therapy and a change in lifestyle. He has to tone down his activities or he will continue to have these bouts of weariness."
"He's prepping for the Olympic team!" Lucius cried out. "He has to continue with his schedule! He's on track to be the youngest equestrian team member for Britain in the last fifty years! Not to mention his polo obligations as well!"
The doctor shook his head regretfully. "It's impossible for him to continue to pursue all that. He may be able to ride occasionally with the right treatment, but he can't continue the brutalizing schedule that you've set for him Mr. Malfoy. It's simply not possible. He will get worse before he gets better. He's bedridden now because you both disregarded my warnings to stay put until I could diagnose the problem.
"If we're careful and he stays on the right treatment, he could recover soon enough. Don't push it hard, he needs to relax and concentrate on getting better now, Mr. Malfoy." He leveled Lucius with a stern gaze meant to reproach the haughty elder Malfoy. "With most that recover from CFS in any sort of manner, it is done within five years. Give me five years to heal your son, Mr. Malfoy. It's only five years when he has the rest of his life to live with this."
Lucius glared at the doctor, but shifted his gaze to the brooding expression of his precious son. It wasn't like they had a choice. Dr. Dumbledore was one of the finest doctors in Great Britain, if not the world. He had come highly recommended by Dr. Pomfrey, their family doctor when her suspicions had leant in that direction. "Fine," he drawled. "You have five years to heal my son, and if you feel that he is well enough to ride occasionally--- then he will ride."
"FATHER!" Draco exclaimed. "I need to be able to ride whenever."
"Hush, Draco," Lucius reproached sharply. "I know you understood what Dr. Dumbledore has said. We don't have a choice in the matter. If you want to get better, you will have to do what he says. He's one of the best specialists in the field. He knows what's best."
"But not what's best for my career!" Draco cried out with his endless frustration in the world for ripping his dreams apart of his very eyes. "I need to ride, if I don't keep riding I'll get behind. Who knows what will happen in five years? My best chance is now, I'm ready now to make the team! Why did this have to happen to me? Why?"
His heart was ripped out of his chest. This was his son, this was his precious only son that was weeping now. A Malfoy didn't cry, but he couldn't find it in him to put up a façade of detached indifference. This was the legacy that Narcissa had left him, his beautiful wife would never have wanted this to happen to their darling child. When she had left them nearly 18 years before, she had only wanted the best for her darling son. The best.
That was what Dumbledore was, the best doctor in the world to heal his son. And that was what he was going to do. He owed it to Narcissa, the love of his life who had left him on her deathbed what he cherished the most, his beautiful Draco. "I don't know why," he whispered lovingly to his son as he wrapped his arms around Draco. "I odn't know why this had to happen to you, but I'll fix it for you. I promise, Dragon."
~
Someone had to tell his world class mentor and teacher that he wouldn't be able to train with him anymore. He couldn't remember anyone ever backing out of the guidance that had led all of his pupils to the International stage. No, no one quit on Severus Snape. He was the one that kicked them out and told you bluntly that you didn't have the talent to go the distance.
Draco had never been more nervous than when he'd gotten his shot when he was 16 to prove himself to the former Olympic gold medalist eventer, Severus Snape. Nothing surpassed the joy he felt when Severus had said that he should stay for the summer to train at his stables. That was a dead on signal that he had the ability. He had always thought he did, but this was a confirmation of it from a master!
That was the difference. It wasn't just his father, who despite being brutally honest to business rivals was rather biased when it came to Draco. That Draco knew. But Severus Snape was not biased and he was always cruelly truthful about the lack of the gift. Severus didn't have to give compliments, if he didn't disparage your riding skills--- that was a compliment in itself.
"Severus?" Draco whispered out his mentor's name softly. He was almost afraid to see Severus, not that he'd ever been frighten before. Nervous as hell, yes, but never scared of the snarky and snappy master rider, never. Why fear him when there was so much to learn from him? He'd been gifted, true, but since coming under Severus' tutelage he'd learned things he'd only dreamt of.
From out of the shadows of the immaculated stables came the formidable form of Severus Snape. "Draco? What are you doing here? Isn't it late? Your father will be worried about you," Severus reprimanded lightly. "And you know that you need your rest.." Something was wrong. He knew it. Gut feeling. It was never wrong. "Is something wrong, Draco?"
Draco nodded numbly. This was so hard. It had been his greatest dream for his entire life to be able to ride as the student of the great Severus Snape, one of the best riders to ever sit on a saddle in British history. It would have been easier if it hadn't been his choice to leave, if Severus had told him he wasn't good enough. This was harder because he was good enough, it was just that fate had deemed it impossible for him.
He couldn't continue riding, he knew that. He knew it like he knew he had to breath to live. While he hadn't wanted to believe what Dumbledore had said earlier, he knew it was true. But the stubborn part inside didn't want to accept it, couldn't accept it. "I can't ride under your guidance anymore," he mumbled. "I have chronic fatigue syndrome."
The rest of his words were trapped in his throat. Nothing more was needed to be said. Nothing more. That said enough. He'd admitted that he had the syndrome, the disorder that was ruining his entire existence. He'd finally said those bloody words that crucified him. He blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes again. He'd cried enough already. Malfoys weren't suppose to shed tears, damn it!
"When you're ready to come back," Severus stated slowly, "I'll be waiting for you."
Draco was stunned. Severus didn't make promises like that to anyone. He didn't wait for talent that could be old and used up to return. He always use to say that you may be talented, but there's young talent coming up that's better. That was why he never reserved a spot for those that couldn't handle his tough regime. If you couldn't cut it out, then you were kicked out. Simple as that. There was no place holding, there was always young talent coming up. He had been one of them.
"What?"
Severus smirked and rested his arm on Draco's slender shoulders. "I'll be waiting for you," he repeated with confidence layering his tone. "You have a combined talent Draco that I haven't seen in many riders. You have the drive and the gift to make it. Even if takes years, you'll come back and you'll succeed. I know it. It's not in you to fail."
It wasn't in him to fail. It wasn't in him. Draco nodded and rested his head on Severus' chest. Strength had been given to him to continue to push and not give up. It wasn't that he intended to, but in his words of confidence Severus had fortified Draco's will. He would get better, and when he got better--- he would ride again. Five years from now, he fully intended to be at the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Author's Note: This is different from my other fanfics that tend to be Harry-centered. Well, AOM was Voldemort-center, but I adore Draco and this fanfic will be mainly from his third person POV. As you can tell, quite a few characters have already made their presence known. It's not my fault my muse popped up. I don't know if I'll continue this, but I think this is pretty interesting? It combines something educational CFS with a huge love of mine, horses.
CFS is a very serious and it's heartbreaking. Visit cfids.org for more information about this devastating syndrome! My muse took a break from WAD and MOP and it popped up with this on the car ride home. Long car rides suck b/c my brain thinks too much, but it didn't think about my current WIPs. But never fear! WAD and MOP are much more important than this little baby bunny. This could be big or it could die on it's proverbial ashes. Anyway, reviews would be very much appreciated! Thanks for reading!
Author: Yih
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, but this plotline is my own.
Note: This will be slash, that's your warning.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
1: Fortified Misery (August 10, 2003)
"No, it's not true," Draco whispered harshly, disbelief covering every line that etched his worn and weary expression. "It's not true. It can't be true!" His face was anguished, and he had every right to feel this way.
News like this didn't arrive everyday. It was a crushing blow to the vibrant and aggressively ambitious young man. He was a Malfoy, things like this simply didn't happen to him. Great things were suppose to occur for him, not devastating events like this. No, not like this.
He was not the only one dealt the cruel blow. Draco had never seen his father look quite so helpless, if he had ever looked helpless one day of his life. It was almost amusing to see, almost humorous but the circumstances wiped away any laughter that possibly threaten to erupt from his dry throat.
"I'm very sorry," their physician responded in a grave and serious voice. "But your son has all the symptoms. We'll have to do more tests to make sure, of course before we go ahead and try some supportive medication. However, I'm rarely wrong with my diagnosis. He has chronic fatigue syndrome, and if we begin the treatment right away he could learn to live with it or even recover from it."
Lucius narrowed his eyes into venomous slits and aimed it menacingly at the doctor. "That still does not explain how my son contracted this syndrome," he hissed out angrily. "You still have not explain it. All you have done is diagnosed my son with this--- this debilitating syndrome!"
The look on the doctor's face was relaxed and patient. He had dealt with many patients and parents that reacted in the manner that the Malfoys were reacting. He considered it only normal considering their financial situation. Not only were the Malfoys titled, they were extremely wealthy to boot. Being so rich and privileged, they were use to getting the most out of life. They were not use to life dealing them a bad hand.
He sighed and stealed himself to handle this with proper sympathy. It wasn't hard. He really did feel bad for the young man. He wasn't one of the youngest patients he had seen stricken with CFS, but he was one of the most active he'd seen suffer the crushing blow. Talented polo player and gifted equestrian rider, Draco Malfoy was the gentleman's sports person.
Physical activity was not impossible for those that suffered from CFS, but they had to learn to pace themselves. If they pushed themselves too hard, it could take them more than 24 hours to recover from the physical set back. It was a hard reality to face for someone that had once had all the energy in the world. Draco Malfoy would have to learn to cut back and to adjust. It wouldn't be easy, but it was necessary.
"It probably occurred when he was recovering from his bout of influenza," he responded gently. "That is most likely when it happened. His immune system was already weakened from the bug, and well CFS used that as the launch board. It could have happened without the the influenza, but that undoubtedly made it easier. His extreme exhaustion should get better with therapy and a change in lifestyle. He has to tone down his activities or he will continue to have these bouts of weariness."
"He's prepping for the Olympic team!" Lucius cried out. "He has to continue with his schedule! He's on track to be the youngest equestrian team member for Britain in the last fifty years! Not to mention his polo obligations as well!"
The doctor shook his head regretfully. "It's impossible for him to continue to pursue all that. He may be able to ride occasionally with the right treatment, but he can't continue the brutalizing schedule that you've set for him Mr. Malfoy. It's simply not possible. He will get worse before he gets better. He's bedridden now because you both disregarded my warnings to stay put until I could diagnose the problem.
"If we're careful and he stays on the right treatment, he could recover soon enough. Don't push it hard, he needs to relax and concentrate on getting better now, Mr. Malfoy." He leveled Lucius with a stern gaze meant to reproach the haughty elder Malfoy. "With most that recover from CFS in any sort of manner, it is done within five years. Give me five years to heal your son, Mr. Malfoy. It's only five years when he has the rest of his life to live with this."
Lucius glared at the doctor, but shifted his gaze to the brooding expression of his precious son. It wasn't like they had a choice. Dr. Dumbledore was one of the finest doctors in Great Britain, if not the world. He had come highly recommended by Dr. Pomfrey, their family doctor when her suspicions had leant in that direction. "Fine," he drawled. "You have five years to heal my son, and if you feel that he is well enough to ride occasionally--- then he will ride."
"FATHER!" Draco exclaimed. "I need to be able to ride whenever."
"Hush, Draco," Lucius reproached sharply. "I know you understood what Dr. Dumbledore has said. We don't have a choice in the matter. If you want to get better, you will have to do what he says. He's one of the best specialists in the field. He knows what's best."
"But not what's best for my career!" Draco cried out with his endless frustration in the world for ripping his dreams apart of his very eyes. "I need to ride, if I don't keep riding I'll get behind. Who knows what will happen in five years? My best chance is now, I'm ready now to make the team! Why did this have to happen to me? Why?"
His heart was ripped out of his chest. This was his son, this was his precious only son that was weeping now. A Malfoy didn't cry, but he couldn't find it in him to put up a façade of detached indifference. This was the legacy that Narcissa had left him, his beautiful wife would never have wanted this to happen to their darling child. When she had left them nearly 18 years before, she had only wanted the best for her darling son. The best.
That was what Dumbledore was, the best doctor in the world to heal his son. And that was what he was going to do. He owed it to Narcissa, the love of his life who had left him on her deathbed what he cherished the most, his beautiful Draco. "I don't know why," he whispered lovingly to his son as he wrapped his arms around Draco. "I odn't know why this had to happen to you, but I'll fix it for you. I promise, Dragon."
~
Someone had to tell his world class mentor and teacher that he wouldn't be able to train with him anymore. He couldn't remember anyone ever backing out of the guidance that had led all of his pupils to the International stage. No, no one quit on Severus Snape. He was the one that kicked them out and told you bluntly that you didn't have the talent to go the distance.
Draco had never been more nervous than when he'd gotten his shot when he was 16 to prove himself to the former Olympic gold medalist eventer, Severus Snape. Nothing surpassed the joy he felt when Severus had said that he should stay for the summer to train at his stables. That was a dead on signal that he had the ability. He had always thought he did, but this was a confirmation of it from a master!
That was the difference. It wasn't just his father, who despite being brutally honest to business rivals was rather biased when it came to Draco. That Draco knew. But Severus Snape was not biased and he was always cruelly truthful about the lack of the gift. Severus didn't have to give compliments, if he didn't disparage your riding skills--- that was a compliment in itself.
"Severus?" Draco whispered out his mentor's name softly. He was almost afraid to see Severus, not that he'd ever been frighten before. Nervous as hell, yes, but never scared of the snarky and snappy master rider, never. Why fear him when there was so much to learn from him? He'd been gifted, true, but since coming under Severus' tutelage he'd learned things he'd only dreamt of.
From out of the shadows of the immaculated stables came the formidable form of Severus Snape. "Draco? What are you doing here? Isn't it late? Your father will be worried about you," Severus reprimanded lightly. "And you know that you need your rest.." Something was wrong. He knew it. Gut feeling. It was never wrong. "Is something wrong, Draco?"
Draco nodded numbly. This was so hard. It had been his greatest dream for his entire life to be able to ride as the student of the great Severus Snape, one of the best riders to ever sit on a saddle in British history. It would have been easier if it hadn't been his choice to leave, if Severus had told him he wasn't good enough. This was harder because he was good enough, it was just that fate had deemed it impossible for him.
He couldn't continue riding, he knew that. He knew it like he knew he had to breath to live. While he hadn't wanted to believe what Dumbledore had said earlier, he knew it was true. But the stubborn part inside didn't want to accept it, couldn't accept it. "I can't ride under your guidance anymore," he mumbled. "I have chronic fatigue syndrome."
The rest of his words were trapped in his throat. Nothing more was needed to be said. Nothing more. That said enough. He'd admitted that he had the syndrome, the disorder that was ruining his entire existence. He'd finally said those bloody words that crucified him. He blinked furiously, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes again. He'd cried enough already. Malfoys weren't suppose to shed tears, damn it!
"When you're ready to come back," Severus stated slowly, "I'll be waiting for you."
Draco was stunned. Severus didn't make promises like that to anyone. He didn't wait for talent that could be old and used up to return. He always use to say that you may be talented, but there's young talent coming up that's better. That was why he never reserved a spot for those that couldn't handle his tough regime. If you couldn't cut it out, then you were kicked out. Simple as that. There was no place holding, there was always young talent coming up. He had been one of them.
"What?"
Severus smirked and rested his arm on Draco's slender shoulders. "I'll be waiting for you," he repeated with confidence layering his tone. "You have a combined talent Draco that I haven't seen in many riders. You have the drive and the gift to make it. Even if takes years, you'll come back and you'll succeed. I know it. It's not in you to fail."
It wasn't in him to fail. It wasn't in him. Draco nodded and rested his head on Severus' chest. Strength had been given to him to continue to push and not give up. It wasn't that he intended to, but in his words of confidence Severus had fortified Draco's will. He would get better, and when he got better--- he would ride again. Five years from now, he fully intended to be at the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Author's Note: This is different from my other fanfics that tend to be Harry-centered. Well, AOM was Voldemort-center, but I adore Draco and this fanfic will be mainly from his third person POV. As you can tell, quite a few characters have already made their presence known. It's not my fault my muse popped up. I don't know if I'll continue this, but I think this is pretty interesting? It combines something educational CFS with a huge love of mine, horses.
CFS is a very serious and it's heartbreaking. Visit cfids.org for more information about this devastating syndrome! My muse took a break from WAD and MOP and it popped up with this on the car ride home. Long car rides suck b/c my brain thinks too much, but it didn't think about my current WIPs. But never fear! WAD and MOP are much more important than this little baby bunny. This could be big or it could die on it's proverbial ashes. Anyway, reviews would be very much appreciated! Thanks for reading!