Written for The Ultimate Death Eater Competition on the HPFC Forum. Prompt: Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty. This is an odd little take on the dynamics between the pureblood families and Voldemort and I'm not sure if I like it or hate it myself. The fic was inspired by the new info on the Pottermore site that indicates that Draco believes his lineage makes him practically royalty. What I really want to do here is raise the question of who is manipulating who.

I do not own Harry Potter.

Puppet and Puppet Master

Draco Malfoy splashed the frigid tap water onto his face, ignoring the way it soaked into his shirt and matted his bangs against his forehead. A hard stare into the mirror told him that he looked quite deranged but appearances were the least of his worries.

For good measure he held his left forearm under the icy spray, the sensitive flesh of the interior facing up into the water.

It still hurt.

The mark was months old and the damn thing still hurt. It had never occurred to him that the searing pain that bored into him when he took the death eater's emblem would not fade after all this time. He was beginning to wonder if it never went away and if so how the others could stand it. No spell he cast, no potion he took, no salve he rubbed on the thing would soothe that slow, penetrating burn. The lingering heat of summer that still hung in the September air wasn't helping matters either.

He'd been taking occlumency lessons with his aunt practically from the day his fifth year ended and it had taken up until now that he could feel safe enough in his own thoughts to allow that little internal voice to say what he truly believed but had been too frightened to give words to.

The Dark Lord was brilliant and powerful but he was also a fucking sadist. He could see it in that twisted little smirk when he received the Dark Mark, Voldemort knew that it was going to hurt, he liked that it was going to hurt.

There were people amongst the ranks like Fenrir and Bellatrix that were crazy enough to get off on that sort of thing but Draco wanted no part of it. He was there to do a job and carry out a purpose, he didn't want to be tortured or played with along the way. The understanding was that failure would not be tolerated but until the time came that there was actually something to punish them for he couldn't see why they deserved to be tormented. The oldest wizarding families in Britain commanded far more respect than he ever showed them.

All the better then that he wasn't in this for Voldemort. He was in it for the ideals, he was in it for his family's honor and for his own. So his father could hold his head high once more, so his mother could look upon him with pride. He was in this to advance the status of the name Malfoy. The irony was not lost on him but if this was what had to be done to restore them to their former glory then he could be adaptable.

If there was anything he had learned it was that centuries could pass, empires could crumble, regimes could fall, and this madman too would come and go, but the house of Malfoy would stand and it's power and wealth would remain as strong as ever. The only time they had ever truly lost influence was in the most recent few decades when fools like Dumbledore began preaching tolerance and acceptance, and suddenly the old and noble families were no longer seen as pillars of power, but as tyrants. His father being taken away to Azkaban was probably the lowest point his bloodline had seen in several centuries.

So he would see to it that their place in the world was restored. Voldemort didn't see it, but although they might cater to his cruel and unusual whims right now high society had a long record of turning on people like him. They supported him at the moment because he was a good opportunity. They could sit back and allow him to fight and conquer and play the villain while they got what they wanted. But he would be wrong if he thought he had ever truly won their loyalty.

In the end it would be their so called master who found himself used, he was too uncompromising and too idealistic for their world. If he was too rigid to bend under pressure eventually he would break.

It might shame his father and horrify his mother but Draco was alright with letting Voldemort think that he was the one manipulating them for the time being. As his grand parent's had said, soon his usefulness will have run it's course. So let him push them around and treat them like dogs, Draco may hate it, but it was a means to an end.

For whatever Voldemort would have them believe he was a mere mortal surrounded by rumors of filth in his veins. Draco was descended from the two most venerated bloodlines in the magical world and no harsh words or degrading tasks or brutal punishments could take that away from him. No mere tyrant could undo countless generations of filial pride.

So he gritted his teeth and carried out his orders, even though his assignment was terrible and frightening. Even though it seemed impossible at times and he often found himself staring into that very same mirror, splashing water onto his face, struggling to calm down.

But then a letter from his parents would arrive and they would sound so worried and he would remember why he must do it. No matter how difficult his task was.

For his family he was willing to get his hands dirty.

Please review.