K then, here I am with my first story. Generally, I don't read this particular ship, as stories often have lack a plot in which there is logic, and no OOC-ness, but then I finally read a good one, which made a lot of sense plot-wise, and I thought, hey, what's not worth trying? (Just in case you're interested, the story was called A Room of Their Own or something like that. Look it up. I promise it's worth it.)
ANYHOO, as my friend Leon would say, without further delay, may I present:
Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing
Dear Mr. Malfoy
Due to your unwavering loyalty and your pure blood and heritage, the Dark Lord has decided that the time has come for you to receive your mark of loyal subservience to our great master. You are to meet your guide at the abandoned manor at the south end of Hogsmead, at 1.30 a.m., on the evening of the last day of school, two weeks from now. No excuses will be tolerated.
Pettigrew
The edges of the parchment were rather worn, as Draco Malfoy had been re-reading this note for over a week now. He had known it was coming, because his father had explained it to him before he had left for Hogwarts that year, but that didn't mean anything now.
"Do not be surprised, Draco, if you should receive a summons this year. And do not dare to disobey it; I have worked far too hard to raise the Dark Lord's opinion of you, for you to throw this away." And Draco had laughed. The thought of disobeying Lord Voldemort's wishes was ridiculous to him. For his entire life, he had been groomed for the event of the Dark Lord's return, should it ever come. He knew his duties, and he would be loyal and dedicated only to him.
This was the path of greatness, his father had said to him. This was how to attain power. And Draco wanted power. With power, one could achieve happiness. But now, for the first time in his life, Draco was conflicted. His father was rotting in Azkaban right now, having stupidly been caught that night at the ministry. Of course, Draco had no doubt that the Dark Lord would soon free him, but he also knew that his father would only have been taken from one hell to another, one which was just as bad. His father had failed that night, and the Dark Lord did not appreciate just good effort on his Death Eaters' part. Success was always mandatory.
Draco had been sorted into Slytherin. He did thirst for power, and he did have great ambition, just as a good Slytherin would. But he wondered, and glanced back at the letter. Subservience.
Draco was also rather intelligent, he preferred to think. Subservience isn't power. Draco was sure of only one thing in his life now. Draco did not want to be a slave to a cruel master; it also went against his grain to disobey his father and his ideas. He kicked the gargoyle statue he was passing in a fit of frustration. The sting of the impact barely made a dent in his thoughts.
'This is so stupid,' he growled. Unbidden, thoughts of the career orientation conference he had had with his potions professor and Professor Umbridge months ago whispered in his head, "Draco, you have a great potential in the Ministry, as you have a great sense of justice." He had given Draco a very meaningful look there. "I have faith that you will chose a good profession for yourself, wherever it may be."
'I have always been sure this was right for me,' Draco argued with himself. 'Always. And Snape has always known I would be a Death Eater, so what was he playing at? It's not like he could possibly encourage another profession. More than likely, he was putting on a show for that toad who insists on walking on two legs.' Draco was feeling violent in his confusion. He hit the wall with his fist, and screamed out loud.
"DAMN IT ALL! All my life, I've been so sure what I want. And here it is!" He waved the letter around, as if he was explaining his predicament to someone. "Right here! I have it in my hands!" His tone was a little bit desperate now, and he began speaking directly to a portrait of a knight, starting to wake him up. Draco didn't seem to care, as he was getting rather worked up. "And I don't want it. In fact, I can think of nothing else which I would possibly despise doing more than this!" He threw the letter down on the ground and stomped on it. He glared at the knight, who had just rolled over and gone back to sleep, mumbling something incoherent about carrots and something else Draco was sure he misheard, as if this whole situation was his fault. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard an all too familiar voice speaking quietly from behind him.
"That can sometimes be the case, Mr. Malfoy. You can spend your whole life thinking one thing, and then something changes and you realize you have been absolutely wrong about it all this time. You are so sure that you are doing the
right thing, and then, all of a sudden, your confidence is out the window, and you have got nothing which you can depend on, and everything you were sure of is gone. Why don't you come into my office, and we can talk for a while."
Draco Malfoy slowly turned around, and met the crystal blue eyes of Professor Dumbledore, who was holding the letter in his hand, having picked it up off the floor. Dumbledore turned, and stepped on the revolving staircase that had appeared where the gargoyle had been, and Draco stepped hesitantly up behind him, feeling as if he really couldn't say no. He had a very strange feeling at the pit of his stomach which he refused to call nervousness, and couldn't help but feel as if he was a lamb being led to the slaughter, despite Dumbledore's calm demeanor.
P.S. Standard disclaimers apply.
P.P.S. Please review. I'd really, really, really love it. And yes, I know this chapter is a touch short, I'll work on that. And if you're curious, the next chapter should be up sometime next week.