Harry Potter I Used to Be a Little Boy

_Disarm you with a smile...and cut you like you want me to...Cut that little child...Inside of me and such a part of you... Ooh, the years burn ...Ooh, the years burn..._

Silvery orb-like eyes scanned along the mirrored image of himself. He was no longer a boy... not in the sense of size and build, at least. Dragon Malfoy had grown much in the previous years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry... He had grown snider, more cruel the elder he got. Why? Because his father wanted him to be exactly like him. Exactly like him, you say? How can a boy be like the father that refuses to give any love to his own and only heir? Dragon often found himself wondering at times like this when he would just stare into his full-length mirror, admiring the spitting image he was of his father. He could not deny how... exact he was to the elder Malfoy. The Lucius Malfoy. 

_ I used to be a little boy... So old in my shoes... And what I choose is my choice... What's a boy supposed to do?... The killer in me is the killer in you..._

Slender, long fingers of ivory flesh ran over that tie he had worn the last six years, tying it as only one who had spent so long doing so could. Those fingers laced the emerald-and-grey striped tie slowly, sure to do exactly as his dear father had taught him in his youth. 

_...My love... I send this smile over to you..._

Did many children get a loving father who would laugh and make a game of that tie? The 'bunny song'... or even a little story to go along with the complicated folding and knotting? ... Did many children get a backhand across their young cheek at every small mistake that cost them the time to restart and do it perfect? Was their first witness of a tie being knotted when their mother would smile and warmly stand behind their husband in order to do it for them as they smiling lovingly back at her beautiful reflection? ... Was their first time when their father was panicked, though remaining publicly composed, about their Lord's downfall? Dragon often wondered to himself. 

_ Disarm you with a smile... and leave you like they left me here... To wither in denial... The bitterness of one who's left alone..._

Those icy orbs scanned the tall, slender reflection before him, admiring the man he was growing into with a cold, emotionless stare. He had ceased poking fun at all those passing him... How could he when his father was fucking that... that... Tears burned those ice-filled orbs, stinging them with the heat of unshed tears. Pressure was felt growing along his nasal passage due to the knot within his throat... 

_Ooh, the years burn... Ooh, the years burn... Burn... Burn...!_

That sleek tie fell along a nude, broad, yet slenderly sculpted chest, resting along it and only stirring when the breast rose then fell in idle breath. Dragon had that habit of putting his tie on before his button-down. Why? Because it was easier to watch the dark contrast against living skin... Perhaps the image was a substitute of his mother's warm hand? How many young men did that? Pictured their chest to be their father's--or even their own, for that matter--and their soft, agile hands were not a man's, but the woman who bore them into life in the world? Was Dragon the only one who wished his mother did that for him? That pathetically childish act of tying their sons' ties on their first day of school to show they were finally giving them up to the world at large.__

_I used to be a little boy... So old in my shoes..._

The boy ran his slender fingers along the ebony silk of his boxer's hem, almost admiring the soft texture below his sensitive digits, which drew the hem along his skin, pulling them slightly to rest as they should upon his boyish hips. The mirror caught his attention... The bitter, constant reminder of his father who had forsaken him for another. Tear away a mother that held no love for her son and replace him with another who tried so _Hard_ to love those around them. How could his father love another when he could not find it in himself to love his own heir? Fingers tensed and slowly pulled those loose leather trousers from the bed, unfolding them upon the first delicate grab. Dragon dressed cleanly, as always. 

_...And what I choose is my voice..._

The boy pulled the white button-down over his slim, cut chest as he glared to his reflection as if just now seeing who he looked so much like... He glowered into the icy silver eyes of his father. What could he do, really? School would be letting out of his sixth year soon and what would he go home to? A loveless father who spent his time with his Pure-Blooded lover. All summer? Dragon felt those thin, colourless lips draw back in a grimace of disgust at the sheer thought of being ignored more than normal so he could peek into his father's room to request something... What would he see?   
  
_What's a boy supposed to do?_

Instead of seeing his mother sprawled lazily in the moonlight with his father resting coldly at her side, Dragon would see the back of a new lover as it pleasured his father in ways his mother could not. While his mother's kisses were empty and cold, the new lover brought an odd flame to his father. Their kisses--which Dragon was sure he should not have sneer--were alive with flame and passion; Dragon was disgusted with his Father as well as himself for finding the lingering envy for that passion and lust. 

_The killer in me is the killer in you..._

That dark tie was tucked into the button-down and Dragon found himself pulling the dark grey, green-lined vest over his head only after tucking the button-down cleanly into his leather trousers. The more the door dressed, the more he refused to look down at himself, but rather... He gazed into those icy eyes which glared right back at him from the reflection and naturally did he pull the tie from his button-down to tuck it neatly into his vest, though revealing only the perfected knot. He looked just like his father. 

_My love... I send this smile over to you..._

Just like his father? Dragon pulled his expensive raven-coloured robes over his shoulders before his fingers worked the clasps. The rain still pummeling the window outside, matching his stormy silver orbs. Finally, after raking his hands through his blonde-silver hair, pushing the silken tresses into their neat place, the boy stood back, gazing to that reflection for a final time. No sound was spoken to the vision before him, nor did any rude gesture play from his fingers. He was no longer that little boy... He was Master Dragon Malfoy... He Was Lord Lucius' only heir and son... 

_The killer in me is the killer in you... Send this smile over to you..._   
_The killer in me is the killer in you... Send this smile over to you..._   
_The killer in me is the killer in you... Send this smile over to you..._   
  


_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter... the Malfoy Family nor did I get any money for this... Dragon is Draco... I just like it better that way. Hm. Can you guess who Lucius' Lover is?_   
  
  



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Harry Potter, Angst