Summary: Ugh, I can't really explain it. It's one of those weird fics that nobody has ever written about. It's from Pansy's, Draco's, and Lucius's view. And it's kind of a Draco/Pansy thing. About Lucius's POV, I didn't get into it too much. If you're curious, you may want to read "I Just Don't Care Anymore." This is a semi prequel to it anyway. The title stinks, I couldn't think of one. And it's yet another cliffhanger.
Like Father, Like Son?
I burst through the door to the hospital wing. "Draco?" I shouted.
"Shush. What are you doing here?" Madame Pomfrey snapped.
"I came to see Draco." I answered.
She studied me for a minute. "He's resting now."
"O, he won't care." I grinned, most teachers can't stand that.
"O, all right." She sighed. "But be quick."
I brushed by her and found his bed quickly.
"Hi Draco..." I grinned. He was leaning against the bedpost, pouting and staring out the window. He was still all bloody. Even some of his hair was tinged red. He looked so forlorn and alone, just sitting there. He's the smallest kid in the grade. He's also, in not only my opinion, but many's, the cutest.
"Are you all right?" I said tentatively. "That hippogriff was mean. Hagrid's an idiot to have them in the school."
He turned around. He was still clutching his arm. I tensed up immediately. I always do when he looks at me. Something about his eyes pulls you in. I think it's because there's this stuff under them that swirls. He looked at me for a long time before speaking. "Hello." He said quietly.
It was Pansy. It's always Pansy. She's the only person in the whole school other then Snape who cares about me in the least. She was staring at me. Her short brown hair was pulled back into two pigtails high up on her head. Everyone says that she's ugly, like a pug dog. I never thought so. She has a turned up nose, but that's it.
"Hello?" I said again, this time in a question.
"O." She blushed. "I asked how your arm was."
"It's all right." I shrugged, causing a sharp pain to shoot down my back. I uncontrollably winced.
She quickly reached out with her hand and grabbed my shoulder. I guess she thought she was helping. She caused it to hurt more. I instinctively pulled away.
"O Draco!" she sighed. "Don't you like me?"
"I like you." I said quietly. "It's just...."
"Just what?" she whispered.
"I don't know how." I sighed. "I mean, I know how, but not to love..."
"Of course you do! Your parents?" I said.
He laughed a soft cruel laughter. Then he stopped abruptly. "They don't love me! Are you kidding?"
"They must. You're their kid."
He jerked his head up and stared at me. He was giving me the creeps, something else was in his eyes now. Something dangerous. "They do not care about me in the least."
He said it slowly, which means he was getting angry. I leaned back. He sighed and flopped down on the pillow again.
Pansy isn't that brilliant. How could she think my parents love me? They had me because they have to carry on the family line. That's it. Not that I wanted love. I think it's stupid. That's why Pansy scares me.
At that moment, the door burst open again.
I heard Madame Pomfrey yelling at somebody, then I heard somebody whisper something in return. An all too familiar voice.
"Hello Draco..." I didn't dare look up. I knew it was my Father straight away. "So, your arm all right?"
His voice was strange. I glanced up. He was smirking. "Yea..."
"No, it's not." He sat down on the bed beside Pansy, who edged away.
"What do you mean?" she said defiantly.
"What I mean is this. If his arm still hurts, we can get Buckbeak killed and Hagrid sacked." He glanced at us. I should have known it was something like that.
"Ooo..." Pansy squealed.
"Well, they fired me last year. I have another job now, but I have a score to settle with them." He laughed. His laughter is never pointless. It always means something, trouble for somebody else. Sometimes even death, which was the case now.
I couldn't help but laugh. Like father, like son.
He laughs exactly like me. He looks exactly like me. I wish I could love him. Unfortunately, Voldemort does not respect father/son stuff. Since his father was a muggle who ran away, I don't blame him.
Suddenly, Pansy blurted out, "Why do you hate Draco?"
"Pansy!" Draco cried, he was even paler then usual. He was looking at me, as if I might cry.
"I don't hate him." I sighed, running my hand through my hair.
"I don't either." She smiled and hugged him. He blushed. "But he doesn't know how to love."
"I don't want to!" he said quickly. I couldn't help but smile. He was the boy I always wanted to be. I am hiding now, under a mask of evil and sarcasm. I always was evil, but I was once sentimental. Until Voldemort.
I watched as Draco promptly shoved Pansy off him. I noticed the laughter in his eyes though. It was too late for him to hide it.
I'm glad he doesn't love. I would have thought, "He's missing something." years ago, nut now, I have started to lose the feeling to, and it doesn't matter anymore. So I think, or do I?
I realized that Father was looking very confused. "Father?" I asked carefully.
"Yes?" he answered.
"Just don't let Pansy pull you in..."
"Pull me in what?"
He then threw his arms up in the air and hurried from the room, but not before adding, "Your arm hurts now."
I shrugged, then turned back to Pansy.