AN: This is set after Hogwarts but the world is AU. Harry and Draco became lovers and Harry never went out with Ginny. I suppose their ages are mid-20s, maybe a little older or younger. It's up to you :)The song is Toy Boy by Mika.
I'm a wind-up toy in an up-down world, if you leave me all alone I'll make a mess for sure
I was alone before I met Draco- a wind-up toy moving aimlessly, turning as the world took me. I had met Draco before, of course, but he was Malfoy then and an enemy. Then he became Draco, a friend, and then, quite suddenly, he was Draco, my lover.
I've a heart of gold in the smallest size, leave me in the dark and never hear me cry
I loved him and I'm sure he loved me but we were secret, of course. Our hearts of gold were kept hidden and small but they burned all the brighter, I think, for that. We were in the dark, we were secret. It was exciting.
More than an illustration, points of articulation, come to life on a brass ring, such a wonderful plaything
I always teased Draco about how undone he became when we were together, how his composed self would unravel. I would joke, too, about the difference between me and his magazines, used before I came along. Mostly it was in terms of my vocal performance. I would moan and whimper and whisper words of love. They were happy times; happier still when he joined in.
But I could never, should never, forget that I was a plaything- something to be played with and then discarded when he grew bored. I like to think that perhaps he didn't mean to, or at least that he didn't want to. It was his breeding, you see. He was a Malfoy and Malfoys produced heirs. They didn't have me.
It's a cruel cross that I have to bear, if you come a little closer, going to pull your hair
At times, he was not Draco. He was Malfoy and we fought, fought harder than we ever did in school because we knew that we could break the other's heart. I was cruel. I was needlessly heartless, saying things I am ashamed of. It makes it no less shameful that he was as bad as I.
More than just a toy in a patch-blue suit, hold me in your arms, I'm just a boy like you
Draco, I believe, thought me a toy, although I am sure he loved me truly. There were times he would toss me aside and hide me but I never cared because he would hold me tight and love me and when we were in each other's arms, he and I knew the other was alive and not a toy and not a passing fanciful tryst that would end in the morning. Even when it did, it was more.
But your mama thought there was something wrong, didn't want you sleeping with a boy too long, it's a serious thing in a grown-up world, maybe you'd be better with a Barbie girl
But there was no love in the world that could conquer the truth that Draco was a Malfoy. We could forget sometimes and we made ourselves forget, I think. We would pretend that we were free. We would pretend that we could live together and even- I laugh to think on it now- that we would get married. Even if Draco was not a high-born pureblood, we still would not be happy and together.
And his mother found out. I often wonder whether Draco told her, in a desperate bid to not hide any more. He often spoke, like I, of trying to explain to her and though I held back, he seemed hopeful that she would understand. She was softer than Lucius, yes, but she held Draco's best interests at heart. Or rather, she held the Malfoy name's best interest at heart.
She found him a girl. She was beautiful and slender and silent. She and Draco... They were a perfect match, with their blond hair and their fake smiles. She was a Barbie girl and like her love, like her smile, like her silence, she was fake and stiff; a hard, plastic doll. The perfect plaything for Draco except for one thing. He yearned for a hard, linear body and no curves and the rough, forbidden pleasure of two boys entwined. He sobbed in my arms when he found out what his future would be and my heart, already broken, broke further.
We never spoke of running away. I wished it but didn't speak and I wonder now how it would have been if I had. Draco was terrified of his future, terrified of breaking the family, terrified all the time. I remember him as a scared child in school. I would wonder what his father did to break him so if I didn't already know, if Draco hadn't sobbed his whole sorry story out in my arms, after the first time.
You knew that I adored you, but you left me in Georgia, toys are not sentimental, how could I be for rental?
He loved me. He loved me but he left me in the rain as soon as he found out and I couldn't find it in my heart to blame him. I couldn't because my heart was breaking along with him. I think it would have been different had he loved the one he left me for but I knew his feelings, knew them better than even I knew my own.
I cannot find it in me now to feel anger towards him but then and now I wonder that I do not. He left me for the whim of his mother, for his family- as though that matters! It amazes me. Perhaps, having never had a family truly, I simply do not understand. Maybe Draco is more honourable than I.
I was his lover, rewarded with pleasure and with happiness and with danger, but I was on loan and readily discarded and that surprised me with its suddenness but not with its arrival.
She's the meanest hag that has ever been, pulled out my insides with her new safety pin, I'm the sorest sight, now I feel like trash, clothes are made of rags and they don't even match, so she dressed me up as the man she loved
Ginny. The anger I lack at Draco, I send to Ginny. Perhaps she meant well. More likely, she saw an opportunity. She picked me up out of the rain and gave me shelter and comfort of sorts. Yet the comfort was cold because nothing could comfort me after the loss of Draco.
She thought me hers and she thought me as much a toy as Draco did. She pulled out my soul and my feelings and my whole self and filled the space with what she wanted, till she thought me a man who loved her.
I find it curious that I played along. I think maybe I yearned for love. I hated her but I let her pet me in public and dress me as she wished. Draco hated my clothes but loved them too. They were so different to his life; Muggle and baggy and torn. He never tried to make me his ideal because an ideal is nothing save an idea.
Threw me in a box when she had had enough, now the light of day I no longer see, she stuck her voodoo pins where my eyes used to be
Ginny was very good at lying. Almost as good as Draco and I but she couldn't keep up the pretence at home. She tried to force my love and resented my indifference. In public, she would smile and make me kiss her but in private she had no hold over me and she would leave me alone, after a few further attempts to flirt and cajole me into her bed.
I was trapped in a dungeon of darkness and it made it no better it was light and airy. My only light was my memories of Draco, my only release my hopes of escape.
The only reason I remained with Ginny was because I was weak; crippled with grief and despair. I could see no light at the end of the tunnel save a glimmer. Maybe one day I would grow stronger and leave and wait for Draco.
Accidentally tragic, victim of her black magic, had a boy once who loved me, now he's so afraid of me
Except Draco would never come. I had my excuses; they were Draco's too. He was weak and, though he had strength enough, he was weak physically. He had been trapped longer than I. Draco had been trapped for all his life and I knew that he never would pull himself free. Draco was terrified of freedom. My love for him had weakened his knees and his resolve and the freedom our love brought made him strong and utterly scared in equal measures. He was scared of freedom. He was scared of me.
On a long-lost day when you're grey and old, you'll be there remembering your old toy boy, when your oldest son's wondering what to be, tell him the story of a boy like me
I have lost all hope now of a happy life- a life with Draco, a life of love- but still I yearn. To yearn for your love: romantic, no? And yet, I wonder that romance can be so when the two are separated as Draco and I are separated. Draco has a wife and he has produced the necessary heir and I wonder how he shall bring his boy up. Will he be like Lucius or will he be softer? Perhaps he will teach him to love who he shall and live for joy. Maybe he will even, one day, tell him the story of when he was young, and beautiful, and happy and when he loved a boy who loved him to his dying day and whispered his words of love with even his final breath.
Who knows what shall come to pass, in this world of sorrows, and of joys?