Okee dokee! here it is, my first ever full-length story! Yayness! It's basically Malfoy's really awful sixth year after he unwillingly becomes a Death Eater, so if you like Draco angst, I think you'll enjoy it. (Oh, and there's some DM/HG stuff, but it's not the center of the story at all, just so you know!) So, I shant babble anymore, and shall let you get on with reading.

Disclaimer: i'm not special like JK Rowling, therefore i own absolutely nothing!

He examined his reflection in the antique mirror on the bathroom wall. His blonde hair looked fine; he'd slicked it back for the occasion. His robes were fine; the best, most expensive black dress robes from a prestigious shop in Knockturn Ally. The only issue was the huge, purple bruise on his pale cheek. He touched it gently. Normally, his father wouldn't have let him leave the house with that bruise, so no one would get suspicious.

But Voldemort doesn't care if you beat your children.

In fact, the Dark Lord would probably just criticize his father for using his fist instead of a more painful curse.

"Draco!" called an angry voice from downstairs. "Get down here now Draco, you're going to be late for your initiation!"

"I don't want to go," He muttered sadly to himself. "I'm not feeling very well, Father, can we do this another time?!" he yelled back. A knot twisted up in his stomach. He didn't want to go.

"Get down here this instant, Draco!" This miserable teenager could just see the expression on his father's face. It was probably bright red and angry. Very angry.

But he was angry too.

"I'm not going!!!" The anger and worry that had been bottled up exploded. He was breathing heavily. He looked again at his reflection. He saw the hair and eyes he had inherited from the one person he hated above all others. He saw his father there, in the grey of his irises.

"I refuse to be like him," he whispered. His grey eyes mocked him. He gripped the sink so hard his knuckles were white. "You're a Death Eater," the silver pools said. "It's in your blood. Don't deny it. A young, bright male; exactly what Voldemort needs. It will be so easy for you to gain power and honor. Make your father---." But his eyes had stopped teasing. He had closed them. He never wanted to look at his dumb reflection again. He looked too much like his father.

"Stupid mirror," he said, slightly out of breath.

"Draco, what the hell are you doing up there?" Father called in response to the fact that he still wasn't downstairs.

"Nothing," Draco replied.

"I'm giving you to the count of three to get down here! One!" He seriously considered just going, but he knew that's what his father had done. "Two!" He refused. "Three!"

Draco had expected his father to come up and get him violently, but he didn't.

"Come on, Draco, go downstairs," said a peaceful voice in his head. Downstairs. Yes, that sounded good.

Part of him knew what was happening as he slowly descended the sweeping staircase, but that part wasn't as strong as the kind voice in his head. He very rarely heard anyone speak so nicely to him. Maybe if he did what they said, they'd keep talking in that sweet manner.

But the second he arrived at the front door, the Imperious Curse lifted and he was again alone. Actually, he was worse than alone. His father was glaring at him with a look of deepest disgust.

"I'm not going, Father. I told you last night. I don't want to." said Draco boldly. What did he have to loose? His life? Ha, as if that mattered to him.

Father gave a fake smile, then lifted his wand. "CRUCIO!" he shouted.

Draco screamed in agony and fell to the floor. Pain enveloping every inch of his body.

"So boy," Father sneered. "Are you going to be a Death Eater or not?"

Draco tried to not answer. He really did. But his body would not let him endure the pain and unwillingly he yelled, "Yes, yes, anything! I'll go, I'll go!!!!!!!!"

Then, as suddenly as the pain had come, it was gone, leaving a numb feeling all over him.

He stood up on wobbly legs and dusted off his robes.

A feeling of intense hopelessness settled in the pit of his stomach as he bid his mother farewell and climbed into the front seat of the bewitched family car beside his father.

He turned up the radio loud and closed his eyes, trying to get lost in the hard-rock melody.

"Draco," said Father after pulling out of the driveway. He turned the radio off. "Draco you and I need to have a talk."

Draco did not look at his father. "Let's see: you've already given me the Malfoys Are Better than Everyone talk, the sex talk, and the Death Eater talk. There's nothing more to talk about." He turned the music back up to full volume.

"Draco Thomas Malfoy, you listen to me!" he snarled, shutting off the radio again in an unnecessarily violent manner. "You will uphold the family honor. You will not embarrass me tonight young man, do you understand? I've waited for this moment since you were a little boy. You're going to be the Dark Lord's pride and joy. Fresh, young blood is exactly what he's looking for. And you're still in Hogwarts! In a perfect position that no other can accomplish at his or her age! Draco don't you understand…….." Father kept rambling on, but Draco heard no more of what he was saying.

Voldie's pride and joy huh? He had never brought his own father any pride or any joy, so what difference would it make with Voldemort?

He hated his father more than anyone or anything in the world. Oh right, next to his life. He'd grown up both physically and emotionally abused by that stupid man. He remembered the time he had gotten a kitten for his sixth birthday. His father had waited a few days, for him to bond with it, then forced Draco to watch as he performed Avada Kadavera on the poor, helpless fuzzball. He had watched in horror as life silently escaped its little body.

He needed to see death his father had said. You can't cry you little wimp boy, it's only a stupid kitten! Then he had received a small smack on the head. It hadn't seemed small at the time, but it did after finding out how much harder Father could hit.

But that wasn't the problem, he could handle that. So what if he had bruises here and there, it didn't really matter all that much. The problem was more that his father never said a kind thing to him. Never. Not so much as a "good morning" without a sneer behind it. Draco had been a dreadful disappointment, and he had never known exactly why. Nothing he did was right. But probably the worst part of this was that he still loved his father, no matter how much he hated him. He respected him so much that he just went along with all of it.

The worst problem probably came from him not wanting to join Voldemort. Draco wasn't evil at heart, just mean. There's a big difference. It seemed his father had been ashamed of him since he was a small child. He had been terrified by the Death Eater masks. He'd scream and cry every time he saw someone wearing one.

And to think that tonight he would be wearing one.

Damn, I don't want to do this.

"Draco!" the boy heard foggily, as if from a distance. "Draco, are you listening to me?" He snapped out of his reverie and muttered an insincere, "Yes sir."

A while later, Father stopped the car and ordered Draco to get out. They appeared to have parked the enchanted car in a large, empty field. He got out of the car. The tall grass was unpleasantly wet.

He wanted to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction his father started off on, but that was just asking for another pain curse so he resisted the temptation.

He trod slowly through the coolness of the summer night, careful to remain a good few paces behind his father.

You're a Malfoy, you have to do this.

But why? I don't want to!

You don't have a choice.

The battle between the conflicting sides of him was reaching a boiling point. He was so consumed in his thoughts that he had even forgotten about the world around him; that is until he tripped on an unseen pothole and fell flat on his face. Father turned around and gave him a mildly disgusted look, but said nothing. Draco, who's face had gotten very hot, stood up and brushed the dirt and grass off himself the best he could.

His father turned around and grabbed him by the arm. Draco was pulled forward a bit to a spot where his father began muttering to thin air. Draco knew what this was about, however. It was the spell the Death Eaters used to hide their position. Unless they wanted you to find them, they couldn't be found. Sure enough, a moment later the boy found himself outside of a circle of hooded figures standing around a large, sparkly black cauldron. There was someone inside the circle as well, wearing black robes trimmed with red, but they were not facing him. His father put up his Death Eater hood, so he too was unrecognizable.

The Death Eaters moved aside, allowing Father to enter the circle. He bowed and whispered a few words to the man standing in the circle. Before Draco could even register what that meant, the man had turned around, smiling at him in a way that showed pure evil. Draco choked back a scream.

He had a white face with snake-like slits out of which glowed red irises. He positively radiated evil and Draco was all of a sudden terrified beyond all belief.

He stood dumb for a few seconds before the high, cackling voice of Lord Voldemort shattered the night. "Well my boy, aren't you going to bow?" It took a moment for this to penetrate his fear-clouded mind, but when it did he gasped in horror and sank immediately into a low bow.

"Enter the circle, my dear boy." Draco obeyed. The circle closed around him, leaving him feeling caged in and trapped. Trapped in this circle with nothing but a cauldron and this evil, evil man. He tried his best to look brave. "Please state your name."

For one horrifying second, he couldn't even remember his name. The question had been sprung upon him too suddenly. But this was only a moment, and when he spoke he tried very hard to keep his voice steady, "D-Draco Malfoy."

"Your middle name is Thomas, if I am not mistaken?" The boy nodded and Voldemort smiled wickedly. "After me, so kind of you, Lucius." Father responded with a small bow of his head.

Draco's jaw dropped. He had never before made that connection. However, he was interrupted before he had a chance to brood on that concealed fact.

"Mr. Malfoy, if you could kindly calm down enough for us to begin the ceremony." The Dark Lord's high pitched voice mocked. Only then did he realize how badly he was shaking. Everyone could probably tell. He fought to keep himself still. Voldemort smiled.

"And now we begin." Father took his place in the circle when this was said. He would have been indistinguishable from the other Death Eaters had Draco not seen where he stood.

The evil creature Draco had been forced into the presence of began in a highly official and ceremonial voice. "Members of the Dark Council, we are here for the Initiation of Draco Thomas Malfoy, son of the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy." No one said anything. Draco felt his heart pounding so hard and fast against his chest he was sure it was going to explode any second. He tried look unafraid, but the terror so blatantly glittering in his eyes gave him away and he knew it.

"Draco Malfoy, please show your wand." The blond reached into his pocket and drew the exceptionally long and thin piece of enchanted wood from it. He held it out where it was received by bony white fingers and examined by bright red eyes. "Cedar with dragon heartstrings, about fourteen or fifteen inches, if I am not mistaken?" Draco nodded. Voldemort waved it around a little, producing snakes that disintegrated with sickening dying hisses when they fell to the damp ground. "Seems to be in order," he said, handing the wand back to the trembling Draco.

"Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord barked, causing Draco to jump and his eyes to snap back to Voldemort's horrible face. "Are you prepared to face the challenges of being a member of the Dark Council?"

"Y-yes." Draco lied automatically. His father had forced him to practice this stupid initiation dozens of times, making it so the answers to the questions Voldemort would ask would escape his mouth purely out of habit; even if he lied on every single one.

"Are you prepared to perform the tasks asked of you with no question or doubt?"

"Yes."

"Are you prepared to learn the ways of the Death Eaters so that you might live up to your position among them?"

"Yes."

Draco felt like a pull-string doll. Programmed to say whatever it was his father wanted him to say. He would have gladly chosen to end his miserable life over joining Voldemort if it wasn't for the fact that he hated when his father was disappointed in him. Maybe if he did this, Father would like him; or hell, even just love him a little like he was supposed to do.

Voldemort smiled. "Draco Malfoy, please approach the cauldron." Draco did, but with more than a little apprehension. "Upon placing your arm in the Initiation Potion you will be forever bound to the Dark Council. There is no backing out once you complete this final step. Draco Malfoy, are you willing?"

This time, Draco paused. There would be no backing out. Backing out meant death. He swallowed hard, his head pounding with a powerful migraine. Though he could not see them, he felt all the eyes of the dark wizards in the circle bore into him. He knew, without seeing, the look of hardly suppressed rage that was without a doubt on his father's face at that very moment because he was taking so long to answer.

"Yes." He said finally.

I am just like him, was his last thought before dipping his left arm elbow-deep in the potion that felt like fiery-hot clouds….

Thanks for reading! I love you simply for clicking on my story and reading it of course, but I'd love you even more if you reviewed. Pretty pretty please no flames, but constructive criticizm is a beautiful thing!