My Omega ~ Drarry

Chapter 1: My Father's Son

Draco's 1st POV

I wake up with a startled gasp, feeling a searing pain throughout my body when I sit up. From downstairs comes the sound of voices and hurried footsteps. My curtains are closed and the door firmly shut, because I, for one, can't stand the Death Eater meetings that happen downstairs.

My father disapproves. He talks about the importance of being on the Dark Side, and what it could mean for the Malfoy family if we supported the Dark Lord. But I don't want it. I don't want any of it. Then again, it's not as if I agree eye-to-eye on my father on a lot of subjects. Even though I'd do anything, absolutely anything, to make him proud of me.

My life here at the Malfoy Manor isn't exactly amazing. I'm usually alone with no one to keep me company. I can't exactly go out and about, and I refuse to associate myself with house-elves. At least, that's what my father tells me to do. He's been dictating my life since the second I was born. It's not as if I can suddenly rebel now.

I can't even escape at Hogwarts. Sure, life is considerably better without dark magic practically breathing down my neck, hovering in the air around me, but I know I'm never really safe from him. So I act as though I hate 'Mudbloods' and 'omegas'. It's hard to remember who I really am when I've been putting on a facade my whole life.

I wrap the blanket tighter around me to stop thinking about all the awful things I've done. Maybe if I wrap myself up tightly enough, I'll push all of the emotions swirling through my head out of me. After all, Malfoys don't feel.

I look around the room, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head, the pounding in my throat. Neither get any relief when the door is violently pushed open. I raise an ever-so slightly trembling hand over my eyes to block out the harsh, artificial light that the corridor of the Malfoy Manor brings.

"Son!" I hear a voice screech, already wincing at my father's sneer. "Get up! The Dark Lord is waiting for you!"

I shiver involuntarily. I've been trying my hardest to put off meeting with Voldemort, terrified out of my mind that I would be getting the Dark Mark. Because everyone knows you can't take it back, and I'm not sure this is what I want.

Then again, it's not as if I've been allowed to even think about what I want. But I've spent too much of my life, trying to be the perfect son. I've tried too hard to give up now.

So, after I take a breath, the clamber out of the bed as gracefully as I can, and head out the door to my possible doom, ignoring what I really want and ignoring my pounding head.

After all, life is rarely a fairytale.