We Both Go Down Together

Chapter Two Of: We Both Go Down Together

You come from parents wanton

A childhood rough and rotten

I come from wealth and beauty

Untouched by work or duty

He hated porridge, Draco decided. As he sat at the mahogany dining table in the eating room, Draco stared, or more, he glared at the goop that the lowly house elf, who called herself Diddly, had placed in front of him. Porridge was a poor man's breakfast, not the food of one of the richest wizarding families in the world. His spoon dropped into the porridge with a 'plop' and Draco's aristocratic face scrunched up in disgust. Looking up from his so-called breakfast, Draco stared at his father, stared at the man he was to become.

His father looked almost exactly like him; save for the few features that gave away his age. Lucius' face was sharp, and somewhat pointy, just like Draco's. His eyes were the same metallic grey as Draco's, his hair the same pale blonde as Draco's. They could be almost identical, except that Draco's hair was shorter and merely scruffy, where as Lucius had a long mane of hair that he kept in a low ponytail. There was also the matter of the age lines that marked Lucius' face, but stayed free from Draco's smooth, angelic face.

Although Draco looked exactly like the handsome man, the handsome father, who sat across from him, reading the pureblood-run newspaper, Draco was nothing like Lucius at all. Lucius had no feelings. His face would never contort into a smile, a frown... anything. No emotion ever flickered in his empty eyes; he had no feelings at all. Draco, as much as he was practiced at hiding what he felt, couldn't do it for the world. And that was why, at the moment, the two men were eating in silence. Draco had seen something last night that Lucius thought he shouldn't have, and Draco was very stirred by the fact that his father had brutally raped one of his school mates. Well, Hermione Granger wasn't really one of his mates, but he had gone to school with her. His father had raped someone young enough to be his own daughter, and that was terribly wrong.

"You knew who she was Draco, didn't you," Lucius drawled out, ever-so Slytherin. Why was his father even asking him this? Of course he knew who she was. Dammit, who didn't these days? She had been "the-boy-who-almost-lived's" mudblood best friend.

"Yes, father, I knew her. Not personally, no, but she went to school the same year as me," Draco responded, averting his eyes from his father's burning glare. Lucius had to be the spawn of Satan himself, because Draco felt as if he was shriveling up under his father's angry stare.

"Why didn't you do something, Draco? Save the young lady, perhaps? I know very well how much you wished to; remember Draco, that I am your father and that you can't mask your emotions at all." Lucius bit out that last part and continued his murder of Draco, using only his eyes as the weapon.

"I did not wish to save that filthy, mudblood piece of trash, father. I'm astounded that you would go as far as to assume that," Draco said, feigning hurt, even though he was more frightened of what his father would do to him than anything. As always, Lucius had been right in presuming that Draco had wanted to save Hermione, and Draco knew that his father's punishments weren't always the easiest things to handle. In fact, during his fifth year, Lucius had gone as far as to Crucio his own son when Draco hadn't done as he was told to do and cleaned up his bedroom.

"Even though you may claim to not have wanted to act upon your wishes last night, Draco, I fear that I still have a punishment for you to serve." Lucius smirked evilly, and Draco almost heaved when he noticed that he smirked the exact same way his father did. "You are to work as a guard down in the camp for three weeks. I expect you to work alongside some of your fellow, though much lower in rank, Death Eaters for a change. Maybe this will show you that you actually must do work if you wish to get anywhere in the world."

Had Draco been eating his breakfast, at this point in his father's speech, he would have spewed his porridge, or at least choked on it. He was supposed to work? Down there? That was blasphemous!

"Are you serious, father," Draco said, chuckling at the insanity of his father's proposal.

"Dead," Lucius said back, making Draco shrink back in his chair. "I expect you to pack a few belongings of yours, as you will be staying down there overnight. Go now."

Draco reluctantly retired to his quarters, to pack up a few belongings, such as clean clothing and some sleeping potions. He couldn't believe that he was being sent down to the labor camp, to work day and night as a guard. That was simply preposterous. It wasn't as if Draco would do anything though, as he had the backbone of a worm when it came to his father. No one defied what Lucius Malfoy said. Ever. Especially when you were the sole heir to the inheritance that the Malfoy family had had forever. Draco was tossing his necessities into a duffel bag, quite sorely, when he heard his father's voice ring up from the stairwell, calling up to him.

"Your escort has arrived, Draco. Mr. Rookwood will be taking you down to the guard station and quarters. There he will explain to you your duties as a guard." At the sound of Lucius voice, Draco started, but quickly composed himself and hefted the duffel over his shoulder as he journeyed down the stairs. There was an unclean man standing next to his father, grinning at Draco with the few mottled brown teeth he had left. Draco was almost positive that his father had handpicked the ugliest, dirtiest guard to escort him to the camp. There really was no point to this punishment and Draco believed it to be another plan hatched from his father's evil mind.

Augustus Rookwood really was a very putrid looking person. He had limp, greasy black hair that hung halfway down his back, and beady, little, equally as black, eyes. He was grinning stupidly up at the young Master Malfoy, very excited to be in the presence of not one, but two very powerful wizards. Grumbling to himself, Draco strutted over to Rookwood, mumbling profanities to himself. He had never once in his entire life worked, and he didn't really want to start now. At least he didn't have it as bad as Mudblood Granger did, who had started this whole thing to begin with.

As Draco walked from the house, slightly behind Rookwood, he thought to himself all of the bad things he could about Granger. That filthy animal, he started, why did she have to be such a bloody, sodding whore? If she hadn't transformed into a woman, his father would have never looked at her. Merlin, everything was always her fault. Bloody Gryffindor just had to pick now to get an arse and an ample chest, didn't she? I bet she did it just to spite me, Draco thought, I bet she even enjoyed being raped by such a high-standing pureblood as my father.

Yeah, Draco thought, Granger hadn't exactly had the 'plush life', what with the purebloods, like himself, constantly teasing her, but it wasn't as if she was nice back to them. To tell the honest truth, Draco didn't actually know much about Granger's past, but he knew that she was a mudblood and that he couldn't ever acknowledge her as human. Because, in his world, she wasn't.