From my Nano: Draco thinks about his role in the war.

Who am I? Oh, well, I'm sure most have heard my name. Or at least my father's. Draco Malfoy. Yes, that Malfoy. The one who let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. The one who caused Dumbledore's death. The one who foolishly took the Mark on his sixteenth birthday because it was the only way he could think of to free his father. Never mind that father deserved to be there…

But…let me start at the beginning.

Two things fascinated me from a very young age: Harry Potter and the Dark Lord. From the time I could understand, father told me of them both. Of how our Lord had tried to kill Harry Potter, a boy my own age, and had failed. But that some day, we would rise to greatness again, with the Dark Lord leading us.

I never knew anything different. Our world was filled with people like us: purebloods, moreover, purebloods who had supported the Dark Lord, whether openly or in secret, though more in secret than not. Many, like father, had claimed they were merely spelled to obey, but we, their children, were told differently. We were all merely biding our time until the Dark Lord could rise once more.

But there was another I hoped to meet. Harry Potter. Unlike my friends, I had a fascination for him that rivaled that of wanting to be a Death Eater. I was convinced, if I could have but a chance, that I could bring him to our way of seeing the world. That he would join us, and the Dark Lord, and that together, we would all make the world a better place.

Understand, I had no concept of what my father truly meant. Yes, I believed that Muggles and Muggleborn were a blight, that it was their fault we had to be so careful and sparing with our magic. But I had no concept of why, or what might happen to those people we deemed Muggle or Muggleborn. It was an abstract concept at best.

Then came Hogwarts, and with it, the realization of Harry Potter, and of what Muggles and Muggleborn were truly like. Somewhere, in the back of my head, I could see that Muggles and Muggleborn were different, but my annoyance at Harry Potter and his friends, particularly that know-it-all witch who seemed to want us all to think her better than all of us, kept me from acknowledging what I could see plainly for myself.

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