pure-blooded and immaculate, ambitious, cunning and always having a way to get what they want; that was the malfoy way, whether you liked it or not.
it had always been like this for draco, ever since he had been born and for the generations and generations before him. growing up and drowning in wealth had always been what he had known. drowning. a well-known feeling also.
the way he had been perceived had never been another thought though because he knew how his life had been curated to be, and that was just how it was, so there never felt any reason to question it.
° • ◇ • °
6th year hogwarts
for all of draco malfoys life, he's hardly ever had a worry pass through that twisted mind of his about the outside world; one where he knew he would have been stay hidden in the shadows for once, and shy away from the limelight his parents had worked hard to pave out for him.
quite frankly, he felt as though he used to thrive in all of the attention thrown at him while he was a child, receiving an abundance of adoration from fellow pureblood families like his own, for he was the malfoy heir.
just like the families were pure in blood, they also had pure traditions they would stick to and enforce on their children to how they wpuld live their lives by representing the family name. the young daughters would throw their affection towards draco from their parents commands in hopes of winning the parents over and arranging a future with their child and their own.
again. tradition. he was used to it all.
and being used to it all came with expectations when coming of a certain age.
after his birthday in the year of '96, draco malfoy was expected to receive the mark most crucial to his family name, or as he had been told by his father.
the dark mark.
as he lifted his right arm into his crisp black dress shirt, he yearned to hide the mark that he bared on his left arm into the other sleeve, where it would stay hidden from the world.
everybody knew the malfoys were death eaters, it would be no surprise for draco to be seen with such a mark, but at such a young age, people would come to all sorts of conclusions. he couldn't afford any more stares than he woukd get normally.
pale and almost gaunt looking, the reflection stared back in an attempt to readjust the features on his angular face to more of a snide smirk than a restless yet tired frown. again. appearances never really felt like such an important aspect before now, as previously he fully embodied the physical traits of a malfoy. now he had to force himself to look presentable, but for who's sake he was unsure.
his father for sure would want him to be immaculate and keep up appearances for the prideful family name. and his mother? well he wouldn't want to worry her, not this time.
refusing to look at himself any further, the door slammed shut from the bathroom where drsco would now get ready for the last time for several months, and he walked towards his future of longlasting misery as he knew he would have to face the world any moment now.
hogwarts. what a pathetic excuse for a school.
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