What if Draco were honest?
I'm a bastard, but I don't really hate mudbloods. It's all my father's influence, and I'm afraid of doing anything wrong in his presence. It's actually gotten so bad that I don't even have to be in his presence. The only reason I look so good is because I get up an hour early to fix up and brush my hair, as well as straighten all the wrinkles out of my clothes.
I only go out with Pansy Parkinson to show everyone that I can get a girlfriend, even though I'm a slimy git. I'm petrified of Voldemort, but once again, my father expects it of me and I want to show everyone how capable I am of doing something dangerous. Yes, I do cry when things get too difficult. There is no limit to how scared I was when Granger almost cursed me that one day in third year. I'm a complete coward. I hate pain. I couldn't defend myself physically if I tried.
I only feel safe when Crabbe and Goyle are around. They're who I depend on to survive when I'm not at home. I hate Potter because I'm jealous of all the attention he gets and how he has real friends. I also wish I could hurt him for not accepting my friendship in first year, but once again, my punch wouldn't inflict any pain.
The color of my hair is natural, and so is the color of my eyes and skin. I am not a veela or a vampire, no matter what people say. I'm not gay, have never been pregnant, don't like males (PERIOD), would never do drugs, never sink low enough to act like a muggle, let alone use or wear their things, would never kill my father, wouldn't wear a skirt, wouldn't wear makeup, wouldn't go out with Granger, wouldn't be a personal slave of Voldemort, and will never beat Potter in a Quidditch game.
I have a problem coping with personal problems. I get jealous far too easily, and if someone does do something better then me, I think of plots to kill them and never follow through with them. I get pleasure out of getting other people into trouble and knowing that I did it to them. It makes me feel stronger than I actually am. I like to let everyone know that my family is rich and I can get whatever I want from them, even though I really can't. I guess I'm capable of being evil, but it takes a lot out of me. This is my life. I'm just a spoiled brat who doesn't have it as good as I make it out to be.
And if Lucius were?
Underneath my cool and composed exterior, I'm a loving father who would never think to hurt my son, nor my beautiful wife. The only I reason I work for Voldemort is to get galleons to support them.
Draco; Er, wtf, father? This only shows that you're malevolent enough to sneak out of being honest.