The Model Son

~ Prologue: Draco's Epiphany ~

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no profit from this fiction.

Draco was trying to stall. Hesitant steps had replaced his normally purposeful walk, and the few house elves he passed looked shocked that he hadn't shot them his typical glare. He looked like he always did: wearing tailor-made clothes, polished shoes and his hair gelled to perfection. However, there was something wrong… something missing. Stopping by a mirror hanging by the numerous portraits, Draco took inventory of his reflection and tried to figure out what was wrong. The portraits surrounding the mirror all looked down at him; all with platinum blond hair, a pointed nose, a pointed chin, and last of all, a sneer that could only be pulled off by a Malfoy.

Looking back at his reflection, Draco realized what was wrong. He was missing his own sneer. The realization shocked him. He tried to rearrange his features into the familiar facial expression, but the result was a lopsided grimace. Draco tried once more, only to be foiled once again. Giving up, he re-evaluated himself. He wasn't evaluating his reflection this time, but what had become of his life.

He had never been the proud Malfoy that he had broadcasted to the Wizarding world. Growing up, he had always been loved and cherished by his parents, even though most people considered Malfoys too haughty and cold to care about anyone but themselves. He had always gotten what he wanted, and he had been a happy child.

The first thing he had been taught was to be proud of his heritage, and his pureblood status. As a child, he was influenced to believe that anyone who wasn't pureblood wasn't good enough for him. If he was caught playing a game of chase with the muggle children who had somehow gotten through the wards surrounding Malfoy Manor, he would be told off. He was never beaten… no, his parents loved him too much. But the impressionable Draco had interpreted from these lectures that if he didn't want to be told off, he wasn't to associate with muggles.

So you can only imagine the shock he received upon entering the real world and finding out how his views were looked down upon by muggle-loving folks and such. However, that didn't stop Draco from trying his best to make a good impression. But his best wasn't good enough. His attempts at making friends were shot down, because Draco had made it seem like people should be begging to be his best friends. He couldn't help it; his arrogance was inbred and he couldn't stop being an obnoxious pureblood as much as he could stop being a Malfoy.

By the time he realized his fatal error, it was too late, and Draco now had an image to uphold. His fellow Slytherin friends, most of whom he had known all his life, looked to him to be their leader when it came to harassing half bloods, mudbloods, and the like. Not wanting to lose the only friends he had, Draco had obliged, and continued being rude, while his subconscious acknowledged the fact that it wasn't going to pay off in the end.

The years passed, and the Dark Lord came to power once more. Still acting the part of arrogant pureblood Draco had agreed to become a Death Eater, while on the inside, he was terrified. The mistakes his beloved father had made had not put Draco in the Dark Lord's good books, and he was given the most terrifying of deeds. But he could not go through with it. And with that, the last of his pride had crumbled, and the Malfoys were ruined.

"Young master sir…" squeaked a tiny voice. "Hanky was sent to tell you sir, that your father is awaiting you, sir." The tiny voice brought Draco out of his reverie, and he turned on his heel to stare down at the house elf. This particular elf was wearing a towel around itself, fashioned in a style similar to that of a toga, and her head was bent; the elves had been told never to look their master in the eye.

"Hanky, is it?" Draco asked of the elf.

"Y-Yes sir," the house elf's head raised an inch upward, as if she was dying to see why her master's voice sounded so kind, but she stopped herself just in time.

Draco squatted down on his haunches, so that his face was at the level of Hanky's orb-like eyes. Hanky flinched backwards, but stopped herself from taking a step back. She was forced by his proximity to look him in the eye. "Tell father I'm on my way Hanky. And thank you," Draco watched bemusedly as Hanky's mouth dropped open at his nicety. She quickly apparated away to Draco's father's study.

Draco straightened and stood to hear whispers from his ancestor's portraits.

"The insolence!"

"Talking to a lowly servant… as if it were his equal!"

"You should be ashamed! What would your parents say?"

"It's the kids these days. They have no idea about aristocratic etique—"

"Stop!" Draco commanded. At once, he had the attention of all of the portraits, some who looked insulted, and others, simply shocked. "Why should I have to treat her so horribly? The only thing being arrogant has ever gotten anyone is into Azkaban! Father's the perfect example! I'm tired of acting like this! As if we were any better," Draco gave each portrait a condescending look and strode away, in the direction of his father's study.

"Well, I never!"

"That boy will bring shame upon our family name, I tell you"

Draco shook his head, and smiled wryly to himself. They're never going to learn, and getting them to agree with me will be more work than I'm willing to put into it. He finally reached his father's study, and was about to knock, when he hesitated. His father had only returned from Azkaban last week, and he had been acting strange. Draco had caught his father looking at him speculatively more than once, and just yesterday, he had walked in on him talking to someone via the floo. As soon as Lucius was aware of Draco's presence, he had bid a haste farewell to whoever it was on the other end, and had avoided Draco's gaze for the rest of the day.

Gathering up his courage, and feeling foolish for being afraid of talking to his own father, Draco rapped thrice on the solid wood door of the study.

"Come in."

Draco entered, feeling slightly weary. The study was more of a showroom than an actual study. His father had it built as a room where he could entertain his male guests. It was a large room, as all the rooms are in Malfoy Manor, and it was pentagonal in shape. Two of the five walls had floor to ceiling windows, and Lucius' desk was placed right in front of them. The windows revealed an overcast, dreary day, typical of Wiltshire county, where Malfoy Manor resided.

The rest of the room consisted of built in, wall-to-wall shelves that contained more books than that of a muggle public library. Some were valuable, some not-so- valuable. Some books were innocent novels, and others had instructions on dark magic. Besides the books, the study also contained priceless artifacts encased in a magically protected glass case. A large fireplace held a large fire dancing merrily, casting its light onto the numerous, comfortable-looking chairs placed in front of it.

His father sat at his desk, the outline of his chair a stark silhouette against the light from the windows. Draco walked forward and stood before the mahogany desk. The closer he went, the more he could make of his father's face. Lucius Malfoy's handsome face had become lined and he had many wrinkles. His face looked like that of a man much older than himself. Although Azkaban had not sent him beyond the edge, it hadn't been good to him. He was more reserved, even towards his family. His walk had less confidence in it, and he was a gaunt skeleton.

"Father. You called for me," Draco stated.

Lucius stood and walked around the desk to stand before Draco; he leaned against his desk. "Yes, Draco. I have yet to talk to you properly after my release from that place," Lucius couldn't bring himself to say the name out loud.

"Times have changed, my son. Five years ago, we were the power-holders of the Wizarding world. Now, we can't bear to go out in society, in fear of being looked down upon. The Dark Lord's gone, and with it, many of our allies. I was a fool, Draco. We all were. We believed that we had the right to be 'God', and that we could decide who was worthy enough to live, and who wasn't. The Dark Lord manipulated us, but that was only because we longed for the power he promised us."

"Things have settled down now. You've graduated from Hogwarts, and it is time you started to bear the responsibilities that come with being a Malfoy. Former Death Eaters have started to wander into the world again, Draco. We should follow. We will never have the respect we once had, but we can always try to make some new acquaintances."

"Yes, father," Draco dutifully agreed. Inside, a flame of hope that had been mere embers for the last five years began to replenish itself. He would finally be able to show the world his true self. He would make new friends, and he would try to make amends with the people he had treated horribly. Draco was so absorbed with this flame, that he didn't hear what his father was saying.

"-decided you should marry," Lucius was saying. Shock went through Draco. He stared at his father in astonishment.

"W-what, father? M-marriage?"

"That's right, Draco. To help you in your endeavors, I have arranged for you to be married. Her name is Astoria Greengrass, youngest daughter of a colleague from work. The Greengrass family has some of the purest blood in England, and I am sure she will make an excellent wife. She is a graduate of Beauxbatons, since she preferred France's climate to that of England's, but her sister, Daphne Greengrass, was a fellow Slytherin at Hogwarts, was she not?" here, Lucius gave Draco a wry smile.

"You will meet her tomorrow evening, at a ball hosted by her family. She has been told of this marriage, and she has agreed to meet you. Nothing has been finalized, but I have the highest hopes of becoming her father-in-law. You will treat her with the utmost respect, and try your best to get on her good side. Make me proud," Lucius looked at Draco with a strange look in his eye. Draco identified it as a look of a desperate man. "That is all. You may go now, Draco."

His heart now somewhere near the soles of his feet, Draco nodded to his father, not trusting himself to speak. He strode out of the study, closing the door harder than necessary. He took long strides to reach his bedroom; he slammed his door shut, locked it and started pacing around madly. The fire that had thrived only moments before had lost all of its light.

He stopped pacing and abruptly sat himself down on his large bed. He put his head in his hands, unconsciously imitating the picture of a defeated man. His hands slid into his hair, massaging his temples and messing up his gelled locks.

Shit! I can't do this! I don't even know her! I'm only 22! I was planning on getting myself together before I marry! I'm too young to marry.

Draco had met her sister, Daphne, before, and he wasn't very impressed. Daphne was an unusual Slytherin, rather quiet, calm and serene. She had the air of someone who had a lot of tolerance, and unlike most Slytherins, she didn't have a problem with non-purebloods. She was made fun of for being the 'softie' of Slytherin, and she had an affinity of books, rather like Hermione Granger. All of these were good things in a person, but Draco had always had the impression that she was slightly boring.

What if her sister is the same? I'll have to marry someone like her, and be bored for the rest of my life! She'll want me to become a caring, loving husband. I can't do that! I can't pretend to love someone I haven't even met! I have to talk to father. Maybe I can be her friend, but I'm certainly not going to marry her!

Making up his mind, Draco went to his door and put his hand on the doorknob. But his resolution faltered. This wasn't right. He had promised father to be a good son. He should do what he was told and not complain. After all, he should be greatful to be alive.

With these depressing thoughts weighing down his mind, Draco stretched out on his bed, and tried to get to sleep, although it was only 8:00 PM. His night was full of tossing and turning, and finally in the dead of darkness, he fell into an uneasy slumber.

To be continued…

oOoOoOo

A/N: This is my first fiction. I shall see how you respond to it, and then put up the second chapter.

I know how annoying it is when authors beg you to review, but think of it this way. Reviewing is an investment. If your review has constructive criticism, the story will only get better ;-) I welcome flames. They are fun to laugh at.

If this story gets good feedback, I will be looking for a beta. Anyone willing to become a candidate? You can just tell me so in a review.