Hey boy take a look at me Let me dirty up your mind
"You think you can talk to me that way!" He grabs a handful of your silvery-almost-white blonde hair, and fists it in his hand, dragging you into one of the guest bedrooms down the hall.
"N-no, Father! I promise I didn't mean to sound that-"
A slap across the face silences you, but only for a brief moment before the door is wrenched open, and the you're is flung into the room. You start to crawl away, desperate, but you're so afraid you merely get two feet before his cane comes crashing down on your back, making you hit the cold hard floor in pain.
I strip away your hard veneer And see what I can find
You find yourself then on the recieving end of a brutal beating, and you know it won't end anytime soon. With every word, your father emphasises them with a kick, or the bringing down of the cane that he constantly carries around with him.
"Do you hear me, boy! I will not"...kick..."tolerate"...smash..."your"...kick..."fucking"...smash..."shit anymore!" Kicksmashpound.
He has stopped with the hitting, but only for a half-second. And you don't even bother to try and get up, because you know that that will only make him more angry. Instead, you find content in crying helplessly on the floor. But even that is ripped from you, as your father presses his cane on the back of your neck, pushing down so you are starting to have a hard time breathing.
And then his voice is close to your ear, so close that it scares you-not that that would've done any good. You were already scared shitless when he gave you that look of contempt earlier, promising bad things were going to happen after his guests had left for the evening.
"Are you crying?" he hisses, and you suck in a breath, but it is getting harder and harder to do so. "Answer me!" he yells, and your ear rings with the pain of it all. As you start to answer, he relents with the cane, and instead, you draw in a ragged and long breath, coughing and sputtering as you feel and taste something mettalic going down your throat. Blood.
"What have I always told you, Draco? What have I ALWAYS told you? Get up, you worthless whore!" he adds as he asks these questions. You do so, even though it takes you an extremely long time to do. When you are finally up, you sway but refuse to fall into a complelely lifeless heap at his feet.
"Tell me, Draco, what I have always told you!" he snarls, and takes a step forwards, whereas you takes two steps back. Regaining your voice, you answer in a hoarse whisper, "Malfoys never cry."
"Thats right, my boy! Repeat it!"
And so you do-thirty seven times; you kept count, before your father stops you. Now his face isn't so much as showing anger, but an emotion you don't want to think about. And you know whats coming next, even though you try to tell yourself that this time it'll be different, maybe he thinks you've suffered enough.
But he doesn't. Because Malfoys are never merciful.
Instead, he takes you into a mockingly sweet hug, so sweet you nearly retch, but hold yourself back. Not on Daddys' best suit, son; nonono.
The hug is safe for a few moments, before you feel him start to run his hands up and down your back, inching further and further down until they have reached your ass. And you stiffen instantly; you knew this was going to happen, yet you will never get used to it.
He grips your cheeks painfully, and you squrim-wrong move. He pushes you against the four-poster bed, and you fall onto the soft padding of the bed, fear catching up with you again. He performs a petrifying spell, and you can't move. His wand waves, and your clothes dissapear, leaving you naked and scared.
He steps closer, and you shut your eyes. You don't want to see him raking his cold silver eyes over your body, his robes falling to the floor, his older, more mature body leaning over your own-but you can hear and feel every moment of it.
And now you are on your back; you have no idea how you got that way but you do and he is sliding into you, no lubrication, nothing. Just the hard, painful truth in front of your very eyes. And even though Malfoys don't cry, you do.
The queerest of the queer
The strangest of the strange
The coldest of the cruel
The lamest of the lame
The numbest of the dumb
I hate to see you here
You choke behind a smile
A fake behind the fear.
The queerest of the queer
This is what he pays me for I'll show you how it's done
You have learned to ignore it, and focus soley on other things-and its now coming to the point where you don't even have to focus; he rides you until your numb with pain, and you don't even realize your crying until he makes you repeat the rule over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over...
You learn to love the pain you feel Like father, like son
Your father is gone-blissfully gone. For the rest of the year. For the rest of your life. For the rest of his OWN FUCKING life.
And your so fucking happy that you can barely contain yourself from jumping onto Potter, who saved your life although he doesn't know it. But you manage it.
You even cease your witty remarks some, just for Potters sake. And he seems happy enough, except for the loss of his godfather. But you don't bring it up, because you know how bad it hurts to lose someone close. So you don't even mention the word "Dogs" at all.
You spend half your year in happiness, and your so fucking confident that nothing bad is going to happen.
And then you see the Daily Prophet.
Your father has escaped.
And your eyes widen, and your chest tightens, and now you know something like this was never going to last. You positively bolt from the Great Hall that morning, and you don't see the look that Potter gives you, but you can feel his eyes on your back and the tears are coming faster than you thought they were and you run but it does nothing to soothe the panic in your heart and chest.
And you don't even realize that there are footsteps behind you until you feel fingers on the back of your neck, just grazing, and you tense...but then you hear a voice, a familiar voice, one that you did not expect. And you turn around.
Harry Potter.
Harry Bloody Potter.
His face is contorted in worry, and something else but you look away as the tears threaten to fall, so you don't have time to process what the other emotion was. His hand grips your shoulder, and you choke out a sob as he asks you whats wrong. But you don't tell him; you can't possibly tell him the truth.
So, instead, you say in a hoarse and choked voice, "My father is out of Azkaban."
And there is silence as Potters hand falls from your shoulder. You're sure he's gone, but then you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, pressing his body against yours comfortingly, and you sob harder. Your knees buckle out from beneath you, and while falling you turn around to face him, grabbing his shoulders, and pressing your head into the crook of his neck. And he holds you while you cry.
Its nice-you were never held like this by your father, and he forbid your mother to even think of touching you after you turned the tender age of five-"Malfoys are not to be babied!"-his voice rings through your head, and you hardly realize that you're starting to hyperventilate until Potters hand is stroking your back.
You know you are not in danger. Because the Boy Wonder would never take advandtage of anybody-not even a Slytherin prick. Slowly, you calm down. Harry has pressed kisses into your hair, comforting kisses, and you let him, because nobody-not even your mother- has done this before.
And then suddenly, Harry picks you up, and you're so exhausted, you don't even try to protest. You vaguely hear him mumble something about you being so light but you nuzzle his neck instead, and is jostled slightly as Harry accidentally trips over an imaginary rock.
Seconds later, you are on a warm bed, with Harry still holding you in his lap. Now he looks more comfortable, and he shifts you so you're also more in a comfortable position. Silence is becoming deafening, but you're used to the silence, and instead sigh into Potter's-Harry's?-hair, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on tightly.
"Malfoy..."
Potters voice alerts you, and you mumble something. Harrys' voice is close to your ear now, and you shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitve apendage.
"Draco,"
This time your eyes open, and you look up at Harry. "What?" you ask quietly, the panic rising again just slightly. Potter smiles in reassurance as he rubs your back. "Why are you upset about your father breaking out of Azkaban?"
And now the tears are back and you can't do anything but hide them but this does no good as you turn your head back into the crook of your rivals neck. They hit Potters body, startling him a little. "Draco," he breathes, and you draw in a slow breath. "Draco...tell me whats wrong..."
And so you do.
You let it all out.
And when your done, you are not the only one who is crying. The top of your head is now drenched in Potters own tears, crying as hard as you are now. You look up at Harrys face-he is nearly as pale as the snow that has decided to fall early this winter-and he swallows, sniffs, then closes his eyes as he presses his forehead against yours.
You are shocked.
Is Harry Potter, bloody Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the Golden Boy, the fucking Saviour Of The World, actually crying with you? Is this sympathy your recieving?
It is.
And you close your eyes too, but re-open them seconds later, to see Harrys green emerald eyes staring hard at you, a determined look in his eyes. You are afraid he is going to tell Dumbledore, but instead of asking you only part your lips, close your eyes again and lean in to kiss his cheek gently. You don't know why you do it, but when Harry doesn't jerk away instead just tightens his grip on you, you begin to kiss his jaw line softly.
Maybe you do it because Potter is not pushing you away in disgust, or what-not, but you do not stop the kisses. And after Harry has nuzzled your neck softly, you lift your head to look up at his face.
He smiles gently, and you give a halfhearted smile back. He leans in closer and you close your eyes again, letting your head fall onto his his shoulder as his kisses your ear.
"I promise, Draco," he whispers, and a sob wracked Harrys body. "I promise Draco, I will protect you."
And you do nothing but smile.
fin
Hey boy take a look at me Let me dirty up your mind I strip away your hard veneer And see what I can find
The queerest of the queer The strangest of the strange The coldest of the cruel The lamest of the lame The numbest of the dumb
I hate to see you here
You choke behind a smile
A fake behind the fear.
The queerest of the queer
This is what he pays me for I'll show you how it's done You learn to love the pain you feel Like father, like son
The queerest of the queer Hide inside your head The blindest of the blind The deadest of the dead
You're hungry 'cause you starve While holding back the tears You choke behind a smile A fake behind the fear...
The Queerest Of The Queer
(Bridge)
I know whats good for you(you can touch me if you want)
I know you're dying to(you can touch me if you want)
I know whats good for you(you can touch me if you want)
But you can't stop
The queerest of the queer The strangest of the strange The coldest of the cruel The lamest of the lame The numbest of the dumb
I hate to see you here
You choke behind a smile
A fake behind the fear.
The queerest of the queer
The strangest of the strange.
The coldest of the cruel.
You're nothing special here,
A fake behind the fear...
The Queerest Of The Queer
I know whats good for you I know you're dying to I know whats good for you I bet you're dying to
You can touch me if you want You can touch me if you want You can touch me You can touch me...
But you can't stop.
-"Queer" by Garbage.