Draco swayed on his feet as though Bellatrix had struck him a physical blow. No, no. No. Not his father. Not his father. Draco felt weak and dizzy, and it wasn’t just the blood loss and exhaustion. He shook his head in pointless denial. No. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t. Not his fucking father. Draco hated the bastard for what he had done to Draco – part of him wanted Lucius dead. But oh fuck, Draco couldn’t kill him. He couldn’t murder his own father.