Chapter Text
Draco sat at the dining table in his home. All around him, portraits of relatives looked down, scowling. Draco had a bad feeling that they knew what he was about to do. Soon, his mother sat down, closely followed by his father. Lucius had not eaten with them most of the time Draco had been there, but tonight seemed to be different. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat, cueing the arrival of their dinner, which appeared on large silver plates in the middle of the table. Lucius served himself first, and only when he was done could Draco and Narcissa get their food. They ate in silence for a moment before Draco cleared his throat. Lucius looked up impatiently.
“Mother,” Draco glanced at Narcissa, who was eyeing him suspiciously, “Father, I have something to tell you.”
Lucius simply glared, showing no signs of interest, but it was better than objection. Draco took a deep breath. “I have a boyfriend,” he said, using every ounce of confidence he could muster. A flash of—what was that? Annoyance? —flitted across his father’s face.
“I see.” Lucius said, his lips drawn into a thin line. Narcissa remained expressionless, simply watching the interaction carefully.
“Well, Draco, I must admit I had hoped you would outgrow this sort of-” he glanced at Narcissa, “-attraction…but I suppose there is nothing I can do now.” he said reluctantly, clearly holding back many more opinions on Draco’s sexuality. Draco knew the hardest part was yet to come, but from his father, this was acceptance. He wanted desperately to leave it there; to know his father accepted that he was gay, but he had promised Harry. He couldn’t bear to hide the boy he loved from his family. Narcissa spoke quietly.
“Who is it, Draco?” she asked. Lucius seemed intrigued as well.
“A nice Slytherin lad, yeah? Quidditch player…pureblood…right, Draco?” Lucius seemed so sure that it nearly broke Draco’s heart to deny it.
“He does play Quidditch, Father.” Draco said sheepishly. Lucius was far too cunning to miss Draco’s avoidance of the other factors. Narcissa’s eyes focused on Draco, encouraging him.
“Father… I love him. That’s all you need to know, really. He takes care of me.”
Lucius’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Who- is- it, Draco?” Lucius bit the words out one at a time. Draco hung his head. There was no point in trying to convince his father of Harry’s worth. This fight was over before it started.
“Harry Potter.”
Silence stretched across the table.
Draco opened his eyes to find his father staring at him.
“What about him?” Lucius asked. Narcissa sucked in a frightened breath, glancing at Draco with concern.
“He’s my boyfriend, Father. Harry Potter is my boyfriend.” Draco looked up, his eyes wide and glossy.
Lucius stood up from the table. He stared at Draco, his eyes void of emotion or reason.
“Is this family-” he gestured to Malfoy Manor, and all the portraits surrounding them, “-a joke to you, Draco?”
Draco whimpered, which infuriated his father even more.
“I thought you were a Malfoy. I have put up with this nonsense of liking boys-”
“Now, Lucius-” Narcissa tried, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. He continued as Draco shrank under his gaze.
“I have sent you back to Hogwarts every year, as you begged of me. I have protected you from the Dark Lord; telling him you were ill, and could not handle the burden of The Mark. Perhaps you are ill, Draco, because no son of mine would associate himself with someone like Potter.” Draco stilled as he waited for an eruption. He waited for the insults and the assumptions, but Lucius was silent. He looked up at Draco, his eyes cold and unforgiving. Draco was scared; it wasn't like his father to hold back.
“You are not welcome here, Draco."
The words sliced through the tension like a knife.
Lucius banged his cane on the ground and stormed into his study, slamming the wooden doors behind him.
Draco crumpled on the floor. He stared after his father, waiting for him to turn around; waiting for him to take it back. The study doors did not reopen. Never, never, had his father kicked him out. They had fought, sure, but never about something so real. Narcissa helped Draco to his room.
“There you go, dear, there you go.” She gave him a cup of water and propped his head up like she had done when he was a child. Draco’s mind was moving too fast for his emotions to catch up. His mother put her hand on the side of his face and whispered, “It’s alright, Draco. He’ll come around, just wait in here. I’ll talk to him.” Draco heard the soft click of his lock as she closed the door.