Hey guys! So I already uploaded this, but it was in a combination of stories kinda thing. I really wanted people to read it, so I'm posting it as a one-shot! Enjoy:3
Disclaimer: Do not own!
I was literally ripping my hair out. It was so frustrating trying to fit into the mold my father had made for me. I wasn't him, but of course he couldn't see that. He thought that I would be the perfect Deatheater. What he didn't understand was that I didn't want to kill anyone. Especially people who trusted me.
"If only I could find a way to make him see that I'm not able to be what he wants me to be," I whispered to myself and sighed. There was a soft knock on my bedroom door. I willed myself up from my coal four poster bed and opened my heavy black door. It was my mother, her porcelain hair was in a messy bun, a few strands in a disarray around her face.
"Mother," I greeted.
"Draco. Your father needs you to get ready. It's Deatheater business." When she said Deatheater her eyes darted to the floor. My face hardened into the mask I always wore.
"Of course." I closed my door and almost screamed in agitation. I threw on a pair of black skinny jeans and a black v-neck tee. When I went down the grand staircase, my stomach started to knot. My gourmet breakfast threatened to come up. I took a deep breath before I walked into the dining room. No one was moving, and they all acted as if someone had died (which is probably what happened).
"Ah, Draco. We've been expecting you," he hissed. He was supposedly my master, but I only thought of him as a treacherous snake and a murderer. I sat beside my father. He didn't look at me, but at this point in my life I could care less what he did anymore. I didn't say anything or even acknowledge his presence. My silver eyes stayed blank and I didn't let my emotions go on display. I had been good at hiding them since I was six. That was twelve years ago when I actually wanted my father to love me like Mother did.
Throughout the whole meeting, I zoned out. I didn't want to be a Deatheater and I never did. Father had forced me to get the stupid tattoo that burned when needed and was impossible to erase. Even if you managed to get rid of the blemish, the scars would still be there. You might not even see them, but you just know that they're there. The job haunts you until you die, seeing all of the faces of the people you killed flash before your eyes right before you black out into nothingness.
And of course there was a girl involved. I wanted to protect her at all costs. My life was at stake for her, but I didn't care. She was so worth it. She was the sweetest girl I've ever met, and she brought goodness with her wherever she went. Her smile lit up the whole room, and her laugh made everyone's bad day turn around. I was in love with her, but she didn't know. She only saw the act I put up, the lie separating us from being together.
I must have made a face because the room went quiet, everyone's cold gaze on me. I stayed still only making eye contact with my mother who sat next to Aunt Bella. She gave me a worried look before her crystal blue eyes went to the crack on the table. I knew what was going to happen.
"Are you with us now Draco?" he asked, trying to be nice. Well, nice wasn't in the dictionary he used.
"Yes."
"Are you sure? We could talk about it."
"I'm fine," I snapped. Too late to take it back, I slumped in the expensive dining chair. His eyes flashed.
"Well, then why don't you try and pay attention. Imperio!" The curse was of course unforgivable. He tried to get inside my head, tried to force me to listen to him like everyone did. I wish I could thank Professor Moody for the lessons on handling curses.
"STOP!" I yelled. The voices in my head turned off and the room was as silent as death. Maybe even quieter because death itself was looking me straight in the face. Sweat was dripping down my back and sticking my blonde hair to my forehead.
"What did you say?" I didn't answer. "I said," he repeated, "what did you say!" The room seemed to shake with the magnitude of his voice.
"Stop," I stated simply. He bared his teeth.
"Apologize Draco," my father pleaded.
"No." Everyone looked at me in disbelief.
"Crucio!" The pain shot through me like knives, twisting and turning making me cry out in agony. Tears sprung to my eyes. I tried pushing them back not wanting him to see me weak.
"Just apologize!" my mother exclaimed as if she were the one the curse was torturing. No words escaped my throat. The pain stopped just enough to let me speak.
"I won't apologize to a monster who doesn't care about anyone but himself," I spat.
"So that's how you feel? Well, I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice." I waited for him to do it. It was just two simple words that rolled off his tongue when someone defied him. Hermione, I'm sorry, I thought before the words were spoken, the green light flashed, and I no longer was in this world anymore.
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