Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling, unfortunately not me.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who followed/favorited this story! I'm glad people are interested.
Chapter 2
Draco Malfoy leaned heavily against the door to his study after Apparating from King's Cross Station. He swiftly crossed his study to the liquor cabinet in the corner before pouring himself a generous portion of Ogden's Old. He downed it in one gulp. Had his father still been alive, he would have been appalled. Malfoy's don't do anything as barbaric as gulp. Draco snorted to himself. There are plenty of things in his life that his father wouldn't approve of, the least of which being gulping some firewhisky in the privacy of his own home. Draco poured another glass as he waved his wand at the fireplace to start a fire. He flopped down on the couch in front of the fire, another very un-Malfoy action, and stared at the fire, all the while continuing to sip the comforting drink in his hand.
In recent years, September 1st had become one of Draco's least favorite days of the year. He loved his son dearly and hated having to say goodbye. This year was especially hard for him; it being the first time seeing Scorpius off since Astoria had moved out. The divorce had been finalized a little less than a year ago, last October.
Draco and Astoria had never had the perfect marriage, but for many years Astoria had been there whenever he or his son needed her. There was much speculation after the two married that it had been an arranged marriage between the two families, but that could not have been further from the truth. With Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban after the end of the war, he had very little say in what went on in his son's life, though he approved of his son's choice to marry a respected, pureblood witch. The Greengrass elders, on the other hand, had done everything in their power to stop their youngest daughter from marrying into the Malfoy family. They had done everything they could to stay out of the war, never joining the Death Eaters, but never helping on the side of the Light either. They wanted nothing that could tie them to Voldemort's supporters, even after the war was long over.
Despite this, Draco and Astoria began a whirlwind romance fueled by their mutual desire to forget all of the horrors they had both witnessed in the war. Draco had never truly wanted to be a Death Eater so he wanted nothing more than to forget all about that part of his life. He had found soon after Voldemort was destroyed once and for all that many of his fellow Slytherins did not share similar sentiments. Many of them, his close friends included, spent far too much time, in Draco's opinion, reminiscing about the war and discussing ill-formed revenge plots. When Daphne brought Astoria with her one night to the pub, she was like a breath of fresh air. She and Draco had talked and joked all night about everything but the war. After that day, they had been inseparable.
A few months later, Astoria found out she was pregnant, and the Greengrass family, afraid of what others would think if she had a child out of wedlock, gave their blessing for the two to marry. Just days after the wedding, Astoria had a miscarriage, but by then the damage was done and the two were legally bound. The couple was happy for awhile and were ecstatic about the birth of their son. It was shortly after Scorpius's birth that things started to take a turn. Draco had made many investments after the war, mostly in various organizations doing work to help those who had lost so much during it. It was when he was checking on the progress of one of these investments when he met Michael Branson. He was a gorgeous man with striking green eyes with black square glasses and light brown hair that always looked slightly windblown. Draco had never considered that he might be attracted to men before, but within moments of meeting Michael, it became painfully obvious that he was indeed attracted to men. It took only a week before he gave into curiosity. The pair had been at a pub tossing back a couple pints while they discussed how best to use Draco's money, and then next thing Draco knew he was getting fucked into Michael's mattress wondering why he had never been with a man until this point.
He hadn't meant to cheat on his wife, but after that first time it had continued to happen over the course of the next several years. There had been Mark, an overall average looking man except for his bright, expressive green eyes. Next was Bryan, an attractive man with jet-black hair that looked particularly sexy after being disheveled during a long night of sex. There was David, a fit blond man that Draco had met while teaching Scorpius to fly and who had invited Draco to join in a seeker's match later that night. The man was an incredible flyer, and the game had ended winner taking all, including Draco back to his place. There was Aiden, a thoughtful man with round silver glasses and an infuriating need to be selfless. Lastly, there had been Harold, a gorgeous man of average build with dark brown hair and green eyes.
None of these men had lasted long, and it is not as if Draco was constantly having an affair. It apparently had happened often enough, however, that Astoria had taken notice, and Harold had been the last straw. She confronted him one day with pictures of every man that Draco had ever slept with. He had been stunned. He had no idea that she had ever suspected a thing. At the time, Astoria had been eerily calm about the situation: she simply laid the pictures on the table in front of him and stared at him impassively. Draco had tried to apologize and reassure her that it wouldn't happen again, but neither of them believed him. The only thing that Astoria had said to him that day was, "Divorce me quietly, give me everything I ask for, and I won't tell the Prophet that you're in love with Harry Potter." She had then stood up and left for her sister's.
At the time, Draco had been shocked and enraged into silence. He had had no idea what she was talking about. In the coming months, however, he obsessed about her comment and began to see that perhaps all of his lovers did have some resemblance to Potter in some way or another. That did not mean that he was in love with him. Or so Draco thought, but after his reaction today at King's Cross, he was a little shaken. He tried to tell himself that the flash of jealousy he'd felt, and certainly kept masked as a proper Malfoy should, was simply because he'd been alone for so long. It had nothing to do with Potter himself, right? Somehow, he couldn't even quite convince himself that this was true.
"Well fuck," he groaned aloud. He threw his now empty glass against the wall opposite him. With a wave his wand and a mumbled "Reparo" it was as good as new. It still had been somewhat satisfying to watch it shatter. He then poured himself another generous glass of firewhisky with every intent to get pissed and stop obsessing over the bloody Boy Who Lived Twice.