Into the
Wind
By: Kigomae
Summary: Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater, and he is determined to uphold his family's honor. But when he sees something happening before his eyes, something more wrong then killing any muggle or mudblood, there is nothing he can do to stop it. For once he is powerless. All he can do is take a chance. All he can do is run. All he can do is jump… Into the Wind.
Chapter One: Eating Death
In the past and in the present there are moments which are infinitely lost. They are forever gone from this world and you are left in the next one, never to remember that the last one occurred. You will move on through your life as of you didn't live that one moment and yet in that instant your whole existence could have been shifted. If that unmemorable, insignificant moment had not taken place you could be anywhere, doing anything. Anywhere but where you are, anything but what you're doing.
My own mind was wondering among these moments as I sat in the library, not once thinking that I was missing out on something else by making this time an unmemorable one. But my world was shifting- however unaware I was- right beneath my stumbling feet. I looked composed enough, I suppose, reading some potions book or another. But somewhere in my mind I was tripping and falling and crawling about as the foundation of the earth crumbled.
Inside my robes, in a pocket deep within its folds, a letter burned fiery hot against my thigh, screaming for me to read, just please read it one more time just to make sure it was all as real as I believed it was. My fingers itched to touch the parchment on which my fate was sealed in black ink and scratchy handwriting. The handwriting of my father and the undeniably bold, fearless family crest. A dragon, my namesake, enveloping a flaming letter M.
I contained myself beneath a masquerade of indifference, letting my eyes scan the same page of the book over and over again. A Malfoy did not dance around like a giddy child or even read a letter over and over again in excitement. I was restricted by my family honor, frustrated by it, even. But I remained true to it, for I knew that without that honor I would be nothing and the letter I had received would also be only that: Nothing.
And so those moments of revolutionary nothing slipped by me endlessly. I had to pass the hours somehow. I had time, so much time, to do anything until my destiny found me. The time was longer then I had hoped for. One thousand five hundred and forty hours away. Sixty five days. Nine weeks. Two months and some odd days away.
My mind wondered over the distance of time, imagining how it would be, imagining the power of it coursing through my veins. This was my destiny, the world as I knew it would end as soon as my adulthood was initiated. I would be the ruler of my fate, of the fate of the Malfoy bloodline, and the fate of the purebloods.
It did not occur to me that I was placing as much blind faith into one night as I was or that I was piling my shoulders with insurmountable tasks. It was becoming doubtful that the Dark Lord could defeat this world of impurities, let alone a fifteen year old boy. But it never seemed to faze me that I could be weaker then I supposed. I was superior to all these mudbloods and dirty traitors, of that there was no doubt at all.
Outside the castle I could hear the wind howling and the rain pounding, a sign that winter was not all that far off. It was not yet cold enough for snow, but soon fall would end and my favorite season would begin. This winter excited me beyond all conscious reason. As my gaze shifted to the window I could not keep myself from smiling. Finally, something to be happy about.
I even chuckled to myself as I stood and closed the book, shoving it back into my book bag. I had never even dreamed of looking forward to something this much. This one thing had always seemed off in the distance, a thing for the future. And now the future was here. I felt confident that I was becoming exactly what I wanted to be when I walked out of the library. I walked proudly and did not stop to torment the sniveling first years that scurried past me.
But as I rounded the corner I did stop.
"I mean, come on Hermione, you have to admit that she's a bloody hag, even if she is a teacher!"
"I can admit no such thing, Harry. A teacher cannot be evil. She just cannot," Granger said feverishly, shaking her head back and forth. Her hair swished about her face in a bushy mass and her lips were tight against her once-beaver teeth.
"Barty Crouch was better then her!"
"Absolutely not. That man was not qualified to pass on his knowledge. He was nothing but an imposter!"
"Yes, but she must be also," he replied.
"Harry, not every Defense against the Dark Arts teacher is a follower of Voldemort."
"I know that, Hermione."
I almost laughed. They were all so worried about the Dark Lord. They fretted over Professor Umbridge being a death eater- which was laughable- and they had no clue that they had worse things to cope with. I mean, here I was, the heir to a pureblood throne of darkness, and they condemned some fat, powerless old woman? I snorted and turned to walk away. If this was all they could come up with, then these last years here at Hogwarts would be easier then I had imagined.
You could have called my day a good one by that point, and I made my way to the Slytherin Common Room, tempted to whistle but restraining myself. I was well on my way towards establishing myself and my life was headed exactly the way I was steering it. I sat down on the couch and sprawled myself out. Crabbe and Goyle looked at me eagerly.
"Father says I'm the youngest one yet, you know. How did I guess that I was going to be great?"
O O O
"Wait for me here. It won't take long," I breathed into her ear as I slowly backed towards the door.
"You'll be okay. Everything's going to be alright," she whispered, stroking my shoulder gently.
I held her close and tried to ignore the way the wind was drifting in through the kitchen door and murmuring promises against my back. Her hair brushed against my cheek softly and I took a deep breath, squeezing her closer for just one more moment. I would remember this moment.
"Tell me you love me," I asked pleadingly, fighting the urge to stay here with her.
She sighed, "I'll be here waiting for you, Draco," she said as she turned away and hurried back into the house, never looking back at me.
I called after her, "You think I'll be okay?"
She turned around and looked straight into my eyes, "I know you will."
I didn't really understand what she meant, at least not right away. That night I was the only thing I was thinking about. My breath came shallow and uneven as I swept my hood up to conceal my mess of blonde hair and my steps were stumbling and unsure. I felt vulnerable and exposed, weaker then I had ever felt before. I did not feel like a man running out to meet his fate. I was a helpless child being pushed in a mysterious direction.
Out beyond the Riddle House, five miles northeast, was a graveyard. The grass was overgrown and the trees were old, huge, gray and ugly. The tombstones were crumbling and covered in moss. Beneath a tree of especially grand size and grayness was what I had been waiting for my entire life. It was what I had been raised to strive for and what I had been taught to worship. A ring of men, clothed in billowing black robes that stood out against the white of the snow beneath their feet. The only sound was the whistle of the wind and the crunch of my footsteps.
They were all gathered ceremoniously around one stone that jutted from the ground at an odd angle. I tried to ignore the way even this trusted circle seemed to be tense and kept themselves well away from the man in the middle of the circle, leaning against the stone as if he were bored. All I could see of him were the pits of his red, red eyes and his flaring nostrils. His gaze fixed on me as I came closer.
The tombstone said Riddle. I shivered as I drew near and the circle of men parted for me. I glanced down at my trembling fingers, long and blue in the moonlight, almost blending with the white of the snow. Eyes stared at me with pride, with jealousy, or with indifference from behind white masks. I yearned to be there, on the inside looking out. I didn't dare look in from the outside. And I was so close. It was the only thing that kept me from fleeing. I could barely register my longing for this moment, let alone my family honor. All the same my eyes flew around the circle, landed on my father, and then scurried away. And then I was finally standing there before the Dark Lord, who sat barely a foot away from me.
"Young Malfoy, what a pleasure it is to have you here," he said quietly. This man did not have to speak loudly. As his voice sprang forth you could not help but listen.
I bowed my head respectfully and cleared my sticky throat, "Thank you, milord," I said.
"I must explain a few things to you, boy. I am sure you will listen," he began and I nodded, "I will be short with you. I will kill you and bleed you dry if you so much as think about betraying me. I expect you to be dutiful and do as you are ordered. This is not a game, it is a war."
I nodded again soundlessly, for there seemed to be no words I could use as a response. I tried to gather enough saliva to pry my tonsils apart, but gave up as I was beckoned closer to the tombstone. The Dark Lord now stood at his full height, at least a foot taller then I, and I kept my gaze towards the snowy ground. I had no thoughts or feelings that can be remembered or expressed in those moments. He placed my wrist against the stone carelessly.
What I remember is watching his hands. They were despicable compared to my own, which I kept neat and clean. I could see his purple little veins and capillaries winding beneath a saggy lining of skin and above sharply protruding bones. His nails were long and curling, yellow and scratchy as he wrapped his fingers around my wrist. I did not understand why there was suddenly blood running across his left fingers, his own blood, or why it was so quickly being absorbed by his long wand.
I did not understand until the tip of the wand was against my forearm and I could see the winding little ropes of his blood plunging through my flesh. It didn't hurt; there was just a faint tickling sensation. It still did not hurt as I could feel it struggling through my own veins. I barely felt anything for a whole minute. But as I marked its path across my chest an aching tension began to build at the very core of me. I was not prepared for my true initiation.
Suddenly it was there. Me, my body, my spirit, my soul was being ripped to shreds. A rush of images swamped my mind. Death after death after death, feelings: anger, frustration, elation, depression, defeat. I was going in all different directions, here, there, everywhere.
A Locket.
A Cup.
A Ring.
A Diary.
A Staff.
A Crown.
I was everywhere, in everything. Pictures of each thing flashed into my mind and I felt each one, saw it as it died and withered with me inside of it. I could not help the screams and whimpers that escaped me and I was helpless to the sneers that I received for my weakness from all directions. A small part of him was in me, and I felt like weeping as I unconsciously clawed at my chest, trying to get it out. I was no longer Draco Nigellus Malfoy, but some monster.
I collapsed to the ground with one last shout, a name that I had never heard. Merope, I saw her face. She had one lazy eye and a fragile, helpless look about her. I clenched handfuls of snow in my fists and let my shameful tears fall onto the ground. I could not move at all, save for the trembling of my shoulders as I vomited. I did not have a moment to feel the shame. When I looked up they were all gone and a white mask had been thrown down beside me.
I got haltingly to my feet. I felt betrayed by all those that had told me everything would be okay. I felt empty. The grudge I had silently been holding against my father exploded. Why had he not prepared me for this? Tears were still streaming down my cheeks. I looked down at the mask dangling from my fingers and fumbled with the strap. I concealed my grieving face beneath that mask of white and put my hood up around my face.
I was looking out from the inside. And everything looked the same. The snow was still white, the sky was still scattered with frosty stars and the moon still shone brightly. The bare trees still looked imposing and my hands still looked blue and unsteady. I could not accept that my destiny had come and gone and everything around me was… the same.
I sank slowly to the ground and let my head fall into a pillow of snow. I watched as clouds- the same old clouds- overcame the sky. I watched as I was enveloped in a blanket of snow and knew that I would not keep my promise to Pansy. I would not be back soon. I buried my masked face in my arms and let myself go away.
I became a Death Eater my fifth year. December 24, 1995.
