𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒

Chapter 1

Draco slumped down on his seat in the empty compartment on the train to Hogwarts, closing his eyes and breathing a sigh of relief. Finally, he was heading back to school and out of his family's home, away from his father. He had come to the conclusion over that summer that his father was utterly mad. He snorted derisively to himself at how long it had taken him to figure this bit of truth out, but then he could never see the faults in his father and had always tried to please the man: the man he now knew that he would never be able to please no matter what he did.

Draco had always known that his father was ruthless and single-minded; his devotion to the Dark Lord and his cause was unwavering. All his father ever talked about now was the Dark Lord this and the Dark Lord that, and how everything would be great once all the Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods had been killed and/or enslaved and shouldn't Draco drop out of school and accept the Dark Mark?

That had frightened the young Slytherin. He had always idolised his father, but Draco had been unsure of whether or not to accept the Mark. It was something he had been thinking about since his father had told him the Dark Lord was interested in him.

When he had been younger, he had wanted nothing else. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin; the Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before putting him in the House that countless of his ancestors had been in. He was expected to be the shadow and clone of his father, the man that he had wanted to garner pride and love from. To that end, he had spewed forth his father's bigotry without fully understanding the words and their impact on others. To him it was all a game, a game where he had to be the one on top at all cost.

But as he had grown older and thoughtmore about it, the shame of what he had done and said in the past began to tear him apart, and he felt like he was losing his mind as his own conscious and sense of self warred with his father's teachings, pulling him in two different directions.

'Does Father expect me to follow in his footsteps; to become a killer for a cause that I don't know if I totally believe in anymore?' Draco questioned himself. The answer was more than likely, yes, but he was certain he didn't want to become a murderer for any reason. As he contemplated his feelings, sitting in the overly warm compartment waiting for the train to take him away, he knew he still loved his father in some fashion and ached to do his bidding, even if the once proud man had lowered himself to the status of servant with the Dark Lord.

This was something that galled Draco to no end. 'Didn't he tell me to always stand proud, to not bow down before others? How can he say that and kiss the hems of the Dark Lord's robes? He acts more like a house-elf than a Malfoy,' Draco thought disdainfully, furrowing his eyebrows. His thoughts saddened him as well. Everyone was afraid of his father and his father seemed the most powerful wizard he knew, but he came to realise that Lucius was just as terrified of the Dark Lord as Draco was of his father.

The blond scoffed to himself, giving a sad, little laugh. It appeared the Malfoys were a pathetic bunch, wanting power, but doomed to be lackeys to those who wielded it.

Other questions, more personal ones, came to bother him as well. 'How could I still care for him?' the blond sixteen year old asked himself. 'He was never kind; in fact he's been downright abusive, but still...' Draco shuddered remembering the many times his father had beat him for whatever infraction he had done. Even something as simple as not sitting properly at the dinner table had been cause for fists to fly and blood to flow. There were times when he had wondered if someday his father wouldn't kill him, times when his father had not stopped after a few slaps or punches, but had continued until Narcissa had intervened when Draco had been the better part of unconscious.

Draco had to admit, however, his father had never hit his mother once in any time that he had seen and he was sure the elder Malfoy had never touched her when he wasn't there either. That honour had been bestowed solely upon Draco. 'Lucky me,' he thought sarcastically. Draco hadn't even been allowed to make his own friends. Everything was planned out for him so he could be the masterpiece in his father's drive to improve the Malfoy name and ensure its place in history.