A/N – Warning: this story may contain: eating disorders, self harm/cutting, abuse, drugs, and depression.

This is my first real story involving Draco, so I'll try to keep him as in-character as I can. :) Please review and tell me what you like and what you don't. I hope you enjoy the story.

Treading Water:Prologue

Draco Malfoy stared into his own eyes, grey boring into grey, his breath fogging the edges of the mirror.

After a few seconds his gaze drifted down, traveling past the pale skin of his bare chest and coming to a stop at the purplish bruise that colored his stomach. Bile rose up in his throat, and he swallowed, ignoring it, remembering.

"Draco, your sixteenth birthday is almost upon us. In only two weeks, you will be an adult in the eyes of the Dark Lord" Aunt Bellatrix crooned, stroking Draco's silky hair. Draco shivered. He hated it when his Aunt touched him so casually.

"Leave him be, Bella!" his mother snapped, slapping her sister's hand away from her son. Draco was grateful.

"Now, now, Narcissa, no need to get too snappy with dear Bellatrix" Lucius drawled, sneering. "For once, her words have merit." Draco felt his stomach squirm as his father turned to look at him, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Draco…you will honor the Malfoy family."

No, Draco thought, why? I don't want this, I don't want this… But of course he responded in the affirmative, in the way he had been taught to respond as a good Pureblood son. "… Yes, father." But it came just a second too late. "Draco, you hesitate?" Lucius asked, his fair brows furrowing in surprised anger. He leaned forward in his chair, the sleeve of the Azkaban shirt he wore riding up just enough for Draco to see the dark tattoo that marred his skin.

"I-I'm sorry, father," Draco stuttered, slight panic creeping into his words. He looked imploringly at his father. "I want to honor this family! It's just, I d-don't…I'm not sure I'm…ready for this."

Draco didn't see him move. All he knew was that one moment Lucius was reclining in his throne-like chair, and the next, he was barely an inch away, his arm pulling back and landing squarely on Draco's stomach. Narcissa yelled. Bellatrix cackled. Draco gasped and fell back, pain exploding in his stomach. He landed and looked startledly up at his father. He hadn't been struck since his pre-Hogwarts days.

His father stood over him, his face contorted in anger. "Do you know how much I have sacrificed for this family? How much I have endured? I will NOT have my son destroy all that!" And then, bending nearer: "You WILL recieve the dark mark, Draco. You WILL honor this family!"

And thought they were never articulated, all those present understood the two implied words. "Or else."

Draco sighed, swallowing his fear. There were still eight days until his birthday, he still had time… and whatever happened, it would only be two months until he returned to Hogwarts. He shook his head; he would worry about this later. It was almost time for dinner.

With one last glance at his bruised stomach, Draco pulled on a shirt, doing up the buttons and finishing it off with an emerald green tie. Narcissa insisted on dinner always being a formal affair, even with father in Azkaban.

Well, Draco thought, it's not as if he'll stay away for long. With all his connections in the Ministry and the Death Eater ranks, his father was usually able to escape Azkaban for the day every few weeks, which was normally something Draco would be pleased about. But with his impending initiation as a Death Eater, and the painful and very visible reminder of the feeling of a fist meeting his body…

Draco took one last look in the mirror, ran a hand through his hair, straightened his tie, and left his room.