The Usual Suspects

When the other girls began to stir, I smothered myself in blankets and lay still. I listened as they got dressed and left the room, then I got up and threw on my pajamas. I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin, my mind blank on the surface, though it was full of thoughts. I watched a beetle plod across the stone floor and, reaching the wall, spread its wings and lift into the air. I didn't see where it went, but didn't really care. What was there anymore other than Draco?

I don't recall falling asleep, but the next thing I remember is Megan's voice from the door. "Have you been in here all day?" she asked, and I forced my head out of the nest of blankets. I looked at her, and I must have scowled, because the smile on her face faded immediately. "You're wanted in Professor Sprout's office," she said, and left me alone.

I pulled the blankets over my head and stayed there until my oxygen supply started to get short. I poked my head back out and growled, then threw myself out of bed. I dressed angrily, throwing on layers of black clothing. I just didn't feel like any unnecessary thought today, and black was easy. I headed out of the dormitory, furious at having been interrupted.

It wasn't until I was standing outside Professor Sprout's door that I suddenly thought of the last time I'd been here. I froze with fear, my entire body tense. I didn't think I could do it. I couldn't knock, I couldn't know. I didn't want to know. Things could always get worse.

The door opened in front of me. I hadn't knocked. It was Professor Sprout, and she waved me in. "There's someone here to see you," she said. "I'll just leave you two alone." She stepped past me into the corridor. "Well, go on," she said, and shuffled away.

I glared after her, then turned toward the door. I stepped in and looked up.

"Hello, MarySue."

"Father," I gasped.

"Shut the door, MarySue." He leaned against Professor Sprout's desk, black hair immaculate, green eyes gleaming. He was well dressed, more obviously than he had been when I'd last seen him. Then, he wore tasteful clothes that were neither stylish nor unfashionable. Now, he looked younger, and like he'd actually thought about his appearance.

"Shut the door," he repeated, and without thinking, I closed the door behind me. "You had something you wanted to ask me about?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

I recognized that position. It was the one he used just before I always caved and did exactly the opposite of whatever I'd been planning to do.

My heart hardened. Not this time. I fought down my fear and transferred it to anger. "You killed Mum," I accused.

Father sighed. "How much do you remember?" he asked.

It was easy to be angry now. I'd just accused him of murdering his wife and he was asking me how much I remembered? I exploded.

"What do you mean 'how much do you remember?!' You're a Death Eater! Mum is dead! Don't you think I deserve to know?!"

"Calm down, MarySue." He was still unruffled! He was caught! Wasn't he going to say something?

"Why did you kill her?!"

Father pushed away from the desk and walked up to me, resting his hands on my shoulders. I tried to pull away, but he held tight, and his voice was menacing; frightening. What had I started?

"There are precious few of us left, MarySue. Here of all places you must have seen it. Everywhere the Mudbloods are gaining power and we're dying out. Our entire society is dwindling. Can't you understand?" His eyes pleaded with me, and I nodded. "Your mother," he said, "was no innocent." I didn't want to hear this! "She knew what I was when we married. Two Purebloods serving the Dark Lord for..."

"No!" I screamed, wrenching away. I covered my ears. "No! Mother was never like you!"

Father grabbed me by my arm, twisted me to face him. "Are you ashamed of your heritage?" he demanded. "Would you rather be powerless? If so, I can arrange to have your wand broken."

"What?! No! You can't!"

"I can, and if you have any brain at all, you'll sit quietly and listen!" He pushed me toward the couch. I stumbled, then sat, trembling. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn't let him know how terrified I really was.

"Look at me," Father demanded, but I wouldn't raise my eyes. His tone grew cold, and it sent shivers up my spine. "Look at me, MarySue."
I looked up, and though I knew he was my father, it was as if he were a different person, the one I always sensed just behind the silent facade he'd always wore.

"It's time," he said, and I wondered if he was talking to me at all.

Father leaned against Professor Sprout's desk again, resuming the pose he'd had when I entered the room. He looked at me, looked down on me, and I felt five years old. I waited for him to speak. I just waited.

"Your mother and I married just after graduation from Hogwarts. It was expected. We were the only children of two well respected Pureblood families, and with the Dark Lord's war, people were marrying quickly, eager to accomplish as much as they could in case...in case of the end." He stood, and he towered over me, magnifying my feeling that I was small, that he was in charge.

"She came to meetings with me." He paused, looking into my eyes, making it obvious just what meetings he was referring to. "We had you, and we agreed that we wanted only the best for you, that no matter the difficulties ahead, you would know your rightful place, and you would want for nothing. But your mother had ideas of her own. "While I was working, earning a living for us, slaving at the Ministry for an ounce of the respect that should have been mine by birth, she was home with you, in our first home near a Muggle town."

Father sneered, and he reminded me so much of Lucius Malfoy. I realized that Father had always looked like that, had always looked upon others as if from a pedestal, but it had always just been a part of him, and maybe I'd been too close to really see it.

"I discovered that your mother had been less than honest with me when you were four years old, and we moved to our home in London. But she took no responsibility for any of what she had done. The Dark Lord was gone, MarySue. We thought he'd been destroyed, but some of us remained loyal, though we were forced to meet in secret. The others had continued to meet, but the Ministry was still looking for...those loyal to the Dark Lord. Those muggle-loving fools were on a hunt for anyone who didn't bow and kiss their shoes.

"Then you stumbled downstairs at the worst possible time. MarySue, if you had just stayed in bed that night, so much could have been avoided!"

But it couldn't be my fault! I didn't kill Mum! I fought back tears, choking on the effort.

"We could have straightened her out and gone on with things, but not in front of you." His eyes sought mine, and he there was something in them that I'd never seen before; fire and emotion. That last sent a chill through my body.

"As one, we set to repairing what your mother had done. She had to be isolated, kept away from the muggles and halfbloods who were seducing her from the path we followed. Your education was sorely lacking, something that I myself was forced to pay for."

I saw fear in his eyes, fear and loathing, and it terrified me. My father was scared of nothing. I pulled my knees up, making myself as small as possible.

"Things were settled, and they progressed normally until the Dark Lord's return. Your mother stopped cooperating and things deteriorated until there was no other option."

That was too much. "There's always another option! You didn't have to KILL HER!"

"Calm yourself!" Father snapped, and I quieted, staring at the floor, at his polished shoes. "I did not kill your mother!"

Now there was a shock.

"She had deluded herself that with the disappearance of the Dark Lord I'd given up on everything, on saving our family, on paving the way for you. She caught me one night, leaving for a meeting and begged me not to go. 'Forget him,' she said. Forget the Dark Lord?!" Father was near shouting now, intensity in his voice, wildness and passion in his eyes. "I left. I ignored her pleas and left her there. When I returned, she was dead."

I was silent, arms wrapped around my knees on the couch. I watched Father, and he returned to the desk, leaning once more. His face relaxed, and he looked at me once more. "Are you happy?"

Where had I heard that before? I leaned back into the couch and laughed.

"Have you gone mad?" Father asked, and I stopped, then sat and looked at him, wiping a tear from my cheek.

"This is the sanest I've ever been," I said.

There was a moment of silence before Father spoke again. "There was something else I wanted to talk to you about," he said. "I got a letter from Dumbledore at Hogwarts. Apparently you haven't been going to your classes."

If I thought I was scared before, that was nothing.

"MarySue," he said, walking toward me. "You have a responsibility, to yourself, to this family, to all of us, and you have to take that seriously."

"I'm fucking Draco Malfoy."

I nearly died after I said it, but it just came out. My father turned an impressive shade of scarlet and stopped in his tracks. "Excuse me?" he choked.

"You heard me." I stood up, determined to hurt him like he'd hurt me. "I fucked Draco Malfoy."

Father gaped like a suffocating fish. I smirked.

"What, aren't you proud of me?" I asked. "I've found myself a nice Pureblood. Don't you approve?"

I could see the effort it took for Father to compose himself, but he did, and he was once again the silent, unruffled man I'd always known. It was an act.

"It is possible, MarySue, to do the right thing in entirely the wrong way," he said, and though he gave me a look that used to send me running to appease him, I was beyond that now. Something had broken inside me.

"You can't tell me what to do anymore!" I shouted. "I can make my own decisions, and Draco had nothing to do with you."

"And what decisions have you made this term? The decision to jeopardize your future by not attending classes? What kind of future do you see with Draco? One in which you...do what, exactly? Without an education, without connections, you will go nowhere, and the Malfoys, regardless of Lucius's setback, are still one of the most respected wizarding families in the world. Boys do not take seriously girls who..." He steeled himself, then turned away toward the door.

When he reached it, Father turned back to me one last time. "I suggest you prioritize, MarySue. Think about the future for once."
He left the room, closing the door behind him.