Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy was gay. Very, very gay. He had known his whole life—or, at least, ever since he had known what lust and crushes were. It didn’t particularly bother anyone; wizards are more lenient about that sort of thing than Muggles are. In fact, it made everything easier. As a pureblood, especially as a Malfoy, and the last Malfoy at that, it was his duty to carry on the family line and have a pureblooded heir. No one cared what he did on the side, as long as he had a son with his pureblood wife.
Being as rich as he was, the young Draco Malfoy was a treasured prize. His mother, Narcissa, loved him enough that she wanted to offer him the choice of wife. But when he was 13 years old, the traditional age of a betrothal contract, he defiantly told her that all the girls at Hogwarts were beneath him. He would marry any of the Slytherins, he supposed, whatever would please his parents.
In truth, he would have preferred Pansy Parkinson. At least she was his friend. But more than anything else he desperately wanted to please his unpleasable father. And so his father made a very advantageous match with the younger Greengrass girl, and that was the end of that.
He had plenty of boyfriends along the way. Most were Slytherins, but a few were Ravenclaws. Ravenclaws, Draco firmly believed, were the least inferior of the other houses. They weren’t simpering, emotional Hufflepuffs or idiot, Potterish Gryffindors. (He always thought of Potter when he thought of Gryffindor. Or when he thought of pretty much anything else, for that matter. Oh, how Potter irked him.)
His last boyfriend was Marcus Belby, a Ravenclaw a year above him. That was fifth year. Marcus was a darling, but so many of his friends were fond of that ridiculous Harry Potter and his stupid secret club. No one would ever invite Draco to something like that. Marcus broke with him after he decided to help Professor Umbridge. They saw each other briefly for the last time the next year, when Draco was caught “sneaking in” to the Slug Club. Another club he wasn’t invited to.
Sixth year he was too busy for romance, between his mission for the Dark Lord and the extent he had to go to to avoid Harry Potter. Seventh year, dating was absolutely out of the question. No use getting attached to someone at that point. Instead, he made an effort to get to know Astoria. She was pretty enough, for a girl. Never stopped talking, but she was easy to ignore. Their marriage would probably be awful, Draco decided, but he could live with it.
And then the Dark Lord fell. And everything changed. Harry freaking Potter saved his life. Purebloods, instead of being the prize of Great Britain wizardry, were hated. The Greengrasses quickly broke the betrothal in an attempt to separate themselves from the Death Eaters.
For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy had no idea what the future held in store.