A tale of a little boy who was different in a very special way

Ever since he was two, Draco had known he was different from the other boys.

Vince and Gregory liked to play with trucks. Draco liked to play with Mummy's lipstick.

Vince and Gregory liked to zoom around in their father's study. Draco liked to zoom around in Mummy's wardrobe.

Vince and Gregory wore pants. Draco didn't like pants. If he could, he would wear Mummy's skirt and heels wherever he went.

His Father had thought it was a phase. That as he grew older he would soon be bored of the silly unmasculine things he did and take to running around in the yard getting dirt on his face.

Draco hated dirt. He liked the cleaniness of the indoors. Playing tea in the parlour did not require getting yuck beneath his fingernails.

Perhaps the only toy that Draco liked and other little boys liked as well was his broom. Draco liked to put it between his legs and go soaring in the sky and feel the thick of the wood rubbing him.

So Father encouraged flying. Father liked it best when Draco was outside doing the things little boys should do. But Mummy liked it best when she had Draco nearby and she could braid and tousle his hair.

Father and Mummy expected different things from Draco. Father wanted Draco to grow up to be his handsome heir and bring great glory to the family. Great things were to be expected. No little boy ever accomplished great deeds smearing lipstick all over his face.

Mummy just wanted her little boy to be happy.

And so Draco was happy.

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By the time he was eleven, others began to notice this difference.

Vince and Gregory never made their beds in the morning. Draco could bounce a sickle off his own bed.

Vince and Gregory had sloppy handwriting and did not mind tea or ink blots on their parchment. Draco had tiny printing and would not hestitate to rewrite a five foot essay if he had accidently spilled something onto it.

Vince and Gregory did not care about their hair or their clothes. Draco spent at least an hour in front of the mirror every morning.

He was different from his friends and now they were beginning to notice and wonder why Draco was quieter, politer, and neater than they were. At first, they thought that it was because Draco was better than them and that he had been better brought up. After all, Draco was a Malfoy. And that explained it all.

Until one day somebody noticed that Draco never showered with them. The other boy would always wait until everybody was done showering for the night or hurry to get their himself so he could leave before they ever arrived.

Vince had thought it was modesty, because it was the polite thing to do. Greg thought Draco had snickered that perhaps Draco wasn't as perfect as they all imagined and was deficient in certain areas.

They all had a good laugh and poke at Draco for that one. Draco had blushed and lowered his head with his hands clasped tight in his lap.

After that, he showered everyday with the others. Father had said it was no good to be different. He was to do what was expected of him and what was expected was Father's expectations.

Mummy liked to tell him he was unique and special. However, Mummy never smacked.

When Draco showered with the others, he turned his back to the others to face the wall.

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At fourteen, the difference between Draco and the others grew more and more noticeable. And then he thinks that perhaps there is something wrong with him.

Vince and Gregory were fascinated by girls. Draco never understood why.

Vince and Gregory liked to talk about girls and talk about which girl was the prettiest. Draco did not like to talk about girls nor did he like to listen.

Vince and Gregory sometimes would ask Draco what he thought about Pansy. Draco didn't think about Pansy.

He wondered why boys liked girls so much. He wondered if this is because they had larger chests and nothing between their legs. It was only a mere basis of different physiology, and he did not see where the curiosity lay.

He watched with an amused detachment as Vince and Gregory sulked and pouted over girls and poked each other's eyes out trying to find a girlfriend.

What was a girlfriend anyway?

He considered Pansy to be his girlfriend. After all, she was a girl and she was his friend.

Father told him it was the expected thing to do if he asked his girlfriend to the Yule Ball. So, he asked Pansy. And she had said yes.

At the ball, he watched the other boys hold their partner's close and whisper in their ear. He tried to hold Pansy close, but he preferred to actually dance. Rhythm was intoxicating. Pansy herself was not.

By the end of the night, most couples were snogging somewhere in a dark corner. Pansy puckered up her lips and Draco felt nauseous.

He stepped away and offered her a cup of fruit punch. She had quivered her bottom lip.

Draco threw up on her dress.

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When he became the ripe age of sixteen, Draco knew there was something wrong with him.

Vince and Gregory spent Friday nights leering over glossy photo spreads from Wickedly Witchy. Draco spent Friday nights filing his nails or going out to fly.

Vince and Gregory had discovered sex and decided that it was one of those things in which the discovering part never quite got boring. Draco had a vague idea of what sex was and anything that would get his sheets sticky and his skin sweaty was not anything he wanted to participate in.

Vince and Gregory liked to relive their encounters through wild tales. Draco told them to shut up.

They asked him if he's ever had sex. He wrinkled his nose.

And then Vince asked if he's ever even so much as liked a girl. And Draco wrinkled his nose again.

Gregory teased Draco about being a pouf. And Draco had laughed, but did not understand this either.

Sometimes, they would make fun of him for not having a sex drive or getting what they called uppers. They offered him something called Viagra, but Draco refused to take this medication.

The problem was not that he was not able to get "it" up. The problem was that the reasons why it was going up were unfathomable.

He would get erections in the quidditch locker rooms when he watched Marc Flint change, in the Potions classroom as he watched Snape mix ingredients, and most of all in the Great Hall and corridors and whenever Harry Potter was around.

The blood would pool to his groin and he would feel light headed. And right then, he began to understand what Vince and Gregory were talking about.

He was fascinated and he wanted to talk about it and ask what sort of boy was the prettiest and yes indeed Harry Potter was.

Flint had caught him staring once.

"Sodding queer," he smirked.

And Draco paled.

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Draco feels as if there is no one else in the world like him. This is not what Father expects and not even what Mummy might expect for he is not happy. Now, when Draco understands, he almost wishes that he does not know.

Oh look at the prissy boy. The nancy boy.

See his clothes? See his hair? See how pretty he is?

There he goes. There goes the pretty little nancy boy.

I'll bet he's one of those shirtlifters.

Draco walks with his head down averting people's eyes. He can't stand the attention. The more stares and the more giggles, and the more he feels utterly alone.

Kicking the floor, wishing he were not the only gay boy in the school. Ladies, meet your new best friend. Gentlemen, keep your arse against the wall when the fag walks by.

It is the type of loneliness that eats him from the inside and out. He needs understanding, compassion, and someone to look at him beyond the name and the labels.

There is something beyond friendship that every little boy yearns for, something beyond sex.

Mummy would expect this of him. She would expect him to be happy.

He is failing both Father and Mummy. There will be no heirs and no happiness.

There is no love.

Draco hangs by just a thread. In a world with no hugs, no kisses, no love, no compassion, and no understanding he flounders.

Come quick and snip the thread.

Another taunt, another tease and Draco slips and falls.

He does not expect Harry Potter to be there to catch him.

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Draco is eighteen. Matured, he knows he is not alone and that he never has been. He also knows that the understanding does not come from others but within yourself. Now, he only wishes he had only begun to understand sooner.

Mummy had expected this. She had expected her little boy to grow up happy, no matter how he happened to grow up. He smiles cheerily at her from the photo and she smiles back.

Father had not expected this. For him there really was no heir, only disappoint for him. He didn't see the real glory behind it all or the miracle.

He did not see the love.

Harry holds Draco close as they dance in the living room of Harry's flat. He whispers sweet nothings in Draco's ear. And when he puckers his lips, Draco kisses them, sweet and cool and soft.

And he feels dizzy and excited all at once.

Draco discovers sex with Harry. He does not mind when the sheets get sticky and when his skin gets sweaty. Besides, together they would shower afterwards and Draco would face Harry and not the wall.

He is fascinated with Harry's mind and Harry's body and everything about Harry. He likes to tell Harry how pretty he is everyday.

I love you Harry says. And Draco tells him he loves him back.

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Draco Malfoy is different than all the other boys.

He is different, because he understands the capacity of love.

Different, because the most beautiful boy in the world loves him.

Different most of all, because he understands himself and that he has always been right all along.

It's those other little boys that were wrong.

Filling in their roles with their trucks and their girls and that dirty sex.

They never took the time to try and find love and to be different themselves.

Different, so that their prince or princess can take them away.

Draco Malfoy is different.

And he understands why, and he accepts it.

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Don't be afraid to fall. I'll catch you in the end.

Oh look at those pretty boys. Those silly boys.

See how they're holding hands? See how they're smiling? See how happy they are?

There they go. There go those silly pretty happy boys holding hands.

I'll bet they're in love.

Fin.