Part One: Spreading the Wings

Chapter 1: Christmas Eve

Draco had never been so glad to see the Hogwarts Express. Just a week before term end, his father had sent him a letter informing him that he was allowed to attend the Christmas Eve festivities even though he wasn't marked. He hadn't ceased bragging in the confines of the Slytherin common room, and as a result had found himself on the receiving end of many envious glares – not that he wasn't used to that already. He'd kept his word to his father, of course, and given him weekly updates on Professor Xanders. This could only be a reward for his good behaviour.

"Have fun on Christmas Eve, Draco," Pansy said as they stepped off the train.

He simply smirked. "Of course."

"Ready?" Narcissa asked as he approached her with his trunk. Draco simply handed her his trunk and strolled off through the barrier, dodging crowds of Muggles on his way to the Apparation point.

"You give them too much respect," Narcissa said when she caught up with him. "You're father would have ploughed straight through them."

"Perhaps I have been spending too much time around the Muggle-loving idiots at Hogwarts." Arriving at the Floo point he Flooed into the foyer of Malfoy Manor. "Hello, Father."

"Draco, come join me in the parlour."

Following Lucius into the large room with deep green walls trimmed with silver Draco took a seat on one of the black leather couches. Tall cabinets and bookshelves were interspersed evenly around the room, and quite a few threatening looking objects adorned a few low tables. Sitting down across from his son, Lucius summoned a bottle of Firewhiskey and poured them each a generous amount.

Leaning back Lucius eyed his son over the rim of his glass and said; "Now, tell me about this Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, your letters did not say much."

Taking a sip of the whiskey, Draco snorted. "There isn't much to say. She seems deliberately lazy at times, but definitely knows what she's talking about. Keeps assigning us what she calls 'oral-reports'. Instead of writing an essay on something, we research and then give a verbal report to the class. Unfortunately I can't give them false information because she simply corrects anything you get wrong and adds other things on after you're done."

"Is she loyal to the headmaster?"

"Doesn't seem to be too loyal to anyone. Says what she pleases, acts how she pleases. She does like Muggles though, dresses like one in fact."

Lucius was silent for a moment. Draco found himself itching to ask about Christmas Eve, but knew that to do so would invoke his father's wrath.

Draining his glass in one swift motion, Lucius looked at his son. "Keep an eye on her then. The old fool hardly needs any more allies." Slamming his glass down, he stood up. "Though we shall deal them a morale blow in a couple nights time, you should enjoy yourself."

- - - - -

Christmas Eve arrived, and Draco, dressed in the same black robes as his father but without the skull mask, apparated alongside Lucius to the meeting spot. A cold wind was gusting, causing the light dusting of snow to swirl through the spruce trees and around them.

"I see that you brought your son after all," Bella called out upon seeing them.

"I'll have you know that the Dark Lord himself condoned it." Turning to Draco, Lucius said, "Our targeted village is just over the other side of that hill. By morning light, the village and all the Muggles in it will be burned to the ground."

Draco could barely hide his impatience to get started. Slowly others Apparated in and tasks were divided up. As they moved into the village, he followed his father closely who was in the company of the elder Crabbe and Goyle. Within minutes, screams of terror could be heard throughout the village. That terror was illuminated on the faces of the Muggles by the orange light from the burning homes. Smoke billowed up into the night sky, obscuring the stars but not the green light from the Dark Mark.

Draco found himself itching to pull his wand and participate in the fun. However he knew because he was underage the Ministry would be bear down on their heads the moment he did so.

Screams of pain from down the street alerted him to Bella using the Cruciatus Curse as his father levitated and dropped Muggles repeatedly, smiling as their screams of terror changed to screams of pain.

"Why are you doing this?" a Muggle man yelled, storming out from behind the burning wreckage of a building towards Lucius. "We haven't done anything to you!"

"You exist," Lucius sneered. Then with a flick of his wand the man burst and blood went everywhere.

Draco recoiled in shock and horror as his father turned to him laughing. "That, Draco, is how we treat those Muggles who presume that they could ever be a wizard's equal."

Draco managed a mute nod, trying took look anywhere but at his father. His eyes fell upon Goyle who was using various binding charms to pin a woman to the ground. Draco found that no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't ignore the woman's screams of pain as Goyle pounded into her.

Just as he was sure he was going to be sick, Draco felt his Father's hand on his shoulder. "Does that interest you? Well, I'm sure we can find one for you, after all that doesn't require magic."

Before Draco could even think up a reply, Lucius seemed to pull a struggling girl out of thin air and presented her to Draco.

"Merry Christmas, son."

- - - - - -

Draco arrived home in a numbed state, mechanically following his father. As soon as he was alone in his own room, it seemed as if all the events of the night came crashing back to him. Draco ran to the washroom and was violently sick into the toilet for a good five minutes.

Stripping off the black Death Eaters robe, he threw it as far away from him as he could manage before curling up in a ball on the washroom floor. His sweat-soaked white shirt clung to his skin as he lay there shaking, unable to drive the girl's screaming from his mind.

She'd been younger than him, about 14, with curly brown hair and blue eyes, and she'd been terrified. What she hadn't known was that he had been terrified too. Terrified to do what he had to, terrified to be too gentle with her, and terrified for her because he knew that when it was all over, his father would make sure that it wasn't possible for her to identify them or anyone, ever again.

There was nothing wrong with ridding the world of Muggle scum or getting rid of everything that they had made. But that, never in a million years…

Gasping for air, Draco squeezed his eyes tightly shut to keep in the tears only to have them snap open again as the images replayed themselves behind his closed eyelids.

I'm not a bad person! Draco's mind screamed.

But it wasn't true. There was a difference between killing those who deserved it and brutally raping them. In fact Draco wasn't even sure about the killing part anymore. After tonight, he could still see that man exploding in a shower of blood at the flick of his father's wand.

Clenching his hair in his hands, Draco found himself on the verge of sobbing and admitted to himself that maybe he wasn't cut out to be a Death Eater after all – especially not one like his father.