Disclaimer: J.K owns
it. That's all I've got to say.
A/N: Hope you like
it, r/r anyway!
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I am nothing but a
mirror.
"Daddy! I want to play!"
"Not now Draco! I've got work to do!"
"But I want to play…" I said, whining.
"Draco," my father said in a warning voice.
That's how most of my conversations with my father
went when I was little. Always the same, every day. Never time, never love.
Only work. He lived for his lord. He worked for his lord. He killed for his
lord. Since I was five years old, old enough to understand what traitor means,
I've been bullied. Of course, always in secret. My father's name was and is
still powerful enough to shut up even the meanest bullies. But only when there's no one around. I'd get hit,
kicked, everything. I still remember it. It was always me against them. No one
ever stood up for me. Even the teachers didn't care for me. In the beginning I
came to them, crying. All they would say was that I should defend myself.
Everybody blamed me for being the heir of one of the most powerful men in the
world. And they still do. I can see they despise me. They hate me.
Even at school. All the Slytherins pretend they adore
me, while all they do is hate me. I don't think anyone knows the real me. I
never show it. Would you, if you knew everybody would hate you for it? And not
only hate you because of your father, but really hate you for what you are,
what you resemble? I don't think so.
My
father always said that I shouldn't be so stubborn, so darned proud. He hates
the way I behave, he hates my doomed soul he created. He hates to be confronted
with himself, every day, every second. In me, he sees himself. I am nothing but
a mirror of my father's thoughts, ideals. He corrupted my soul with hatred
towards the muggles, hatred towards the mudbloods. Hatred towards all those who
despised the only side, the side of power. I have been learned the Unforgivable
Curses, long before I was going to Hogwarts. I learned everything a Deatheater
should do, and more. I learned the dreams of the Master. I learned to dream the
dreams of the Master, to obey him and to make the dreams come true. A world
without mudbloods. But my dreams reach further than that. I want a world where
there a only wizards, no Muggles of any sorts. I don't want our race to hide
under the ground. We should live free and without worries.
Last summer, I got the last proof that my soul is
black. I got the Dark Mark. Since the beginning of the holidays, the skull and snake
have been looking upon me, moving when I move the muscles of my left arm. They
look ready to kill me. The pain it caused to have it burned into me has faded,
but I still feel it sometimes. It burns like angry flames. The Dark Mark has
invaded my soul, to make it even blacker than it already is. Now I truly am the
heir of my father, the hair of the Malfoys. I've been given the greatest honor,
I've received the Dark Mark without screaming, without tears. My father is
proud of me. He tells my story to every Deatheater there is. That I am the only
one who didn't scream. It is the first time he doesn't hate me for the courage
I inherited from mother. Combined with the proud, my courage is my true
heritage, my only heritage. It makes me the brat I am. And I am happy with it.
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A/N: You liked it? Then review in the little box
below, ok? | I know it's rather short, but give me a break!
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