Everyone will tell you that I'm certainly no saint.

Draco Malfoy was crouched in front of a fallen figure. He looked into the figure's face, offering no words to the fallen. He never wasted his words and certainly wasn't planning to on a battlefield.

Most of those on the 'other side' were fallen like this one. But they did not once have such a large impression on Draco. Those left standing were on the side of Light, and he supposed that he was one of them as much as he could be. But unlike many who fought he did not do so because it was right, he did so for revenge and for a vision that he had.

I hate withouth malice,
I love only to hate.

The fallen figure was his father. A man who was so smart and cunning, brought so low by his only heir, his only son. Somehow it was rather fitting that Draco had delivered this blow to a man he had once respected and loved above all others.

But love is closely related to hate. And love can be used as a mask to that hate. But he did not hate out of anger or spite. His hate was pure, one of the few things that could be called pure in relation to Draco Malfoy.

"Why?" His fallen father asked, confusion clouding his Malfoy silver eyes.

"You should know why," Draco betrayed nothing to this dying man, not even his hate. "If nothing else you should at least know why."

Lucius Malfoy let out a gasp. Draco could see he was in pain. He did nothing to ease it. He did not bother wasting breath to call a healer. He wanted to witness his father's dying breath and he wanted him to feel pain. But, he would answer.

"You joined a madman," Draco said calmly. "And you were stupid in your choices after that. I don't want what you want."

And I'll never let anything penetrate my mask,
I'm a perfect imitation of the Malfoy's past.

"What are you going to do when I'm dead?" Lucius asked, breath becoming shallow.

"What else?" Draco looked him in the eye. "Rule the Slytherins."

"You don't have it in you," His father gasped out as another spasm of pain wracked his broken body.

"I do," Draco was unruffled by his father's words. "I'm more of a Malfoy than you. And I know what it means to have that name, more than you ever did. You're a disappoint to me Lucius."

Draco was pleased to see his father look briefly disappointed. But he was a Malfoy and his pleasure was not shown or voiced in any way. He maintained his indifference, even his silver eyes held a harsh indifference. A perfect copy, a perfect fighter.

He had no qualms about killing the man he called father. Lucius had given up that right when he had killed Pansy and Blaise. He had given up that right when he sacrificed Narcissa to the Dark Lord. He had given up that right when he had joined the Dark Lord before Draco was even born, it had just taken those three deaths for his eyes to open and see what he had ignored.

It's more than just upbringing,
Or even the weight and price of blood,
It has to do with leadership and fellowship.

Draco silently admitted that Lucius had been a good leader, as much as that was worth. But he lacked fellowship among his Slytherins. Something Draco did not lack in any of the younger generations.

And naturally most of them had followed his lead when he had defied his father. It was more than just his upbringing or his blood that had made him what he was now. He was a Malfoy. He had made that name count for more than darkness and evil and he would see that the name did not fall to evil and ugliness again. The dark was not always evil, but Lucius had been unable to differentiate between the two. A waste of what had held the promise of a good man.

"You know," Draco said conversationally. "You sullied the name Malfoy. You were not only a disappointment to me but to the name and meaning as well."

Lucius said nothing.

Draco continued to maintain eye contact with the dying.

I'll let you die in battle without another thought.

Draco Malfoy watched as the shadow of a great but evil and cowardly man seeped away into nothingness.

"Maybe if you hadn't killed them it might have ended differently for you," Draco smiled, just barely. "For anyone else would have at least spared you of this pain. But I find that I enjoy your pain Lucius. Before you die I'll tell you this, you once were a great man. But you're a coward now."

"I didn't expect this of you," Lucius whispered. "I never saw."

"No you didn't," Draco said in all seriousness. "But it is not betrayl, merely righting old wrongs. You deserve death now Lucius, anything less I cannot give you."

"Wouldn't ask it of you," His father managed a slight smile. "The Malfoy name is yours now. It will be judged by what you do and who you are."

"I also thought you should know," Draco continued. "I'm married. To a Muggle, Hermione Granger. And I'm going to be a father. If you can't give me your blessing I understand."

I won't give forgiveness unless you beg me,
And I won't say I'm sorry for anything.

"You have it," Lucius said carefully. "Can I have your forgiveness?"

"You can have it," Draco finally said. "But I still hate you."

The sun beat down heavily. The smell of blood and death and decay was burning in his nose and throat. It was rank and vile but he endured it. He had to see his father die.

Draco watched impassively as Lucius Malfoy, his father and faithful servant to the Dark Lord, draw in one last gasping breath. The body stilled and still he waited. The temperature of the body cooled and he stood.

He looked back and on the other side of the field the survivors were gathering. Draco looked down at his father's body before turning resolutely and walking away. He had made his choices, he could live with that.

Choices have been made by greater men,
And lesser men as well.
But I know that as a Malfoy the line has already been drawn and I won't go back.