A/N- This story contains Half-Blood Prince spoilers. If you have not finished the book (shame on you! It's been out for ages now!), then please go read that instead of this right now. Thank you for your consideration.

By the way, I do not own Harry Potter. I own nothing. As usual. Thanks for your consideration.

RebelFaerie

The wardrobe door swung open, and a shadowy mist ebbed out into the room. I held my breath and waited. Why do I have to do this? Ithought to myself, half in irritation and half in panic.I hate boggarts. Always have, always will. Menaces, the lot of them. But, of course, Mum couldn't stand having to do anything that could be interpreted as work, and Dad's still in Azkaban. So it's just me. Me and the stupid boggart. But it'll be over soon.

The mist began to take on a corporeal state. It was becoming dark, solid, and almost humanlike in form. I still couldn't make out any specifics, but it didn't matter to me. Whatever it was, I was terrified and wanted no part of it. I knew that it was stupid to be afraid of a shadow, but I'd never seen a shadow like this. It was the scariest thing I'd ever seen, and I didn't even know what it was. I wanted nothing more than to run out of this room and leave the stupid boggart alone.

But it wasn't about what I wanted anymore.

The mist grew still denser, until that one horrifying moment in which I knew what it was. I gasped, not wanting to at all, knowing that it was stupid and weak and what I was scared of wasn't even there, but I gasped all the same. A man was stepping out of the shadows, a man that I knew all too well. That sleek blond hair, the flowing robes, the familiar sneer of loathing and mockery mirrored underneath cold, heartless gray eyes.

It was my father, standing in front of the wardrobe.

He stepped forward, looking at me with that all-too-common expression of superiority, knowing that he was better than me and wanting to illustrate it. I muttered something under my breath, not having the slightest idea what I was saying, and not particularly caring. I just knew that whatever he was thinking, I wanted nothing to do with it.

He drew his wand from inside his robes, and in doing so, I caught a glance of his arm. I gasped again. I wasfinally seeing what I had heard about all my life, what he had kept hidden yet bragged about behind the backs of the Ministry, what I respected and feared in ever-alternating turns. The Dark Mark, the skull and serpent grinning up at me, burned on his arm.

"Good day, son," he said coldly, a smirk crossing his face.

I said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"What, not even a hello for your father? I'm touched by your warm welcome," he said, something that almost resembled surprise worming its way intohis expression. But that was a lie. Lucius was never surprised. And if he were to be surprised, it certainly wouldn't be over something like this.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice shaking on its own accord.

"Can't I talk to my own son without wanting anything?" he asked lightly.

"No. You never have before." I muttered. And this was true. Lucius Malfoy was not the type of man to waste valuable time on pleasent conversation.

I was right. He decided to cut to the chase.

"Join me, Draco," he hissed, his voice low and only seeming to expect one answer, "Join with us. Join with Him. The Dark Lord will be most pleased. It is your destiny. Embrace it."

"What do you know about my destiny?" I snapped. "I can do what I want. You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Actually, Draco, I know exactly what you are capable of," he said, looking smugly amused. "You are capable of doing great things, if you merely choose the right side. Choose your destiny, Draco. Become who you were born to be. Become one of us."

A response choked itself back in my throat. I knew what I was supposed to say, what I felt I had to say. I will never be one of you. I thought with a vengeance. You can't make me who you want me to be. I can make my own life. I will choose my destiny.

"Ridikulus!" I cried. The vision of my father exploded into wisps of smoke, trailing around the room until they melted into nothingness. He was gone, him and his smooth, evil words. But my own thoughts echoed around in my head.

I will choose my destiny.

I will choose my destiny.

I will choose...

This scene plays back in my head as I stare down at the mark on my own arm, stark black against my skin. How could things have gone so wrong? I ask myself. Things weren't meant to be this way. He's not even here, and yet, look at what he's done. Look at what he's done to me.

But one thing is still certain. I will never truly join Him. What I could have been will never truly be lost. I will never do what He's asked me to do, no matter how He threatens me.

I can still choose.