*Draco was going through hard times now, embroiled in dark dealings, and the pale skin of his left wrist was marred by the dark mark of a Death Eater. He was only a sixteen-year-old boy who should have been doing stupid things like other teenagers, but instead a big, dark burden fell on his thin and pale shoulders. He was depressed because of the mission that the Dark Lord had given him, he was detached, not talkative, thoughtful. Draco's childhood was darkened by the weight of such a dark burden. And to make matters worse, the Dark Lord wanted Draco to marry one of his most loyal followers, one of his most trusted and young Death Eaters. The girl who was almost the right hand of the Dark Lord.

Draco didn't want to get married, because he was only 16, he was too young to tie the knot that would last almost a lifetime, and even with a girl he barely knew, but of course he couldn't refuse To the Dark Lord . And so the speedy wedding ceremony took place. On Draco's pale hand there was a ring that almost choked him with its meaning. Draco stood in his perfect black suit in his room which he now had to share with the girl who was his wife, whom he knew almost as a complete stranger, but whom he was forced to marry.

Draco's eyes swept over the room which was decorated by his mother apparently for a newlywed couple, causing Draco to roll his eyes. Draco stood looking out the window, his pale hands in the pockets of his raven-black trousers, a sharp and rather attractive contrast. His grey eyes were fixed on the landscape outside the window as he tried to digest the fact that he was now a married man. He 16 year old guy, now a married man. He didn't even pay attention to the girl who was also present in the room with him, he was absorbed in his thoughts.*