A/N - A short transscript of a monologue I had to write for an English project, which I will hopefully upload on here when it's done! Please review! :)
My life is hard. I never thought so before – I thought I had the best life in the world, with my influential father, bulging moneybags and Slytherin cronies. That was before I got the Dark Mark.
I remember it clearly; my father had been planning it for weeks. I was excited at a chance to prove myself to my father – ha! I'm nothing to him, just a tool to help him get back in the Dark Lord's good books. It was thundering, the night I committed myself to the Dark Lord's cause. I've always hated thunder. It was in the middle of a thunderstorm when my father first beat me. We had been strolling around the perimeter of the Malfoy Estate, when I came across a plastic toy tractor wedged in one of the hedges. I showed it to him, not knowing what it was, and asked if I could keep it. He didn't hold back with his cane, Dobby could vouch for that – my father sent me to him to heal the bruises afterwards. "Malfoys don't cry!" he told me. I was five. When I was eleven, he used the Cruciatus curse on me. "You're a big boy now, Draco; you should be man enough to take it." It was thundering that time, too. I've hated thunder ever since, and to this day the only person that knows is Dobby.
I hadn't expected the pain that came with bearing the Mark. The ceremony was short – after the Dark Lord asked me several questions concerning my loyalty, he dug his wand tip into my forearm and spoke the incantation – it was pure agony. Like the Cruciatus, but worse. I had no idea what task he would give me. I've tried to hard – poison, a cursed necklace, everything – but it all seems to hurt other people. Never the intended recipient. I had a plan, in the beginning. To kill him from afar, like I was never involved. I managed to gain an assistant in Madam Rosmerta with the help of the Imperius Curse. I'd fixed a Vanishing Cabinet as a last-ditch attempt, so I could smuggle enough Death Eaters to hold off Potter and his limpets so I could get to Dumbledore. In the end, it was my godfather Severus who did the deed. Dumbledore tried to talk me into defecting, joining the Order. I wish. The Mark is permanent, so even if I did defect I would be shunned as a traitor to both sides.
And I have my mother to think about, of course. I think she cares for me, deep down, but years of my father's dictation have stifled her affections. She regrets letting her mother force her into marrying him, I can see it in her eyes. Apparently I won't get a choice in my marriage either; most pureblood families arrange a marriage before the child is even out of the womb. It will be my father's decision. It always is. I wish I could make my own choices sometimes. But other times, I think it's for the best, that my life is planned out for me. Because if I do as my father says, I will be the perfect son. I have never been truly the best; someone always gets the best of me. In Quidditch, Potter. In lessons, Granger. Even the task I specifically was given was completed by someone other than me. I wish I had more backbone. But mostly, I wish my life wasn't so hard.