A/N: Thanks to muentiger, Batmarcus, Mythomagic-Champion and NarglesAreBehindIt for reviewing,

Chapter 3: Lucius

With a deep sigh Blaise took it all in. Astoria had cheated on Draco, or so Draco believed, and with Theodore. It was impossible, unthinkable, yet Blaise couldn't find it in himself to believe it.

There had to be some misunderstanding! There just had to be! Theodore was a good, no a great, friend, and Astoria just... wasn't like that.

He looked down at the just turned page. Who would it be? Still, the Dark Lord's name evaded him, as did Potter's. When would they come in?

The name Draco addressed, however, was another name he hadn't been expecting.

Lucius. I refuse to acknowledge you as my father, as it would be a lie.

Was Draco being dramatic or was he being serious? It was, again, hard to tell. Was Lucius just a failure as a father, or was Draco a lovechild?

He couldn't see the latter. Draco looked too much like Lucius. The same hair colour, the same eyes, the same pointed face... But there were magical ways to altering one's appearance.

You are by blood my father, and the fact that I look so much like you, sickens me and I wish I could change it. You never were there, were you? You were always hunting for something else, something monetary, something expensive, something earthly, never giving my mother and I the attention we rightly deserved. I was your son, and you tried to buy my adoration. You don't know what it is to love, because you were never taught to love!

Really, Draco had been sorted into the wrong house, here he was with 'love' again. Blaise shook his head, hiding a small smile.

Mother knows love. Aunt Bella knows love, even if only for her master. And you? All you know is money, earthly posessions that are of no use to me. Or you. To think, I used you as a threat once. Now, they'd all laugh at your name. Because you failed. Not only your ridiculous master, but me too. I myself laugh at you, behind your back, in front of you, but you lack the intelligence to realise it.

Blaise could hear the pain in Draco's written words. The page was bit wrinkled, and the 'too' was runny.

Draco, the Slytherin prince, had cried when he'd written this. Blaise wanted to march to his best friend and demand why he hadn't confided in Blaise, why he hadn't told his best friend!

Supressing his anger, and reminding himself that everything was not about him, Blaise continued.

You're a coward and a shallow being. I used to look up to you. You used to be my idol. I wanted to be you, but now... Screw you. I just wish I had the courage to say it to your face. You're a poltroon, you hide your entire entire life and expect me to do the same. You're like a fish on dry water, listening with you mouth wide open to the gossip of the others.

News, Lucius: I won't become you.

Blaise's chest swelled with pride. Draco had seen the light!

Sometimes the mirror is my only friend, when Blaise is busy. Mirror, mirror on the wall... Who's the most pathetic of them all? Draco, the brainwashed, or Lucius, the gall?

Odd how I can relate to an old muggle fable, isn't it? And I know you tried to fool me! You thought I was a stupid little boy, to mend and to bend as you saw fit, correct? Now I have this awful mark on my arm and this impossible feat to accomplish - thanks to you! I hate you for what you've made me become!

Blaise reached for a piece of toiletpaper and wiped his eyes. Draco really was a piece of work, wasn't he? And again, he was subtly pointing to clay with 'mend and bend', wasn't he?

There's more...

I look at myself in the mirror, and I see a smaller version of you. The difference being I have short hair, whilst you insist on looking like some medieval woman.

Blaise thought Lucius more looked like what could be described as a 'veela-wannabe', but that didn't mean Lucius didn't look good with his locks. Theo once said Lucius made him think of someone named 'Goldilocks'. And then he said something about bears getting angry about eaten porridge and broken chairs.

Theo had an overactive imagination, Blaise dismissed the subject from his mind.

I once smashed the mirror, because it depicted the person I hated. Yes, I hate you. I hate you for not being there, I hate you for hurting my mother and bedding other women, I hate you for trying to make me your slave, I hate you for the way you treated the actual slaves, I hate your self-righteous ways, your mannerisms and belief that there's only one way: your way.

With everything happening nowadays, I'm surprised I haven't yelled at you before, telling you just what I think of you.

There was what proved Draco shouldn't be a Gryffindor, then. Blaise was relieved, having expected unicorns and rainbows to pop out at the previous page's section on love.

Draco must've been incredibly angry when he wrote this page. Not only were extra use of exclamation points there, there was also the untidy scrawl as he'd tried to refill his quill, and the ink was somewhat smeared on the page.

The point is, I was taught to respect you. You lost that, Lucius, and you disgust me. That I will say gladly, my sneer in place, besting both your sneer and scowl. Severus taught me well. He was the father you never were, and for that, I will always thankful.

Blaise detected pride and... admiration in that paragraph. Draco really thought of their potions teacher as a parental figure.

So, I'm not going to explain how you could've been a better father, that would fill this entire book, and I want to take my life before that.

What I am going to do, is to shove this in your face and hope you're happy.

I refuse to be you. The mirror I broke was scattered all over the floor, and I picked up one of the larger fragments.

In that one fragment, I saw my mother. I saw her in me, and postponed my suicide.

Blaise breathed through his nose heavily. He knew Narcissa really, really cared for Draco. For him that was Blaise too. For a pureblood, she did a lot of things normal pureblood women wouldn't do. She made the two boys breakfast, tucked them in and played board games with them, letting them win.

She was kind, but always a proper lady.

Do you regret it, Lucius? Never being there? Never paying attention? Listening to the gossip of your fellow fools? And giving my life to the master fool?

Well, here's the largest piece of gossip for you to share: I killed myself, and it was your fault.

. . .

A/N: I liked writing this. It was a fun outlet for some held in anger and irritation. What'd you think?