The reaction didn't really come as a surprise to Draco, even if the sudden outburst of anger from his father's side was somewhat unexpected. Sure, Lucius had always had problems controlling his anger, but he had seemed so composed when he had called Draco into his office, that Draco had actually thought that he would keep his composure this time. Apparently, he had been wrong, so deadly wrong. Once again, his gaze finds the carpet, as it has done on several occasions before, trying to figure out what he can say in his own defense, but he is coming up short, seeing as he knows that there really isn't anything he can say to save himself. With that thought in mind, he realises that he can just as well keep stepping in it.<br/>"I'm sorry that I'm not the perfect son you ever wanted" he says, trying to keep his voice calm and conversational, but the ice is pretty clear in his tone, and you would have to be deaf to not realise just how much hatred is filling the young man on the carpet "I am sorry that killing people doesn't matter to you, but that loving people is a wrong and disgusting act"<br/><br/><br/>Once again, Draco’s words made Lucius tense. “Love?” he repeated, shocked by Draco’s choice of words, his voice strained as he balled his fists, very much aware of the wand in his hand. “Don’t you dare call it love; not this, not /him/,” he sneered. With every word he spoke, he raised his voice and stepped closer toward his son.<br/>“You are sick,” he spat, this time lowering his voice to a hiss, vocalizing every word, pointing his wand at Draco in a threat. As a part of a wizarding, aristocratic elite there wasn’t much room for diversity, and homos xuality had always been a excluded and demeaned in the same matter as muggleborn witches and wizards were. Lucius had been gratefully certain that he never would have a mudblood son of his own, yet here they stood, and his son had become something as equally disgusting. “I will /not/ have a faggot for a son,” he spoke, his voice tensed and filled with anger and disgust, and his words echoed an unspoken threat as he waved his wand toward the door.<br/>In a slow movement, the heavy door unlocked to reveal McNair and Nott’s backs, who, was expected, still guarded the office door. “Restrain him,” Lucius ordered the two, his voice not nearly as controlled as he wished it to be, and though he had referred to him as his /son/ there were no sign of affection in his eyes, as they found the boy on the floor.<br/><br/>Arms gripped him tightly again, but he did not fight their grip. He was going to die, but he was accepting it. At least he had died doing something good, and that made him feel oddly at peace. Sure, he really would have preferred not to do die, but he had known that that would be a risk that he would have to take, if he wanted Harry to be safe. He was breathing heavily, but otherwise he seemed pretty at ease with the entire thing. Death was staring him in the eye, and he was staring back.<br/>"Too bad that you raised one, then" he said, finally having the courage to actually look at his father. He wondered if anyone would be upset by his passing. Probably only his mother. The rest would know what he had done, and they would say that he got what was coming for him, which would be the truth "But you know how to get rid of me"