(Author’s Note) So here’s a little story that practically wrote itself. Please let me know what you think! The song used is Simple Plan’s “Perfect”…

* * * * *

Perfect

Draco looked at his father, icy gray eyes meeting icy gray. They seemed to be fighting an inner war, neither of them wanting to make the first move.

In all his life, Draco never thought he would be brought to this point. He never thought he would stand in his father’s office, trying to walk away from all he was brought up to be. He could remember being a little boy, pre-Hogwarts, sitting in his father’s study, looking mesmerized at all the dark and ancient artifacts. He could remember the days where he dreamt excitedly of the day when he would proudly wear the mask of the Dark Lord.

But times had changed, and he wasn’t that little boy anymore.

Hey dad look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according to plan?
And do you think I'm wasting my time
Doing things I wanna do?
But it hurts when you disapprove all along

Draco had failed his father on many levels, he knew that. It wasn’t something he was proud to admit. It shouldn’t be. A Malfoy should never be proud of his shortcomings, no matter if they really were for the best in the long run.

He knew he could never be the man his father had expected him to be. He could never stand by a hypocritical man - if Voldemort could even be considered a man - and proclaim purity. He could never kill just to kill. He could no longer hate just to hate.

If he had learned anything the past six months of his life, it was that he had a heart, and it was beating. In fact, at this moment, it was beating so hard in his chest that he wasn’t completely certain of why it hadn’t broken through his ribcage already.

He opened his mouth to apologize, but he couldn’t get the words out. He knew they would just be another lie to tell his father. He was sick of lies.

Truth was, he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry for his decision. If anything, his father should thank him for not walking straight up to Dumbledore and telling him all that Draco knew of the Dark Lord’s plan. Which was a lot for someone who wasn’t even an official Death Eater.

Taking a deep breath, knowing that his purpose in being here had been lost to the array of sudden emotions that had come over him, he took a deep breath and walked to the fireplace, floo-ing himself back into his Head Boy common room.

And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't pretend that I'm all right
And you can't change me

The only thing he really ever wanted as a child was to make his father proud. It hadn’t seemed like such an arduous task at the time. Be the top of the class. Beat Potter at Quidditch. Join the ranks of Death Eaters. Marry a pureblood and conceive a pureblood heir.

It had all gone down hill during Quidditch. Really, he could blame all his failures from that point forward on that damnable sport. The impossibility factor of beating Potter was something that he had begun to come to terms with during fifth year. It didn’t mean he didn’t still try.

Then came his last match against Gryffindor during the end of his sixth year.

He still couldn’t fathom what had possessed him to save her. She was a Weasley for Merlin’s sake! A blood-traitor. She was everything he was born and taught to hate.

And then she was hit with a bludger and began to fall from her broom. No one except the Slytherin beater who had hit the bludger in the first place and himself saw it happen. Everyone else was focused on Potter going after the now-spotted snitch.

He was still unsure as to what made him do it. Maybe it was the fact that even if he did manage to catch the snitch, Slytherin was still so far behind in points that it really wouldn’t matter. Or maybe, just maybe, his instincts saw what he had been otherwise unable to see at the time: His soul mate was falling to her death and the only one there with the power to save her was himself.

So Draco Malfoy swooped under Ginevra Weasley, catching her before she hit the ground.

And his father had lost it over that single event.

Draco had been summoned home that afternoon, only to return back to Hogwarts with two broken ribs.

It was that very afternoon that it suddenly became clear to him how demented his family was. He had saved a life and received an unforgivable curse for it. Most parents would be proud. They would boast about their child’s heroism until the entire Wizarding World knew about it. Lucius Malfoy saw to it that his son felt the pain that the youngest Weasley should have felt upon impact with the hard ground, before making sure that his son’s decision to save the Gryffindor was never spoke of again.

Yet still, that didn’t change what had transpired during that Quidditch match. It didn’t change the fact that whenever Ginny Weasley was to look at Draco Malfoy from that point forward, it was with a look of gratefulness. A far cry from the utter contempt that used to be in her eyes whenever faced with the blonde Slytherin.

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

After he had walked away from his father’s expectations the first time, the easier it had seemed to become the next time around. When Ginny Weasley had come to him, thanking him for saving her life, he had even bit back a smartass retort and instead smiled and said, “you’re welcome.”

If there was one thing that made his sudden use of the manners his mother had instilled in him since childhood worth it, it was the dumbfounded expression on Ginevra’s face. She had stuttered a “have a nice day” before walking toward her next class and he had felt a sudden surge of, well, something. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but he knew it had him wanting to do something completely out of character for him. He wanted to do something, well, good.

And so he did. He expanded his relationship of the girl Weasley. The first time they had met in the kitchens it had been by coincidence. She had made to leave the moment he walked through the portrait hole, but he had stopped her right away. They talked for hours that night about everything and nothing. It was the start of something, though he couldn’t be sure of what, at the time.

As he talked with her, he found it easier to pretend that his father didn’t exist. To pretend that this wasn’t yet another move of disobedience in his father’s eyes - even if his father couldn’t see him at that moment.

Draco just couldn’t help it, he wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t an evil conniving Death Eater. And he didn’t want to be, anymore. He didn’t want to go back to the days where he worshipped his father.

Though it was hard for him at first, he knew that forming this relationship, whatever it was, with Ginevra Weasley was probably the best decision he had ever made. He had been unsure during that first trip to the kitchens, but what she had said when she turned to leave late that evening had seemed to push all his uncertainty aside.

She had paused upon walking to the portrait hole, and turned to look back at him. He looked at her, a level of curiosity in his eyes as to why she would turn back. She smiled at him, a genuine smile that he had never been on the receiving end of before, before she spoke. Her head cocked to the side, she said it almost wistfully. “You know, Draco, I had you figured all wrong. I think everyone does, actually.”

It was at that moment Draco knew he could become someone he actually wanted to be. His past transgressions didn’t have to form what his future choices would be.

I try not to think
About the pain I feel inside
Did you know you used to be my hero?
All the days you spent with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don't care anymore

As he stepped further into his Head Boy chambers, fresh from his stare-down with his father, he found himself letting out a sigh of self-pity as his back fell back against the bed. He had lost his virginity on this bed just two months ago. Seemed to be as good of a way as any to mark it as his.

His dysfunctional father seemed to think his son really was the Slytherin Sex God. Oh yes, his father had heard the rumors. Draco wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure his father had started them years ago in an attempt to have his son live up to them. How shitty was that? How screwed up was his life that his father actually wanted him to sleep around - to shag all the girls in Slytherin.

What would Lucius Malfoy do if he knew his son had, in fact, saved his virginity for someone who deserved it? Or what would he do if he knew that the girl his son had deemed worthy was Ginevra Weasley?

He swallowed the lump in his throat, thankful that Dumbledore had already offered his protection. It was only a matter of minutes before the eldest Malfoy realized the fact that his son wasn’t ever coming home. Only a matter of minutes before his father realized that before stopping by his father’s office, Draco had first stopped by his old bedroom in Malfoy Manor to collect his remaining things. Only a matter of minutes before his father received the owl Draco had sent in response to Lucius’ offer, on behalf of the Dark Lord, to join the league of Death Eaters.

His response had been short and there was no reading in between the lines. Underneath the familiar scrawl of Voldemort’s right hand, offering him a position in not only the group of Death Eaters, but the Inner Circle, was Draco’s short response of, “I decline.”

It dumbfounded Draco that the pathetic excuse for a man that was his father had at one time been his hero, his idol.

How could he have ever been so blind to think his father ever cared for him? How could he have ever put his father on a pedestal?

And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't stand another fight
And nothing's alright

“You did the right thing.” Her voice seemed to bring him out of his depressing daze. He turned his head to the right to see the woman he had secretly grown to love sitting comfortably in a chair in the corner, near the head of his bed. How had he not sensed her the moment he had come through the fireplace? How had he not smelt her smell of cinnamon and vanilla; a strange combination that he was sure only she could make smell appealing?

“Then why is it so hard?” He hadn’t expected his voice to crack on his last word, but it had. He was glad, then, that she had been the only one in the room. He trusted only her to see him at his lowest. How or when that had happened, he wasn’t exactly sure.

She smiled a sad smile, as she stood from the chair and walked to the bed. Her motions seemed fluid, almost as if she was floating. Sitting on the bed, she crawled to him, stopping when she reached him before she pulled his head into her lap. Gently, she stroked his head. “Doing the right thing is almost never easy, Draco. Just think about our relationship. We both know that it is right, but that doesn’t change our need to keep in secret from everyone who would fail to understand. Keeping our secret isn’t easy. You know full well how many times we each have nearly gotten caught.” She sighed as she paused for a moment. “I know what you have done is far harder that having a secret love affair, but I just hope you understand that I’ll always be there for you.”

He raised an eyebrow up at her as he recited what Dumbledore had told him only the day before. “Our choices define us. Doing what is easy isn’t always right, but then again, doing what is right isn’t always easy.” He nodded as he closed his eyes for just a moment, letting himself drown in her presence. He opened his eyes, allowing himself to stare deeply into her brown eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

She smiled and laughed a laugh that made his heart swell. “How can I not, Draco? You do make a point of telling me every morning and evening.” She held his eye contact for a moment before she bent over to kiss his lips softly before sitting back up. “I love you, too.”

His pale hand reached up to graze her cheek as he smiled softly at her. Suddenly, the desire to ever be good enough for his father seemed to fade away. All that mattered was her, and that seemed to make it all the more easy.

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and we can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

His father’s eagle owl had arrived promptly at breakfast the following morning. His eyes briefly met his lover’s brown eyes from across the hall, as he untied the rolled up parchment, before unrolling the paper.

He swallowed hard as he read the words. He felt dizzy. He felt free and trapped; joy and anguish, all at once.

“Draco-
I felt that it would only be proper to inform you that you’ve been disowned.
- Lucius Malfoy”

The note said it all. And Draco didn’t feel guilt at all. He had officially stepped away from the life that had been written for him since birth, and he had begun to write his own destiny.

His father knew now that his son was far from perfect. But then again, Lucius was the furthest from perfection Draco had ever seen.

Looking up from the parchment, he sought out the only pair of eyes that mattered. Standing up, he knew there was only one thing left for him to do.

He could feel the eyes of the entire Great Hall on him as he took those steps across the hall to the table that should have been filled with his enemies. Slowly, nervously, he could see his girlfriend stand, bracing herself for whatever he was about to do.

His motions seemed to flow as one as he took his final steps to the Gryffindor table before taking her head in his hands and pulling her lips to his. She tilted her head for better access before wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Pulling away, he set his forehead against hers. “It’s done. I’m free.” He knew only she could hear his whispered words and she pulled him into a tighter embrace, her eyes looking up to the Head Table, where Dumbledore nodded at her, his eyes twinkling.

They could feel the heated gaze of the entire Hogwarts population, and they knew it was only a matter of time before her brother stood up to try to tear them apart, demanding answers. It didn’t stop them from enjoying their first few moments of public affection.

Nothing's gonna change the things that you said
Nothing's gonna make this right again
Please don't turn your back
I can't believe it's hard just to talk to you
But you don't understand

It was two years later that he found himself in St. Mungo’s, staring at his father through a glass window. Everything had changed since he had been ‘disowned’. His father never had a chance to make it legal, what with Voldemort’s sudden move to attack.

His father and the rest of the Death Eaters had been on the run for over a year, up until two months ago, when Potter defeated Voldemort and Lucius was left in a vegetated state. The nurses, mediwizards and mediwitches had all seemed to be in agreement that the chances of Lucius ever coming through this and being able to fully heal were slim.

Draco sighed, feeling as if he should feel some sort of emotion toward the man in the bed. But he couldn’t. That man was a complete stranger to him now.

If only he hadn’t tried to dictate who Draco was supposed to be. If only he could have just accepted his son’s choices. If only Lucius Malfoy wasn’t, by definition, a sodding asshole.

Draco sighed again. If only life wasn’t filled with so many damn if only’s…

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and we can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

He felt a familiar hand on his shoulder as he let out one last sigh.

“They’ll find whoever did this. You’ll be able to punish them however you choose.” The familiar comforting voice of his wife pulled him back to reality.

He shook his head as he bit back a laugh, her comment that was meant to be a reassurance filled him with a memory that he was meant to take to his grave.

Once again, icy gray eyes met another pair of icy gray eyes. It was a cold day in November and the man in front of him had sought Draco out. Draco felt foolish for stepping into a dark alley to Apparate, but even more foolish for assuming this man in front of him would just let him go.

“I never repaid you properly for making a fool out of me in Dark Lord’s eyes.” An elder version of Draco spoke coldly.

“What does it matter? Didn’t you hear? Your preciously Dark Lord fell two days ago.” Draco’s words seemed to hold a great amount of finality. He wanted only to Apparate home to his wife of four months.

Lucius pulled his wand out, pointing it at his only son. His only heir. “I’ve heard a lot of things Draco.” His eyes held a glimmer of something Draco couldn’t place. The strange form of a threat hung heavy on the cold air. “I hear,” the eldest man continued, “that you’ve been quite busy these past several months.”

Those words caused Draco to freeze, his blood running cold. His wand was faster than he had ever though possible as he pointed it at his father’s throat. He now knew exactly what his father had meant. “You stay away from my family. Stay away from Ginny. You disowned me, remember? You hold no right to the decisions in my life.”

Lucius’ eyes darkened considerably. “You wave that wand of yours around as if you have the ability to use it. You can’t kill me, Draco. You’re not capable of murder. You’re pathetic. Everyday I find myself wishing you looked more like your mother than me. I hate knowing there’s someone walking around with the gall to look like me but without the slightest bit of pride for their upbringings.”

“What upbringings, Father? You brought me up wanting me to be a killer. I’m sorry I had to disappoint you. I’m sorry I had to have a single strand for morality. There’s a lesson for you, Father, I’m not perfect. But neither are you. If I recall, your efforts to follow the Dark Lord like a mindless puppy has caused you spend more than the past year on the run.”

“You will not refer to the Dark Lord in such a manner-”

“Why? He’s dead, Father! Defeated! You lose!” His father’s eyes widened and flared as he raised his wand, but Draco beat him to it. “Crucio!” He hadn’t expected the curse to work the way it did, but apparently all the built up hatred towards his father caused the unforgivable curse to magnify itself, propelling his father against the alley wall.

He writhed on the ground a moment before Draco lifted the curse. His father didn’t move, and Draco didn’t wait to check a pulse. He took his opportunity and Apparated home, feeling slightly safer with the knowledge that his father wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on the people he loved.

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

As Draco brought himself back to the present, he placed a hand over the one on his shoulder before allowing his hand to slip down to lay gently on his wife’s slightly protruding belly.

Turning to her he leaned over, touching his lips softly to hers. Their wedding had been a small private affair, including only them, her parents and Dumbledore, who officiated. Yet, even though there was only five people present, it seemed perfect to him.

The more he thought about it, the more he began to see that he wouldn’t change a thing about his life. He had made choices, both good and bad, but they had brought him to a wonderful, beautiful woman that loved him and would deliver him a child in only four months time. He was starting to build his own family that he was determined to make the complete opposite of the one he had been raised in.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said to her earlier reassuring comment. “All I really need is you and the beginning of our own little family.” He kissed her temple before pulling her to him tightly.

She sighed into his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his back, content with this moment. She felt perfectly satisfied to stand in this hospital hallway until the end of time, so long as he never let her go. So long as he always held her to him in this manner; this manner that had seemed to come naturally to him nearly 3 years ago.

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

To Draco, perfection seemed to be a matter of opinion.

His father thought that to be perfect, you had to be a pureblood. That you had to follow the Dark Lord. He had thought his life filled with riches was perfect.

Draco had long ago began to form his own thoughts of perfection. He decided years ago that so long as he never let go of this new emotion, love, that his life would be perfect. It was for that reason that he never let the woman he was devoted to wake up or go to sleep in doubt of his feelings towards her. He couldn’t bear the thought that someday she might seem unsure, that she might not think he loved her the way she so obviously felt for him.

The following four months brought more chaos and milestones into his life, and yet none of them seemed to make him lose his perfection he had found those few years ago.

His father died in St. Mungo’s, and Draco couldn’t help but feel relieved. He acted the part of a mourning son, but couldn’t help but feel a weight lifted off his shoulders.

Ginny’s many siblings found out about their marriage, due mostly to her increasingly large stomach. It had taken time, but they slowly seemed to accept the idea of their baby sister being Mrs. Draco Malfoy, which he knew was only because her parents had become so accepting of him.

And finally, on the morning of May 7th, Draco felt himself reach a level of perfection he never thought possible. Ginny gave birth to a beautiful little girl, whom he swore to love and protect for the rest of his life; whom he promised to allow find her own destiny and perfection.