Disclaimer: Anything recognizable from the world of Harry Potter is not mine – it belongs to JK Rowling. But don't we all wish we were her?
Draco slumped in the plush armchair in front of the fire, head cradled in his hands. Even the warmth of the fire couldn't keep the chill of his thoughts away. Glancing up, the young man's eye latched onto a picture on the mantle, and it made his stomach churn. It was just a picture of his father and mother, yet it was a reminder of the root of his problems. He grimaced in frustration, he didn't want to think about it, but it was the inevitable future.
Earlier that afternoon, Lucius Malfoy had, yet again, pulled his son into the parlor for a "chat". Draco knew that his father never wanted to just "chat" – he wanted to speak of Draco's future, of the path that the man already had planned out for the boy. His future as Voldemort's right hand man, replacing Lucius. His future as a Death Eater.
It had always been his Father's dream – for his little boy to become Voldemort's greatest, most loyal follower. The idea had been drilled into Draco's head ever since he was merely a little boy, hardly old enough to grasp the concept of good and evil. That was the point, he supposed. Lucius had wanted Draco to want it, to want to become a Death Eater, and at such a young age, he couldn't know it was evil. For years, the boy had believed it was what he wanted. He wanted to please his father, he wanted the power he was promised. Being a follower of the Dark Lord came with it's own kind of power, he'd learned.
As the years passed, Draco learned more about the Dark Lord. His father took him to Death Eater meetings, and Voldemort watched the boy with a careful eye. He knew Draco contained exactly what he needed in a follower – he was a loyal man, he was respectful, and he had an aura of power about him. However, as the war raged on, the uprising grew against the Dark Lord, even at Hogwarts. It was because of this that Draco learned more about the other side, the "good" side, of the war. He learned the other point of view on the war, and despite being a seemingly careless person, he couldn't help but feel remorse for those who lost loved ones and even their own lives to the dark side. Draco wasn't sure if he wanted to be one of the ones taking those innocent lives. However, his loyalties lied with his father and family.
More time passed, and Draco had reached his unruly teenage years. He quarreled with his father often, as young men do. He was no longer a little boy who believed his father was the best man on earth. Draco began to see his father differently, he was no longer a loving, brave father to him. He was just a loyal follower of the Dark Lord, causing thousands of innocent people to hurt and lose their lives, all for the twisted dreams of a barely human, deranged man. As a boy, Draco had wanted nothing more than to be like his father. Now, he wanted nothing more than to be free from his father's wishes.
He was tired of being what his Father wanted him to be. Draco didn't want what Lucius wanted, not anymore. He'd grown up being taught how to be just like him, how to be his successor. The trouble was, he'd been raised to be loyal, first and foremost, to his family. What his family wanted was what he wanted. His family wanted him to be loyal to the Dark Lord. He wanted to be loyal to no one, to be his own person, to be free to make his own decision for himself. All he wanted was to be more like himself, and less like Lucius.
During his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco had suffered through a lot. Lucius kept pressuring him to finally take the final step, to have the Dark Mark burned onto his forearm. It was time, time for him to show his loyalty to Voldemort. His father felt his resistance, and kept pushing harder and harder. Draco was his only son, and he would be his successor. He was a boy of just sixteen, faced with the choice between his family loyalties and his own morals that he'd learned from his years at Hogwarts, not from his father. Lucius kept his resilient pressure upon Draco, smothering him, afraid to lose control.
It was that constant pressure that caused Draco to finally snap. He simply could not handle it anymore. His father's dreams were not his dreams, and he would have to deal with the consequences of this later. In rebellion, Draco decided to piss off Lucius in any way possible. Perhaps not the best choice, but it certainly worked.
Certainly not the best choice, indeed. Lucius Malfoy was furious, livid, absolutely out of his mind with rage. When Draco had let his father be informed of his rebellion, he'd suffered screaming, cursing, and even countless seconds, minutes, perhaps hours of Crucio, under the wrath of his father's wand. Nothing, however, compared to the disappointment his mother showed. Through his whole childhood, the only to have ever shown him compassion was Narcissa. The woman didn't necessarily agree with or support the Dark Lord, but she did support her family. Draco had blatantly given up everything that Lucius had arranged throughout his life, and for what?
For Ginevra Weasley. A poor girl from a poor family. A family that had been enemies with the Malfoys through many generations, since ancient times. In an effort to put his rebellion into action, Draco had chased after the one girl he knew his father would disapprove of, and disapprove he did. At first, it had only been a simple, heartless, meaningless way to get at his father, to escape his grasp. That plan had spiraled outwards and out of control, until there was no way that Draco would give up the girl he loved.
No matter how much his father threatened – disinheritance, disowning – or how much he had to go through, even despite the disappointed looks his mother spared him, nothing would take Draco Malfoy from Ginny Weasley, the girl who helped him save himself from his own father.