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So this is my first drabble. Do review and let me know what you thought!
It's what I've always dreamed of.
I look at the tattoo branded on my skin. The skull and snake glare back at me; they are as menacing as the man who burned them onto my arm. They are my ticket to glory. I was recruited not just to fill my father's place but to restore the Malfoy family's reputation.
This tattoo is what proves that I don't need my father to fight my battles. It shows that I'm not just all bark and no bite as many believed. It's evidence that we have not lost all favour with the Dark Lord. It's what makes me a man and proves our superiority over the rest of the wizarding world. It's an alliance with the stronger side –a sure way to stay alive. It's the embodiment of the ideals I was raised to believe in.
I wrinkle my nose and flop down on my bed disgustedly. I know they're empty words; teachings I repeat to myself without conviction just to keep my sanity.
I know exactly what position I hold within the Dark Lord's ranks and what my friends think of me; what they whisper about me behind my back. I couldn't complete my mission. My father botched the Ministry job. My mother isn't even a Death Eater. The only reason we're still alive is because Aunt Bellatrix decided to offer our house for Headquarters.
A photo on my bedside table catches my eye. It was taken after a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, I remember. I'm standing at the front, Marcus Flint - I wonder where he is. Has he been forced to pick a side in this war too? - is beside me. We're all smiling - not sneering or smirking, we're actually smiling - after winning the match. Flint's grabbed my left arm and raised it above my head. My fist is clenched, two delicate wings just visible through my fingers. But my eyes are not on the snitch, or our happy grins. No, what I like about this picture - the reason it's been on my table since the beginning of summer - is my left forearm.
It's bare. Untouched by the Dark Mark.
Being a Death Eater is nothing like I thought it would be! It's nothing like the way my father said it would be! There's no glory. I get no respect. Potter's side hates me and my side laughs at me. Hell, even Crabbe and Goyle give me condescending looks. As for the safety of being on the stronger side, well, it doesn't feel safe when the murdering madman is living in my own house.
All this bloody job gives me is nightmares. I can't close my eyes without seeing Dumbledore's face. I can't sleep without waking up every few minutes with my ears ringing with either with the screams of those I've been forced to torture or Dumbledore's offer of safety.
Frankly I can't decide which is worse.
My parents aren't doing anything. We could escape; we could go to the Order and offer them information in return for safety; we could do something! But they're just too scared.
I look down at my arm again; the tattoo is dark against my skin.
It's what I've always dreamed of.
But this dream turned into a nightmare.
And I can't wake up.
Please review! I'd love to hear some feedback for this :)
This is for the Drama assignment of Fanfiction School