The Family Name : Year Four

By Elbereth in April

A/N: Though abuse was never proven in canon, this series calls for Lucius Malfoy to be a real jerk to his son.

Chapter 8

Artemis was approached by his Head of House the next morning. Snape scowled at the boy. "Research a man's magic eye before you break into his office, Mr. Fowl."

Artemis actually appeared subdued. "You're right, of course, Professor," he admitted, sounding disgusted with himself. "I can't believe I overlooked that."

"Well, you'll learn your lesson. I tried to get your detention turned over to me but Professor Dumbledore agreed that Moody had the right to assign your punishment himself. I did insist the Headmaster approve the punishment, though. Otherwise who knows what he would have done to you as revenge for the spell you cast on him earlier."

Artemis privately conceded that was a relief. Plus, he intended to have Butler standing by in case he needed to contact him via the brooch.

That evening, Artemis and Hermione showed up for detention as directed. Moody appeared surly. Artemis suspected the cause was that Dumbledore had disapproved of his first few choices of revenge.

"As you're both supposed to be so smart, I chose to make this detention an intellectually challenging one," Moody began abruptly. "You will each write a treatise on wizarding law, what it's like today, how it was during Voldemort's reign, and your opinion of it. I also want a report on the trials of the Death Eaters and their claims that they were under the Imperious Curse, and whether or not you think justice was done. You have fifteen minutes to go to the library, get books, and bring them back here. I'm even giving you a pass to the Restricted Section."

Hermione and Artemis looked at each other. This wasn't the horrible punishment they were expecting to receive. "How many inches?" Hermione asked.

"You will write until I tell you to stop. And your grade will determine how many House points I take off."

They grimaced. He probably wouldn't grade fair, but still this wasn't terrible. Neither of them minded studying. It looked like Moody's desire to prove to himself he was smarter than them had gotten them off easy.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

All that week, Draco felt off. By Saturday even his friends were somewhat avoiding him—he'd been that snarky. Snatches of the Malfoy Family Code waltzed through his mind at odd moments, making him fidget uncomfortably. He'd learned a lot about the world and being a Malfoy last summer. It had been—pounded into him. And he did his best—to be Malfoy. But now, no matter how hard he tried to be oblivious, it seemed tiny cracks of self-awareness were starting to creep through. He tried to drown himself in denial, but in truth—he had doubts. Right now it was just a trickle, but that was all about to change.

Because as he strolled into Hogsmeade with Goyle and Pansy, he saw his father outside the Three Broomsticks. Waiting for him. "I thought I'd surprise you with a visit," Lucius said, smiling. He led Draco away to the apartment that was always reserved for the Malfoys if they happened to be in town.

How does he manage to look so bland and so intimidating at the same time? Draco wondered briefly as he stood in front of his father, trying not to show fear. Because whatever reason he was here for, it couldn't be good.

For an endless moment, Lucius regarded him. Then he said, "It has been brought to my attention that you've been consorting with mudbloods and Weasleys."

Draco's eyes went wide. "J-just Granger—you know she's Fowl's girlfriend, and she's always been good at studying…"

"As she constantly bests you in test scores each year, I am aware of that." Lucius's voice was silky.

Draco swallowed. "Sir. I'm just taking advantage of her library skills for a potions project I'm working on."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "And the Weasley?"

He couldn't say they were investigating who was after Potter. His father would be even angrier. He couldn't say Greg had a crush on her. That would get his friend in trouble. He had no excuse. And who had told his father, anyway?

"I—I-I'm sorry, sir."

"I think you have forgotten some basic tenets of what it means to be a Malfoy." His father took a step closer. "Haven't you?"

Had it been a premonition, Draco wondered fleetingly, the way the Malfoy Code had kept wandering through his head this week? "It won't happen again, Father."

"No. It won't. Take off your robe and your shirt. You shall count."

Draco's stomach churned as he obeyed. He hated counting. He placed his hands on the back of the sofa and bent at the waist, resting his weight partially on his hands.

Lucius took out his belt and his wand. He pulled his arm back, then whipped it forward. The belt hit Draco across his shoulder blades. "One," Draco said as firmly as he could.

Lucius proceeded to lecture him, reciting what it meant to be a Malfoy, the rules he must obey, as Draco counted. Abruptly, Lucius stopped. "Crucio," he intoned, lifting his wand.

Draco screamed, quickly cutting it off. He gasped in breath desperately. Lucius lashed him with the belt again. "Seven," he managed, head swimming, body shaking.

"Eight. Nine. Ten…"

"Crucio."

Draco bit back a whimper as he leaned more heavily against the couch. "E-eleven. Twelve. Thirteen…"

"Crucio."

White flashes spotted his vision. His legs almost gave way as his muscles spasmed. "T-t-twelve…"

Lucius shook his head. His voice was heavy with mock sympathy. "Wrong, I'm afraid."

Crack! went the belt.

No, no, no, no… he'd counted wrong. That meant… "One. Two. Three…"

That time he only made it to nine before he miscounted. His mind was floating, floating away…

If Mudbloods were so inferior, why were Granger and Fowl so much smarter than him? Why did they have such strong magic? How had Fowl's family been saavy enough to amass their wealth? If Draco was so superior, why did he make so many mistakes?

If Malfoy's were so superior, why did his father ever choose to follow Voldemort? If Voldemort was so great, how could he be a half-blood? And Potter, and Professor Snape. Why did the Goblet pick that Delacour? She had Veela blood. What about Lupin? He was a werewolf.

And every recent generation of Malfoy's was only half-Malfoy automatically—now that they'd stopped marrying their cousins. He was half-Black. And Sirius Black "consorted" with Mudbloods and Weasleys all the time. What did Sirius know that Lucius didn't?

And what was so wrong with the Weasley's anyway? Besides Ron, who was a right wanker. But the rest—okay, they were poor and self-righteous—so very Gryffindor—but that wasn't actually a crime, although unfortunate for them—and well, that Percy sounded like a git, too, but look at his second-cousin Horatio in Ireland, the one they never talked about…

If Lucius was wrong about all that, what else was he wrong about?

But more than that, even more than that, it didn't matter, because whether he perfectly followed every one of his father's laws or not—he would never please Lucius Malfoy. Never.

He'd had that Crucio'd into him this summer, too. He would never be good enough to earn praise and certainly not affection. So really—now that he thought about it—what did it matter?

What did anything matter?

And suddenly life was clear to him, just like that.

He was going to be punished anyway.

Why not earn it?

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"So, update me on Muggle Studies," Draco ordered at supper. It was the first thing he'd said since getting back from Hogsmeade. Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and Millie were all worried. They knew Lucius Malfoy well enough to know he probably hadn't been in town for quality family bonding time (Plus Draco was moving rather stiffly, Pansy thought).

"We've been learning Muggle history," Crabbe volunteered. "Apparently there was this guy named Oliver Cromwell who took over running England when they outsed the King at the time, and created the Commonwealth of England." He paused for a bite of potatoes. "But then later on they called the King back again—well, his son, who was now King. And so the monarchy was restored."

"OK, I don't care. Just tell me relevant stuff."

Vince and Greg looked at each other. "Um, you can use your cell phone for instant, portable communication vocally, or through written word. And you can take photos with your phone, and then paste them on MySpace. Muggle teenagers do this constantly."

Draco blinked. "More explanation, please."

"You remember us telling you about the telephone, right?"

"Yeah, it seemed pretty handy."

"Well, cell phones you can carry with you. They're small enough to fit in your pocket. Not only can you call up your friend and talk to them, you can send them a written message—like an owl, only instantly—through something called 'text messaging'."

"And you know about Muggle photos—they don't move around, but you use the same kind of camera, just non-magical film. Well, you can also use your phone as a camera."

"But it doesn't have film at all. It has a digital image you can send electronically through your computer. The current big website craze is called . Most teenagers have their own page there, where they like to display their pictures, and send messages to each other."

Draco motioned to Fowl. "Does he have one?"

Artemis raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, he showed us his cell phone." Goyle nodded.

"I do not, however, have a MySpace page. Tacky in the extreme. I designed my own web page."

"You can also use your phone to create small videos and post them on ," Crabbe added.

Draco looked at Fowl.

Artemis looked at the ceiling. "I may have experimented with that under a fictitious name, but it was for business reasons."

Draco grinned. "Sure it was."

Artemis's expression turned to one of annoyance. "It was!"

Zabini patted his arm. "We believe you," he soothed with a straight-face. Barely.

Artemis scowled. "I hate you all."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The next evening, Snape was passing through the Common Room when he came to a sudden halt. "Mr. Malfoy, what are you reading?"

Draco looked up from where he was lounging on the couch. "The Fountain of Fair Fortune."

"You realize your father has petitioned on more than one occasion to have that book banned?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. Apparently, a witch marries a Muggle. I'd always wondered what he had against it."

Snape frowned. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Well, my back is sore, but otherwise, fine. Professor, how do you feel about it? Diluting magical blood?"

Snape blinked, then regarded the boy more seriously. "Come to my office, Draco. I'm going to teach you about something the Muggles call genetics."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Draco sat on his bed, worrying his sheet in his hands. Crabbe and Goyle sat on Vince's bed, eating Bertie Botts Beans. "Have they taught you genetics in Muggle Studies?" he asked them abruptly. They shook their heads. "It's a kind of science. You inherit genes from your parents when you're created. It's what determines your hair color, how tall you are, stuff like that. We may inherit magical ability the same way. There're several theories, Snape said."

His audience nodded to show they were listening.

"You can have two people with brown eyes produce a kid with blue eyes. You can have two Muggles produce—well, Granger, for example. It's a recessive gene. But the only way for that to be true is if, at the beginning, everybody had magic… and everybody with the gene has a chance of producing someone else with the gene… depending on who the other parent is…" Draco's face scrunched up with thought. "So when Muggles and wizards intermarry, you can wind up with Muggles or wizards. And when two wizards marry, you can get wizards or Squibs. Some wizards fear too much intermarrying with Muggles can lead to the magic being bred out of existence. But purebloods run the danger of inbreeding, and it doesn't stop Squibs being born."

"Draco, you've gone way over our heads," Goyle said.

Draco half-smiled. "Sorry. It's just—I've been thinking and—I think you need to keep a balance. Some intermarriage is necessary."

Their mouths dropped open. "You think that—"

"And Greg—if you still want to pursue Ginny Weasley, go ahead."

"Are you really Draco Malfoy?"

"What did your dad say to you?"

Draco snorted. "Nothing he hasn't said before. That's just it really. I think—I think he's way off-base. I'm going to start making my own choices."

"Wow." The bodyguards glanced at each other. "Wow."

"You should talk to Artemis about this genetics stuff," Crabbe suggested. "He'd help you figure it all out."

"He'd help you figure it all out." Draco shook his head. "Me, not so much. He still would rather not be around me. Haven't you noticed?"

Another glance.

"It's OK. I've accepted it. He does his thing, I do mine. We're civil when we have to acknowledge each other. That's the extent of the relationship."

Vince shifted uncomfortably. He still didn't like this state of affairs. Neither did Greg, but what was most important… "You think I have a chance with Ginny?"

Vince and Draco both smiled at him indulgently. "I think she likes the idea of being liked," Draco replied. "Last year things were different. This year she's ready for a boyfriend. Ask her for a walk and see what happens."

Greg grinned. "I will!"

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Tuesday afternoon the First Task finally arrived. The Slytherin Fourth Years were spread about the stands near their particular targets, hidden amongst the spectators. It meant Eva and Pansy were surrounded by people cheering for Beaubaxtons, and Blaise and Marie by Durmstrang supporters. However, they weren't the kind to scream loudly for Hogwarts anyway, so they still blended in as if they had a right to be there. They were all sitting in the first few rows, as most of their targets were up on the platform stage. None of them were aware that Artemis was, in fact, inside the castle.

"Dragons," Draco commented with awe to Ginny Weasley, who was sitting in between him and Goyle. "Well, that's dangerous."

"Isn't that one of your brothers?" Goyle asked, pointing to a redheaded man.

"Yes! That's Charlie! Oh wow!" Ginny was gripping the bench seat tightly, anxious about Harry.

Vince and Millie sat off to one side, keeping half an eye on Bagman, who was commentating on the Champions' performances, and half an eye on the Champions themselves.

Next to Hermione, Ron Weasley watched the proceedings with a very pale face, and Paul Stormbrew kept casting jealous glances at the Slytherin-Gryffindor trio.

When Potter's turn was announced, the boys watched Ginny tense up. Greg reached out tentatively and rubbed her hand. "It'll be OK." She gave him a grateful smile. He vowed to ask her out as soon as possible. They were close enough to hear Potter yell, "Accio Firebolt!"

Draco's mouth formed an "O" in surprise. He looked over to Crouch, standing beside Bagman. The man had kept a neutral, yet cold expression throughout. The blonde raised a pair of Omnioculars and focused in on the man's eyes. Still impossible to read—not a flicker to show whether he cared about Potter's odds, what he thought about Potter's tactics. Draco sighed. He switched his gaze to where Potter's broom came sailing from somewhere to stop beside him. He climbed on and soared into the air.

"Oh, Harry!" Ginny cried as the dragon blew fire at him.

When the Horntail's tail spikes grazed Potter's shoulder, Draco lowered the Omnioculars to watch the bigger scene. For the first time, Draco felt a bit of grudging admiration for Potter. And that was certainly some excellent flying… then he shrugged. He still hated the Gryffindor, the stupid showoff.

Hermione grabbed onto Ron's shoulder when Harry seized the egg, shaking the redhead in her excitement. "Oh, he's done it! He's got it!"

Ron nodded.

"Professor Moody seems uncharacteristically happy," Hermione mused. Ron blinked at her. "Come on, let's go to Harry."

Millie stared at Bagman. "Either he's a very good actor or he's concerned about Potter's safety—or he's only worried about his bet."

The twins looked at each other. "Old Dumbledore's eyes—"

"—are twinkling merrily."

Lee Jordan, hearing them, shrugged. "Diggory and Potter both did well. I imagine he's full of school pride."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

He'd found it. The perfect place for an alchemical lab. It wasn't on the Map; the Marauders had never found it. It was a room within a room, bigger on the inside than the outside.

He'd discovered it by reading in between the lines of Hogwarts: A History and An Alumnist's Guide to Hogwarts, and by comparing those to a blueprint he'd created on his computer using the Map and his own observations.

It seemed to be just a closet in what at one time had been a music room. Along the wall was a cupboard where the students had stored their musical instruments. A completely mundane latch moved the cupboard aside, and an incantation of "Alohamora" followed by the note of "C" played on a pitchpipe opened a door in the wall.

Just to make sure, he added his own password as an extra lock, something he'd made certain to learn how to do over the summer.

Then he set up his lab.