Like Father Like Son?

The vigour she felt lasted the next day until lunch before the trivialities of daily life once again suppressed the feeling. The intensity she felt the previous day did not, however, dim with respect to her training, but Hermione had hoped that the feeling could filter into other aspects of her life. Classes were of small consequence to her now, the lectures banal, and knowledge of theories behind spells and charms that had held such academic interest before suddenly seemed inconsequential with her new perspective on life. How could such things hold her interest when a few short months ago she wasn't even sure she would be alive? So she trudged along, continuing with the normal flow of life as was expected of her. Yet she found no pleasure in it, not like she had in the years past.

Dinner was the usual affair, and Hermione made a quick escape for the sake of her sanity and that of her friends. Her disposition was not well suited to social interactions as it was and even less so as a consequence of recent events. She was not oblivious to the discomfort her housemates felt in her presence. A part of her was sad for it, but the more reasonable part of her knew that they would soon come to accept and even understand her modified attitude, or so she hoped.

Hermione meandered down the empty corridors on her way to the library. It was one of the few places in which she still found solace. But even the silent whispers of the books could not ease her aching heart. After spending an hour or two among her silent companions, Hermione left, choosing instead to wander the castle alone until curfew. She came upon a small, somewhat hidden section with a window displaying a beautiful view of the school grounds. It was peaceful there. Hermione stood by the window, lost in thought. Her solitude, though, was interrupted too soon by one of her least favourite people – Draco Malfoy.

"Granger," he said in a tone of mild surprise. Draco considered this particular alcove, secluded and peaceful, his own personal haven, away from the main corridors and the students in them. He was therefore somewhat surprised to see Hermione Granger, of all people, at this particular location.

"Malfoy," she acknowledged calmly, turning to leave. She was hardly in the mood for the confrontation that would undoubtedly follow from this meeting. Unfortunately, Malfoy was not of the same opinion.

"Wait... I mean, just hold up a sec," he called out in an oddly non-confrontational tone.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, sighing quietly yet not turning around to face him.

"I just, uh, wanted to say that, um, well..." he stuttered, "I suppose I wanted to convey my condolences... for the recent loss you suffered," he concluded somewhat formally.

Initially, Hermione was stunned.

That surprise, however, rather quickly turned into a fierce and burning rage as she whirled around to verbally attack him. "I have no desire to hear any of your pathetic lies, Malfoy. I have no doubt your father gloated about his latest catch, and perhaps you even shared his amusement, so spare me your empty sympathies."

"Don't talk about what you don't know, Granger! I could have thrown what happened this summer in your face just now, but I chose to tell you that I was sorry, and I am. Don't think you're the only one that's suffered at my father's hand," he replied with equal force.

"I don't think you know the meaning of the word suffer, Malfoy... and yes, you did choose to convey your sympathies – sincere or not – but I still see no reason to believe you. It wouldn't be the first time you've tried to manipulate me."

"I never said you had to believe me, Granger, and frankly, I don't care one way or another, but I said my piece... and as for suffering, don't be so naive as to think that you are the only one who has experienced pain or loss. I guarantee you, Granger, you wouldn't last ten minutes in my life, so get off your bloody high horse."

"I never said you hadn't suffered loss, Malfoy; I know that you lost your mother this summer, and I am sorry for that. I truly am. But losing someone to illness is hardly the same as having to watch a Death Eater torture and murder your mother before your eyes. That's not even considering the horrors he subjected my sister and myself to."

"Heh, illness," he muttered bitterly under his breath.

"What was that, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, not certain she had heard correctly.

"Nothing that concerns you, Mu-Granger," he sneered back.

"No... you said something about illness. Is that not what happened?" Hermione questioned. "It's what all the papers said."

She was suddenly curious about the Slytherin's odd behaviour.

"Since when have you known the papers to print any semblance of the truth?" he bit back fiercely, though immediately regretting it. He had slipped; he had not intended to reveal so much to the Gryffindor. This conversation was getting out of hand; he had already said much more than he had ever intended. All he had wanted to do was apologize, to ease his conscience and carry on with his existence. But of course, she couldn't just leave it at that... She had to prod and pry, harass him until he gave her a reason to leave him alone.

"If that wasn't the truth, Malfoy, then what happened?"

"It's none of your business, Granger. Leave it alone."

"You're the one who brought it up, Malfoy, so if it wasn't illness, what happened?" Hermione pushed.

"Look, it doesn't matter. Either way, it doesn't make her any less dead, so just drop it," he said with a certain air of finality, wishing he could just walk away. But for some reason, he didn't. He stayed and continued to let the Gryffindor question him. Perhaps it was the least she deserved; not that he was directly responsible for what had happened to her, but still, it was his father, after all.

Suddenly it became clear to Hermione. Why hadn't she seen it before? All the signs were there, the little spats of bitterness. Naturally, he was defensive. How could he not be? It was hardly the kind of revelation he would make to a loathed classmate.

Tentatively, she asked, "It wasn't an illness, was it, Malfoy? Was it even an accident?"

Her question was met with a tense silence as they sized each other up.

"Like I said, either way, she is gone, so I guess it doesn't really matter how it happened," he repeated quietly.

"You and I both know that's not true, Malfoy. She was your mother; of course it matters how she died," Hermione said softly.

"And why would I tell you what really happened, huh, Granger? Why would I betray my family for some Gryffindor?" he asked tauntingly.

"Because I'm probably one of the few people in this school who would understand... especially after what happened this summer. And I think you know that I wouldn't tell anyone," Hermione replied in a calm manner.

"No, you'd just run off and tell your precious Potter and Weasley; so no thanks, I think I'll pass."

"I would never betray a confidence, Malfoy."

"And why would I choose to confide in a girl who obviously despises me? A girl who now probably wants my father to die a slow and painful death? I will not put my family in harm's way simply to ease your sense of curiosity."

"Oh, I don't want to harm your family, Malfoy... just your bastard of a father," Hermione said darkly.

"He's still my father, Granger, and if you haven't noticed, he's practically the only family I've got left," he said quietly, as though trying to convince himself, "regardless of what he's done."

"He tortured and murdered a little girl, Malfoy! My sister!" Hermione said emphatically.

"There isn't enough parchment in this school to account for all his victims, Granger, dead or otherwise."

"Then why are you defending him?"

"Because, at the end of the day, he is still my father,"

"And that makes everything okay?" she asked incredulously.

"Don't be stupid, of course not!"

He paused for a moment before adding, "It's not a question of it 'being okay', but rather what you can do about it. We all have our roles to play, Granger; I'm just playing mine."

"So you're just going to pretend that your father's not a murderer?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, Granger. That's exactly what I'm going to do."

"Then you're a coward, Malfoy."

"Why? Because I still have a sense of family loyalty? Because I'm not a self-righteous Gryffindor do-gooder?"

"Hmph, family loyalty? Murderers don't deserve any measure of loyalty, Malfoy. And I think it's cowardly, because you can't face the truth! Even when it's staring you in the face!" she snapped back viciously.

"Don't preach about things you don't understand. Open your bloody eyes; life isn't as black-and-white as your little friends make it out to be."

"And what is it I don't understand, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, completely ignoring his taunt about her friends.

"You want to know what happened? You think it's hard to see your family being tortured by a murderous maniac – well, how the hell do you think it feels to see your own mother murdered by her husband?" he shouted back, frustrated and angry with her, with life.

Hermione gasped, unable to hide her shock. Draco's eyes widened a fraction when he realized just what he had said, and more importantly, to whom. He stared at her with an expression of fury and bewilderment, unsure of what exactly had happened. They had been shouting at each other, and the whole exchange had just caused him to snap.

Making a quick decision, Draco snapped out his wand and cast four spells in quick succession. First, he bound and silenced her; then, he sealed the area where they stood from any passersby; and finally, he took her wand so she wouldn't hex him.

"Sorry, Granger, but I can't let you run off after what I just told you. I'm not going to harm you, but I need you to swear not to tell a soul about any of this. Now, promise not to attack me, and I'll release you," he said quickly, undoing the silencing spell but leaving her bound.

"Malfoy, you bastard, let me go!" Hermione growled angrily.

"I will. As soon as you promise not to attack me. Surely you must understand my need for secrecy, Granger."

Hermione huffed, glaring at the blond boy before reluctantly agreeing.

"Now give me my bloody wand back," Hermione demanded.

"Fine," he said, giving it back to her, "but I still need that vow."

Hermione was silent for a moment. She looked at him searchingly before giving him a curt nod.

"Will you tell me what happened?"

"It's still none of your business. You wanted to know, I told you: my father murdered her. End of story."

"I'm so sorry, Malfoy," Hermione said sincerely. "I can hardly imagine. Well, I suppose I can somewhat imagine now, but still... your own father? Merlin, that's twisted."

"You're telling me," he muttered bitterly.

"But... how-how did it get passed off as an illness?"

"Bribery, fear, magic – take your pick," he answered, cynicism strong in his tone.

"I see," Hermione said shortly. She found that explanation sadly believable. What a sick and twisted world we live in, Hermione thought. Human deaths were being pushed under the proverbial rug like nothing more than dead flies. The war was tearing at the seams of their world without their even knowing it... the very fabric of society unravelling with its occupants blissfully unaware.

"I still want an oath, Granger," he reminded.

"Yes, of course," she replied somewhat absently, still thinking about this latest revelation. It was enough to make her head spin.

After getting her oath, Draco removed the privacy spells and walked off without uttering another word. He had no desire to linger and see the pity that would undoubtedly be etched upon her face. Pity could do nothing for him now.

*****

Hermione stood in the alcove for some time. Her mind could hardly process all the new and horrifying information it had just received. His own father? Hermione thought, still frozen with disbelief. To think he had to live in the same house as the man who killed his mother... worse, he would have to show respect, be kind, be gracious to that monster of a man.

He must be one hell of an actor, she thought, as she continued to stare out the window, unseeing. I wonder how he manages... I doubt I could ever do that. The mere thought of that bastard makes me want to murder someone, so how in the hell does Malfoy continue to live with him? Knowing that his father murdered his mother! Unthinkable!

Unable to stand alone in that alcove any longer, Hermione turned and strode off quickly. She needed to get her mind off this, or surely it would drive her insane. She swiftly made her way to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to find solace from the silence that now seemed rather oppressive. Entering the common room, Hermione was relieved to hear the typical chatter and laughter that seemed to encompass the room like a warm blanket. For once, she was pleased about the noise, the very sound of happiness. Moving through the room, Hermione was quite happy to see Harry and Ron sitting by the fireplace playing chess. It was such an ordinary scene. One so common it nearly broke her heart. Everyone in this room was carrying on like normal... nothing in their world had really changed. Her mind immediately drifted back to Draco Malfoy, and she could not help but feel for him. No matter how poorly he had treated her over the years, she would never wish something like this on him.

"Hey, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking up at her.

"Oi! 'Mione!" Ron said more loudly, reaching up to poke her. She had been standing near them but was staring off in a dazed sort of manner. Upon being poked by Ron, however, she started looking down at them with an almost bewildered expression.

"What?"

"You've been standing there, staring at the wall for the past ten minutes," Harry said, smiling with amusement. It wasn't often he got to call Hermione on zoning out; it was usually she who called him on it.

"Oh! Sorry, boys, I was lost in thought," Hermione explained. "So, who's winning?"

Glancing at each other oddly, the boys sat mute for a moment before Ron broke the tense silence with a loud guffaw.

"Do ya have to ask, 'Mione? Honestly, the only way Harry could be winning is if I let him!"

"Hey! I don't need you to let me win! Careful Weasley, I think you're gonna lose this one good and proper." Harry defended with a look of exaggerated offence.

"Easy, mate, don't wanna look silly in front of our 'Mione now, do ya? Especially when my knight's about to crush your queen!"

This remark was well punctuated as Harry's queen was promptly beaten over her head by the black knight, under Ron's instruction.

"Aw, man!" Harry moaned, turning his gaze from Hermione, back to the board.

"Staring at 'em ain't gonna help them much, mate," Ron stated smugly.

The only response he got was a withering glare from his best friend. Ron was completely unfazed by the look. Hermione, on the other hand, was quite amused. It was refreshing to know that some things would never change, that there was still some measure of normalcy in their lives. After spending a few more hours together, they parted ways as they slipped off to bed. Hermione hoping the following day would bring no more surprises and the boys hoping the following day would bring more of the same interaction from their beloved bushy-haired friend.

Thanks for reading. Leave a review please!