He stared at the Death Eater, who waved his hand over his masked face and dissolved the mask to smoke that wisped away, revealing the familiar features of Lucius Malfoy. Draco made himself hard; features turned to cold stone, and if Hermione had seen him, she would have turned her face away, unable to look at him. He was blood-streaked icy contempt, and he looked just like the Malfoy who had tormented her throughout school – a superior, arrogant bastard. And ironically, just like his father. But Draco didn’t know that – he just refused to give the man who had disowned him the pleasure of seeing his pain, his confusion.