He was 17 years old, and about to start the last year of his schooling at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a Slytherin, and proud of it. Or at least he used to be. He hadn't really been sure since the end of his 5th year, when his father had been caught as a Death Eater, and imprisoned in Azkaban. He hadn't really been sure of anything since then.
He was turning 17, which meant that he was an adult now, and could legally do magic outside of school, this made him happy, because now he could hex Potter and his friends anytime he wanted to, and he wanted to. Or did he? He had always hated Potter, and all of his friends. Right before his first year at Hogwarts, he was talking to Potter, and had offered to be his friend. He didn't actually make friends, he actually made allies, people that could protect him. But Potter had declined, and they had hated each other ever since. Actually, realized, he didn't really hate Potter, he was jealous.
He was becoming what he had always thought he wanted to be. He was cold and calculating, he didn't have any friends, sure he had Crabbe and Goyle, but they weren't friends, they were allies. He could give them power and they could give him protection, but he didn't like them, he had grown weary of them lately, and was tiring of there stupidity. But lately he had been thinking that he would give anything to be different. He wanted to be unlike his father, and right now he was just a smaller version of his father. No one liked him, at least no one important. Pansy Parkinson liked him, but he was bored of having her follow her every where. She had practically started a Draco Malfoy Fan Club a few times, but he had told her it was stupid, so she never did.
He was supposed to be looking forward to graduating, and he was, but not for the reasons he thought he should be. He thought that he should be happy and proud that after he graduated would become a Death Eater. He would have the Dark Mark Tattoed on his left arm, and he would fill the ranks of the Death Eaters taking the place of his father, since he was in Azkaban. But almost all the Death Eaters were caught and put in Azkaban, or will killed because they tried to fight. He didn't want that. He wanted to live. He didn't want to die trying to fight for something he didn't even really believe in.
He stood up and walked inside. He looked around and realized how late it must be. No one was awake it seemed so he went up to bed. He walked into the foyer and up the stairs. He turned left once at the top and saw a house elf. He would normally have gotten mad a the elf, but he didn't see the point right now. The elf cringed and hid his head behind his hands, thinking that Draco would hit him. But Draco just walked by, heading for his room. He walked in and the torches lit with his presence, giving the room an eerie look so late at night. He layed down on his bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas, he wasn't going to sleep yet, he was still wide awake with these thoughts running through his head.
The next morning was the morning he left home and went to the Hogwarts, he usually enjoyed the train ride, because there were no teachers on the train. But he wasn't looking forward to it this year, nor had he enjoyed it last year. This would be his last trip to Hogwarts, his last year at school. Next year he would have to face the real world, he would have to do things on his own, without the help of his father, which would be very difficult for him. He had realized over the last year how much his father really did for him, and how little he did for himself. This would be his last year as a child.Written By: Hermione_Granger814 Page Designed By: Hermione_Granger814
