Crimes of the Three-Inch Headmaster

Prologue

   The brush slides across the canvas mixing shades of grey and blue. Melancholy; it appears to show the immense sadness the boy is feeling. His blonde hair, once platinum, is streaked with the blue paint and as it falls onto his forehead it paints a wave of sea above his tear filled grey eyes.

It shouldn't hurt him so much knowing that his mother's cousin, Sirius Black is dead. It shouldn't hurt him knowing that his Aunt Bella killed her own cousin, but it does. It hurts a lot. He knew that Sirius wasn't the one who lead the Potters to their death beds, he'd met Peter after 4th year. After Cedric Diggory was killed. He knew it couldn't be Sirius Black if Peter Pettigrew was standing right in front of him! But he couldn't ask questions and he couldn't help. He couldn't help. He couldn't help...

The blonde swipes angry strokes of black and red across the canvas, putting every emotion he's feeling on display. Anger, sadness, betrayal, hurt...

Temporarily getting lost in his work, he rolls his sleeves up and nearly screams out in agony upon seeing the ugly skull marking on his left forearm. If he thinks about it, it still stings. The Dark Lord had given it to him two days ago; his father gave him an ultimatum: "You are no longer a son of mine if you choose not to go through with this."

Draco Malfoy is The-Boy-With-No-Choice. He wasn't given a choice, not really.

Family is one of the most important things to Draco, believe it or not. Despite how horrific his parents treat him emotionally, he can't leave them alone with that monster. So, that's why he took the mark. He took the mark in order to assure his parents' safety in their own home.

Draco begins to wonder what could have happened if he had decided to be himself from a young age, if he didn't care about the ideals of his family. Would his Aunt Andromeda have taken him in and raised him as her own with his cousin Nymphadora? Would Draco have been placed somewhere different if he weren't so afraid? Would he and Harry actually be friends if he hadn't been so... stupid and prejudiced, driving the Golden Boy away?

Now, he's required to kill Dumbledore by the end of this up and coming school year and he doesn't know if he'll be able to pull through. Would it be better if he just gave up and allowed The Dark Lord to kill him off? To put him out of his misery? Maybe he should just do the job for The Dark Lord, save him the time. He should just pitch himself off the Astronomy Tower or jump from his bedroom window. Surely it's high enough... His parents wouldn't find him for a week as the least, maybe even for another month... A house-elf would probably be the one to find him actually, his parents don't really care.

Draco splatters unorganized dots of dark green all over his canvas, signifying the feeling of being smothered in his familial ideals. He lets out a soft cry and looks ahead of him, the calming colors of blue and yellow mix together at the horizon line as the orange sun sets.

His parents don't know, not like they cared to find out, but he's made himself a small shop around two and a half miles out from his house where there's nothing but a large field of wheat growing and in the distance, a line of trees where the muggle houses have been separated from the wizarding world. If Draco listens hard enough, he can hear cows in the distance.

   Draco, usually just looking out the window and painting the scene, had decided that stepping outside to paint would be much better, but he had gotten distracted by all of the emotions he had pent up and painted that instead, smelling the crisp summer air as he works.

The skinny Slytherin boy takes a step back and leans again the siding of the tiny, lopsided shed. He places his soft, pale hands on his face and begins to sob. His body shakes with each jerking movement of the salty liquid spilling from his face, and his hair, looking soft and unkempt; curly even, dangles in front of his red, teary eyes.

   Draco pulls his hands away and looks ahead of him. He's grown quite used to the quite over the years, but sometimes he just wishes that he could yell and scream without getting scolded at, so he runs down into the field without a care.

   He spins a few times, looking in all directions and finally screams as loud as he can, releasing all his pent up anger. His screams turn to angry tears and his angry tears turn into him hitting the ground with all his might.

   When will everything get better?

———
Sorry! This kinda sucks, but it's late and I just wanted to put this out here lol.