Azkaban - 9

"My proper place?" Draco asked. "What, to kneel in front of a half-blood? I thought you said Malfoys were better than that."

Lucius raised his hand and slapped Draco's face before Harry could do anything to stop it. This was painful to witness, and Harry wished he were anywhere else. He suddenly wondered if this was how Draco had felt while watching scenes of Harry's childhood with the Dursleys during Occlumency.

"That's Potter talking," Lucius spat. Harry's head jerked upward at the sound of his own name.

"Is that who's offering you protection?" Lucius asked incredulously. "Have you aligned yourself with Potter? Oh, Draco, how could you have sunk so low? Potter doesn't stand a chance."

"Of course he doesn't. But there is a better chance of survival through his cohorts. I know at least that they won't kill us," Draco said, making one last attempt to sway his father.

"Until you stand up and take account for your actions, you are no son of mine. Think about what I've said, Draco. You need to turn back to the Dark Lord. You are near his enemies and can aid him greatly. It could earn you great honor and respect. You are nothing without it," Lucius said, his voice silky smooth as he tried to entice his son.

Draco sighed heavily, but pulled away from his father's caressing hand. "Then we really have nothing else to say. You were the one who taught me that a Malfoy is worth much more than any other wizard because of our heritage, and we should protect that lineage at all costs."

"You are a coward," Lucius spat, turning his back.

Draco's shoulders slumped. "I'll give Mother your best," he said softly, placing his hand on the silver disk and stepping outside the moment the ward went down. Harry quickly followed.

As they strode up the corridor towards the room where the others had remained, Harry removed the Invisibility Cloak, feeling awkward. He wondered what Malfoy was feeling. His own father had just told him that he should turn himself over to be killed. How could a father do that to his son? A new and powerful respect for what his own parents had done for him arose in his heart. It seemed not every parent would do such a thing after all. Harry was startled to realize how sorry he felt for Draco Malfoy.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and he meant it.

"You should be, "Malfoy snapped, not breaking his stride. "This is entirely your fault."

"My fault?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"My father wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you and your blasted heroics," Malfoy said, seething. "The Dark Lord would never have wanted to punish him by using me and none of this would have happened. It's all your fault."

Harry's sympathy for Malfoy's plight disappeared in a puff of smoke. "It's not my fault your father chose to put a mask over his head and run around with a lunatic who thinks he's better than everyone else. Your father did this to himself, Malfoy," Harry snapped.

"It's your fault you haven't done what you've been supposedly chosen to do and got us all out of this mess. What are you waiting on, anyway? Trying to lap up as much of the glory and spotlight while you can, are you? Afraid the idiotic public who fawn at your feet will turn on you once they realize what a fraud you are?" Draco asked, his face turning pink.

"No, that's more your style, Malfoy," Harry said. Taking a deep breath, he tried to regain control. "Look, I know you're angry about the way your father treated you. I would be too–"