"In Nature's temple, living columns rise, often giving tongue to subdued words. Like lingering echoes, afar they confound themselves in deep and sombre unity."
Charles Baudelaire
I
Malfoy Manor stood tall and proud in the heart of Savernake Forest. Its entrance was guarded by imposing iron gates, while a magnificent fountain graced its front yard. For centuries, the Malfoy family had called this unplottable place home, their opulence and authority evident in every intricate detail.
However, the ravages of war had left their mark upon the manor as well. Bloodstains marred the once-luxurious carpets, while curse marks scarred the walls. Broken windows and cracked mirrors further revealed the aftermath of the tumultuous past. Empty rooms and silent halls echoed the family's loss and desolation.
In the aftermath of the war, the Ministry of Magic had imposed a harsh punishment on the Malfoys, confining them to their own manor. They had not only lost their reputation and influence but also their freedom. The head of the family, Lucius Malfoy, had suffered the most dreadful fate - the Dementor's Kiss, which had mercilessly torn his soul from his body.
Draco Malfoy, the heir, despised the manor with every fiber of his being. It served as a constant reminder of painful memories, haunting nightmares, and solitary moments of despair. He felt trapped within its walls, devoid of any means of escape or choice. The weight of everyone's disdain and scorn bore down on him, a consequence of actions he had taken out of fear and coercion.
Draco had meticulously prepared for this day, making sure he had everything he needed and finalizing his plans. Today was the day he would finally be free, and the wizard felt a mix of excitement and curiosity. His goal was to travel abroad, explore new places, and have new experiences. Leaving behind his troubled past, he longed for a fresh start and a chance to truly live.
As he got out of bed, a surge of excitement rushed through him. He dressed in his best suit, feeling confident and ready for what awaited him. Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but smile. He looked put together, exuding confidence.
Leaving his room, he felt no emotional attachment to the green and silver decorations that represented his former Slytherin affiliation. That space had become a symbol of confinement and reminded him of his past mistakes.
Walking through the hallway, Draco passed the portraits of his ancestors, who seemed to disapprove of him with their stern expressions. "Oh, come on," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You all act like you never made mistakes."
One particular portrait seemed to glare at him more intensely than the others. The wizard stopped and stared back defiantly. "What? You think you're better than me just because you're stuck in a painting?" he challenged. "Well, newsflash, you're just a reminder of the past. And I'm determined not to let your judgment affect me anymore."
Suddenly, a small voice interrupted Draco's thoughts. "Master Draco, I brought you some tea and toast," Giggles, his loyal house elf, announced cheerfully as he appeared with a tray.
Draco looked up, surprised. "Ah, Giggles, you always know how to brighten my day," he said with a smile. The little creature beamed, his large ears wiggling with excitement. "It's my pleasure, Master Draco. Anything to make your day better," he replied humbly.
The Malfoy heir took a sip of the tea, savoring its warmth. "You know, I can't thank you enough for all your help over the years. You've been a true friend," he expressed gratefully.
Giggles' eyes sparkled with gratitude. "Oh, Master Draco, it's an honor to serve you. You've always treated me with kindness and respect, unlike Master Lucius," he admitted, referring to his father.
"Don't say that, Giggles," Draco said, his voice filled with conflicting emotions. "He was still my father, despite everything. Even if he didn't love me, I still loved him. In some twisted way." He lied to himself and to the elf, refusing to acknowledge the truth. The wizard didn't want to admit that he felt nothing for his father, that he was relieved by his absence, that he sometimes wished he had never been born.
Giggles, the elf, bowed his head apologetically. "Of course, Master Draco. I'm sorry, Master Draco. I didn't mean to upset you, Master Draco. Please forgive me, Master Draco."
Draco tried to comfort the elf. "It's alright. Don't worry about it. Let's go to the dining hall. I'm sure my mother is waiting for me." His mother, his anchor, his source of unwavering love and support. Narcissa had always been there for him, loving him unconditionally, fiercely protecting him, and offering wise guidance. She had endured his pain, shed tears alongside him, and shared his hopes. She was his mother, his friend, his family.
"Yes, Master Draco. Let's go, Master Draco. Your mother is a good lady, she is. She loves you very much, she does. She will miss you very much, she will," the elf trailed behind Draco, hoping for his master's and mistress's happiness, safety, and freedom.
But upon entering the dining hall, Draco was met with a distressing sight. His mother sat at the head of the long table, her hands trembling as she clutched a letter. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pale and aged, her hair disheveled. It seemed as if she had aged a decade overnight. The witch appeared as though she had lost everything.
"Mother, what's wrong?" Draco rushed to her side, taking the letter from her trembling hands. As he read its contents, his heart sank. It was a notification from the Ministry of Magic, informing them of Lucius Malfoy's death. He had received the Dementor's Kiss, the ultimate punishment that stripped a person of their soul. He was gone forever.
"Oh, Draco. My son. My darling son. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Narcissa sobbed uncontrollably, clinging to Draco as if he was her lifeline. She was filled with fear, hoping desperately that she wasn't alone in this world. She felt as if a part of her was dying, consumed by grief and despair.
Draco's heart was heavy with a mix of sadness and relief as he reflected on his complicated feelings towards his father. The love he once held had long been replaced by fear, hatred, and resentment.
"I can't believe what he's done... He's become a tyrant, a coward, a traitor," Draco muttered to himself, his voice filled with bitterness.
Turning his attention to his mother, he saw her staring blankly at the letter. His heart ached as he desperately wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to talk to her.
"Mother, are you okay? Please, let me be there for you," he pleaded, his voice laced with concern. But she remained unresponsive, frozen in shock. Draco felt a pang of worry. "Mother, please... I need to know you're alright. Talk to me," he urged, his voice tinged with desperation.
Summoning Twirl, his mother's house elf, Draco asked her to take his mother to her room, hoping that she would recover. "Twirl, please, take my mother to her room. Make sure she's safe," the wizard requested, his voice filled with urgency. "Yes, Master Draco. I will take care of Mistress Narcissa," Twirl responded obediently.
Deciding to forgo breakfast, the Malfoy heir poured himself a glass of firewhiskey. He needed to calm his nerves, to clear his mind, to escape his thoughts. "This will help me forget... just for a little while," he muttered to himself. As he drank, feeling the liquid burn his throat and warm his chest, he found solace. He felt better, stronger, and yet, strangely numb. But then, an unsettling sensation washed over him.
"What's happening to me? Something's not right," Draco exclaimed in alarm. Heat surged through his body, dizziness overwhelmed him, and pain flashed in his mind. "No... No! What's happening?!" Draco convulsed, his vision blurred, and consciousness slipped away. Fear and sickness consumed him.
In a desperate attempt to help, Draco called for his house elf. "Giggles, please... I need your help!" Yet, it was too late. By the time the small creature arrived, the wizard lay unconscious and feverish on the floor.
"Master Draco! Oh no, what has happened to you?" Giggles cried out in distress. Panicked, he rushed to Narcissa's room, seeking assistance. "Mistress Narcissa! Something is wrong with Master Draco! Please, help!" Yet, Twirl intercepted him, revealing that Narcissa was also unwell. "Mistress Narcissa is not well either. We must act quickly," Twirl urgently informed him.
Narcissa, despite her own panic attack, forced herself to rise. She knew time was running out. "Giggles, lead me to Draco. We must save him," the witch commanded, her voice trembling. Instructing the elf to lead her to her son, she made Twirl promise to care for him if she didn't survive.
"Twirl, if anything happens to me, promise me you'll take care of Draco," Narcissa pleaded. "I promise, Mistress Narcissa. I will protect him with my life," Twirl vowed, determination shining in her tiny eyes. The little elf held great affection for Draco, recognizing his kindness and gentleness, qualities his father lacked.
Together, the trio hurried to Draco's side. Giggles held onto hope, whispering words of encouragement. "Hold on, Master Draco. You are a good person, a good son. We won't let anything happen to you."
As they entered the dining hall, they were met with a chilling sight. Draco lay motionless on the floor, his body radiating heat. Narcissa gasped and ran to his side, her emotions surging within her.
"Oh no... Draco!" she cried out, her voice trembling.
The witch sobbed and screamed, calling for help. She felt utterly helpless, burdened by guilt, and trapped under a curse she knew was real.
"What... what happened to him?" she asked, her eyes wide with horror.
She turned to Twirl and Giggles, desperately seeking their aid in moving Draco to his room. The elves nodded, their ears flapping, and carefully lifted him with their magic. They gently placed him on his bed, their eyes filled with worry. Giggles snapped his fingers, hoping to bring a pain potion to his master. However, Narcissa stopped him, her voice hoarse and desperate, explaining that it would be of no use.
"No, Giggles! It won't work. The curse... it's beyond any cure," she said, her voice strained. Then the screams started.
Draco's body was seized by an intense surge of pain, causing him to convulse and writhe uncontrollably. The agony was so unbearable that he let out a piercing cry, reminiscent of the torturous Cruciatus Curse. Despite his wide-open eyes, all he could perceive was an impenetrable darkness that enveloped him.
Trapped, isolated, and consumed by terror, he sensed an eerie presence lurking in the shadows, drawing nearer with a slow and unsettling force. Suddenly, his veins were electrified, causing him to tremble and shake involuntarily. In this state of torment, his mind was paralyzed, his breath stolen, and any hope of escape extinguished.
The duration of this torture remained unknown to the Malfoy heir, but it felt like an eternity. He couldn't pinpoint when he regained consciousness, yet a peculiar hunger gnawed at him relentlessly. It was not a hunger for sustenance, but rather an insatiable craving for something he couldn't quite identify or locate. Scanning his surroundings, he desperately searched for the missing element. A void resided within his chest.
Beside his bed, Narcissa sat, clutching his hand. Her appearance was feeble and pale, as if she were slowly fading away. Despite her frailty, she managed a weak smile, her eyes brimming with a mixture of affection and sorrow.
"Darling, you're awake," she whispered gently. Draco tried to speak and understand what was happening, but his mother hushed him softly. "Please, listen to me, my dear. We don't have much time. There's something very important I need to tell you," she pleaded with urgency.
The young wizard felt a rush of fear and confusion. He wanted to protest, to assure his mother that everything was alright, that there was plenty of time, and that nothing was wrong. Yet, the seriousness on her face convinced him that she was speaking the truth.
"What is it, mother?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear. The witch held his hand tighter and looked at him with unwavering intensity. "Do you remember the story I used to tell you when you were a child? The one about the fairy who fell in love with a heartless man?" she asked.
Draco nodded, vaguely recalling the tale. He had always thought of it as a made-up story, something his mother created to entertain him. After all, why would anyone love someone who couldn't love them back?
"That story... it's our story," she confessed, her voice filled with emotion. Her son was shocked and horrified. He stared at his mother, struggling to fully comprehend what she had just revealed. "What do you mean?" he exclaimed, his voice getting higher.
Taking a deep breath, she composed herself and began to speak. With a shaky voice, she revealed, "I am not entirely human, my dear. I am a changeling, a fairy child swapped with a human baby many years ago."
Draco's eyes widened in astonishment. "You're not human? But... how is that possible?" he asked, struggling to comprehend.
She continued, "Also, I am a Veela, a magical being known for their enchanting beauty and grace. But there is a curse that binds me, forever tied to a heartless man." Her son's brows furrowed in confusion. "A curse? What kind of curse?" he inquired, his tone filled with concern.
Her voice trembled as she confessed, "I am destined to love a man who could never love me back. And, my dear, that man is none other than your own father, Lucius Malfoy."
Draco's heart sank, a mix of shock and sadness washing over him. "Father...?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes, my son. It is a tragic fate that I am bound to. And it is this bond that will ultimately lead to my demise."
The young wizard's eyes filled with tears as he reached out to comfort his mother. Narcissa held his hand tightly, her voice filled with love and regret. "I know, my dear. But it is the reality we must face. I wanted you to know the truth, no matter how painful it may be."
Draco was overwhelmed with a mix of nausea and anger. The news he was hearing was almost too much to bear. The idea that his mother had suffered such a cruel fate was unthinkable. He couldn't comprehend how his father could have been so monstrous.
Unable to accept what he was hearing, he shook his head and said, "Mother, this can't be true. This can't actually be happening." Tears streamed down her face as she nodded in response.
"It is true. Every bit of it. The moment Lucius died from the Dementor's Kiss, he cast a curse on himself, on me, and on you. I can't go on without him, and you will be forced to find your mate. You're also part Veela," she explained, her voice trembling.
Fear and despair washed over the Malfoy heir as he tried to comprehend the extent of his father's actions and the suffering his mother had endured. It was a heavy burden to inherit, something he didn't know how to face.
Draco pleaded with his mother, "Please, mother. Don't say that. Don't leave me." He held onto her hand tightly, desperately not wanting to let go. She smiled sadly and gently caressed his cheek.
"I'm sorry, my dragon. I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you more than anything. But I can't stay with you. I can't fight the curse," she whispered, her voice fading.
Grief and pain surged through Draco as he felt an overwhelming desire to scream, to beg, to do anything to save her. But he was powerless. All he could do was watch as her eyes closed and she passed out.