Tolerate It
Draco-Tolerate It
I wait by the door like I'm just a kid
Use my best colors for your portrait
Lay the table with the fancy shit
And watch you tolerate it
If it's all in my head tell me now
Tell me I've got it wrong somehow
I know my love should be celebrated
But you tolerate it
8th year
Hogwarts 1999
It had taken a third of a bottle of (smuggled) firewhiskey that he’d bought off a seventh year Ravenclaw and about three hours of garnering courage, but he’d done it. Draco had reached out to his mother. It was a short letter, but it was words from his hand no less. He wished her well and asked how she was doing. He couldn’t bear to apologize or bring up anything of the war as that was a conversation he knew needed to be had face to face, so instead he’d opted to act like he was sending her a letter he would’ve before any war or death eaters had appeared in their lives.
It was a good thing, he thought as he watched the owl fly off into the darkening sky. Though his wobbly legs and trembling fingers damned his small blight of optimism. Maybe if he offered more of his firewhiskey he could convince Granger to share a bed with him tonight. It was something he had chosen not to think over too much, he was a fucking trainwreck and bunking with Granger periodically was just another train car crashing and burning. However that being said, it was impossible to care about the implications when nights with Granger were spent wrapped in the scent of vanilla and warm limbs.
All in all, he’d tell about anybody who chose to chastise him on his truce with Granger to go piss on old Boldy Voldy's grave. Although as he slowly made his way through the castle and back to his room, it seemed Granger was the one seeking him out tonight. Draco chose to ignore the tightening of his stomach as he took in her banging on his door like a banshee.
He swallowed hard, his spit somehow burning on the way down like liquor as he called out her name. “Granger?”
Her frazzled curls whipped towards him in a way that vaguely reminded him of Bella, not that he’d ever voice the accidental insult. “M-malfoy” She hiccuped, her eyes swollen. Her clothes were rumpled and she looked like she might be running a fever, the thought caused another blade of guilt to stab him.
To be honest, despite his wondering if he could’ve convinced Granger to room with him tonight, he’d been avoiding her. It had taken Draco a good two weeks of isolation to get the bollocks to write to his mum and that isolation had included him forcing himself to stay away from the bumbling witch before him. Throughout the fortnight Draco had told himself that it would be better to not get attached to sleeping in another's blankets for he had gone to her every single time. Sure, it was she who had led him to her bed those first few nights and afterwards she had just opened the door and pulled back the covers but she had never seeked him out. Until now.
“I-I know you don’t p-particular-lary care for m-me” Granger started and Draco realised he’d been staring and hadn’t moved to let her into his room nor send her away.
“I never said that” Draco rushed, his voice sounding snappy and he watched as more tears gathered in her eyes, “Not after…everything” He cleared his throat, the firewhiskey seeming to burn even more in his stomach now.
Granger shuttered and looked down at the floor, “C-can I come in” she asked, not looking up from where her tears were surely dripping onto the stone flooring. Draco was already going to say yes, but it was the small “please” she tacked on that made him want to yell at himself for not considering that their nights together also helped Granger too. The thought that Draco could actually help someone was elating, until he realised he’d taken away any help he could offer, hurting Granger more than he was helping.
Without another word Draco swished his wand and his door unlocked, opening for Hermione to make her way in. Quickly Draco locked the door behind them again and then made a bee-line for the still open bottle of alcohol on his desk. After a sizzling swallow he offered the bottle to Granger and tried to hide his shock when she took her own greedy gulp of drink.
“I fell asleep in the library…” She said as if that was the explanation for why she was here. Granger tipped back another drink of firewhiskey. “I- I think I blacked out, you haven’t been around and I- well I’m running my mouth” she blew out a big huff of air and began to take a turn about the room.
Draco ignored the moths in his stomach lest they escape their enclosure, “You’re free to come here whenever you want. It’s not like I have hordes of people begging for my attention” he tried to joke, running a hand through his knotted hair.
Granger scoffed, “Not anymore.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks grew red as she turned her gaze back to him and away from the small bookshelf she had been browsing. “Malfoy, I’m so sor-” She’d started to apologize but Draco cut her off with a loud laugh. It was too loud, loud enough that it’d drown out words he’d never want to hear from her.
His laughter cut off short as she stared at him like he was mad and they stared at each other in silence until a giggle escaped her as well and then his laughter was back in full force. They stared at each other until tears were rolling down their cheeks in drunken stupor because truly, what in merlin's sack had either of their lives become? Eventually they’d sat on the small couch in front of his fireplace, he’d never admit it but McGonagall had outdone herself with the private dorms, and passed the whiskey back and forth.
No more words were exchanged but they weren’t needed. The next morning his back and shoulders were throwing a fit from falling asleep on the floor, but one look at Granger's fading eyebags was enough to tell his whinging muscles to get over it.
xXx
The response from his mother took six days. Not that he had counted the hours. Who was he kidding, it was 155 hours.
But in his defense he hadn’t drank again, not that he had any left after he and Granger had polished off his bottle the week before. However Draco was very much contemplating buying another bottle at the sight of his mothers small script. When he had received the owl at lunch he had ended up locking himself in his room, the undigested food in his stomach threatening to make an appearance.
Without wanting to delay his pain further he ripped into the letter. It seems his mother-er mum, had taken the hint and also adhered to how her old letters were written as well. As he read, Draco had decided that his therapist had been right, it was good to hear from the woman who had loved him unconditionally. He actually found himself crying tears of joy when he read that his mother was trying to find some peace in one of the Black family properties in France. She invited him to join her after he graduated Hogwarts and he had to take a break from the letter to process her offer.
It wasn’t until the very end, the post script, that she mentioned a letter from his father being added. Draco felt his tears on his cheeks go cold, his throat constricting, and his hands starting to shake even more. It was then that he saw a second page attached to her letter, his fathers large, garish handwriting besmirching the perfectly good parchment.
Draco couldn’t get past the first line without his hand clenching into a white knuckled fist. How dare that man reach out to him, how dare Lucius think he had the right to even write to him, let alone demand to see Draco. The youngest Malfoy had nothing to say to his father- no that man was not a father and Draco was not a son, at least not the son of Lucius Malfoy. As far as Draco was concerned Narcissa was an only mother and Lucius was what the muggles called a sperm donor.
With a snap of his fingers the letter from Lucius was engulfed in flames. He hoped both Lucius and his words burned in all seven hells right beside Voldemort.
xXx
The next letter from Lucius had arrived on its own and not attached to his mothers. Blessedly Narcissa had not asked Draco about Lucius’ letter nor Draco’s response to it. In fact, neither of them exchanged a single word about the man and Draco intended to keep it that way.
He’d had more night terrors about his sire. Instead of Voldemort, Bellatrix, or some other horrific war criminal killing him and Hermione it was now Lucius being their executioner. Draco would’ve never told Granger of why he was banging on her door, a mouth washing charm fresh on his teeth after continually hurling his guts each night.
However it seemed that he’d dragged her into his fucking mess again, the gods were certainly laughing their holy arses off at him right now. It had to be on the one day he slept later than her. Normally he’d wake and slip out of bed before she woke, but today he had chosen to ignore the way his arm had snaked around her waist and she had pushed herself even further into him and resolutely fell back asleep.
Brilliant fucking idea on his part considering instead of waking up to a still peacefully sleeping Granger or to an empty room, he’d woken up to Granger sobbing. Why was she sobbing? When asked she held up the parchment in her shaky hands with a very poorly hiccuped ‘sorry’. Draco had the question of why in Salazar’s beard she was sorry for a letter when he took in that cursed handwriting.
It was a letter from Lucius, addressed to no one on the addressee but talking to Draco in the letter itself. That slimy lizard of a man had finally been successful in getting Draco to read his letter through Hermione. It was once again demanding he visit or both Draco and his mother would be cut off from the Malfoy and Black vaults. A letter from the Ministry was included, showing his ‘Hogwarts house arrest’ was lifted for a day over the Easter hols to allow him to visit Azkaban. How his war criminal maniacal twat of a father secured a day pass for Draco was alarming.
Without a word Draco stood from the bed and made his way towards the door. Granger was still wiping her tears and apologizing, for what he didn’t know. The letter hadn’t a name on it and the owl had brought it to her room and he told her as much before heading back to his room to unhealthily deal with his emotions.
A torn up couch, ripped up books, and bloodied fist later had Draco heaving for air. In the fifteen minutes it’d taken him to destroy his room he had relished in his anger, but now in the aftermath he was scared to look in the mirror to find the angry gaze of Lucius Malfoy staring back. It was a childish thing to do- destroying his room as he had, and he wasn’t sure that Lucius would ever do such a thing. But it was the violence of the act, the satisfaction in the behavior that made him feel like his fathers son and it brought fresh tears to his eyes.
Would his father be proud to see him now? Would he like to see the man that Draco had become, tearing pillows with relish and screaming in anger when things didn’t go his way? He knew he certainly wasn’t proud of himself, but as Draco sat in the wreckage he couldn’t help but think this had been coming.
All his life he’d tried to make his father proud, no matter the costs. He’d been the picture perfect child, always painting Lucius in the bests’ of light only for Lucius to turn around and paint Draco in bruises. For years Draco had told himself that his father not returning his love was in his head, but he knew it wasn’t. Draco told himself many lies over the years but one of his biggest was that his father’s love for his family was bigger than his love for power and bigotry.
With another clenched fist Draco put his room back to rights and wiped his tears. After everything his mother went through, Draco would not allow Lucius to cut her off while she couldn’t make money while under strict house arrest. If Lucius wanted to see him so bad then Draco would go, but it would not be as his son.
xXx
The waves slapping against the boat taking Draco to Azkaban was a rhythm he akinned to a death march.
My name is Draco Malfoy.
I’m eighteen years old.
I’m okay.
He recalled his three facts of life repeatedly as the guard pulled the boat ashore and started the visitor clearance process. It felt like it took an entire day as they cast spell after spell to make sure he wasn’t smuggling anything to his father, not that Draco was a big enough idiot to risk his probation for the likes of Lucius.
Handing over his wand to one of the guards had been like sacrificing a limb and Draco almost hexed the man when he tried to grab it from him. Thank Merlin he knew a few wandless spells he could use in a pinch if Lucius or anyone tried to attack him. That had been the only way Draco had been able to put his beloved hawthorn wand in the lock box before being escorted down to the visitors room.
Draco couldn’t help but burrow into his jacket even further as the permanent cold of Azkaban settled into his bones. It had been a small rebellion wearing muggle clothes to visit his father. In the past, Lucius would’ve demanded the clothes be burned before promptly punishing Draco in a way only closed fists could. It brought a smug smirk to Draco’s face knowing the man wouldn’t be able to put a single finger on him. The crinkle of the papers tucked into his jacket pocket only served to make his smile grow even further.
“He’s a right bastard, but he gets equal treatment as the rest” The guard, Frankston, if his name badge was correct, said. Draco hummed, listening to the mixture of squeaky boots on stone and distant waves crashing against the island.
“I’ll be honest with you” Draco drawled as they took another left, “I couldn’t give a rat’s arse how you’re treating him. I didn’t come here out of some misplaced need to evaluate daddy dearest accommodations” And that was true, it might be a brutal thought but they could be starving Lucius for all Draco cared, maybe then the man would croak sooner rather than later. He had given up on his father, just as his father had given up on Draco.
Frankston stopped his march through the hallways and turned to him, his dark toned cheeks flushed. “And what are you here for then?” Despite the brash question Draco couldn’t bring himself to be offended. The Azkaban guard was one of the youngest Draco had interacted with, Salazar’s sack they could’ve even gone to school together! But the guard held only curiosity in his tone and Draco would take nosiness over disgust anyday.
“The prick has been trying to summon me and got the family solicitor involved, just simply reminding him of his new station” Draco explained, raising his chin in challenge to the guard. Frankston clicked his tongue before resuming his pace. It was another minute before they stopped in front of a pristine white door.
“Then this’ll be a helluva show” Frankston blew a breath before opening the door and showing Lucius Malfoy in all his wretchedness. His right hand was chained to the table, his once long locks were shaved and Draco had to keep himself from laughing at the sight. Other than that, the man seemed in decent shape physically, even his grey robes were clean and in order.
Lucius arched his brow as Draco took his seat and the door closed behind them with Frankston taking up post in the corner. “Draco, finally” His father’s voice held an air of nonchalance, but the twitch in his upper lip gave away his true annoyance. It was the same twitch that would often warn of punishments later to come.
Draco had to fight back the urge to run out of the door. Since Hermione had opened that gods damned letter Draco had been bouncing between every emotion possible in regards to this meeting and his father. Anger had been number one, but being scared was a close second which only served to fuel even more of his fury. He was grown now, the war was over and Lucius would never leave this island, yet Draco still found a part of himself wanting to cower at the man who sat in front of him like a mirror.
As Draco took in Lucius, another myriad of emotions washed over him like the foamy waves of the sea. Guilt, resentment, disgust, love, but he finally settled on sorrow. “Lucius” Draco called in a voice that did not sound like his own.
“I would have expected to see my heir sooner, but no matter. I let you have your little streak of rebellion now it’s time to get down to business” Lucius started, acting like he was still lord of the manor. “You graduate soon and I expect you to continue the Malfoy li-”
Draco held his hand up, choosing to ignore the way his fingers slightly shook, “I’m stopping you right there. You didn’t let me do anything. I chose not to see you and I will continue to” As Draco spoke, Lucius’ composed face started to become more and more red.
“Now you listen here boy-” Luicus spat, the name causing Draco’s hackles to rise. He hated when his father had called him that. He had a fucking name, Lucius was dumb but he wasn’t dumb enough to continually forget his sons name.
“No you fucking listen!” Draco half-shouted, his self-assurance faltering at the look of loathing coming from his father. “You will not threaten mother, she’s been through enough of your shit” Draco withdrew the envelope from Gringotts and laid it on the table. “You forfeited your hold over the Malfoy estates and vaults the second you landed yourself in Azkaban per title 2, subtitle c, chapter 102” He swallowed hard as he lifted his left arm.
“You’ve got everything you’ve wanted, father. Your heir with a brand in his arm taking over as lord and you in your rightful place” Despite the bite that he wanted, Draco’s words came out softly as his breath whooshed out of his lungs.
“You flippant, insolent child! I always knew you’d be a disappointment. Should’ve died in the womb like all the others, let a stronger babe take your place” Lucius’ words were a delivering blow, a final arrow in Draco’s already barely functioning heart. His blood ran cold while his eyes burned.
Draco stood from his chair, the metal furniture flying to the ground with the abrupt movement. “I would’ve done anything for you, I committed war crimes to keep you safe! I almost tore my soul apart and you still sit there and call me weak?”
Lucius looked unphased, his hands still clasped together, his eyes glinting like ice. “If you were anymore lacking I’d think you were born with a cunt between your legs”
Draco could feel his short nails cutting so deep into his palms he wouldn’t be surprised to see blood dripping onto the floor, “You will die by yourself in here. No one will visit you, no one will care for you and when you finally take the last breath of air into your rotten lungs, I will celebrate”
“The Dark Lord was right about a lot of things, but putting your life on the line for an impossible feat was not a punishment as he thought. Your death would’ve been a release from your pitiful existence I’ve had to endure for eighteen years” Lucius said, his face twisted into something that was so ugly Draco was surprised he could even stand to look at it.
He had known going into this his patience and strength would’ve been tested and he had promised himself he would pass this test with vigor and resolve, but at hearing that his father had wished for his death every ounce of determination to get through this without fighting dissolved. “I WAS A CHILD!” Draco roared, slamming his hands onto the table, sparks escaping from the motion. “I came into this world only knowing love for you and you couldn’t conjure a single fuck to care about me! Everyone went on and on about how you didn’t cross Lucius Malfoy’s son. I was told I was special, but not to the one man that actually cared about”
Lucius sat, silent. That same warning look was in his eyes, the one that came before a slap or a kick or bruising pinch but Draco wasn’t scared. “Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me the love of a child shouldn’t be celebrated! Tell me you didn’t simply tolerate me until I served your purposes no more once I stopped being your brainwashed clone”
Draco’s chest was heaving and his scalding tears were wetting his cheeks now, “I tried everything to make you love me, to make you proud and it ruined my life and I won’t do it any longer. I’ll become the opposite of everything you are, mark my words you will never see me again and if you do it’ll be at the end of my wand”
“You’ll be back and after this little tantrum of yours, we will continue our conversation” Lucius said in a flat voice, devoid of any remorse or guilt.
“No, I’ll be too busy catching your coworkers. I think you deserve some roommates” Draco’s mind was made up, Lucius would never be even a second thought to him. Whether it was with the aurors or independently, Draco would become everything his father deemed weak and he would let it strengthen him into a man unidentifiable than the one sitting in front of him. He would one day look into the mirror and see Draco Malfoy, not the inseparable shadow of Lucius Malfoy, but a man of his own making.
My name is Draco Malfoy.
I’m eighteen years old.
I’m okay.
The mantra played over and over as he turned his back on his father for the last time. If he ever saw the man again it wouldn’t be as family.
My name is Draco Malfoy.
I’m eighteen years old.
I’m okay.