Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Draco thought that being a Deatheater was his only wish. To serve the most powerful wizard in the world would be a dream come true (not to mention that not doing so would be hazardous to his health). But as soon as the Dark Mark was on his arm, he wanted out. He wanted out so badly, he would've killed himself. Instead of that, however, he tried cutting it off.

The first time he tried it was a week after he'd been initiated. It was a day when the manor was completely empty, not a single soul in the entire house, save for Ollivander in the basement. The blond quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed one of the few utensils his family owned. A large butcher knife the length of his forearm.

He went to the loo and positioned his arm over the sink. Ever so slowly, he started to cut into the soft skin. Deep, red blood oozed out of the slice and he gritted his teeth against the pain. As he finished the the circle around the Dark Mark, black spots danced in front of his eyes. His head felt ever so light and airy. But he continued on.

He moved the sharp knife to flap of skin nearest his wrist and worked it under. Blood poured freely from his self-inflicted wound, making it hard to see where he was cutting. He jimmied the edge farther into the cut, biting his tongue to keep from screaming. Draco's heart beat loudly in his ears; so loudly, in fact, that he failed to hear the loud pop! that signified someone arriving. He could only see the never-ending rivulets of blood and hear the drumbeat of his frantic heart.

Draco had the mark almost halfway off his arm when the knife clattered noisily into the blood soaked sink. His head was swimming with pain. As his legs started to buckle, he grabbed for the edge of the sink with his left arm. Pain burst anew in it and he screamed, alerting the person who had arrived to his agony. Shouts of 'Draco' fell on unhearing ears as the boy crumpled to the ground. Vaguely, he saw the door slam open and a figure in dark robes bustle him up in her arms.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa whispered as her son slipped into unconsciousness. She pulled a vial of Dittany out of her purse, ignoring the blood now staining her clothes. "If only I could have saved you from this..."

Hope you enjoyed. I needed a little inspiration so I wrote this. I love Draco. I wish he had had a bigger part in the books.