A/N: Okay, I'm still struggling with this story because I at first wanted to turn it into a full length fic. It won't be written in exact into anything I'm currently working on, but writing this does help me to gather my thoughts and some ideas, so I give you the second part, to what I think I may turn into a three to five part short story for you all. This is an extremely dark chapter, which I wrote because I'm toying with ideas for a darker fic right now, and writing this chapter I think helped me to get into a 'dark draco' mood. I still don't know how long this will be, but I assure you, I will add at least one more installment to this, just because I have a fear of even numbers. I hope you all enjoy this and it isn't a completely unexpected turn of events after the first installment of "Guilty Pleasure."

I would also like to thank everyone who reviewed the first, and let you all know that I really was not intending to add on to this here, but perhaps work a scene similar to the first installment into something else, but when I started writing this second installment, I got carried away, but I really did enjoy this, as I hope you all do.

I don't own anything.

He regretted doing it the moment she left, but he knew it was for the best. He shouldn't have let himself get carried away with her, they were an extremely unlikely match, regardless of how they felt about one another. Their school relationship stood to justify that thought. He was dark and cold, whereas she brought light to any room she was in, and had the warmest personality of anyone he had ever known. He was calculated and predictable, whereas she loved to do things spontaneously, and always kept him guessing. He had a hard time expressing himself, whereas she allowed herself to be ruled by her emotions, sometimes acting far too quickly for her sharp reasoning to stop her. He loved her, he was sure of it. She brought out the very best in him, and truly made him want to be a better person. She ignited a flame within him that he hadn't known was there, and their love was one of passion. He knew within his heart that he would give anything to grow old with her, loving her, cherishing her, he had so many ideas in his head. Visions of her in a white dress, looking beautiful as he smiled upon her. Her, round with his child, the happy glow of motherhood highlighting her features. Her, with their newborn child in her arms, a thin layer of sweat upon her brow having just given birth, and looking all the more beautiful for it. He had never thought of himself as a husband, or a father, but she made him want to be those things, and so much more. He'd give anything to make those dreams a reality, but he knew if they were to happen, her life would be at risk every step of the way, possibly his own as well. So he had turned her out, in a desperate attempt to keep her safe.

Maybe Weasley would take care of her for him, Draco knew the other man had never really gotten over his own feelings for Hermione, or her decision to be with Draco. Yes, that would be for the best, Weasley would comfort her with open arms, because he could when Draco couldn't. She might even be happy with him, maybe she would one day be round with his child. The thought struck a cord in Draco's heart, and he felt a pain than ran much deeper than mere jealousy. It was a lonely, lovesick ache, knowing you can't be with the one you love, because you aren't good for them. It was even worse, knowing that there was somebody better for them.

In that moment, when Draco realized that what he was thinking had to be true, he had never felt so alone. He had never felt so ashamed of being who he was. Curse Lucius. Curse his idealistic pure blooded principles. Curse his savage nature, and desire to harm anyone who spoke against him. Curse the Malfoy family. Draco wished he had never been born a Malfoy, in that moment he wanted nothing more than to have been born into the family he had been raised to think the most poorly of. Draco wished he was Weasley. He wished he could be the one to comfort Hermione in that moment, the one she would turn to, and let help her. He wished more than anything that he could just pack his bags, and that he and Hermione could run away together, disappear. They could apparate all across the country side, being sure to lose anyone Lucius may have had tailing them. They'd be careful to only use necessary magic, and escape to someplace nice where they could build a home together, just the two of them. They could live as muggles for all he cared, he was willing to throw everything he had ever known or believed in out the window for this girl. For the passionate romance that they shared. Draco realized then that he truly had changed, permanently, and after what he had said to her that morning, it was probably too late.

What he would give to just be able to kill Lucius in that moment. He'd do it with his bare hands, and permanently remove the threat hanging over their heads. He'd be forever free to do as he pleased, and he'd never have to worry about her safety. As he imagined all the ways he could kill his father, he almost laughed at the irony of it all. He didn't even feel ashamed for the thoughts he was having, he felt no disgust at the idea of soiling his own hands with his fathers blood. Up until that moment, Draco had never had the mental fortitude to become a murderer. Lucius had tried so very hard to turn Draco into one, too. Numerous times during the war, Draco had been tortured for his inability to kill. And now, now that the war was over, and Voldemort gone, now that Draco knew he would never be asked to kill again, Lucius had finally succeeded in breaking Draco enough that he knew he'd be capable of murder. Murdering the very man who had tried endlessly to push him to that point. Draco felt crazed, and sick to his stomach, of all the things Lucius had ever done to him, threatening Hermione beat all. The very idea of Lucius's thin white fingers coming within close range of a single hair on Hermione's head filled Draco with an anger that he could not suppress.

He felt something wet upon his fingertips, and looking down at his hands, realized he had been clenching his fists so hard, that his nails had drawn blood from his palms. He held his hands in front of him, staring at the bright red stains, watching a trail of blood run down his wrist. Lucius's blood. How could his own father do this to him? How could he go as far as to push his own son, his own flesh and blood, to the point that he was contemplating murder? Draco felt disgusted to have ever called Lucius father. As Draco continued to watch his own blood drip onto his kitchen counter, he came to a decision. There was nothing else for it than to have Lucius permanently removed from the equation. Then, and only then, would Draco feel at ease, knowing Hermione would be safe. Draco's eyes widened at his realization, and he reacted almost immediately.

Not bothering to clean the blood from the counter or his hands, Draco rushed to his bedroom. He donned his thick black traveling cloak and pocketed his wand. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, pumping Malfoy blood through his veins. He knew that with every heartbeat, his palms bled further, but he didn't care. He left his apartment, not even bothering to turn off any lights or secure the door. What did it matter? He may not even return. He was going to Malfoy Manor, he was going to confront his father, and he had decided that on that night, either Lucius would be killed, or he would. He felt not an ounce of dread in his heart. What did he have to be fearful of? He didn't care if he was to die. What was a life without Hermione anyways? He knew he should have been fearful, his father had murdered many before, without so much as blinking an eye. Draco had never been able to do so, but he knew he could. He knew he would take pleasure in murdering Lucius even, he'd do it the muggle way, just for the gratification of being able to wrap his hands around Lucius's throat and strangle the life out of him. He knew he was capable of it, as angry as he was. He was a Malfoy after all, the capacity to murder was in his veins. If all went well tonight though, he hoped that he would be the last Malfoy to ever commit such a horrendous act. If all went well, he would find Hermione in the morning, together they would work out a way for Draco to escape prison, no matter if they had to lie about Lucius' disappearance, or built a court case for him. Assuming Hermione would still have him that was. What would she think of him? Knowing he had killed his own father?

Draco turned on the spot and apparated to Malfoy Manor's front gates.

It didn't matter anymore. If Hermione turned him away, he'd pursue her regardless. Begging her to realize he had done it for them. And if he knew he could not convince her, he'd just kill himself, rather than live without her. One death would already be on his hands, what would another be? He listened to his blood rushing in his ears as he walked along the pathway towards his childhood home. The sky was dark overhead, and Draco could smell the coming rain. It would be a thunderstorm tonight. Good. Perhaps Draco could commit the act without anyone else who may be in the Manor hearing.

He silently slipped through a back door, and made his way through the darkened halls. The Manor was quiet, it had been since the end of the war. It was far too big of a home for just Lucius and Narcissa. Draco hated this place. It had seen so many horrible things. It had sheltered so many Death Eaters during the war, and the Dark Lord himself. Possibly hundreds of murders had taken place deep within the confides of the Manor's dungeon rooms. Draco braced himself, latching on the the thought that this would be the last murder to ever take place in Malfoy Manor, as he neared his fathers study, where he knew the man would be. He pulled his wand out, and held it beside of him, battle ready. He wondered if a Malfoy son had ever killed his own father before. It was exceedingly likely. Taking a last jagged breath, he pushed the door to his fathers study open without warning, and drank in the sight of Lucius, sitting in the darkened room at his desk, no light except for that of a few lit candles in the room. Lucius looked up startled at the intrusion, and eyed the wand at Draco's side.

"What is it boy? What are you doing here?" He asked harshly. Draco swallowed the bile rising in his throat, at the thought that this man, this creature, truly was his father. He raised his wand and licked his lips. He knew he must look positively mad, but he didn't care. Perhaps his crazed appearence would frighten Lucius even.

"Hello Father. I've come to kill you."

A/N: Okay so... do I do a good Dark Draco?