Title: Escape
Rating: PG
Summary: Draco's thoughts on becoming a Death Eater.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property and creation of J. K. Rowling. I'm just a fan.
Notes: I really shouldn't be posting this. I'm writing this on 2 1/2 hours sleep (that's what happens when I stay up all night reading Harry Potter fic). Hasn't been beta-read, errors abound I'm sure.
When I agreed to become a Death Eater, I never realized how much it would hurt. The Dark Mark, I mean. I'm very proud of it however, I never once cried out when Lord Voldemort burned it into my flesh with his wand. I was a man, a true Malfoy. My father never looked more proud. It seems I have been waiting so long for his approval, to finally live up to his standards. And to think all I had to do was lay on bended knee and say Master. Master.
I would have laughed, if I hadn't been in so much pain. All those years I idolized my father, only to learn it was all a joke. He's a joke. As I stood in the inner-circle of the grey-cloaked Death Eaters, surrounded by faceless masks, I wondered how so many drones could possibly be the wizarding elite? My father is not even the Dark Lord's right hand man, that position is filled by a pudgy man with only one real hand.
There is no promise of power there. Only a life of servitude. Carrying out the whims of a madman. A man obsessed by a Griffindor, who I shall not name. Who I refuse to name, for my entire existence seems to revolve around him, no matter how hard I try to escape it. Even among his enemies I cannot escape him.
After the summer of my initiation, I returned to Hogwarts for my fifth year. The mark rarely ever hurts now, but almost constantly seems to itch. Its as though my skin were trying to expel the dark magic embedded in it.
A part of me wishes to show it off, so I can see the look of awe on some of my Slytherin classmates' faces, but another part of me wants to hide it, to never even acknowledge its there. My life is no longer my own. At any moment I could be called upon to sacrifice myself for the Master's will. It's really only a matter of time. I am here for a reason. The Dark Lord wanted an agent within the stronghold of the enemy, near their treasured prince. I am forced to watch and observe the very person I have tried so hard to escape from. I'm driven even further into the play in which he stars. A tragedy that will end in only death. I am determined it will not be my own.
And so redemption comes from a peculiar place. From a Slytherin and Death Eater. A man I have known and admired since childhood. My Potions Master, who I learn, is a double-spy. He takes a great risk in trying to recruit me to the side of the light. Only my respect for the man keeps me from turning around and revealing him to Voldemort. I have no desire to fight for the good. I am not good, I am not nice. I only have desire for survival. The only choice for me to make is to decide what side I believe will win. I have yet to be convinced one way or another.
If I stay, fight for the light, I become a target for the Dark Lord. If I don't, then I will have to leave Hogwarts and return in failure. In the little time I spent with the Death Eaters, I learned there are two things Voldemort cannot stand, betrayal and failure.
Snape better be sure he can keep his word to protect me.
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