Like Father, Like Son

Don't come on so cocksure boy

You can't escape your genes
No point in feeling purer boy

Your background intervenes

Draco Malfoy approached his father's study with trepidation. The house-elf seemed particularly jumpy when she fetched him from his upstairs suites. Poppli's usually calmer than that, Draco mused. If that stupid elf forgot to tell him that his father was in one of his... moods... he'd beat the rags off of the little twit himself as soon as this conversation was finished. Good elves were hard to find, but this was ridiculous. He'd fix his own lunch before he allowed a servant to set him up to laugh at his fall.

He opened the door to his father's study slowly. Barging in was never a good idea. If there was one thing any Malfoy worth a Knut learned, and learned quickly, was never sneak up or barge in on Lucius Malfoy. He wasn't one of Voldemort's right-hand men for nothing.

Draco snickered. So many people were afraid to say the name. Voldemort. Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort. Nothing happens. No one gains any power, no one becomes petrified by the sounds, and no one loses an eye, limb or soul. It's just a name. The name of a powerful Dark Wizard, yes. Probably the most powerful Dark Wizard Britain had ever seen. But just a name. People were always afraid of what they didn't understand. He'd grown up around the Dark Arts - Father had made sure of that - so the name didn't have the same... mystique as it does to some of the lesser educated wizards at Hogwarts, and the Ministry for that matter. What good is knowing about the light if you can't recognize it's shadow, Draco had always thought. He'd made the mistake of wording it such that Lucius thought he preferred the Light Magic of Hogwarts to the Dark practice he's spent years drilling into his son. 'Damn that bloody light, Draco!' he'd yelled. 'Have I taught you nothing? The light is for fools... the real power comes in the darkness, as with our Dark Lord!' Oh, how he'd gotten a beating that night. But it did teach him a powerful lesson - some thoughts are better left practiced but unsaid. He'd just have to keep his opinions on the usefulness of both Dark and Light Magic to himself.

"Are you just going to stand there, Draco, or are you going to speak to your father?"

Draco was thrown out of his thoughts by the sound of his father's voice. The man was still as imposing as ever - the tall figure swathed in black with only a shock of blond hair and icy cobalt blue eyes to color the vision. He was sitting, legs crossed, in a high-backed, red velvet lined chair... a Malfoy heirloom. The splash of blood red didn't help soften the presentation of his father. Neither did the two things he kept by the chair at all times - a glass of whiskey and his serpent-headed cane... yet another Malfoy heirloom.

"I didn't want to interrupt you, Father," Draco answered coolly. "I knew you would address me when you were ready."

Listen good and listen straight

You're not the master of your fate
To this you must be reconciled

You'll always be your father's child

Lucius chucked ever so slightly. "As sharp as ever, my son." He motioned to an empty chair. "Have a seat. We have something we need to discuss."

Draco nodded and did as he was told. Discussions... how he'd grown to loathe that word. Discussion was a misnomer. It was Father telling him how to live his life. Like that time after his 3^rd year. Father had wanted Draco to transfer to Durmstrang. 'They teach you to manipulate and control the Dark Arts there,' Father had explained. 'Like a true wizarding school should. I only made it through Hogwarts by outside study and I don't want you to have the same disadvantage I had.' His transfer had only been stopped by his mother flat out refusing to send her son to a hidden Bulgarian school where the next time she'd see her darling son would be, most likely, his graduation. It was impressive, really. That was the first time he'd ever seen his mother stand up to his father and put her foot down. He hadn't known she had it in her, truthfully. So he'd had tutors. Every summer holiday, tutors. Only after he'd taken his O.W.L.s did Lucius let him forgo the tutors to pursue his own reading and study of the material.

"You'll be graduating from Hogwarts at the end of this year, Draco."

"Yes, Father."

Lucius took a sip of his whiskey. "Have you given any more thought to what you will do afterwards?"

Sweet Merlin, here we go, Draco moaned inwardly. "I'm sure you have suggestions, Father," he mumbled coldly.

Lucius chuckled again. It was disturbing... that slight laugh. Liquid steel. Sharp but cold. Dangerous. Draco cringed. His father was mocking him. He could discern that sound anywhere... poor little Draco can't figure out anything for himself... he needs daddy to spell it all out...

"There is only one," Lucius replied. "And it's not a suggestion."

At times acclaimed, at times reviled
You'll wind up doing just what I've done
Like father, like son

"Of course it is a suggestion," Draco responded. "I will finally be of age. My direction is my choice."

Lucius laughed. "Stupid boy," he spat. "The Dark Lord grows stronger by the day! And you sit there... smug and pompous like you're the wisest wizard in the Britain. There are two sides, Draco. And only one can win. Look who controls the stronger magic. Look who's not afraid to use the stronger magic!" He leaned back into the blood red velvet, folding his hands together and resting his elbows on the arms of his chair. "You act like this is a choice. This is in your blood, Draco. What do you think I've spent so much money on tutors for all these years? Your bloody education?"

Don't assume your vices get handed down the line
That a parent's blood suffices to condemn the child's design
I've done wrong, I can't deny, but at least I know that I
Shouldn't blame that on my stock

"No, Father," Draco sighed. "You have been preparing me."

His father nodded slightly. "For what?"

"For life."

"And what are you going to do with your life, boy?"

"The only thing I can do," Draco replied, wincing at his father's cruel, proud smile.

"Please enlighten me, Draco," Lucius hissed. "What is your only choice?"

This may come as quite a shock
But I'm no chip off any block

I wouldn't wish those words on anyone
Like father, like son

Draco met his father's glare. "I sit back. I watch where the ashes fall, and I go from there."

"You've been learning comedy from your peers at Hogwarts, I see," Lucius mumbled. "No clear thinking son of mine would ever-"

"Don't assume you know me!" Draco snapped. "You sit there in that damned chair and tell me what I should do with my life when all you've ever done is hire tutor after tutor to mold me into a mini-Lucius and avoid ever having to dirty your hands with raising me!"

"You shut up boy, or I'll make you wish-"

"Wish what Father?" Draco grinned smugly. "That I'd handed over my free will to some ghost of a wizard at the first blanket chance of power? How smart is that?" He leaned back into his chair. "What kind of business sense is that - to jump when told to at the first bloody-"

"You will not speak to me with such contempt!" Lucius roared, leaping out of his chair and reaching for his staff. Before he could pull his wand from the snake, he felt the cold wood of his son's wand under his chin. He tilted his eyes up slowly, cobalt meeting ice in a glare that left nothing to question.

Son, you're nervous, take my hand
All is settled, all is planned
You've got the world at your command
I don't think you understand

Lucius took a deep breath. His pulse was racing... anger, contempt, fear... "You've gone out of control, Draco," he said quietly. "You're not thinking straight." He reached up and lowered his son's wand. "I understand your... fears..."

"Fears?" Draco snickered. "I've made my choice. I choose to control my own life."

"The power to control is a beautiful thing..."

"I will not have someone dictate my life to me any longer."

"You don't understand what you are giving up," Lucius tried. "It is a Malfoy tradition-"

"One generation!" Draco snapped. "One bloody generation and the whole damn world thinks that my fate is sealed in that worthless silver serpent you carry around!" He tightened his hand around his wand. "I am the master of my fate."

I appreciate too well

The squalor at which you excel
It isn't very hard to tell

Evil's a distinctive smell
From this day on I choose my own way
And no one, not you, not even the gods can stop me

Draco took a slight, involuntary step back as his father's expression darkened. But he refused to take another. It was his life. He wasn't going to let his father dictate his future any more than he already had. He was no one's puppet. He was no one's toy to be tossed around at whim. He would answer to no one but himself. "You want me to take that mark? To lose my will... to become someone's puppet? I will never be controlled like that. My path is mine to take." He turned to leave the room.

Lucius reached to swing with his staff but his son was too far away. "There are two sides, Draco!" he yelled. "You must align yourself-"

"I choose to sit back," Draco roared, snapping his head around to glare at his father. "To await the outcome. The whole bloody world can fight for ideas and I don't care. Ideas don't matter. People die, deceive, fight for ideas, and what good does it do them? In the end, it makes no difference. One side continues to exist. That is the only outcome. I refuse to risk my life, my fortune, my livelihood for some idea that doesn't amount to anything in the long run. There is no substance to ideas, only to power... and I'll see who gives me the better deal. I won't risk all I've gained for any bloody idea."

He turned again to leave the study. "There are two types of people in the world, Father," Draco added, facing the door. "Those who see what they want and go for it, and those too blind to see the ropes they've bound themselves with. I will not inherit your rope."

Like father, like son