:: Prologue One :: Initiation
The day had come, and although he had known about this day since he was a small boy, it didn't ease his pounding heart, or his sudden feeling of being dropped into a freezing lake. Draco Malfoy was nervous, plain and simple and as he stood in front of the mirror in his bedroom, he was just beginning to come to grips with the reality of the situation he was in. In a little less then five hours, he would be a fully initiated Death Eater and a servant to Lord Voldemort.
The night before when his father had arrived home and told him Voldemort would initiate him the next day, Draco had felt a sense of numbness fall over him. Somehow it wasn't real. All the boyhood dreams and excitement of being a Death Eater weren't there. It was all a dream. And now as he stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn't understand how he ever had wished to be like his father and work for Lord Voldemort, the King of Serpents himself.
He had read about the murders in the newspaper, listened to stories about the last reign from his mother, and actually paid attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts; but never before had the bitter truth of it hit him. Lucius had stood there and explained, in very distinct detail what Draco would have to do to receive his Mark, and then how the Mark would be given to him. That was when it finally clicked inside his head, something he had never acknowledged. Voldemort was an evil man.
It was too late to turn back now, Draco would have to go through with what surely would be pain and suffering. If he turned back he would be killed, and yet if he did it his head would forever be wanted by Dumbledore and his army of goodie-two-shoes. He was trapped with no way out. Stuck inside a cycle that held his soul by an iron rope. He would have to murder the innocent, and although he'd never admit it to anyone, he didn't want to kill. Sure he adored being a Malfoy, and being a Slytherin who was above most everyone else, but that didn't mean he was cold enough to destroy lives.
I should have thought of that before. His own bitter thoughts echoed in his seemingly empty head. He had to be emotionless. He couldn't let his feelings show, or he'd be killed. He had to be empty, it was the only way to do this and get away alive. Being alive was his ultimate goal, and it looked like that goal was going to cost others their lives. Was he really that selfish deep down inside? Yes, thats the reason I'm in Slytherin.
No real Slytherin, especially a Malfoy, would die to save another. It wasn't what they did. That was the whole reason they were grouped together. Or at least, that was what he was taught. But then again, if what he was taught was true, he was only supposed to look out for himself. He wasn't supposed to look out for, or work for anyone was he? Being a servant was against his father's own teachings. Why was he suddenly re-thinking everything? What was wrong with him? Was he turning into a Gryffindor? The thought made him sick.
There is something wrong with this situation. Something is not right, nothing is adding up anymore. He felt as if he was betraying himself and his family, but at the same time he had found an enormous loophole in what his family stood for. Should he ask his father? Probably not, he'd get hit and would definitely regret it. Why not though? Wasn't he already in for it later that day, when he went to be initiated and to receive his mark? Did nothing matter anymore? His life was hanging by a thread, no matter what he would be walking on thin ice.
Maybe he was thinking into things too much. He had to stop thinking about everything as a whole, and concentrate on the tasks ahead. He was Draco Malfoy, somehow, someway, he would make it through this. He had all the necessary traits and skills that would keep him alive. He would die an old man in his bed. And then again... why did he care about when he died? Did this all connect back into a fear he had never thought about? Was he really fearful of dying?
"You need to get a grip over yourself," He told himself firmly, his confidence gone from his voice. "Wonderful, I sound like Longbottom." A fierce, icy chill passed his startling grey eyes. "I am not Longbottom. I am Draco Malfoy. I'll do fine. I'll be fine." A smirk flickered across his face. He had his confidence back.
For the first time in what probably had been ten minutes, Draco turned from the mirror and gazed around his room. This had been the very place he had grown up, and through the years it hadn't changed at all. A mixture of dark green and silver, the room had been built for a prince, or perhaps just a spoiled little boy who had never imagined he would be afraid, and uncertain of anything. Draco frowned, very aware that the confidence he had just believed he had gotten back, had wavered. This was going to be a very long day.
He couldn't let his fears get in the way, especially not so that his father could see he was frightened. No, he had to be tough and make sure everyone knew it. He strode past his bed to his closet, pulling the mahogany doors open and looking through his fancy robes for his silver cloak. No matter what happened, he'd at least look his best. Slipping on the cloak, he turned around completely and looked back into the mirror one last time.
There he was, the only son to the infamous Lucius Malfoy, looking very much like his power-hungry father. Their hair was the same color, the same shade of blonde. Their pointed faces and skin complexion could have made them twins. And their eyes, the same cold grey, were identical. However there was something Draco had that Lucius did not, and that was a aurora of mysterious and majestic beauty that Draco had gotten from his mother. In every aspect of appearance, Draco was indeed a Malfoy.
So what if he looked like one, he wanted to feel like one again.
He wished so dearly to have back that confidence he so effortlessly flaunted at school. He wanted to feel the icy sarcasm on his lips and shoot it at anyone who made him feel like he did now. He yearned for his sly, rule breaking, mischievous nature. He hated these feelings of nervousness, of anxious uncertainty, and confusion. It made him powerless and small. He despised it with a passion that nearly brought back his own arrogant personalty.
Tearing his eyes away from the mirror, Draco forced himself to relax and began to walk to the door. Half of him wanted to hide in his bedroom for all eternity, and the other half wanted to go downstairs, not to see his father or to go and be initiated, but to see his mother. She was the only part of his life he completely understood. Perhaps it was that mother/child bond, or perhaps it was just because Narcissa had done something Lucius never had: shown pure unconditional love towards their son.
It had only been a few times, and only briefly when they were not in Lucius's company, but they had shared a warm tender moment. They were times in his childhood that stood out above the rest. They were the warmth in a lifetime of cold memories. Narcissa and Draco shared something that he was sure Lucius would never share with him. Narcissa cared about Draco's wellbeing above the honor of the family. It softened his heart, and opened his mind to something his father forbidden to him... love.
And it was with his mother only that Draco showed his knowledge of true love. Never would he actually admit to anyone he had the power to feel this way. None of the girls he had dated really loved him, and he had never really loved them. It was all about something else, usually money or Draco's charming looks. None of the them lasted, and most of them moved on. All except Pansy, but she was an obsessive slut, who Draco had no interest in.
No, love was set aside for his beautiful mother only. One day perhaps Draco would love... but not true love, probably the love his mother and father shared. Narcissa, and Draco wasn't ashamed to admit it, loved Lucius's money, not him. Draco was destined for the same fate. He would marry a girl his father chose for him, for family reasons. They would 'love' each other for the marriage vows and have children, and that was where Draco's firm belief in not loving anyone but his mother would waver. He would not be his father, that much Draco was sure of.
His hand reached out and gripped the doorknob, and Draco became aware that it was shaking. He desperately tried to ignore it as he turned the knob and opened the door, stepping out of his bedroom into the dark hallway. His room was alone on the fourth floor of the manor which, he supposed, was because of his father's rule that children should be seen and not heard. This was both a blessing and a curse as it was a excellent escape for him and yet shut him off from the rest of the family. It was difficult to listen in on his parents conversations when he was two floors above them.
The hallway was littered with pictures of famous Malfoys', most Draco had never met in his life. They all had the same cruel, distant look on their faces and they liked to follow Draco with their eyes, even in the dark of the night. Then again, this hallway was always darker then all the others since there were no windows at the ends of the hallway. The dark colors of the floor and walls did not help even slightly. The other rooms on this landing never had their rooms opened, most of them being guest rooms or empty rooms that the family just hadn't needed. It was depressing really, how empty the enormous Malfoy Manor really was.
Walking down the hallway swiftly, Draco paid no attention to the portraits, or the gloomy darkness. His mind was focused on other things, and it was surprising when he found himself down the stairs and standing at the end of the third floor. This floor held his parents chambers, a library and the room they shared together. A single window by the staircase leading down was the only light as just like the rooms upstairs, the doors were always shut and no light ever came out of them. In curiosity, Draco paused by his mother's room and knocked, in hopes she hadn't gone down to breakfast yet. Silence answered him and he sighed, continuing on his way.
On the next floor Draco could hear House Elves scurrying around trying to get their morning chores done. Draco had little contact with the family's Elves, he really didn't care much about them. The only Elf he ever had even talked to was Dobby, who is father had accidentally set free many years ago. That Elf had been amusing to talk to and he seemed to be off his rocker. Dobby managed to get a relationship with Draco's arch enemy, Harry Potter, so Draco was very glad the Elf was gone. Anyone who was friends with Potter needed their head examined.
Before Draco had went to Hogwarts, there wasn't anyone he really had hated. Sure, he disliked plenty of people, but no one had ever made his chest explode with pure hate. Then he met Harry Potter, the boy who lived. Draco could have cared less that Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, was a Gryffindor and Dumbledore's favorite boy. That didn't matter to him, only to his father. No, Draco had his own personal reasons for hating the boy, reasons that lived deep inside him.
Harry Potter was so perfect. His parents had adored him, even in the one year they had been together. There was unconditional love there... his mother had died to protect him. Sure, Harry had to go live with Muggles, but he was famous, he was rich, and he was although just slightly, rather good looking. Potter was almost worshiped at school, whether he knew it or not. The teachers all thought highly of him, and he did get good grades. Potter was the hero, who always defeated Lord Voldemort. Getting out of sticky situations and grabbing a whole lot of House Points while doing so was what Potter was good at. And as for Quidditch, Harry Potter had taken the one thing Draco was good at and beaten him it in.
However that really wasn't why Draco hated him so much. The truth of it was, he hated Potter's relationship with his two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. Sure, a Mudblood and a poor, horrible excuse for a pure-blood weren't ideal friends for Draco, but at least Potter had friends who cared about him, who loved him and would do anything for him, even die. Draco didn't have any friends like that, not by a long run. Crabbe and Goyle were stupid, dense, idiots who acted more like portable walls. Pansy and her gang of girls loved Draco's six-pack. None of them would die for Draco, none of them cared about him or loved him.
Harry Potter had everything Draco wanted. Except of course, the whole Lord Voldemort's enemy thing, that Draco could certainly do without. Which brought him sharply down to Earth as he realized what he was facing. By now Draco was on the first floor, heading into the dinning room where he could hear the voices of his parents, obviously arguing about something important because they were almost yelling. Cautiously, Draco stood behind the wall by the door, straining his ears to hear. He still wasn't calm enough to just walk in, and anyway his curiosity was getting the better of him. Today, knowledge would be a power greater then his confidence.
"He is far too young for this," His mother seemed distressed, anger dripping from each word she spoke. "To ask him to do this-"
"It must be done for our sake," Lucius interrupted crisply, "Draco will join this afternoon, and he will do what he must to maintain the reputation and power of this family."
"You mean to make up for you getting caught a few months ago," Narcissa snapped. Draco had never heard her so angry.
"Damn you woman, do you not understand anything?" Lucius sounded just as angry as she did, "This is insurance for our money, and our lives.
"I don't care if him being admitted into the Death Eaters would insure my immortality, he is too young!"
"I was doing far more then he is when I was sixteen, the boy is at a fine age to begin. Times have changed, and we need to be prepared for what will come! If we don't have him initiated, Dumbledore will find a way to brainwash him into going against his family. We don't have time to play games!" Lucius banged his fist against the table.
"He is just a child!" Narcissa seemed to be pleading.
"Darling, if it is a child to play with that you want we can have more, we can adopt! But Draco is my first born son, the future of my name and he will be a Death Eater by midnight tonight!"
There was obviously nothing Narcissa could do to change Lucius's mind. Draco felt for her, thankful that she had at least tried to do something. He would just have to deal with this and make it through. He was strong, Narcissa had grown him up to be. The silence from the dinning room was enough to make Draco sick, and he could no longer hide behind the wall. He stepped out and walked into the room. Both his parents looked up, and just as quickly as they did so they looked away. Narcissa couldn't dare to face her son, Lucius never looked at Draco for long.
Draco sat down at his seat between his parents, careful not to eye either of them. He noticed his mother was wearing all black, as if she was going to a funeral. His father was dressed in silver and green. Trying not to sigh, Draco reached out for some coffee, starting to feel very tired indeed. They all sat there together for what seemed like forever, Draco and Narcissa not daring to speak to one another, each glancing at Lucius every once an a while. Lucius seemed to have fallen into deep thought.
Meals were always quiet at the Malfoy residence. There wasn't much they could talk about because they weren't open and loving like a normal family. There were times when Lucius would talk about work, and the Ministry, but that was before Voldemort had come back. Sometimes Lucius would leave the table before his wife and son and then Narcissa and Draco would get a chance to talk amongst themselves, but today wasn't one of those days.
Finally Lucius spoke, "We will be leaving at one, Draco,"
"Yes sir," Draco replied with all the strength and confidence he could muster.
"You are to be on your best behavior, and do everything you are asked to do without any hesitation or questions." Lucius continued.
"Yes sir," Draco repeated.
"You are to be respectful," Lucius added, his eyes on Draco's face.
"Yes sir," It was awfully boring saying the same thing over and over again, he longed to say something sarcastic, but today just wasn't a good day for it.
"I don't have to remind you how important today is for this family."
"No," Draco agreed, "You don't."
Lucius gave him a very hard look, "You should be grateful. Most anyone else would have to earn an initiation. Yours is being handed to you because of my hard work. You will not disappoint me."
"I won't father," Draco assured him despite the fact that he wasn't entirely sure of himself.
"You are indeed my son," Lucius seemed satisfied, although Draco could see Narcissa wasn't. She didn't care about disappointing the family, she cared about Draco.
"If you feel you are not ready for this Draco," She started, her blue eyes on her son, "If you feel as if your too young-"
"He is not!" Lucius's eyes flashed dangerously, "Woman did you not hear me before? He is ready, and he will do this family well! Don't put ideas that this could be put off in his head!"
"I'm just giving him options!" Narcissa snapped.
"He has no options!" Lucius fiercely stood up, towering over them like the Manor over the muggle village below it, "Draco if you do not go through with this, if you even think about backing down, and by some miracle you manage to survive, you will no longer be my son, and you will no longer be heir to the Malfoy fortune. Do you understand me?"
"Yes father," Draco replied, looking carefully at the table.
"You can't do that to him!" Narcissa cried, standing up herself.
"I can do whatever I want! I am the head of this family! Don't you forget that!"
Draco felt a bubble of hate erupt in him as he looked over at his defeated mother. Lucius was right, Draco didn't have a choice here. "Don't worry mother," He said softly, "I will do this, and I'll be fine. Father is right, but this isn't his will anymore. I want to do it."
Of course, his words were lies, but he had no choice but to say them. They would satisfy Lucius, and make sure his mother did not try and defend him again. It hurt that he had to protect her this way, but it just had to be done.. some much just had to be done.
"You see Narcissa? Our son is strong, and he will bring good fortune to this family," Lucius looked very pleased, more so then Draco had ever seen him. He nodded at Draco once, his approval and praise all over his cold face. "Very well... I will be in my chambers, I have things to look over." Lucius turned and walked out of the room, both Narcissa and Draco's eyes on him.
His abrupt departure was welcomed to Draco who sighed and leaned back in his chair, happy to let all his barriers and false confidence fall. Rubbing his temples he yearned for more coffee. At once the pot filled itself up again. As he reached over to pour himself another cup, Narcissa spoke.
"Draco, my son, my child, do you really wish to go through with this?"
"Some things just have to be done," Draco replied, and he looked over at her, as she sat back down.
"You've grown up so fast," She noted.
"I've had to," Draco added coldly. Narcissa shook her head, looking down at the table.
Draco sipped his coffee and watched her. The warm bliss of liquid smoothly flowed down his throat and warmed him to the bone. It seemed to give him strength, something he noticed his mother was lacking in right now and he reached over to pat her hand. They shared a warm smile before Narcissa stood up and dusted off her dress.
"I have things to attend to, be sure to come and say goodbye before you leave Draco,"
"Yes mother," Draco replied. She walked out, and Draco watched her, his stomach falling to his feet. He didn't feel so well suddenly. He felt like he was about to be sick. His eyes fell to his coffee cup and frowned. The coffee wasn't the reason. Why did he have this sinking feeling suddenly? Why did he feel as if something horrible was going to happen? He shuddered and sighed again, putting down the put and letting his head fall into his arms.
How long he sat there he didn't know, time seemed to be nothing but a blur. The House Elves came and cleaned up, and then left him to himself. The sun was shining more brightly by the time he finally looked up, it had to be at least eleven, but Draco really didn't feel like moving. In two hours his life, or his freedom would be gone. His eyes, probably hollow, gazed out across the room. He had to move though, he had to take a walk and clear his head.
He got up and began to walk out of the dinning room, wondering if he should take a walk out on the grounds of the Manor, or if he should return to his room for awhile. In the end he found himself standing in front of the hardly ever used front door, pushed it open, and walked out into the morning sun. Half blinded, Draco walked out off the porch and began to walk around to the other side of the house.
The House Elves did work on the gardens of Malfoy Manor as well, and it was because of them the Manor looked so warm and welcoming. Flowers of every type and color flourished around the grounds as well as bright healthy grass and several blooming trees. It was very pleasant and warm, which was probably why Narcissa had a swinging bench installed between two sweet cherry blossom trees. Without much thought, Draco walked to the bench and sat down, his eyes looking over the gardens and the forest in the distance. It was a beautiful sight.
So he was going to be a Death Eater. He would be one of Lord Voldemort's heartless supporters. He would murder the innocent, and who knows what else the Death Eaters did. It wasn't a happy feeling, it was a feeling of great numbness. He didn't really know what to believe. His life had been decided long ago, and just now he was beginning to realize how annoying that was. He never really had the freedom, so what was really being taken away from him? He didn't know. Nothing made sense anymore.
Again he seemed to fade into the moving time. His eyes were unfocused on the world ahead of him. His thoughts drifted off into nothingness. He was just completely empty. The sun moved gracefully from one side of him to the other and it was then, that Draco heard it from behind him. The front door had sharply closed.. someone was coming. Even though Draco knew it was time, he wasn't ready. He'd give anything for another hour just to think about some way to get out of this although there was none.
"Draco, its time." His father's voice seemed so far away.
This was it. The day had come.
**
:: Next Chapter - Prologue Two :: Rebellious