Hello! Welcome to my first story ever! Yay! Uh… disclaiming now… I disclaim all of they characters and, you know all the other things I don't own. So, um, read review and (hopefully) enjoy! (I would just like to point of again that this is my first story.) Sorry this chapter is so small the others will be longer, I promise.
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The summer after 6th year had been one of changes for Draco. His father, being in Azkaban, was no longer around to give him the orders he always had that could followed blindly; this left time and room for questioning the dark side. His mother was going nuts. Lucius, her stability was wept out from under her, and the Dark Lord was depending on her more and more. It was like asking a single, fractured wand to support the wait of an elephant: to much pressure.
Draco inched nervously toward a rather nasty looking spider who had decided to take-up residence in the corner of his bedroom. Thwack! He brought his old volume of 'Proper Maintenance of Magical Equipment for Dummies' down on the hairy thing. He probably could have called in a house elf to do it for him, but that would have been more trouble than it was worth. The elves had dispersed throughout the house and were hard to find; they had no fear of a master's punishment for making themselves scarce as they no longer had one with the drive. He returned to his bed where he had been spending too much time for the last week and plopped himself down on it. He had to do some thing, he had no idea what, but he could no longer sit around like this.
He didn't always do nothing, about three or so times a week he would be summoned by Voldemort to do some nothing errand because he could not spare anyone with any experience to do them. Once his chore was to look after two little future death eaters while their parents were at raid or meeting or something; Draco never did get the details. After an hour, he had decided that those children had as much evil in there pinkies as Voldemort did in his entire being. Unfortunately, it was three hours until their parents came back. These outings did nothing for Draco and he always just felt worse after them.
He stared up at the canopy of his bed. Lately, he thought about getting out of being a death eater. He knew perfectly well that he never could, the mark and his arm proved it: he was owned. Only a few months ago he had been considering going to Dumbledore, maybe he could have helped him somehow or he could have been a spy like Snape and made his existence worth something to someone. Now he was gone. Now Draco was stuck. Now he was falling asleep.
He rub at his eyes and sat up, he didn't feel like sleeping, yet. It was a good thing he too because at the moment a knock came at the door. "Draco, dear, the Dark Lord is asking for you, something about washing the death eater masks for him, I don't know. Oh, and I made some dinner, you should have some before you go," his unkempt looking mother said, poking her head in the door. She had gotten skinny, she had always thin but now she just looked ill. She retreated after a quick nod from Draco, which was more for waking himself up than for acknowledging her.
When he entered the kitchen on his way of the door he found a pile of cold, burnt toast and some hard butter. He picked two up, walked to the window, and chucked them out. He wouldn't make his mother worry too much, she was always nervous when Draco was requested by Voldemort.
Draco knew the drill. Apprate to the field in the middle of nowhere where a well trusted death eater would be waiting to apperate him in to the place where the Dark Lord would be waiting. This was done so no information on his whereabouts could be leaked because no one actually knew. But when Draco's feet settled on the rough ground, he knew something was very, very wrong this time.
A ring of Aurors surrounded him where he stood. He turned around, affirming that there was no chance of escape. In panic, he raised his wand. "Malfoy, hold it, don't anything too stupid." Draco whirled around to see Snape with his arms folded, looking just as he always had. Something inside him calmed and he let his wand hand drop. "Better. We won't have to hurt you now," said the professor as, form behind him, a woman with yellow, orange, and red hair that looked for all the world like a fire on her head, pointed her wand and Draco saw white and crumpled to the ground.
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At that moment Narcissa curl her self up on the couch in the dark living room of Malfoy Manor. A tear spilled down her cheek and then another. They sat there, two wet streaks on her face. One tear for her husband, stolen away from her. One tear for her son she had given to the side that could allow him to keep his soul.
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Yay! The end of chapter one! What did you think of it? Good? Grotesque? Tell me!