Spoilt, By Mae-Gene
Summary: No one could ever force Draco Malfoy to do what he didn't want to do. He always got what he wanted, when he wanted. There is however, one thing he was forced to do. One thing he didn't have control over. One-shot.
"I WANT ONE NOW!"
A young child's scream could be heard from the outside of the shop. Passer bys shuddered. This little boy, with his nearly white blonde hair, his stormy grey eyes, stomped his foot on the ground stubbornly and put his hands on his hips.
"I WANT A PLAY WAND, NOW!"
The last word echoed throughout the shop, causing several shop assistants to shudder.
"Draco, son, you've already got one", an adult version of the young boy frowned. His blue eyes darted to each of the shop assistants, glaring at them, daring them to utter one word of his son's façade to any outsiders.
Lucius Malfoy was a powerful man. He was not afraid of flaunting his power- or his wealth. Nor was he hesitant to give his son the best of everything. However, there was a line to be drawn with his son.
The dratted nanny his wife had hired spoilt him rotten. As a result, Draco had become spoilt and hard to please. He wanted the most peculiar amounts of things- mass amounts of play wands, toy brooms. What his son did with these toys, Lucius did not know, but he had to draw the line somewhere.
Though, when he did, he always gave in. Draco was not a Malfoy for nothing. He was as stubborn as anything, and would not stop until he got what he wanted.
Sighing, Lucius gave in. Maybe one day, his son would not demand such odd amounts of things.
"Of course, Draco"
And with that he scooped the young blonde boy up into his arms and gestured for the shop assistant to wrap one of the toy wands up.
Five years later
Draco Malfoy, yet again was still spoilt.
"Mother, father, have decided for my birthday that…." The scrawny boy frowned. What did he decide he wanted again?
Lucius Malfoy, his father held his breath. What did he want this time? Each time his birthday came around, his son would demand for more and more obscene things.
"That's right, I want a dragon!" the depths of his grey eyes lit up at the thought of having his own dragon.
His mother choked on her morning coffee.
"Are you alright, mother?" the young Malfoy asked, worried.
"Er…." She composed herself. How to structure what she was thinking the right way?
"Draco, honey… Don't you think a dragon is a little bit…too much?" Narcissa Malfoy enquired carefully to her now frowning son.
"No… Don't you want me to be happy?" He responded, blaming his mother for not wanting his happiness brought.
"Son, your mother didn't mean it that way. She wants you to be happy, we both do"
Draco's blonde eyebrow rose.
"All she's suggesting is that perhaps you'd want a… more… err… sensible present this year?"
"Sensible?" Draco appeared confused.
"Oh… okay. How about a….err…" He paused, unsure.
"Phoenix!" Draco said the next word that popped into his head.
His parents shifted uneasily.
"Of course, son." Lucius reassured him.
Reassured, Draco retreated back up to his play room.
"Where are we going to get a phoenix from?" Narcissa asked her husband, her hands shaking from the thought of her dear Draco not being happy.
Frowning Lucius said "we'll see…"
Another six years later
"Draco? Are you there?" His father's head appeared in the Slytherin common room's fire place.
"Yes father?" he tilted his head, confused.
"What brings you here?" Yet again, what brings your head here, he thought to himself.
Draco Malfoy as a sixteen year old teenage boy was still very demanding. He no longer requested things that were as unusual as he did as a child, but he still had his moments.
"Don't mind that. Listen; is anyone else in the common room with you?" His father seemed aggravated and very worried.
Looking from side to side, peering behind the couches, Draco managed to reply "no".
"Good, meet me next Hogsmeade weekend at 11 o'clock behind the Shrieking Shack. Don't be late and make sure no one's following you"
Draco nodded, knowing if he refused, there'd be dire consequences for his father.
"See you soon, son", and with those last few words, his father's head disappeared. All that was left in the fire were a few logs which were burning out, their flame stark red, dying out. Just like his spirit.
A few months a go he would have readily refused to join the death eaters. Now? He wasn't sure.
It wasn't that by some magical occurrence he hadn't been persuaded by his father and his never ending lectures.
No, he was afraid.
Because for the first time in his entire life, Draco did not have control over something and he could not demand for it to go his way.
He was afraid of what would happen should he refuse to take the mark.
Would he be punished?
Would his father be punished?
Or even worse, would his mother be punished?
His whole life, he had everything hammered into him. He didn't have to worry about what he was going to do as an adult; his place in the world was secured by the Malfoy family business and by his father's now non-existent connections in the ministry.
All Draco had to do was act the perfect Malfoy, get top marks and take the Dark Mark.
All he had to do was follow other people's orders and do as he was told.
Is that what he wanted?
His father seemed like the man who'd had all the power, he never did anything for anyone else (excluding his family, of course). But one summer Draco had seen his father bend over and kiss the robes of a cloaked man, Lord Voldemort at a Death Eater's meeting, and secretly, his opinion of his father had changed.
Life wasn't all it was cracked up to be after that.
It made him realise.
It made him realise that he was not the top of the world.
His father had always made out that they had the power. But in reality, they didn't.
Lugging himself up the boy's stair case, Draco pondered whether he would actually take the mark, willingly. He could be a coward, and accept it. Or he could be a Gryffindork and run to the crack pot old fool, Dumbledore.
Which one was it going to be?
At the back of his mind, the decision was already made. It wasn't like he exactly had a say in it, did he? Join the death eater ranks or Lord Voldemort will punish you by hurting you where it hurt the most- by hurting your family.
He would join the Death Eaters.
It wasn't exactly because he was siding with the Gryffindors. He thought that being a pureblood still made you better than muggle borns. It was just that he couldn't be bothered. He couldn't be bothered to torture people, waste his energy to get power. Malfoys where supposed to just have power.
They didn't have to earn it.
And half the time the people who were Death Eaters were psychotic and obsessive. Did he really want to be hanging around people like that?
No, he didn't.
But he would have to. He had no-one to turn to, no-one to counsel him on the matter. He couldn't express his thoughts to his father, as his father would just get worried.
Draco Malfoy would have to take the mark.
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