Just some Harry Potter things

Draco Malfoy One-Shot

They were still down there. He was still down there, talking to his Death Eaters as if he hadn't just changed a boy's life forever. And yet, that boy was in his room, hiding, his face buried in his hands and tears; Draco Malfoy was going to have the worst night, but that was only the beginning, wasn't it?

He could hear their steps downstairs, their voices discussing the Dark Lord's next move om the Wizarding World: take over the Ministry? Attack Hogwarts? Try to kill Harry Potter again? Draco couldn't make the voices out and neither did he want to; they were only a reminder that he had destroyed his life just by accepting his father's wish.

The Dark Mark was still burning on his forearm, but that was Draco's smallest concern; what about his mother? His father? His friends? Harry, Hermione? Not only had he agreed to serve the greatest dark wizard ever seen in the past fifty years, but he had also ruined his chances at school. He had wanted to befriend a well-known Muggle-born, Hermione Granger – she was brilliant and had kind of the same taste in books; she would have been a great fiend, he was sure.

He had also wanted to say something, confess a secret he had been keeping inside for at least two years. Draco didn't want to admit, definitely not in front of his parents, that he had a crush on Harry Potter. A boy, and not an ordinary one, but The Boy Who Lived. He would have never had a chance with anyways – since Harry was not interested in boys, especially Slytherins and specifically him –, but Draco felt that he had to tell him at some point.

Now who would listen to him? A young Death Eater – what did he know? He made the wrong choices, people would not respect him anymore. Not that Draco really cared about such things; he had his friends in Slytherin who treated him for who he was, regardless his family's affiliation with the Dark Lord. Their parents were all Death Eaters anyways, but he was the youngest – only sixteen when he got the Dark Mark.

The vows, though? Not for a sixteen-year-old. It was a great responsibility, something he wasn't ready for. He had been afraid during the whole ceremony, his heart pounding as the Dark Lord – because Draco feared his name even in his own thoughts – approached him and marked his arm, drawing the skull and the snake as if he didn't hear Draco's shaky, but silent, breath.

"And I swear I shall be loyal to the Dark Lord, to the Death Eaters, to the dark side of the magic Hogwarts has taught me. I shall never regret this choice, the choice of joining the powerful and dark army of the Dark Lord himself. I shall call myself a Death Eater until the last breath will leave my body, just as the white wand will have left a scar on my arm, a scar I shall be forever proud of. I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to be worthy of a Dark Mark."

And that was before the pain; then, as soon as the wand touched his skin, he yelled in pain. It was burning, burning like branding iron, and causing so much pain that Draco saw images from his own past, hoping nobody else could see them as well: his mother's smile, his father's "I'm proud of you, Draco", Pansy's "Happy Birthday!" and Blaise's "It's gonna be okay, mate" and, of course, Harry's damned smile and beautiful green eyes. Those were the features that gave Draco butterflies in his stomach.

He had dreamt so many times of those things after Hogwarts: a normal life, with no more professors wanting more than he could from him, no more judgmental Slytherins despising Muggle-borns and Half-bloods, no more requests his father would usually have for him.

And now it was all gone, wasn't it? Draco was an amazing wizard: the teachers said so, other students said so, his family said so, the Dark Lord himself. And had he just given his magic, all his free will to a dark wizard? Yes, yes he had. The others would have never made through the war coming, but Draco was more concerned about school.

The Dark Lord wanted him to do something at Hogwarts, that was why Draco had a Dark Mark on his arm at the moment. He didn't know, he hadn't been told yet, but he could sense that it was something bad – a murder? A spell? Draco was afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in his whole life, but he had to do it; otherwise, his family would be killed, his father would fall in disgrace again, he would be the Dark Lord's next victim.

Draco listened to the meeting below him: the Death Eaters were still there, his mother was still there. She was the only person he wanted to see at the moment, but he couldn't. He had to deal with the tears, the regret and the broken dreams on his own. He was sixteen and a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake!

Draco got up from the floor, where he had stood since he locked himself in the room and headed to the bathroom, quickly repairing his red eyes and messy hair. Then he went downstairs – he had been told to come when he was ready to receive the instructions for the plan.

With his heart pounding in his chest but his face not betraying any emotion, he opened the door.

Ok, m-am decis sa nu mai traduc one-shoturile, sper ca asta v-a placut cause I think it's shit si... mna. Urmatorul va fi Hope Howell/Lupin, hope you're gonna enjoy!