Draco Malfoy POV.

"Draco... The Dark Lord calls." Pettigrew's squeaky, idiotic voice broke my concentration.

I was currently in my room in my family's manor, focused on my thick tome of charms.

I felt a chill of fear skitter down my spine at the summons, but didn't let that weakness show to the sniveling mess of a man in front of me.

The Dark Lord calling you was never good. He never summoned you for a light-hearted chat over tea. Chances were he'd be killing or torturing you. Or you could be given a task to do, which is almost worse.

I had long ago realized about myself that I was not a killer, nor was I particularly amazing Death Eater material. It was the summer after my fifth year at Hogwarts, and the Dark Lord himself was residing in my home, luckily as far away from me as possible.

You could say I wasn't the most faithful servant the Dark Lord had. I was pretty much still here because I had no where else to go. My Slytherin friends would rat me out quicker than you could say "backstab". My parents, I'd discovered did not give a care about me. They had, I suppose, when I was younger. They gave me every material good I'd ever wanted. Sure, they weren't exactly affectionate, but they cared in their own way. That had crumbled since the Dark Lord had returned. Now it was all self-preservation with them, and most of the other Death Eaters. Except perhaps Bellatrix and Fenrir, but they were batshit crazy, so they didn't really count.

"Of course," I sneered haughtily at Pettigrew. I stood from my desk, brushed an invisible speck from my immaculate Forrest Green silk shirt, taking my time just to show Pettigrew that he wasn't commanding me around, and had no authority over me.

I strode quickly and casually out of my room, Pettigrew scrambling after me. I never betrayed the fact that I felt like my stomach would soon be trying to escape out of my esophagus. A tidbit like that could get you killed in a house like this.

The Dark Lord was residing in the west wing den, and my walk over seemed far too short. Pettigrew scrambled in front of me and opened the door, like a good little sniveling piece of failure. I shot him another sneer for good measure, and entered the room, masking my apprehension. My dragon hide boots sunk into the plush carpets, and I could hear that giant snake slithering around here, though I couldn't see it.

"Ah Draco!" I turned to see the Dark Lord himself seated on an opulent wing chair by the fire. My father was standing to the right of the Dark Lord's seat. There were no other chairs around. Standing like an obedient servant it was, then.

"I have a little task for you," he said, in his wispy, creepy voice. He always called them 'tasks' not missions of suicide or forays into our impending doom. It irked me. I could see my father with an expressionless face on, ah, he was here for show then, to show me that my parents had no authority over me now, only the Dark Lord did. As if.

"We seem to have a small problem with a Blood Traitor family, the McNabbs, being a bit too sympathizing towards Mudbloods and Muggles, you see. Causing some... Unneeded ruckus in the Ministry. A father, mother, and two children, aged 12 and 8. You will... dispose of them as your initiation."

The chills were back, full-fledged. I struggled to keep my face and posture impassive.

"When you complete this task, you will return to receive a Dark Mark. Rastaban will give you a portkey to an alley near their home and the other details. Do not fail."

His eyes pierced me. I nodded sharply. I glanced towards my father again, to see if he would defend me, now in the moment it mattered the most, but he remained completely impassive. With a mustered (and sarcastic to only me) "Of course, my Lord," I turned from the scene of the final betrayal my father committed towards me and left. Outside the room, Rabastan was hanging about. Upon seeing me, he handed me a rough piece of parchment and a broken quill, which was my portkey.

"Thish'll ativate ah 11'clock. Besht not beh late" He intoned in his scratchy, accented voice. I merely sneered at him and turned on my heel to head back to my room. The portkey would activate in 6 hours, I had some thinking to do.

~~~

Reaching my room, I sat heavily on my soft bed, staring at the slip of parchment and portkey.

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

But I had to.

I felt rage then, for being forced into doing this. Being forced into becoming a monster. I had no choice. I had never had a choice. For all the riches my parents had provided me, they had never given me freedom.

I knew I had to do this, if I didn't I would be slaughtered. Fortuna favet supersunt was our family's motto for a reason after all. But think Draco, was there anyway out of this?

I thought through all the possibilities of the moment. I couldn't fight, I couldn't follow orders, so... flight? I had no where to go, except to be on my own, and hide in the muggle world.

Even though it's something my parents never accepted, I knew quite a bit about the muggle world. It would be stupid not to, when you compare their population to ours.

I walked over to the large painting of my family and I over my fireplace. I clicked a small button located on the underside of its frame, then crossed the room to my desk and clicked the button on the underside of it as well. My copy of Charms for the Charming by Gregor Ferral fell off my floor to ceiling bookshelf. I placed it back in its spot, pushing it gently until I felt resistance, then I pushed it firmly. As it was shoved into place, a hidden door made of half my bookshelf swung slightly open.

This hidden room had been here for centuries. Originally used as a secret lockdown room if someone was attacking the manor, I just used it to hide things.

I stepped into the small room. There were shelves on one wall, from which I grabbed a small leather change purse, the size of a wallet. It fit in my pocket and had an infinite expanding charm on it. That had been a devil of a spell to cast, but managed it late in my 5th year. Now I had a few bags that were altered by the spell, but this little wallet was very useful. It was very well done, so I could shove a textbook in the bag without any trouble. It was empty at the moment though.

I picked it up and checked its charm, seeing as I could shove my entire arm in the bag without any resistance, it was still perfect.

I gathered quite a load of wizarding money and placed it in a sack. I had enough money stored here to keep a small country a float for quite a few decades. Just in case, I like to say.

I grabbed a large amount of muggle pounds as well, thankful I was smart enough to prepare for a case like this.

I packed a small but luxurious one man wizarding tent as well, along with enough preserved food to last. I didn't anticipate needing it much, if I hid in the muggle world properly, but you never know. I packed my wand, a dozen books, one on healing, a few textbooks, and some muggle fiction. Say what you want about them, but they had some of the best authors I'd ever seen.

I packed some hygienic products and a fortnight's worth of clothes, muggle and wizard. I was surprised the bag was still only mildly heavy. I had done good wand work, Charms was my best class after all. I packed spare bedding and some flashlights, and battery run lamps as well.

I was well prepared. I guess I'd always known in the back of my mind that one day I'd leave. I had grown up here, but Malfoy Manor had never been a home to me. When I was young, it was where I had to be before my curfew and after I started at Hogwarts it was just where I spent some of my holidays. I had always been flighty in that way. People who knew me called me "obsessively overprepared", but I just didn't like to be caught unawares and unprepared.

After another half hour of packing, re packing and hasty additions to my pack, I was set. I tucked my bag safely deep in my pocket of the clothes I had changed into for the next day. There was no way I was getting any sleep tonight.

In the end, I spent the night carefully planning my escape and adding last minute things to my pack. I was careful not to make it look like anything major was missing from my room, no one could know I was missing until I was long gone.

After checking and rechecking everything, it was finally time to act. I mussed my bed, making it look like I had a nap.

I walked confidently with my slip and portkey to the foyer where all transport was done, under supervision, today was Romulus Villio, a squat, bad tempered man.

I held the portkey tightly as Villio noted my departure.

"Don't fail, Malfoy," he rasped.

And on that cheery note, the portkey turned blue, as it whisked me away from this house of horrors.