Scars of Evilness, Draco's Lament
By Hermione A. Snape

Me. What do I think about myself? Draco Salazar Malfoy. What is this to me? For the outside world, I'm the boy of Lucius Salazar Malfoy, head Death Eater, right hand man of Lord Voldemort. I'm the son of Narcissa Rose Malfoy, abused wife, yet social airhead. What am I?

Towards the family, I'm an evil one. The hater of Mudbloods, Squibs, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and non-Death Eaters. Plus, the mere tolerance of Ravenclaws. I'm the seeker of Slytherin, a newly made prefect, second top of all classes. I'm the youngest ever Death Eater. I'm to kill and be the next Dark Lord. I' m their dream child, to make the Malfoy name scream out power and evilness.

Towards the school, I'm the Slytherin bully, that chugs with Crabbe and Goyle. I'm the Slytherin dream, a chance to prove themselves to the world. I'm the one who scoffs at Mudbloods, yells at Squibs, sneers at Gryffindors, screams at Hufflepuffs. I'm the one that makes Ravenclaws evil, or ignores them. I'm the one that makes everyone feel inferior to me, Death Eater or not.

But truly, to myself, I'm confused. Am I truly the next Dark Lord? Am I to be the Destroyer Heir to Slytherin? Do I really despise those of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff? Do I make Ravenclaws evil? I'm I truly a bully? Do I want to be this all?

Why doesn't anyone listen to what I want? Just because I'm Lucius' child, I'm supposed to follow his footsteps? Am I just to ignore my mother's cries as she gets beaten? I'm I to be the person everybody thinks I am?

But nobody asks me. Once, I agreed. I thought it was fate that declared me all of the above. I, whose veins run with the blood of Slytherin. I, who am grandnephew to Lord Voldemort. Life isn't fair. It never is for me. When the name, Draco Salazar Malfoy pops out, they look at me in disgust. Perhaps, they who pay allegiance to the Death Eaters bow to me, but is this what I want?

I get everything I wish for. Food, clothes, furniture, books, whatever. People can quail under my glance. I get glares, I get bows. But what is the true me?

In truth, I learned that I needn't be what I am destined by father. Father, the cruel one, the cold, mean one. The one that beats me when I get second place. Make me proud. That's the last sentence he says as he walks out the room, with a leather strap calmly held. He says it as he bids me goodbye to Hogwarts. He says it when I come back home. He says it whenever he gets a chance, to show me what I'm to be.

But can I truly just be me? A boy, with friends, not popular, not cruel, not evil, not hater of Mudbloods, Squibs, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. To be a boy, a regular boy. A boy without so many scars of evilness. To have crushes of whom I want, then a brothel. To be able to make friends with whomever I wish.

But father. That is the barrier of a normal life I wish for. Father. The one that binds me to what he wants me to be. The one that slaps me, tortures me. The one that pats me and beams coldly at me as I succeed to what he wants.

Power. Hate. Evilness. The three all stand with father against what I could be. But I could be what they want me to be. I could have power, the willingness to destroy!

Yet I know the true me, a plain boy. A boy that has its goods and bads. But not evilness inside. It's all not fair for me.

I know Gryffindors are really all right. I know that Hufflepuffs are really nice. I know that Ravenclaws should not be Death Eaters. Nobody should be one. I know that Mudbloods are a form prejudice. I know that Squibs aren't supposed to be hated. I know these things, so with every bit of evilness I treat them with, I get my conscience to deal with. Yet it is my father. I know I cannot blame my actions on my father. But there are few out there that would ignore a father's wish when you get beaten and tortured, even worse.

Yes, I, Draco Salazar Malfoy have a conscience. Why I have one, it's truly a mystery. I suppose everybody does, but the Malfoys usually push it behind.

Should I also be what they want me to be? I remember the threats against my wish of a normal life. Power, hate, evilness, father, Malfoys, torture, and fate. Or is being the next Dark Lord truly fate?

Could I truly change after all these years? Can I truly be, just who I am really, underneath the hate? Or is it too late to become whom I wish? Have I been blinded by my father? But perhaps I am truly evil.

This is my lament. I sit between the road of light and dark. Father, relatives, Lord Voldemot and Death Eaters pull and point me to the dark side. Yet nobody is one the light side. My conscience is only what is there. Nobody would miss me if I truly went with evil. But what of my wishes? Do they truly count?

And mother. Mother, after years of being betrayed and beaten by father, spends her time isolated at home. She does her beadwork and embroidery, and in this solitary time, she sobs her hate all out. But perhaps she is there by the light side. And if she is, I believe I will join her.

So I am Draco Salazar Malfoy. But of what titles I know not. This is my lament. Of power, hate, evilness, father, Malfoys, torture, fate, Lord Voldemort, mother and every single thing that my heart is to grieve of. But what haunts me is truly other than all of the above is the words, make me proud. They surround me, cackling, pointing me towards father. Towards being a dark lord.

So I sit and write. But is there any good being in the world? Or should I just suicide myself? The feel to be away from the madness, to watch my father's fury as he vents his frustration. Not on sadness of losing a son, but his anger of losing his hopes for me, and of his heir. But I choose to live. Not for evilness or power, but for the dream that I can turn to the dream that I dream each and everyday that I am on Earth.

This is my lament. I will change. Somehow. Perhaps for evilness, perhaps for goodness. It's all up to me, no matter what father demands. Mother, I'm sorry for all the pain. I will change. Change towards what something. Something.

Not the end yet! More to come.
Disclaimer: Draco Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Lord Voldemort, Grffindors, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Death Eaters all belong to my idol, Ms. J. K. Rowling. The idea of the lament is of mine. I hope you like it. Review! Please review! I beg of you! Review!