AO3: Androids_in_Metropolis
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Some boys grow up with nothing. Some have everything thrown at them. Some are just born with everything-Some don't even know it.
Draco Malfoy was part of the latter group; The group born with everything, to be clear, and he was very, very aware of the fact that he had everything. At first it made him blush, the thought that he had so much but he hadn't had to work for it, not had his father. He was aware of his privilege from a very young age, even going so far as to ask his father about the fact that their were thousands upon thousands of people less fortunate than they were (as his father made it a point to mention the fact as often as possible); That night was the night he felt the true fury of his father's temper.
'Take what you have been given, and don't mind those who don't have what you have.'
After that night the young Malfoy tried not to think about the difference in status between himself and many other wizards, and muggles alike. He quickly learnt his father's opinions on muggles and mudbloods (a word Draco found hard to say. It felt dirty in his mouth); He was better than them. Every time he chanted those words to himself he shook inside, not believing either himself or his father, sitting beside him and stroking his forehead.
"My Son is better than those filthy, disgusting mudbloods. Filthy, disgusting...non-magic people; The revolting squibs of the world!" Lucius purred, petting back his son's strikingly blond hair, extenuating his widows peak. Draco would shy away from the man, only he knew the sharp slap of his father's hand against his cheek at his insubordination. Draco didn't dare to state his own, small opinion. Didn't dare to shy away from the older man's grip.
The young boy was relieved when his letter came; Signed from the headmaster, and delivered via the usual owl. His father's approving gaze brought a flush to his pale cheeks; He was always trying to win his father's opinion despite how wrong it felt.
Draco saw Hogwarts as an escape; An escape from status, and an escape from the rigid social norms of the upper class, pure blood wizarding world he had been born into. He was only 11, but already acutely aware of socio economic status and race wars. He was already stuck in between a fight he hadn't asked for; His father, and his rich cronies and the rest of the magic and non-magic world.
The air aboard the stuffy Hogwarts train seemed to Draco to be the freshest air he'd ever breathed. It was a new beginning; Freedom, individuality, and equality. It was only a vague idea in the back of his young mind, but it was there...slowly growing into something greater...something more rebellious than simply breathing new air.
Draco was shocked and disappointed to find out that there was already a role set out for him at Hogwarts; Slytherin, his Father's friends sons' as his own friends, and a whole set of new norms to conform to. A whole new world of pain.
His new 'friends' were automatic; Assuming they would be together just based on last time. His new friends and head of house were exactly like his father, though if possible, their conviction was even stronger than his own father's.
The brief feeling of freedom he had felt upon boarding the Hogwarts Express was squelched inside him when his hand offered in friendship to one less fortunate than himself (none other than the boy who lived, and one of the younger Weasley boys) was turned down in poor taste and haste.
The night turned into the blond's safe place; A place to hide away from all the expectations thrust upon him by by his house mates and family, and all three of the other houses. He would sneak through the near deserted halls, avoiding Mrs. Norris and her small man, Filch, and heading towards the abandoned Girl's bathroom on the first floor where his only companion was Moaning Myrtle (the ghost of the girl who fell victim to the basilic all those years ago).
Once in the safe heaven of leaky sinks and clogged toilets he would let himself laugh; Laugh at anything and everything. Laugh at himself and his father. Laugh at the moon and the stars and their children the muggles. Laugh at Merlin and the misfortune of his pants in the wizarding world. Laugh for his friends and his enemies alike.
Sadly, as his years at Hogwarts dragged on and friendly rivalries were pushed to the true edge and into actual hatred not by Draco or the rivals (the main one being the boy who had turned him down on the first train, the one and only Harry Potter) but instead pushed to the bad place by their so called friends. The girls loo was no longer the safe heaven it had been in years one and two. By then, other students had turned it into their safe place while Draco was forced to find a new place to place his aching heart.
The room of requirements was now his home away from home; His latest and most common requirement these days was a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen, but sadly, the room had nothing to offer. He was so, so afraid. He was so, so alone.
Talking to his father was off the table; He never listened. He never cared like Draco needed him to care. He was letting himself go now; Doing everything he could think of to disobey his norms, the ideals imposed upon him by an outside force. He didn't think about it-He was sure all his feelings were a beast like reaction. His feelings for a certain precious wizard...they weren't real, he told himself. He was just rebelling; His father would surely not approve. His father would also not approve of the muggle magazines he read in private; The muggle death sticks he smoked, or the muggle cherry flavoured lipstick he let himself wear when he was in his element in the room of requirements.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, looking at himself in a cracked mirror. His own reflection stared back at him; The familiar face was his. The thin, crooked smile. The pale white skin. The pale white hair. The widow's peak that had been his since birth. The smokey eyes. The red lips. The flushed cheeks. The tears running down his cheeks...all so familiar yet so foreign. Nothing felt like it was his anymore; Not even the things he had had since birth.
His father wouldn't approve.
Meals were beginning to drag on and on in the great hall, and Draco was becoming more and more irritable as it got harder and harder to ignore than achingly empty feeling that had rooted itself in his chest and was now beginning to pollute his whole being with the same sense of longing for the things he knew he couldn't have. The feeling of freeness that he had felt for the briefest of moments years ago, yet the taste of clean air still lingered on his dry tongue.
Harry Potter was part of the reason for the acrid taste in the back of his throat and the feeling of constantly longing for a fruit just out of reach. The beautiful, dark haired, crazy eyed quidditch player was one of the reasons Draco could slowly feel himself slipping away as he lost his mind in the whirlwind of expectation. He had fallen for him; After all, wasn't he everything his father despised and he loved so desperately? He was free. He was muggle raised, mudblood born (the word choked him, even in thought, brinig sickly bile to his throat). He was beautiful in a delicate, feminine way at times. He played so far...never breaking stride...and he absolutely hated Draco Malfoy.
Another reason for his slow descent into insanity was Pansy Parkinson. She knew what was going on; Constantly dropping hints as to the nature of Draco's long absences from the Slytherin common room, and landing tidbits on his personal affairs. She threw herself at him, almost as if she was trying to make him buckle underneath her, his true feelings coming to light. He almost wished she would tell everyone everything (and he was almost sure she new everything) so that he could have it over with and stop trying to live up to standards he didn't believe in.
Tables were turning...he was losing his mind to the point that he was devising a plan to free himself...an epic plan, involving his whole house and maybe the whole wizarding world. This subject that hurt him so was so taboo in the wizarding world. There was such ancient norms...Draco was aching to break them.
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He came out in front of the whole quidditch team. He had a lit cigarette between his shaking fingers-To steady his nerves-and his wand to his throat as he spoke his message to a group of surely laughing Slytherin and Gryffindor players. It was right before a huge game...the whole stadium was packed. A few parents had even come in to see the end of season game; The big finishing match between rival teams. Lucius and Narcissa were in the audience. Draco knew that; He had known that that morning as he dumped an intoxicating potion into his pumpkin juice at breakfast, purposefully impairing his judgment and pushing away his fear.
"Why are you standing here?" he shouted, looking around him at his teammates and rivals alike. "Why are you standing here? Side by side? Learning...learning what? Learning how to look alike? Speak alike? You're going to lose everything of yourself...you're going to become the person beside you!" He could feel himself choking up-His nerve wavering.
"What are you waiting for? Why's it always got to be the same?" he asks, tears welling up in his eyes. His shoulders were shaking, hunching forward, rolling in on himself. He was so, so lost...he was so, so alone. He was crying in earnest now; He wondered if anyone would come forward to comfort him...if a teacher would interrupt. He knew the whole stadium had heard his undoing-He knew that his parents had heard.
"Why can't we just choose our own way...why...why can't we all be on the same level? Why's someone always gotta be better? Why can't I just be me..." he was sobbing now, his wand fell away from his throat. His voice was quiet now. He was looking at his feet.
"Yeah, sure, Malfoy!" Began the shots. People were confused. Pansy was cackling...she had seen this coming. Little Malfoy too-good-to-go-out-with-me had finally lost it. She was laughing until she cried. She snuck a look over at the two elder Malfoys'; They look horrified. Lucius had the look on his face that said that 'you are no longer my son'. Narcissa looked confused and shattered...she had worked so hard to keep Draco happy with their lifestyle, with their need to be the top.
Snape quickly gathered his robes around his, rushing towards his student. He had seen a break coming like this for a very long time. He hadn't foreseen that it would be this messy-This public-this shattering for the boy. He wanted to gather him into his arms...make him feel better. Give him a draft of something strong. By the time he reached him, however (Mcgonigal tight on his heels), there was already another wrapping him in his arms, pulling him close.
Harry hugged Draco to him, unsure of why he was doing it. Something about the drama...something about what Draco had said struck home. He knew Slytherin was oppressive. He knew it was far more normative than his own house, yet, even he knew what it felt like...He had told certain, close people. The Weasleys', Hermione, Luna...the people he trusted not to care. Not to hurt him. Who did Draco have?
"It's okay, Malfoy. It's alright...it's alright."
Harry thought there was something unbelievably beautiful about how sad Draco was...about Draco himself. He was beautiful, Harry realised. At that moment he felt Draco's full weight drop onto him-The blond had fainted.
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The Room of Requirements turned into something new now...A makeup parlor sometimes. Sometimes a bedroom. Sometimes a little kitchen complete with food and cutting utensils and boards and heat. Harry and Draco learnt to retreat there sometimes-They were sitting on the bed when the Howler from the elder Malfoy's arrived. He was forbid from returning to the mansion for any reason. They would pay for his schooling and anything he needed but after that he was out.
It was written in Narcissa's curling hand. Draco knew his father probably would have kicked him out sight unseen-Mr. Malfoy didn't like anything that didn't fall perfectly into it's space in his puzzle.
Harry was beside him as it shouted at him; He was holding him closely, whispering how he would be okay. They had never talked about it...never talked about the first time they met or Harry's actions on the quidditch field. They had just fallen into place-Draco spending more and more time with Harry and Harry letting him get closer.
Now he would sometimes sit at the Gryffindor table, in between Harry and Ron or Harry and Hermione...and once when Harry was out with his team during a meal he sat between the two. He was making real friends...he was talking to people.
Snape watched him from the teacher's table at the head of the room. Draco was growing up...Draco was doing well. He was okay-He was going to be okay. The thought let Snape rest easy. The youngest Malfoy had always been a favourite of his...a little child close to his heart. He had known him since birth, even as he slowly grew away from the two elder Malfoys he was growing closer to the younger. Now, as the Godfather, he was the guardian of the estranged boy.
Draco let himself become himself after his breakdown on the field; Sometimes he would slip up, fall back, become scared again...hide in a massive bed in a room which catered to all his needs. Now Harry knew where to find him; He would let himself into the room, finding Draco, because what he required was the blond and what the blond required was Harry.
Things were blissfully sad or blissfully happy, but now, nothing was ever empty. The air was fresh again for Draco Malfoy; Every breath filled with new glory.
His gray eyes fell on his lover's green ones; They were too far gone.