Chapter Three – Losing It

"What happened?"

Draco was sitting in his ministry superior's office three hours later. He ignored her question and lifted a hand to check the gash above his eyebrow. It was healing, but more slowly than he would have liked.

Geraldine Ferding was glaring at him over her desk. She was a sturdy little middle-aged woman whose husband worked as the head of the Law Making Committee.

"Well?" she asked. "I'm waiting, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked up at her. Though he hated to admit it, he had a strange respect for this tiny woman. For someone so small, she commanded power enough to make all her underlings shudder if she so much as glanced with the least bit of disapproval at them. She didn't have such a power over Draco, but she did have a bit of a soft spot for him. But no special treatment in the least. She just trusted him a bit more than others at the ministry would advise. She had once told him that he reminded her of her son, who died from a spider bite when he was out on vacation in a Brazilian rain forest.

He sighed and then answered truthfully. "I just lost control." That was a bit of an understatement. Thinking about it, he didn't know what hurt more – knowing that his father probably would rat him out, or knowing that he was helpless, or that he could've prevented it, or that stupid comment about ferrets.

"Let me guess," Ferding said, "Mr. Potter informed you that your father was being held in questioning?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"WHAT were you thinking?" she shouted suddenly. "You have to realize that you were never exactly trusted in the first place! Now you cause an accident that could have killed one of the most important people in this whole War on the Dark Arts, and caused enough of a distraction to allow your father to escape!"

"What?" Draco found himself on his feet, blood rushing to his face. Why was he angry? Shouldn't he be relieved?

Ferding looked a little relieved as well. "Yes, Draco, your father escaped from custody and it's your fault. How could you have lost control like that?"

Draco slouched back into his chair. He knew he was acting like a sulking child, but at the moment he didn't care. He was too confused. What sort of twisted plot of fate was this all about?

"I'm getting tired of your brooding, Malfoy," Ferding said irritably.

Draco paused before answering. "The subject of my father is never a very safe subject with me."

"Is that really the case?" Ferding asked.

"Yes, all right?" Draco said, standing up and heading for the door. "Can we just drop this now? I have work to do."

"SIT!" Ferding barked.

Draco grudgingly dropped into his seat.

"In light of this situation," Ferding said, "I'm sure you understand I have no choice in this course of action."

Draco sat up and leaned forward. "Wait – you're not firing me are you?"

"No," Ferding said, looking annoyed at being interrupted. She always looked annoyed. "You aren't being terminated, but I have no choice but to refer you to the psychology department."

"What?"

"If you can't handle yourself around the subject of your father, Draco," Ferding said, her voice rising dangerously, "Then your sanity can't quite be trusted in the workplace since Sr. Mr. Malfoy will be the topic of conversation among several workers here."

"But – "

"No reasoning with this one," Ferding said, putting her signature on the paper she was writing and handing it to Draco. "I suggest you start now. The sooner you can get your feelings under control the better. You're losing it, kid, but I'm fighting for you. Just prove to me I'm not fighting for a lost cause."