TRIGGER WARNING: ABUSE
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Draco's POV

The Slytherin Prince slid into platform 9 and 3/4 wordlessly, unnoticed by anyone. He'd become adept at keeping to the shadows, but that did not mean he was proud of it. His suitcase was clutched tightly in his left hand, knuckles white with fear.

He looked about himself as if he was expecting to be attacked at any moment, as if he was ready to accept this possible attack without protest. Those who knew him would have said he looked...different. He had been careful to ensure his clothes were pristine, immaculate, hair gelled back as usual. A Malfoy must always look his best, after all.

Inside, behind his cool exterior?

Draco was broken beyond repair, his spirit snapped and obliterated by the last few years of his pathetic excuse for a life. He had no fight left. Those who had known him would have noticed subtle changes in the blonde. But, pretty much everyone who had known him was dead, or worse, in Azkaban. All except from Pansy and Blaise, both of whom had, like him, survived through some miracle or another.

The difference was in the jittering of his hands, the rabbit-in-the-headlights look to his eyes, the paper thin complexion of his skin. Draco had noticed these changes, but he doubted others would. No one had really cared about him since he had failed his Task. That summer hadn't been uplifting either, oh no, why would it have been? It wasn't like he deserved any happiness after what he'd done.

Draco's summer had been far from pleasant, but then again, 'pleasant' was something his life hadn't been in years.

It had all been a nightmare since the war, each day more torturous than the last. After the war, he'd been pulled away by Lucius. A man he now refused to think of as his father. He had looked up to the older man once, a time when he thought everything Lucius did was brilliant, each word he spoke a sheer blessing, like the treasured speech of some beloved deity. That was, until he'd realised that it was all a lot darker than it seemed.

Draco had come out to his father - no, Lucius - as gay long ago, years ago, and had never had a proper conversation with either him or his mother since. At the time, he'd believed they'd accept him for who he was, even if it did contradict their strict Pureblood beliefs. He'd been so sure that his parents would accept him, that Draco hadn't even been nervous about telling them. He knew that they loved him more than anything, and was almost certain that this new development wouldn't change their minds towards him in the slightest.

Merlin, how wrong he'd been.

If he'd known what would happen next, he would never had considered opening his mouth.

It was the summer before sixth year, when Dumbledore was still alive. The Malfoys had been at dinner, silent as usual in an empty house for the first time in a very long while. Draco had been toying with the idea of telling his parents about his newly discovered sexuality for months. He'd only come to terms with it earlier on in the year. It even excited him slightly.

The only problem was, he didn't really know how they would take it. Obviously, since he was their son, nothing too bad would happen, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

How could he possibly have been so wrong?

Draco had planned it, knew what he would say and how he would say it. Needless to say, his plan was completely abandoned and thrown out the window along with all his other preparations. Instead, he blurted out over the silence;

"Father, mother, I have something to tell you. I-I'm gay"

He'd said it so fast, he'd tripped over the words. Malfoys don't stutter, Malfoys think before they speak, Malfoys plan what they're going to say before they say it and stick to the plan. It felt good to finally get the words out though, words that had toiled inside him like a waiting storm for as long as he could remember. For the first few seconds, he felt feather light.

Then, Lucius's fork dropped with a thunderous clang, and with it, so did Draco's hope.

The noise reverberated through the dining hall, straight through Draco as the hesitant smile slid from his face. There was silence. A rising tide of fury boiling from where his father sat. His mother had simply frozen, her lip curled slightly in a mixture of surprise and disgust. She had always been gifted at hiding her feelings, more so than Lucius had ever been.

No words were spoken, there was no movement. The younger Malfoy fought to keep his hands from fidgeting as he tried with all of his strength not to run from the room right then.

"You are what?"

The words were cool, forcefully calm, hiding the eruption of anger dancing just beneath the surface of Lucius' porcelain skin. The question was rhetorical of course. Draco knew enough not to answer - Lucius had heard him perfectly well. The silence of a few seconds before had been words enough.

Then, the pain hit.

Nothing had been said, though he could have sworn he'd seen his father's lips move ever so subtly, his wand hand flicking oh so imperceivably under the table.

"Crucio."

Pain flared through Draco, as if he was being set alight, his skin burning in front of his eyes. Everywhere seared across his body with white hot agony that made his limbs feel leaden, made him drop from the chair, fall to the floor with a thud. 

The edges of his vision turned black, and his entire body convulsed with the pain of the curse. 

It seemed endless. 

He lay there for what felt like hours, screaming until his throat felt raw, tears streaming from his eyes. Burning from within, lashed with a thousand whips at once.

Then, he was unconscious; pure, blissful, painless nothingness. An escape from the burning that was his world, escape from the family he could no longer face.

 'Hopefully,' he'd thought to himself, 'I'll die here. Maybe now my luck will turn.'

This didn't seem to be the case however, as Draco awoke an unknown time later in the same position, on the floor. Any other time if he had collapsed, his parents would have taken him to his room, he would awaken with their concerned faces floating above him.

Not anymore, not this time, and never again.

He could hear the far off voices of his parents, could see the moonlight drifting across the table, telling him it had been a few hours at the most that he'd lain there. It had felt like so much longer.

He managed to sit up, crying out in a cracked, harsh voice that was not his own as soon as he made that slight movement. His skin felt as if it was crawling, boiling all over with throbbing pain. The Mark on his arm bubbled, almost as if it was enjoying his pain, savouring it.

He grimaced when he eventually did manage to sit up, wincing as his joints groaned in protest. His head pounded as he stood shakily, stumbling backwards a few steps before shuddering upright.

Since then, he had not spoken to either of his parents, and they had made no attempt to speak with him. All they had exchanged with him were a few glares that would have killed their son on the spot had it been possible.

Now, Draco stepped stealthily onto the train. He threw his suitcase under the seat of the nearest compartment and moved away to get changed into his robes early, away from possibly prying eyes.

The only reason he, Draco Lucius Malfoy, had even bothered to return was because he had received a specially hand written letter telling him that it would be much appreciated if he came back for a final eighth year in order to make up for the one he'd lost to the war. Really, he hadn't needed much convincing. His home life wasn't exactly great right now, and, he supposed, it would never be the same again.

With Lucius in Azkaban and his mother refusing to send even a single glance in her son's direction, Draco figured it was better to return to Hogwarts and face the countless insults that would be thrown at him from the other students than to stay at home in solitude and silence.

Draco brooded over this as he swept back towards his chosen compartment, lost in his thoughts. He walked straight past it at first he was so deep in his own mind. He backtracked a little as soon as he realised it was behind him and could only just mask his horror as he saw The Golden Trio inside.

'Oh. Oh shit.'

His thoughts evaporated suddenly as the green eyed boy he'd watched almost obsessively over the past eight years laughed, light glinting over the emerald green pools of his eyes. Such stunning eyes. The ruffled bird's nest that was Potter's hair looked as adorable as ever as he threw his head back in laughter.

Wait. What?

Draco blanched suddenly. He'd thought he was over that stupid crush. He could not be gay for Potter, no matter what the evidence told him. And above all else, he could NOT, under any circumstances, let Potter know how he felt.

Draco did what a Malfoy does best. He swallowed his conflicting feelings and pulled the compartment door open in a wild flurry. He almost lost his nerve as three sets of piercing eyes shot in his direction.

Almost. Malfoys never back down.

Instead, he barked some sharp comment and sat down, not even paying attention to whatever the Weasel's reply was. He was too focused on keeping his gaze away from Harry's. He didn't want to speak of what had happened at the battle. He couldn't conjure a single logical explanation for his actions, other than that, at the time, the only reason he had done it was because it had felt right.

As if Potter would understand that.

Draco directed his silver eyed glare out into the corridor, sifting through his thoughts in an attempt to group them into appropriate packages he could actually deal with. Draco could feel eyes on him, just one pair. 

Harry's eyes. 

He tensed without really acknowledging it.

Just the thought of Harry sent his mind into turmoil, turned his thoughts to mush. It was outrageous. No one should be able to have such an effect on him. No one deserved that kind of power. It took every shred of Draco's collective willpower to turn his glare to Potter, to reel in his emotions and face what was before him, stony faced.

"What do you want, Potter?" He tried his best to keep his voice malicious, as much as it pained him to do so. The Slytherin Prince's self control withered as he stared into those twin meadows.

Oh, how easy it would be to lose himself within their depths.

Then came the words, those words he'd longed to hear since first year from the boy he'd adored for as long as he could recall. The Golden Boy wanted to put the past behind them. He wanted a fresh start. 

'Potter, don't you know how much I've wanted this?'' Draco yearned to scream at that stupid sod. He wanted so badly to nod, to agree, to express his intense desire to start afresh.

But he couldn't.

No matter what, he couldn't subject the blundering idiot to the endless insults they would receive. Even a simple friendship could endanger them all. He wouldn't do that to Potter.

 As well as this, despite everything, his loyalties still lay with the Malfoys. He couldn't disgrace his family like this, he'd done it enough already. Being homosexual was one thing, but becoming affiliated with The Boy Who Lived? That was treason.

'Keep up the mask. Don't let it slip. Don't let him see beneath it.'

 Draco fought a small internal battle to keep himself expressionless, although he could tell he hadn't been entirely successful as Potter's eyes clouded with concern. "As if, Potter. That can't happen." he sneered, internally screaming at himself, hating himself more than ever as stupid, beautiful, loyal Potter's face contorted into an expression of deep hurt and sadness.

Draco turned away. Wishing right there and then he would die, would just spontaneously combust on the spot. Anything to stop the guilt that now wracked him. He had caused that look of hurt, of sadness. All because of this fucking thing on his arm; his Merlin-awful parents, his pathetic excuse of a family; and him, a pathetic excuse for a Malfoy.

He sank against the glass of the compartment door, pressing himself as far away from Potter as he possibly could, fighting to keep the tears of despair in his eyes.

Malfoys don't cry.

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Hi guys! How's this chapter? I'm not quite sure where this story is going yet, but hopefully you're enjoying it so far! Please leave your thoughts in the comments and I'll try to get back to them all.

I really should be payed for this - BasicAFUsername  (the most amazing editor ever)