Chapter 50 is here! At LAST! It took me long enough to get here…. :)

BIG thank you to Lizzie! For beta-ing this chapter, all ten pages of it. Don't know what I would do without you! (glomp)

Big thanks to all my readers. You're my motivation to keep writing! Thanks guys!

CHAPTER 50

The carriage door shut with a surprisingly loud thud that startled Draco. He was in a carriage heading towards Hogsmeade, where he would apparate back home for the weekend. In all honesty, Draco was terrified of what awaited him back at the Malfoy Manor. His head was filled with thoughts of telling his parents that he was not engaged to Pansy Parkinson, but Hermione Granger instead. He could see the pure rage on his father's face as well as the look of betrayal from his mother. It really was not a pleasant thought.

Draco briefly stuck his head out the window and gave a glance at the castle that was now behind him. He tried to squint to see if he could make out the location of the Head's tower, but now, all he could see was dark slits in the walls, where windows should occupy. Draco turned around in his seat and slouched ever so slightly, feeling dejected and overcome with worry that he might never see this place again, might never see Hermione again. Draco tried to let himself be lulled into relaxation by the gentle rocking of the carriage, but his mind seemed be working in overdrive. This was one weekend that he wished would blow by as quickly as possible. But knowing his luck, it would probably be one of the slowest of his life.

Just as Draco was about to fall into an uneasy sleep, the carriage jerked to a stop just outside of the Hogsmeade station. Groaning, Draco pushed open the door and threw his bag over his shoulder as he stepped out. Hermione had convinced him that it was completely impractical to bring an entire trunk home with him when he only going back for a weekend and still had many clothes back at the manor he could wear. Draco's mouth quirked up slightly at the thought before he regained the trademark Malfoy arrogant composure that he would have to bare for the entire weekend. Draco hadn't realized how difficult this might be; he had grown so accustomed to being himself and being happy when he was around Hermione that he knew it might be a struggle to remain indifferent to any horrible things that could happen back at the manor, but he didn't realize how much he had changed since the school year had started. That startled him greatly.

Draco shook his head as if to clear any spider webs inside and headed towards the apparition point, where he saw a floppy-eared creature with big eyes playing with the hem of an old pillow case.

"Hello, Whipsy," Draco called out as he approached the house elf.

"Young master Malfoy! Your mother sent me here to take your trunk back for you!" The young house elf peered around Draco, looking to see if it was hiding behind him.

"Oh, all I brought with me was a small pack, Whipsy."

"But young master Malfoy always brings with him a trunk back to the manor!" Whipsy squeaked, looking slightly worried about what would happen if she showed back up without Draco's trunk like she was ordered to.

"Well, the head girl thought it was ridiculous that I brought an entire trunk home with me when I'll only be there for a couple of days. Don't you agree, Whipsy?"

"Yes, young master Malfoy. If Whipsy may give her opinion, sir, the miss sounds like a smart lady!"

"She is, Whipsy, but don't let my father hear that, all right, Whipsy? He doesn't like her much."

"Yes, young master Malfoy! Shall I take your bag home for you?"

"Sure. Just set it on my bed for me, if you please." Draco gave Whipsy a small smile and handed her the bag before she popped away. Draco sighed before walking to the apparition point and popping away to the manor.

It never failed to startle Draco just how big the manor looked from outside the gates. It seemed unnecessary to have a house with forty plus rooms when the family generally used only about ten or so of them. He highly doubted that he had even seen every room in the house yet. Letting out a long breath, Draco pushed through the gate and made his way to the front of the house before tapping his wand three times on the door knob. As the door opened before him, Draco quickly squared his shoulders and plastered on a haughty sneer on his face that screamed that he was an arrogant Malfoy and stepped into the house.

The house looked much like it always did. It was dark, despite being covered in white marble. The dark accents made it seem as if anything could be lurking behind a corner or as if something would suddenly jump out and murder you where you stood. And with the Dark Lord occasionally lurking about the house these days, being murdered where you stood was actually a very high possibility.

But that was no different from when he was much younger and most of the death eaters that had yet to be round up, seeking refuge in the many hidden passages and rooms throughout the house. He remembered his Aunt Bella, who had gone even crazier with the disappearance of her Dark Lord and master, taking a teddy bear that he was dragging behind him and slashing it with her wand so that it was horribly deformed and had most of its stuffing laying on the floor. Any pleasant memories here were far and few between, often occurring when he was either alone in the library, or on occasion when he was having a pleasant conversation about the gossip of the day with his mother. But more often than not, this house was filled with memories of pain and torture, and not just from Voldemort's era, but the entire Malfoy family, generation after generation, had left a reputation of misery and death behind them. This house and the rest of the estate was the only physical reminder of the previous generations and it seemed to scream just how evil this family was, continued on by family traditions and old fashioned beliefs and values that had yet to catch up with the present day.

But Draco couldn't linger in his thoughts, not here where his father might catch him off guard and have a look inside his mind, just to ensure that Draco was paying attention. It would be painful if he was ever caught thinking about ideals that did not follow the rest of the family's beliefs and values. His scars weren't from mere accidents after all.

He quickly suppressed a shudder and began to make his way up the grand staircase towards the East Wing, where his bedroom and study resided. He really didn't want to interact with anyone for a few hours, so he could still readjust to acting like a Malfoy was supposed to, instead of – as his father would say – like one of the those goody two-shoes Hufflepuffs (which Draco found great humor in, since he had always taken the most amount of points from Hufflepuffs for snogging in closets, or doing other unmentionables). Draco scoffed shortly as he made his way down the hallway.

Draco reached his bedroom only to find his mother standing by a window. The heavy drapes had been thrown wide open, letting the light stream in to make the room seem to glow in the sunlight. It had always seemed to be the only place in the manor that had been at least a little bit cheerful.

"Mother." Draco quickly squared his shoulders, stood up straight and gave a small nod of his head in her direction. He turned from her and made his way to his bed where the duffle bag lay, just as he had asked Whipsy to do.

"I didn't know that you had a suitcase like that, Draco. It's very plain," Narcissa said softly as she ran her fingers over the dark green velvet drapes.

"I borrowed it. I figured that bringing an entire trunk back to the manor from a weekend was quite pointless," Draco said in a monotone voice as he slowly began to pull each article of clothing out of the bag, trying not to have a reaction to any of the quite random pieces of clothing that had made their way into the bag with Hermione's hasty packing. Draco smiled briefly at this thought before remembering where he was and returning back to his old Malfoy arrogance.

"I figure you're right, it would make little sense to pack up all of you're belongings just for a weekend. Although, if you had the house elves do your packing and unpacking, you would hardly notice." Narcissa moved from the window and sat on the bed beside Draco's bag.

"I'm sure it would, mother. However, I find it somehow relaxing to unpack like this," Draco said, peering inside of the bag curiously, trying to see what other random pieces he could find.

"So it would seem. It's just so much like a muggle, Draco. I hope that Miss Granger hasn't been rubbing off on you." Narcissa's tone was full of concern, and she gently laid a hand on her son's arm, looking up at his face, trying to figure out what was going on behind his steel grey eyes.

"Well, it's possible, mother. I have become her friend in a way." Draco tried to seem very uninterested in the turn of the conversation.

"But, Draco, she's a Mudblood! she's so much beneath you!" Narcissa protested, her eyes widening in shock. Draco's hands tightened around the tie he was placing in a pile with the other ties as the word mudblood rang throughout his mind. He had nearly forgotten that back here, mudblood was the only way of referring to muggleborns; they hardly referred to them by their actual names even.

"Well, it was either argue with the girl I have to share a common room with for an entire year, or spend the year in some sort of peace. I chose the option that would result in fewer headaches. I was sure that it would be excusable in your eyes, but perhaps I am wrong," Draco said stiffly, which he was sure that his mother would take to be as offense to his ego and intelligence rather than something much more personal.

"That's fine, Draco. I just worry about you."

"Yes, I figure hearing that I have a friendship with a… mudblood, would be startling to you," Draco said stiffly, barely being able to say the word mudblood with indifference.

"Yes, Draco." Narcissa stood up before wrapping her arms around Draco from behind and placing her head on his shoulders. "I'm glad you're home, even if it's only for the weekend," she softly whispered before heading out of the room.

"Breakfast will be in half an hour," she called over her shoulder before the door shut behind her. Draco let out a large breath before collapsing onto the bed. He was startled by how much he had changed since September. How much he had changed as a person. It was true that he had never really believed that what his father said made perfect sense, but he blew that off as his teenage instincts to rebel. Now, it seemed like Hermione had intensified the feeling he had all along that his father was so unbelievably wrong.

Draco sat up and looked bag over to the duffle bag and pulled it over so it was sitting in his lap. As he looked in, he smiled. It appeared that Hermione hadn't taken out everything from the last time she used it.

Breakfast had passed by without an event, or really so much as a word. No one had even asked to pass the salt. While that was typical for the Malfoy family, it was quite the juxtaposition compared to the dinner he had in the Great Hall the night before. Draco had meandered throughout the house and out doors, carrying a book with him so that if he found a relaxing and comfortable place, he could sit down for a moment and take a quick breather from life.

"Young master Malfoy!" Whipsy had popped in front of him, startling him slightly. He glared for a brief moment at the house elf for scaring him, but as he saw her cower in fear, he instantly regained his composure.

"Yes, Whipsy?" Draco said politely, trying not to scare the poor creature further.

"Your father wishes to see you in his study," Whipsy squeaked.

"I see." Draco paused. " Whipsy, can you do me a favor?"

"Yes, young master Malfoy!"

"Can you place all of my school clothes that I brought back with me into that bag and place it outside just in front of gate?" Draco asked, gesturing to the bag that lay next to the chest of drawers before looking back to Whipsy, who looked slightly confused, but nodded her head anyway. "Thank You." Draco sighed as he turned to leave his room and began heading towards the other side of the manor. Draco already knew what his father was going to talk to him about: his engagement to Pansy, which he already knew wasn't going to happen. He was already fighting the urge to turn and run. How Gryffindors could do it baffled him; with every step he took, his courage seemed to disappear bit by bit. He knew he couldn't stop though, he had to leave his father in the dark for as long as possible. It was the only way he could possibly manage to escape with his life from the hell that was the Malfoy Manor, it was the only way that Hermione could possibly still be safe after this. He had to tell his father that he wasn't going to marry Pansy Parkinson.

So Draco kept on walking, keeping this in mind. He was no longer carrying the weight of his own life in his hands, but the weight of at least three other people. Not to mention the lives of anyone that could possibly come in the future. However, Draco closed his eyes for a moment and willed all thoughts of them out of his mind. He couldn't think about anything that had to do with them, less his own thoughts betray him and endanger them.

Draco took a deep breath and focused on each passing second before he rapped on the door that opened to Lucius' study.

"Enter."

Draco slowly opened the door and stepped inside to see his father reading over some paperwork that most likely had to entail details about the Malfoy estate.

"Close the door, Draco."

"You called for me, father?"

"Yes." Lucius removed the glasses from his face before looking intently at Draco. "I want to ensure that everything has been squared away with the Parkinson engagement."

"No, father, it hasn't."

"And why would that be?"

"Excuse me, father, but I believe it to be against my morals to ask the girlfriend of my best mate to be my wife. Furthermore, I don't want to feel obligated for them to see each other after we've wed because I have a guilty conscience," Draco said calmly.

"I see. So you are willing to put the entire Malfoy estate at jeopardy because you don't want to hurt your friend's feelings? That is very unlike you, Draco."

"Being Head Boy, father, I've had to learn some compassion. I almost lost the position at the beginning of the year because I was cruel to my fellow classmates. If you remember."

"That does not excuse the fact that you have refused to ask her, Draco."

"I am perfectly capable of choosing a wife that suits me just fine, father."

"We have done it this way to ensure that no one is marrying the Malfoy name for our money, Draco!"

"The children aren't, father, but their parents are. All they care about is improving their estate. Is that not why you want me to marry Parkinson, so that our estate can be larger?"

"Draco, this is not the point of these marriages."

"Oh, but it is, father, and you and I both know it. Does it really matter if the biggest estate in the wizarding world get bigger?"

"Draco, it is our duty to this estate that –"

"Oh, I get it, this estate runs us. We serve the estate. Not the other way around. I completely understand, father."

"Draco! What on earth is the matter with you? You had no objection before now."

"No objection? I have always objected. I have never wanted to run the estate as my career for the rest of my life. I have never wanted to be told who I married. That may be you, father, but that is not me!"

"How dare you assume that this was the life I wanted myself to have. I wanted to work in the Department of Mysteries when I was your age, but I wasn't allowed."

"So that's it, father? You're going to subject me to the same hell of a life that you lived? Why, thank you, father. I really see how I have been prioritized in your life." Draco turned around and left Lucius' study, slamming the door behind him.

"Draco Malfoy, get back here this instant!" Lucius called out from the study, astonished that his son had spoken back to his father. But as the shock ebbed away, it was replaced by fury. He stormed out of his office, pulling his wand out of the depths of his robes before pointing it at Draco.

"Draco, come back here, now," Lucius yelled, but Draco ignored him and continued to storm down the hall, hardly pausing as a spell whistled past him and left a scorch mark in the wall. He was so furious that the air around him crackled.

Narcissa, who had heard the commotion from the first floor parlor, had rushed up the stairs, only to see another flash of light fly across the top of the stairwell. Much to her displeasure, she was not surprised.

"Draco! Lucius! What is going on?!" she screeched.

"Stay out of this, Cissa," Lucius yelled as another jet of light shot out of his wand.

"Lucius! Stop that this instant!" Narcissa yelled as she stepped into the middle of the hall, making it impossible for Lucius to curse Draco without hitting her first. Lucius continued to point his wand in her general direction as if he was trying to figure out how to get around her without harming her. She didn't move, however, until she heard the loud slam of the door at the other end of the corridor.

"What the hell has gotten into you? You're trying to curse our son now? I thought that we had gotten past this!" Narcissa screamed at him.

"He's going to ruin this family, don't you understand? He's refusing to marry the Parkinson girl. Not only will our family be shamed, but it doesn't increase the income of the estate!" he yelled back, gesturing with his wand that was currently emitting red sparks. Narcissa slowly walked forward, letting her carefully controlled emotions give way to the anger that she felt towards her husband.

"Is that still all you care about? How much money the estate makes? The happiness of our only son can be damned as long as we continue to make more and more money. We already have more than enough money for ten generations to keep living the lifestyle we live now! I thought you were better than this, you told me that you would be better than this, but you're just as greedy and spiteful as your father," Narcissa accused, looking at him as if he was hardly worthy of cleaning the dirt off of her shoes.

"Don't talk down to me like you're better than me, Narcissa."

"I'm still a Black by blood, Lucius, and my blood is better than yours," Narcissa warned him, pausing to watch him carefully. "Is that not why your parents arranged our marriage, because I was a wonderful asset to add to the estate, and my inheritance and income from the Black estate was greater than that of the Malfoy's? And then, it was divided between my other two sisters at the time. You were just lucky enough that Andromeda decided to run off and marry that mudblood and that Bellatrix was thrown into Azkaban along with her husband, meaning that the entire value of the estate belongs to me now. What a valuable, shiny object I am," Narcissa sneered, catching Lucius off guard.

"Narcissa, you know you mean much more to me than that."

"Do I? Because it seems that you only want Draco to marry Miss Parkinson because of her family name and estate. You sound just like every Malfoy male to pass through these walls, and I'll be damned if you turn my son into the same kind of man." Narcissa glared at her husband.

"You're still bitter," Lucius said softly.

"Why would I not be bitter? I had no choice. I don't have the guts that Andromeda has. My parents didn't think that I was wise enough to pick out the man that I was going to spend the rest of my life with. Please tell me why I wouldn't be bitter, Lucius. You know I never like all the traditions that encompassed living as a true pureblood witch."

"You always seemed happy with marrying me."

"I was lucky. I fell in love with you along the way here. But you must realize that we are rare. Hardly any of our friends actually love their spouses, most of them have men and women outside of their marriages. Do you really want Draco, our only son, to wind up with a mistress, just so he can feel some happiness? Don't you want him to be able to feel the love we feel for each other?" Narcissa asked him, trying to persuade him to see her way.

"It defies everything, Narcissa, everything that a pureblood is. We have to maintain the line," Lucius countered.

"Draco is going to be a Malfoy no matter what happens. That isn't going to change. Just don't turn our son into something awful, please." Narcissa placed a hand on his chest, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

"You're an amazing woman," Lucius whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close to his chest.

"Only a certain kind of woman can handle you Malfoy men." Narcissa laughed.

Draco slammed his door shut, fury still raging through him. He rested his head on his door and slowly slid down to the ground. This was not going well, and if his father had acted this poorly to him not wanting to marry Pansy, he knew that when he did find out who he planned on spending the rest of his life with, he could make the Dark Lord seem like a wimp. He really should just leave now and go back to Hogwarts, finish out the year and the run and hide with Hermione until it was safe to come back into the public eye. Or, at least until it was safe enough that he wouldn't have to endure the wrath of his father. He had already used almost every ounce of courage that he had left; he was a Slytherin, sly and cunning, but he was no Gryffindor.

Draco closed his eyes and pictured Hermione in his mind's eye, her smiling face and dark brown eyes. He smiled briefly as the image of her turned into her yelling at him. He loved how she could get so riled up. And if he didn't come back, the fury that would be unleashed onto his father would be a sight to see.

So it was decided: Draco would face his demons, because if he didn't, Hermione would take care of them for him. And as much as he loved her, he didn't want his problems to be solved by someone else; he would never be able to live it down. So it was decided: tonight, at dinner, he would tell them. Then he would leave.

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