Author's Note: I tried posting this several days ago, but if I added in the little dividers, for some reason, big chunks of the story were cut out. But I worked it out. Enjoy

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"Draco," Lucius said. "you must understand that one day there will always be the possibility of the Dark Lord returning. As a Malfoy and as my son you will one day be expected to join the Death Eaters. You are quickly approaching the age where you can be apart of them. You must be prepared to fully accept the responsibility the position gives you."

Thirteen-year-old Draco Malfoy nodded, watching his father pace back and forth in the study. He sank lower in to the large black squashy armchair, wanting to be anywhere else but in his father's study. It was awfully boring to listen to the man drone on with the same speech he had given to Draco since before he even started Hogwarts. A crack in the dying embers made Draco jerk his head up, just as his father turned to him.

"Do you understand what I'm telling you?" his father was asking. Draco nodded and yawned behind his hand.

"Yes, I understand, Father" Draco muttered. "May I go now? I was hoping to practice some flying."

Lucius' face was instantly contorted with anger.

"Go! Get out! I won't bother with this anymore if you aren't willing to listen to me!"

Malfoy didn't need telling twice. He leapt out of the armchair and dashed for the door. He escaped the confines of the study, but not before his father could throw a book at Draco, successfully hitting his shoulder. Lucius painfully admitted to himself a few minutes later, in the silence of his study, that Malfoy was definitely not the son he had ever asked for.

---

Hey dad look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according to plan?
And do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do?
But it hurts when you disapprove all along

---

Draco happily wrote home to his father one afternoon when his dormitory was empty about his first Care of Magical Creatures lesson and about how the hippogriff had slashed him arm.

"…a perfectly good excuse to finally sack the oaf." Draco wrote. Lucius was pleased when he read the letter. Draco was finally resorting to blackmail and trickery. An excellent quality for a future Death Eater. However his mood changed several months later when Draco arrived home from school.

"It escaped," Lucius said the moment Draco arrived at home. "The hippogriff escaped and that…savage…is still working at the school. What made you think a scratch of the arm would be evidence enough to get him sacked?"

Lucius didn't wait for an answer. He just turned on his heel and went straight to his study, slamming the door behind him. Draco was sitting in his room a few minutes later, disgruntled and disappointed, much like his father was in the study. Draco silently wished that he could be a more perfect son. His father was wishing for the exact same thing just downstairs.

---

And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't pretend that
I'm alright
And you can't change me

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

---

Draco was slightly surprised. As much as he and his father didn't get along, as much as Draco disappointed his father, he still missed him.

Thanks to Saint Potter, his father was now in Azkaban and the family name was in ruins. He had told that excuse for a magazine, the Quibbler, that his father was a Death Eater and now the Daily Prophet was suddenly on Potter's side and had chucked his father in to Azkaban. The most important male role model in his life was rotting away inside a cell.

Then again, thought Draco. He wasn't that perfect.

He could still remember a time when he was much younger when he looked up to him and his father (for a rather short time) was proud of him. That was in the past now. All Draco had to focus on now was the horrible family name he now had and the Occlumency lessons his Aunt Bellatrix.

Quite suddenly, he heard several loud cracks and his mother's voice.

"What are you doing here? I said-wait! No! What's this all about? I want to know now!"

The door to Draco's bedroom flew open. Standing in the doorway was his mother, two hooded figures, and Bellatrix.

"Hello Aunt Bella," Draco greeted, sitting up. Bellatrix did not smile.

"Here's a cloak," she said, tossing it at Draco. "Put it on now." Draco quickly did as he was told, wondering what this could all be about.

"Hood up. That's better. Now, grab hold of my arm and don't let go."

He latched tightly on to his aunt's arm as she lifted her own hood. He saw his mother do the same with her cloak. Quite suddenly, Bellatrix spun on the spot. Everything went black. Draco couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't think. Then, quite suddenly, he could breathe again. Wherever he was, it was very dark and couldn't see a thing. He had no idea where his Aunt Bellatrix was. His hand was no longer gripped around her arm. As he tried to get his eyes adjusted to the dark a cold voice rang through the room.

"Bring the boy forward."

Somebody latched so tightly on to Draco's left arm it hurt. He was being dragged to the direction the voice had come from. Another pair of hands forced Draco on to his knees and pushed his head down so he was presumably looking at the floor. He felt the sleeve on his left arm being pulled roughly back. The person that had latched on to Draco's arm yanked the arm forward. Draco lifted his head for the briefest of seconds before the second pair of hands forced it down again.

A wand came down on Draco's arm tracing something in to the skin. It burned and stung. Draco felt as if the skin on his arm was being ripped open. It was incredibly painful, but no noise escaped Draco's mouth. He simply gasped for air wishing the ordeal would be over. The wand lifted from Draco's stinging arm. The same cold voice rung throughout the room again.

"Welcome to the Death Eaters, Malfoy."

Torches suddenly lit in the room, casting dark shadows on the wall. Draco looked down at his arm where the Dark Mark was glowing clearly.

"I have a mission for you of great importance," said Lord Voldemort. "If you don't succeed in this, you and your family will die. The last thoughts your father will have before he is killed is how you disappointingly failed me."

Draco nodded.

"I understand, Master," he replied. It would become perfectly clear later on that he didn't.

---

I try not to think
About the pain I feel inside
Did you know you used to be my hero?
All the days you spent with me
Now seem so far away
And it feels like you don't care anymore

---

Draco had several plans. If they failed, he would resort to the last one. Using the Avada Kedavra on Dumbledore. He already knew that the Vanishing Cabinet would not be a problem smuggling in to the castle and he could easily perform the Imperius and the Cruciatus curses. Now he was wandering through the woods behind his manor keeping his guard up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a creature scurrying.

Concentrating with all his might, he whipped around and pointed his wand at the creature.

"Avada Kedavra!" Draco cried. The hare dropped dead. Draco smirked. Once Dumbledore was gone and his father was out of jail, he could no longer call Draco a pathetic excuse for a son. Draco would be honored above all other Death Eaters. He would be the one to kill Albus Dumbledore.

---

And now I try hard to make it
I just want to make you proud
I'm never gonna be good enough for you
I can't stand another fight
And nothing's alright

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

---

Draco's hand shook as he pointed his wand at Dumbledore. This was it. This was his moment. Dumbledore was sick, weak, and unarmed. But Draco was still afraid. He knew the incantation, he knew he had enough power behind it, he knew what would happen if he didn't do it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even when Amycus and Alecto came in to the room, he couldn't bring himself to do it. His father's voice rang inside his head.

"You're a coward! You'll never amount to anything! You are no son of mine! You are not a Malfoy!"

Doubt filled Draco, making him feel as if he'd never be able to step up and cast the curse. Not even thinking of the power and privileges he'd have from Lord Voldemort if he did so could persuade him. Then Snape came in and cast the spell for Draco, killing Dumbledore. Then they fled from the tower and Apparated away. Draco just hoped that the Dark Lord would not be too angry with him.

---

Nothing's gonna change the things that you said
Nothing's gonna make this right again
Please don't turn your back
I can't believe it's hard
Just to talk to you
But you don't understand

---

"Crucio," said Voldemort. Draco screamed in pain. His screams now seemed almost inhuman. His master had been at this for several hours, taking the Cruciatus Curse on and off. It was all a punishment. Snape was the one that killed Dumbledore and Voldemort had told Draco to do it.

The curse was taken off. Draco desperately gasped for air. But he was still afraid that the curse would come back on any moment. He had to learn the hard way that Lord Voldemort was not a very forgiving person. Draco felt his body contort from the crumpled shape it was in on the ground and he was forced in to a standing position. He was looking directly up in to Lord Voldemort's eyes.

"I warned you, didn't I?" whispered Voldemort. "Now your mother and father will die knowing their son was a failure. Avada Kedavra!"

The last memory of Draco Malfoy was a bright flash of green light, a cold cruel high-pitched laugh, and the loud rush of an invisible something come straight for him.

---

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect

'Cuz we lost it all
Nothing lasts forever
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect
Now it's just too late and
We can't go back
I'm sorry
I can't be perfect