CHAPTER 2
Draco Malfoy sipped his Firewhiskey slowly as he takes in the empty room. He closed his eyes as he felt tears prickled his eyes, threatening to fall.
Taking a deep breath, he forced down the lump that has formed in his throat.
Draco Malfoy does not cry.
He opened his eyes, looking directly at the mirror in front of him and he saw, rather than felt, a single, hot tear ran out of his left eyes.
In a flash of lightning, he hurled his glass at the mirror so hard that the glass instantly shattered and the mirror cracked, a spiderweb emanating out from the center of the glass, where he has seen the reflection of his left eye.
He stepped back and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His chest heaved as he struggled to keep his breathing under control.
It didn't work.
He swung his right fist against the mirror and he struck at the centre of the crack. He punched again and again, harder this time, until the wall of glass fell to the floor at his feet, hundreds of shards of glass shattering around him.
He slid on the floor, releasing a sob as he did it.
What is happening to him? It used to be so easy, to shut down emotions, to compartmentalise, to deny essential parts of himself.
Another sob escaped as he sat there, looking down at his bloody knuckles. There're few pieces of glass stuck between the knuckles of his right fist but he is too tired to take it out. The pain doesn't even register in his mind. All he knows is that his world has fallen apart.
He has fallen apart a few times before, but every time, his parents were there with him. His parents were on his mind when he was given the suicidal assignment of letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and killing Albus Dumbledore.
They were together when the Battle of Hogwarts ended and they braced everything that has happened, together as a family. They faced the horrible accusations and terrible treatments from everyone, together. They were together when his father was sentenced to Azkaban for 10 years. He was there, holding it together for his mother when the sentence was read out. He was there when the world crumbled around his mother as news about his father's death in Azkaban was confirmed by the Ministry.
He remembers making a promise to himself to be strong for his mother. Every day he would wake up and meet her mother for breakfast before they went for a walk in the garden. He did that every day for the past years until a few days ago.
He stands back up, slowly and as he walks towards the fireplace across the room, the blood from his right fist dripped onto the marble floor. His left hand picked up today's Daily Prophet, his gazed fixed longingly at the small announcement of his mother's funeral at the bottom of the page.
His jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he gripped the paper. They didn't even have the respect to put her mother's picture in the article.
He gathered his strength from his parents. He loves them, despite all the wrongs and flaws that they have. Regardless what the public says, the Malfoys do have a saving grace: they love each other.
Now with his parents gone, he is beyond saving.
He is empty.