Darkness overwhelms the weak, but it also embraces the lost. My thoughts were unorganized, and scattering. I didn't understand… why? Tears rampaged down my face, I couldn't control myself. Look at the great Draco Malfoy now… I thought to myself, the oh so dignified pureblood, crying. It wasn't his fault though, it couldn't be. They killed her; he whimpered, just turned, laughed and took her life. Why? She didn't deserve to die, it was his fault… he didn't accept the mark; it was he who had refused.
Then why did they kill her? Why not me? His sick mind pleaded. It should have been me… He kept running, he had to run, he had to get away. He didn't know where he would go, but he had to get somewhere. It had been nearly a day since the horrific occurrence, so now he was a traitor, at least in his father's eyes, and he didn't quite belong in the ordinary wizarding world… where would he go? He didn't deserve to be alive… he should be rotting in hell.
The night seemed to swallow him, hell, it was devouring him. He paused at a stream, and stared at his reflection, and he hated every feature of his face… so full of hate his eyes seemed, he had never seen anything else. Those were the eyes of the chosen, and he would forever be… chosen. He was the favorite, the chosen one of the Dark Side, and unlike potter, he hated every bit of it. He still remembered the day he was branded…
He stood tall, and confident, his cool exterior not betraying the fear and resentment contained inside. He did not want this, but it was not his will… it was the Dark Lord's.
"Draco…" a voice hissed, "It is your destiny to be chosen…" The Dark Lord's eyes searched his mercilessly; he looked down in fear,
"Yes my lord…" he looked up, holding back tears… he looked at his father, whose cold eyes seemed like they were burning…. "It is an honor my lord." The brutal man just nodded as the death eaters murmured amongst themselves… they were proud of him, every last one of them… feeling a somewhat positive emotion, in a very sick and twisted way. He looked up at the Dark Lord.
Shivers cascaded through his body as the Dark Lord began the cantation. He was not being marked, but branded, forever binding him to the Dark Lord. The magic coursed through him, burning him, leaving permanent burns on his chest and on his wrist like chains… they burned…
Even now the burns came back, the Dark Lord was angry… he had found him… the pain overwhelmed him… he found himself falling into the embrace…..
"Draco?"