Checkmate

Endgame Part 1

When I was 9 I learned survival, taught myself not to care
I was my single good companion, taking my comfort there
Up in my room I planned my conquests
On my own, never asked for a helping hand
No one would understand
I never asked the pair who fought below
Just in case they said no

Pity the child who knew his parents
Saw their faults, saw their love die before his eyes
Pity the child that wise
He never asked did I cause your distress?
Just in case they said yes

Pity the child who has ambition
Knows what he wants to do
Knows that he'll never fit the system others expect him to

Pity the child but not forever
Not if he stays that way
He can get all he ever wanted
If he's prepared to pay

Lyrics from "Pity the Child" from Chess by Benny Anderson, Tim Rice and Björn Ulvaeus

* * * * *

"You did what? " hissed Lucius Malfoy.

Draco, standing at attention before his father's desk, could barely hide the surge of triumph that he felt in this moment. He'd never seen his father look so shocked.

The older Malfoy had summoned Draco to his private study the instant Draco had arrived back home from Hogwarts. Now Lucius sat behind that immense mahogany desk, staring at his only son, his stone-gray eyes widened in stunned disbelief.

"I seduced him," repeated Draco in a matter-of-fact tone, allowing just a hint of an arrogant smirk to cross his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, his stance relaxing, and gazed back at his father with exultant pride in his own pale gray eyes. "It was easy."

Lucius's eyes narrowed warily and his fleeting shocked expression turned hard, suspicious. "Easy?" he echoed in an icy, silken voice. "Easy . . . to seduce another boy - Harry Potter - who's been your bitterest enemy?" He studied Draco in steely silence for a few seconds. "Just how far did this . . . seduction . . . go?"

"As far as it could have," replied Draco smugly, fiercely glad that it was true, that Harry had talked him out of waiting, so that he could throw it up now in his father's face. "We became lovers," he stated, then cursed himself inwardly for the involuntary flush of heat that swept through him at the thought of Harry in his bed, knowing that his face was coloring in an all too revealing way. He looked down, away from Lucius's cold, perceptive gaze.

Lucius rose from his chair and came swiftly around the desk to stand face-to-face with his son. He took hold of Draco's chin in a rough grip and forced the boy to look at him. "You enjoyed it," he stated flatly, his upper lip curled slightly in disgust. "Didn't you?"

"I did what I had to do," said Draco, pulling away, swallowing at the sudden lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice steady, trying to keep control of the situation and sound cool and detached even as waves of desire and longing washed through him. He started to take a step back, but his father caught the collar of his cloak and held him in place.

"Don't lie to me," said Lucius, a taut, warning edge in his voice.

"I have never lied to you, Father," said Draco firmly in a low, offended tone.

"And I never raised you to be queer." Lucius's eyes were filled with repugnance.

Draco met the candid distaste in his father's eyes squarely, his chin coming up with insult. "So what if I am?" he demanded defiantly. "So what if I had my pleasure from him before you take him and destroy him? The point is," said Draco, regaining his confidence, "he trusts me now. He'll come running to meet me whenever I ask. And he'll come alone. Unsuspecting."