draco malfoy – Waiting for Winter

immzies-adventures-through-books:

Draco Malfoy was pure. He knew his place- at the top of the food chain, knew the rest of the world lay under his feet. He was one of the best, of the important, a family of survivors who were loyal to the Dark Lord. He started school with a smirk on his face, knowing already how the year would pan out. He would be worshipped by those also in the Dark Lords circles, feared by those that knew the history and hated by everyone else. He was a Malfoy, and they were always the best.

Draco Malfoy was safe. That was what his father told him before he stepped on the train, anyway, and Draco did not know what it meant. Not until the words appeared on the wall and students started turning up frozen where they stood. Safe, his father told him in the letters full of questions, because he was one of the pure. But with the worry of someone turning up dead, Draco was starting to wonder if Pure Bloods were the most filthy of all.

Draco Malfoy was desolate. He wanted to blame the dementors that surrounded the school, but it was not all them. No. It was the anger in his fathers face as he stood on the platform, the whispered conversations Draco had not meant to hear about Sirius Black. It was the thought that once more, their school was unsafe, and it was because of a past and a loyalty his parents had. A past that was becoming more and more real every year, and the older Draco became, the sadder he was- because he knew he could not break away from what his father wanted him to be. What the world thought him to be.

Draco Malfoy was worried. There were rumours and whispers and strangers in his school, and something was wrong. The Dark Lord was rising again, that was what the whispers were. There were traitors in the school and friends in the school and he no longer knew which was which. Who was who. There were competitions and journalists and arguments. And death.

Draco Malfoy was lost. His aunt had escaped from Azkaban along with some other Death Eaters, and while his parents were happy, Draco did not share that joy. Hogwarts was no longer his sanctuary away from family- those he called friends were now watching his every move, waiting to report back to get him into trouble. And the ministry was there too, digging their feet into where they did not belong- and for the first time, Draco agreed with Potter; they needed to know how to protect themselves, and they were not being allowed. And Draco could not even let his thoughts show- he was a perfect Slytherin, a leader for Umbridge, and had to pretend that everything was fine.

Draco Malfoy was scared. There was a mark on his arm he never wanted, a threat above his head that could come crashing down, and a task at hand that he knew he would never manage. Once this had been all he wished, to be just like his father, but now, it was nothing like he dreamed, now all he wanted to do was destroy the mark, erase his name and run from the life his parents carved out for him.

Draco Malfoy was broken. There was nothing left. No Death Eaters, no Dark Lord, no Dumbledore or anyone to protect him. Apart from the Chosen One- and he would do nothing else, not when Draco had spent the last six years trying to destroy him. He was tired of fighting and afraid of war, and death called to him with every curse that was thrown his way. Draco didn’t even know which side he was fighting for anymore, and he didn’t think it really mattered in the end. Not when he had never had a choice, from the moment he was born to the moment his parents called him to their sides when he was standing with the students he had spent seven years watching become the heroes when he was one of the villains.