This one shot is for The Choose-Your-Wand Challenge by Coruscanti Clover for the wood prompt Ebony. Thanks for reading!

Draco Malfoy sat in his bedroom staring blankly at the wall, yet seeing nothing. His bedroom, the same room he had lived in for his whole life, now seemed so different. Nothing had changed, yet it felt dark and lonely. The one place that had once been his escape not felt like a prison. The pictures that sat on his nightstand, ones of him as a small child or with his family, seemed to be starring at him accusingly. As if they knew what he had done, and they were ashamed of him. He leaned over and flipped them all over so they lay face down on the cold wood. Instead of feeling numb, as he had been for nearly an hour, he now felt restless.

He got to his feet and moved to his dresser. While pulling out nightclothes for him to change into he caught sight of his trunk, the one he brought to school, sitting only feet away. How could he ever step foot in that place again, a place that was so full of childlike innocence? He felt ruined, even trained. Hogwarts was no longer a place that he belonged in. Despite the fact that he was never completely fond of the school, he still felt comfortable there. It was a second home for him. But now, knowing what he knew, and being what he was, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to go back.

He shook his head, scolding himself for thinking so weakly. There was a job to be done and he has been specifically assigned to do it. And he knew there was no way he could back out. If he did... well, he didn't want to think about what would be done to him if he couldn't finish the job. Simply put he had no choice. The only thing he could do was come to terms with this as quickly as possible.

As he began to pull his nightshirt on his eyes fell on his left forearm. He hadn't been able to bring himself to look at the mark since he had first been branded. Draco could still feel a sting, even after an hour has passed. He had nearly bitten his tongue off trying to keep himself from crying out in pain. If he had shown weakness so early in his career he would have been finished then and there. Even now he was reluctant to even wince on the off chance that some how someone was watching him. No, now that he was a part of them he could never truly be safe from their watch.

Draco finished getting changed and went about the rest of his night in a bit of a daze. When he'd gone downstairs for a glass of water he'd passed by his parents room and could faintly hear his mother crying. It was no secret that she had been opposed to the idea since the beginning. She'd plead her case to anyone that would listen, but no one was willing to stand up to the dark lord just because she was protective over her son. He had made his decision, and the dark lords word was law.

His mother had barely been able to hold back her tears when he'd gotten his mark. Draco had an inkling that no one has chosen to make her leave because some of those that had been present enjoyed seeing her anguish. That more than anything had made him start to regret his decision to join, but then again he hadn't had much choice in the matter to begin with. So he'd kept his mouth shut, and intended to do his best to comfort her when he was finally able to process all that had happened. But for now he wasn't sure he could keep himself calm for much longer.

That night, for the first time in years, Draco Malfoy cried himself to sleep. He lost his ability to keep up his defensive wall. He once again felt like a child, back on his first night at Hogwarts. The only difference between then and now was that he was alone. What he would come to face in the next couple of months wasn't starting new classes and learning to do magic properly. He was going to be forced to do the one thing he always knew he would never be able to do to another human being. And he couldn't take a sick day from being a death eater, and not following through with an assignment would earn him much more than detention. He felt hollowed out, like the shell of the young boy he used to be. It didn't seem to matter to any of them that he still was a boy. He had been forced to be a man.