A/N: The ever popular "they aren't my characters, it is my story, I'm not profiting"
This story is in response to the Reality challenge. It has to do with child abuse. If that upsets you, please don't read.
New note for 10/30- I've gotten a suggestion that I make this story more than a one-shot. I have an idea of where I could go with it, but I'm not sure if there'd be the same type of response for it. Please shoot me a review or something telling me what you think. I'd really appreciate it.
Draco watched Harry sway on the dance floor, laughing to himself. Harry was such a flirt. Always had been, probably always would be. It was one of the benefits of being The Chosen One. Men and women were always throwing themselves at him. And it was always Draco on his arm when he returned home for the night.
They had kept their relationship secret for a long while, mostly because they had known that the moment they came out was the last moment Lucius Malfoy, and by extension Narcissa, ever spoke to their only child. And their predictions didn't disappoint. When Draco announced that he was moving in with his boyfriend, Harry Potter, his father insisted he leave and never come back. Had Draco not been a fully-trained wizard able to defend himself with his wand he would have feared the moment more than anything, would probably still be in the closet. The things Lucius Malfoy was capable of...
Harry fell beside Draco and gave him a drunken kiss on the cheek. "Let's say you and I get out of here," he murmured into the blonde hair, nipping at Draco's earlobe.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Draco replied, kissing Harry passionately.
They made their way outside and hailed a cab home. They made out in the backseat for a while, much to the annoyance of the cab driver who checked his rear view mirror several times and said something and said something along the lines of "Damn fairies."
Draco was extremely excited when they got to their flat. He immediately ushered Harry to the bedroom. He threw the messy-haired boy upon the bed, and attacked his neck with kisses. He was fumbling with Harry's belt buckle when Harry spoke.
"Let's have a baby," Harry said, staring into Draco's grey eyes.
Draco was stunned for a moment, and forgot what he was doing. His mind immediately flashed to his past.
"Erase it," Lucius said to his fifteen year old son. Draco looked from his father to the picture he was drawing. He had spent hours drawing the perfect dragon. Great wings stretched over a majestic purple body, the head upturned in a menacing, silent roar.
"Why?" Draco asked in horror. He had poured his heart into drawing the dragon, and his father was asking him to destroy it.
His skull was suddenly on fire as Lucius' cane found it. He felt a small trickle of blood running down the side of his face as Lucius' voice spoke from somewhere in the distance. "The only reason you should need is that you were told to do it," the elder Malfoy growled. "Everything else is superfluous."
Another sting as the cane found it's second mark across Draco's back. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he knew better than to cry. Crying made it worse. It was a sign of weakness. And no Malfoy would be weak. As quickly as he could he reached for his eraser and quickly rubbed the beautiful creature off the page. When he was finished he shoved the paper at his father to prove the task was done.
Lucius Vanished the pad of paper and the pencil nearby. "I don't ever want to catch you drawing again, Draco. You need to learn something more productive. Come downstairs later, I'll teach you to duel." A wave of his wand and Draco's cuts were closed and the bruises healed. The pain remained.
"So happy you can't say anything?" Harry smiled.
"No," Draco said, his voice hoarse.
"What?"
"No," Draco reiterated, getting up from the bed and collapsing in the seat nearby.
"If you're worrying about losing your girlish figure Ginny Weasley said she's be happy to surrogate..."
"I said no!" Draco roared before going downstairs. He poured himself a glass of vodka and drained it with one gulp. He poured another and collapsed on the couch, covering his eyes. He had endured seventeen years of Lucius' beatings, his berating, his temper, so controlled in public, so violent in private. There was no way that he'd raise a child. He wouldn't know where to begin.
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"You idiot boy," his father hissed, as another round of the curse coursed through his body, setting fire to his very nerves. His crime this time had been no fault of his own. It had been Dobby. Harry had caused Dobby to be set free, and now Draco was paying for it. It didn't matter that there was really no reason. Lucius' normal whipping post was no longer available, but his son was around.
The curse lifted, but the fire remained. It was just dulled. He was on the floor, tears streaming from his eyes. He wasn't able to stop them. He turned away from his father, hoping he didn't notice. But Lucius was observant. He noticed his son's tears.
"You're pathetic," he sneered, and he swept from the room. Narcissa, sporting her own bruise, crouched by her son and gently ran her fingers though his hair. Even that slight touch was painful, and Draco winced.
"It's okay," his mother whispered at him. "It's over now. He's going to the Ministry for a while, he won't be back until later tonight."
Draco dragged himself back to his feet, ignoring his mother. He had heard it all before. While his father's absence might earn him a few hour reprieve, the man would be back once the Ministry closed for the night. There was a good chance that he would be in a drunken stupor, looking for something to take his pent up anger out on, and his wife and son would be a good target. In a few days they were supposed to go visit the same Ministry that often angered Lucius so. Their bruises would be healed, the welts hidden. Draco and Narcissa would be standing a few feet behind their abuser, smiling when needed, saying nothing unless addressed, and otherwise giving an air of being a functional family if not a horribly happy one.
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Harry sat in the bed wondering what he had done that pissed Draco off so much. All he had done was mention that he wanted kids, and his boyfriend had stormed off. It was a big step, and something the they hadn't talked about before moving in together. They were young, they enjoyed the night life, they both had jobs that demanded much of their attention, children were not on the back burner, they weren't even in the kitchen.
Harry hadn't thought of being a father until recently, when Ron and Hermione had their first child. Holding little Rose in his arms brought all sorts of paternal feelings. He was reluctant to ask Draco for a baby. He waited until he had all of it worked out. He had asked Ginny to be the surrogate, and she agreed enthusiastically. He had researched flats with two bedrooms or more. He researched child care providers, both Muggle and Wizard. He had even picked out a few Healers that specialized in pediatrics. The baby would come into a very informed and very involved home.
He had envisioned a hesitant Draco. He would have questions, and Harry would provide answers. After a long conversation Draco would yield, and they'd fall asleep in each other's arms, on their way to being parents. A few times he had even envisioned an enthusiastic Draco hugging him while screaming "yes, of course!" and afterwards they would have the kind of sex of expectant parents, unrushed, savoring each moment because soon it would be difficult to find the time or energy.
What he hadn't expected, however, was Draco flat out refusing and running off. While he had never shown any interest in having children, he had never shown an aversion to it, either. He had held Rose Weasley easy enough, though he had passed her off as soon as she started crying. Harry knew that Lucius and Narcissa hadn't been the greatest examples of how parents could be, but that shouldn't stop Draco. Many people who had been somewhat neglected become great parents. For crying out loud, Vernon and Petunia had been terrible "parents", and he was sure he'd be a great dad.
Harry knew his boyfriend well. It would do no good to go running after him. Give him a few hours, maybe overnight, and he'd be ready to talk.
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Draco sat on the couch all night, staring out of the window but not seeing anything. He supposed that he should go talk to Harry, explain why he wouldn't have a child, but he had no desire to explain himself. Harry knew that Lucius was somewhat of an absent father, Draco felt no need to tell him the whole story. Or even half of it. Harry was a happy man without knowing.
Maybe it wasn't fair. Maybe he should give fatherhood a chance. It would make Harry happy. Draco knew that this was coming at some point. Harry was a natural father, and at some point he was going to want a baby, probably several. It was one of those things Draco filed in the back of his mind as a conversation that was going to rear it's ugly head at some point, but he wasn't going to worry about it until they were older. He had thought his boyfriend was having too much fun to want to be burdened with a child. By the time he thought Harry would want a baby he thought he might be far enough removed from Lucius and all those memories that he might not have to turn Harry down flat.
His limbs felt like stone as he stood and, slower than he had ever walked in his life, returned to the bedroom. Harry was sitting up in bed, reading a book he had read several times before. Draco saw his eyes dart up to meet his momentarily, but they returned quickly to the book at the sight of Draco's icy face. Draco sat on the bed, and resisted the urge to cover himself with the comforter, fall asleep, and forget anything was ever said. Instead he took a deep breath and, with a shaking voice, began to talk.
"You deserve to know why I don't want children," he whispered. His voice sounded as though he was hearing it coming from the bottom of a lake.
Harry responded by closing his book and placing it on the nightstand. Gingerly he took Draco's hand in his and lovingly stroked it.
"Lucius was not just a bad father. He..."
Harry's hand closed on his in support as though he knew what was about to come.
"He beat me, he beat my mother, he beat the house-elves, he basically beat anything he could reach," Draco said, really fast.
Harry's arm reached around his shoulders and pulled him close. Draco felt a tear run down his cheek, but he had no energy to wipe it away.
"It started when I was four. I had wet the bed. He came in and found it. Blood... lots of blood. That's what I remember from that first time. After that it just got worse. Anytime he was angry it was nearly impossible to get out of his way. His cane, his fists, his wand, anything went. And he was skilled at healing charms, so no one knew." He paused for a moment to rest and gather his thoughts. Harry gave him a light kiss on the cheek in support.
"I don't want children," Draco continued after a long moment. "I don't want them because for my whole life everyone has told me how much like my father I am. I'm afraid they're right."
"But you're not like that..." Harry whispered.
"How do you know?" Draco snapped. "Did you think Lucius was like that?"
"No..." Harry said cautiously. "I thought Lucius was an evil prat, but I didn't know..."
The silence hung in the air for a few long moments.
"You can get over this," Harry said, a note of pleading in his voice. "I survived practically my whole life at the Dursley's. I don't think that their charming example is going to make have any effect on my parenting."
Draco said nothing. There was a huge difference between what Lucius had done to him and what Vernon and Petunia Dursley had done to their nephew. While no one would ever consider the Dursley's for parents of the year they had, at the very least, never laid a hand on Harry.
"I've always had an instinct to protect children from whatever harm I could," Harry whispered. "I can't see how anyone would ever want to raise a hand to their child. I don't get it. They're just as human as we are, and yet..."
"They're not human," Draco shot back.
Harry nodded. He kissed Draco's cheek before snuggling up to his chest. A few minutes later Draco felt the raven-haired man fall asleep in his arms. He sighed and closed his eyes. The conversation was over, for now. He had prevailed, the pitter patter of little feet was not in his immediate future. However the topic would come up again. And maybe then he'd be prepared for it.
A/N: If you liked it, please review. If you didn't like it please review. Either way I'd like to hear from you.