When he was a little boy, Draco had the habit of wishing bad days away. He would scrunch his eyes closed so very tight and imagine a different day- a different circumstance- hoping that the magic within him could make his wish come true. To his constant disappointment, his wish was never granted, and when he opened his eyes again things were always the same as they had been just moments before.

Draco never really outgrew his childhood habit, and he found himself, in this moment, lowering his gaze and closing his eyes, white-blond lashes pressed tightly to his cheeks. He could feel his mother's nervous energy beside him and hear the low murmuring of dozens of people gathered together in the wide hall inside Malfoy Manor.

Just as Draco was about to take a calming breath, a sudden pop filled the air. All conversation ceased with the sounds of footsteps and the swish of heavy robes. Opening his eyes, Draco knew once again that his wish had not been granted when saw every masked figure in the semi-circle sand a little straighter, all attention focused on the man now standing at the head of the group.

It took everything within Draco to not to bolt. The man before him was terrifying. He looked to be more serpent than man. His eyes glowed red, contrasting against white skin. This nose little more than two slits. The power that radiated from him was palpable. It was clearly felt by all. This was the man that Draco's father had worshiped, who he had assisted the rise and return of. This was the man that he had eventually failed.

It was because of this failure that Draco stood here now. The failure that landed Lucius in Azkaban. He and his mother, Narcissa, were the only ones in the room without a mask. Every other face was hidden behind the silver of the Death Eater's disguise. Every other arm was marked.

"We are here to welcome another faithful servant into our ranks," The Dark Lord began. "One who wishes to repair and uphold his family's legacy."

All eyes turned to the young Malfoy and his mother. There was no question about whom their master spoke.

Draco stepped forward. His face was bare, but he was wearing the black robes of the congregation before him. Despite the tumult of commotion swirling inside his mind, his face was emotionless, the perfect façade of calmness. He slowly brought himself to his knees before the Dark Lord and looked up at the towering man to meet his gaze.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, do you pledge your allegiance to me, recognizing me as your Master?"

Draco bowed his head in mock reverence and spoke his line clearly: "Yes, my Lord."

"And do you, at this time agree to take my mark upon you, swearing to serve me all your days?"

"Y-yes, my Lord." Draco felt the hesitation in his voice before he could compose himself, and he hoped that the Dark Lord would not take it as a sign of his unwillingness to join the ranks of his followers. Draco knew it must be done.

Before he knew it, two strong men had approached him from either side and had placed firm hands on his shoulders so that he could not rise. His first instinct was to struggle, but he knew that any resistance would be taken as an act of disloyalty so he remained still. He hoped that the hammering of his heart did not reverberate through his body and into his shoulders where the men's hands remained.

"It is time, young Draco. Hold out your arm," the Dark Lord commanded.

Draco tried and failed to still his quavering fingers as he pulled back the sleeve of his robe. The pale white skin of his left arm had never looked more smooth and untouched than it did in this moment. He wanted to look back at his mother, to garner some strength from her gaze, but before he could do so the Dark Lord took hold of Draco's wrist and lowered the tip of his wand to his pure skin.

All of a sudden Draco's arm erupted in fire. His nerves screamed and heat flashed through his enter body. White light exploded in his vision and he could hear nothing but the echo's of his cry throughout the large room. The two men at either side of him increased their hold on his shoulders and upper arms as his muscles fought against the source of his agony. But as soon as it had begun it had stopped. Draco found himself laying in a heap on the ground. A whimper rose in his throat, but he fought it off, not allowing it to escape and prove himself weak in front of so many who had fearlessly done this before him.

When Draco moved to push himself up off the ground, his left forearm protested. His muscle weak from the magic that had just course beneath his skin. He looked down to assess the damage and saw the scar that he had taken upon himself. A skull and serpent stared back at him, taunting him for the decision that he had just made. As Draco finally made it to his feet, the Dark Lord smiled down upon him.

"May I present to you, a Malfoy that we can be proud of. This will be the boy who redeems his family's name."

Polite clapping filled the air around him, but Draco knew that it was just to appease their master. Many men and women in the group that surrounded him despised Lucius for the events at the ministry and now considered the Malfoy family to be weak. Draco fained a gracious smile and nodded respectfully at the man in front of him.

"Thank you, my Lord. I will bring honor to my family's name and to your great cause."

This seemed to appease the Dark Lord. The corners of his mouth lifted in what Draco assumed was a smile and he moved to pull his cloak over his bald head. With another loud pop he was gone as quickly as he had arrived, but looking down at his arm, Draco knew that Voldemort need only touch his finger to a loyal servants mark and Draco would be in his presence once again.

Quick popping noises filled the room then, as other loyal servants of the Dark Lord made their departure from the manor. Before long only his mother and one masked servant remained. As Draco turned to his mother, a wail filled the room. Narcissa Malfoy's hands were in her hair pulling her white-blond strands painfully as she fell to the ground, unable to stay standing any longer. Without a second thought, Draco ran to her, joining her on the hard ground and enveloping her in his arms. Her sobs shook them both.

"Cissy, calm yourself," Bellatrix hissed as she removed her mask from across the room.

Draco's aunt's command did not still the weeping woman.

"My Dragon! What have we done? What have we done?" Narcissa wept as she grabbed her son's marred arm and ran her fingers along the deep black lines.

"Mother—" Draco began, but he was cut off by his aunt who was now advancing on the both of them, a deranged glint in her eye.

"What you have done Cissy is made up for your worthless husband. You have given the dark Lord a servant he can be proud of. This is an honor!"

"t is a punishment," Narcissa sobbed. "It is a punishment, and you know it. If Draco fails to do one thing the Dark Lord commands-"

"Mother," Draco cut in. "I won't fail. Whatever he asks, I'll do. I will be a faithful servant."

At those word Narcissa turned from the gaze of her son and wept.