Tears for a Destiny

Draco Malfoy sat in the Slytherin Common room wearing his usual smug look on his face. The whole room was his. In his 7^th Year, Head Boy, Quidditch Captain - arrogance filled him up. He watched as the 1^st years sat nervously in the corner and a smirk replaced the smug look as he thought of how he had never been that small, that weak. Right from the first year, he had been in charge, followed by Crabbe and Goyle. They depended on his leadership and this made him feel strong, powerful.

It proved to him that he wasn't worthless like his father had sneered at him so many times before.

Lucius Malfoy finished the last mouthful of steak and stared at his son and wife with those cold grey eyes that he so proudly saw in Draco - his heir.

"You, elf!" He snapped at the small house- elf in the corner who whimpered and bowed low to the ground."Go down to the cellar and fetch more wine. Quickly!"

He watched the elf sprint out the room with a satisfied look on his face and then turned to his son who had arrived back at the manor for Christmas that very evening.

"Draco. How was school?"

Draco, obviously shocked at his father's interest in anything other than his duties to the Dark Lord looked up from his dinner and cleared his throat.

"Excellent father. I've been made Quidditch Captain!" he said. He hoped this achievement would make his father proud; show him that he had authority.

"Why are you bothering with such rubbish? You should be focusing on your studies. It's a disgrace that that filthy Mudblood, Granger is smarter than you, a Malfoy."

Draco looked down at his balled up fists. The word Malfoy rang in his ears. It was his destiny. To become like his father. Cold, emotionless and most importantly a Death Eater.

"Draco!" Lucius snapped. "Pay attention."

"Yes father. I'll try harder. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go unpack my things."

He got up from the magnificent oak table and left the room. As he walked to his quarters in the North Wing, he felt a lump in his throat as tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked them back and swore loudly.

"Shit!"

'That's better' he thought as the tears disappeared. He was a man. And a Malfoy. They did not cry. Ever.

Yet, as he carried on walking, the tears came back and he could not ignore them this time. He reached his room and flung the door shut, sobbing hard.

All his life he had been nothing more than an heir to his father. Someone to follow in his path. Draco thought of the time when he had asked Lucius whether he had to become a Death Eater. The question was not taken well and when his father had flung his across the room with such fury and anger, Draco could only whimper and tell his father that he would do as he was told.

He hated him. The tears leaked down his face, and pain turned to anger as he picked up an antique chair that was sat next to the fireplace and threw it. It smashed against a mirror, which cracked too, and both landed on the floor.

He hated his mother too. She had never stopped Lucius when he had pounded his fists into Draco. She merely sat there and closed her eyes, as if that was the way to block it out. It could never be blocked out.

Draco shook this memory out of his mind and the anger that it brought back into him. He breathed heavily and cleared his throat. Crabbe and Goyle immediately looked up at him, as if waiting for him to order them around. This only made him angrier and he glared at them, but for different reasons than their clinginess. He envied them. Sure, their fathers were Death Eaters too, but they didn't have their future forced on them.

What was he thinking? He didn't envy anyone! He reminded himself he was a Malfoy. People envied him, not the other way round!

For the first time in nearly an hour, he spoke. His voice was shaky and upon noticing this, he changed it so that he sounded his usual smug self.

"I'm going to bed."

Getting up, he silently made his way up the stairs to the Head Boy's private room and silently undressed, before climbing into the huge four poster bed.

As he waited for sleeping to come, he could not help but think of the memory and he closed his eyes to try and block it out. A tear fell slowly down his face as he wished he was someone else. Anyone. As long as he was not a Malfoy.