A/N: All usual disclaimers apply. I didn't intend for Draco to be so angsty, but oh well, I think he's still reasonably in character.

Chapter 1

I rubbed my temples discreetly with my fingertips and sighed, my ears ringing from my mother's incessant chatter. From six to seven-thirty each night, dinner was served at my family's estate and I was required to attend.

"Narcissa wore the loveliest robe to lunch yesterday…" Mother droned, and I listened for about two seconds before tuning out, continuing to twirl my fork between my fingers. Across the table, my older brother, Richard, pushed a vegetable back and forth across his ornate silver plate with an expression of one about to die from boredom.

It's no secret that I come from one of the wealthiest pureblood families in England. It couldn't be, after all, when we practically live in a palace, complete with soaring gables, gargoyles perched on the corners of the third story, courtyard gardens, a crystal chandelier bigger than I am, and a nine foot tall wrought iron gate and fence around the estate.

Our formal dining room, like the rest of our house, is colossal. Wide windows look out across the rich, green slopes of the Lancaster countryside, and a large moving tapestry of two medieval ladies sipping tea and sneaking tarts under their veils hangs opposite. Despite the windows, the sun never seems to be able to reach more than a foot inside at any part of my house. The dining table itself is a massive, long, dark wood slab, with matching chairs spaced out so far one would think we wouldn't be able to talk to each other.

"Stop playing with your food, Richard," my mother scolded my older brother, who sullenly frowned and put his fork down as my mother looked at him with an expression of distaste. I found it amusing that my beautiful, dark wisp of a mother could still order my twenty-two year old brute of a brother around. He crossed his arms with a grunt after pushing up the sleeves of his black dress shirt, and I briefly glimpsed his Dark Mark on his right forearm. Noticing my glance, Richard glared at me especially hard. Despite my distaste for her, I would be lying if I said Mum wasn't beautiful, with her dark, almond shaped eyes, curved smile, and thick, black hair. Unfortunately, her mind and whatever scrap of a soul she might have were polluted with generations of dark magic.

Beside me, my younger sister, Elisabeth, snickered, then yelped as Richard kicked her under the table. She recited to our mother what she had learned from her private tutor today. Elisabeth is the perfect replica of our mother, and it's not exactly a secret that she's the favored child in the family.

"Are you looking forward to starting your sixth year, Erilyn?" my mother asked me, feeling a duty to inquire about my life, which she had pretty much already planned for me. I envied Richard because she had stopped asking about him two years ago when he became a Death Eater.

I shrugged, and grunted. Like I was looking forward to sharing a room with Millicent Bulstrode again.

"Have you looked at your new spellbooks yet?"

"Not really." I had flipped through Advanced Potionmaking, only to find my brain hurting already.

"Do your robes from last year still fit?"

"Yeah." I hadn't grown in three years, not like she would have noticed or anything.

"Who are your friends nowadays, Erilyn?"

I grimaced at the sound of my full name. I hated being called Erilyn.

"I don't talk to many people outside of my year in Slytherin, Mum. And quite frankly, even then I don't have much tolerance for them," I said quietly and coolly, trying to evade the question.

"Erilyn," she chided me, and I scowled.

"If you want the truth, I've never been friends with anyone other than Draco Malfoy. And I'm still not, despite you trying to push Blaise Zabini on me this summer. I don't care that the Malfoys are out of favor with the Dark Lord…"

My mother held up a hand which silenced my hot outburst immediately.

"Ah, I have not told you the good news yet! Your friend has taken his father's place at the Dark Lord's side, and he is working to earn back His favor," my mother said, smiling like this was the happiest news she had ever heard. My stomach dropped out, and my cool, reserved expression wavered for a moment. Draco? A Death Eater? Ever since I had known him when we were in diapers, nothing scared him more than becoming a Death Eater. I forced a smile on my face, when I wanted nothing more than to run upstairs and get an owl to him as fast as I could, demanding to know what had happened over the summer.

"That's great," I said mechanically, drawing my emotions back into the deeper part of me, where they couldn't be touched, where they were safe. "That's the best news I've heard all summer!" Then I grabbed my wine glass and started chugging it as fast as I could manage. It looked like I would need it.

My mother smiled at me kindly. "I'm so happy for you, dear. I know how sorely you've missed his company. And now I have even better news." She exchanged a glance with Richard, who was stoic as usual, occupied with his stomach and how to shovel the most treacle tart in his face at once. "You, too, have been deemed ready and worthy to honor our family by taking your place at the Dark Lord's side!"

I spat out the wine that was in my mouth, gagging on it. "What?" I managed to choke out, spluttering hysterically. This wasn't supposed to happen! I was terrified of this, and had dreaded this moment my whole life. The night Harry Potter came back with the body of Cedric Diggory, announcing the Dark Lord's return, I had spent the night crying in terror that I would have to serve him, or he would kill me. Now I was faced with that fact again.

"You, Erilyn, are to become a Death Eater! Isn't that just splendid? I'll have to throw a party after the deed is done, and everyone will come. Why, I haven't ever felt prouder in my life!" my mother happily exclaimed, beaming down the table at me. Richard made a muffled noise of discontent, spraying some dessert at me. "Of course, I've never been prouder except when you became one, sweet heart." Richard looked somewhat mollified. "Now, your initiation will begin at sundown tonight…"

I didn't hear anything after that. I was glad I had eaten hardly anything as usual, or else I would have been sick. I arranged my facial features into a darkly pleased expression to hide my terror. "More wine?" I squeaked, holding out my empty glass.

"Oh, yes! We must have a toast! To the Dark Lord!" my mother proudly exclaimed, and my family joyfully raised their glasses in unison. Mine was shaking.

"To the Dark Lord!" Elisabeth and Richard chorused, and the wine burnt going down my throat to my twisting stomach.

"To the Dark Lord," I gasped after swallowing too much, avoiding the smiling faces of my family by looking at the tapestry of the two medieval ladies, who raised their cups of tea to me in return, smiling evilly.

I was wrong about not eating enough to be sick. I threw up the moment after I had scribbled a short letter to Draco and sent it, telling him what had happened. The further the sun sank toward the horizon, the worse I felt. I dressed in my customary black, putting on black jeans, a cotton t-shirt, and black wool pea coat. I splashed cool water from the dark granite faucet in my bathroom on my face and neck, and looked up at my reflection. My brown eyes were red and puffy, and my pale skin had turned sallow and sweaty. My dark copper hair hung in damp strands in my face.

A knock sounded at my door, and my mother's soft and muffled voice called to me, asking if I was ready.

"Coming!" I weakly exclaimed, splashing some more water on my face and sweeping my hair back in a ponytail. I grabbed my wand off the counter and stuck it in an inside pocket of my coat. Outside my door, my mother and Richard were waiting, dressed in long black cloaks. My mother had a similar cloak draped over her arm, and swept it around my shoulders with a caring smile, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"I'm so proud of you," she said tearfully. "Don't worry, you'll do fine," she reassured me, and Richard gruffly nodded, placing a heavy metal mask over his face as he drew the hood of his cloak up. I followed him down the large, curved white marble staircase to the foyer of my house, our footsteps causing the crystal beads of the chandelier to jiggle. Outside, the sun was nearly completely down, and the summer air smelled heavily of the flowers in the large garden. Richard held his arm out to me, and taking a deep breath, I took it. Instantly, we Disapparated with a crack.

I hated it when my brother Side-Along Apparated with me, because usually he went really slow just to see me squirm, but this time he went extremely fast, and I had hardly shut my eyes before we stopped spinning and I opened them to find myself on a deserted, unfamiliar cobbled street. Richard paused for a moment, pulling me into the shadows by the elbow as a few Muggles walked by.

"This way," he quietly said, and I pulled up the hood of my cloak and followed him into the night, our footsteps echoing as we slunk along in the shadows. We marched up the hill through silent streets, stepping into the shadows whenever there was a chance that we would be seen. Finally, we reached our destination: a large and sinister looking graveyard on the top of the hill. Goosebumps prickled under my coat as we slipped through the creaking black gates and wove through ancient looking tombstones, jutting crookedly out of the ground. I prepared myself for what I would have to do, searching for the cold stillness that lay deep inside of me, that I drew upon whenever I had to be absolutely merciless to do what was necessary.

Finally, we reached the center of the graveyard, which was the decrepit entrance to an underground crypt. My brother produced his wand from inside his cloak and drew it slowly along his left wrist, a thin cut running in its wake. As little droplets of blood began to leak through the broken skin, he rubbed his arm over the wood door, and I heard bolts clicking and unlocking inside before he shoved the sticking door open.

My brother held the door open for me, and grunted that I was to go in. I peered down the long, dark passageway. The stairs were old and dilapidated, and the passage was earthen and dark, so I could only see a few steps in front of me. The air smelled moist and cold, and there was no way of telling how far underground I would have to go. When Richard nudged me as I hesitated, I straightened my cloak and smartly began to descend down the crooked stairs, losing count rather quickly. I could hear Richard's heavy breathing behind me. Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I could see the end of the stairs in an earthen corridor with a few doors on either side, one of which was lit faintly with flickering candlelight. This was my moment to live or die. I had to do this, I had no choice. I steadied myself with a deep breath and lowered the hood of my robes, and stepped inside.

The room was like the staircase: dark, with a dusty wood floor and earthen walls. It felt cold and smelled like death. There was a semicircle of Death Eaters in black robes and masks, the light dancing off the metal beautifully. There was only one person other than me who was unmasked, whose identity was clear.

I had to concentrate to keep putting one foot in front of the other as Richard closed the circle behind me, and to keep the terror off my face as I approached the Dark Lord. I was relieved when he raised one on his long, pale hands to signal me to stop approaching when I reached the center of the circle; another step and I surely would have fallen over from fright.

Raising my eyes as the silence in the room deepened, I looked for the first time upon the notorious Dark Lord. He was tall and skeletally thin, whose face was whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils. His black robes seemed to become alive when he moved closer to me, and he smiled a grotesque grin when he noticed my eyes flick to watch them for an instant before returning to his face. I kept my eyes planted squarely on his nose, I would rather do anything than have to stare into his scarlet snake-eyes.

"You have quite an eye for detail, don't you, Miss Cromwell?" he asked. The Dark Lord's voice was as terrifying as his appearance, the sound best resembling a snake's hiss. I found my own voice had done the sensible thing and run away and hidden somewhere, and I stared back coldly at him.

"When the Dark Lord asks you a question, you answer, girl," a woman's voice hissed angrily from the other side of the circle.

"Silence, Bellatrix," the Dark Lord said, and I gulped. By Bellatrix, I could only assume he meant Bellatrix Lestrange, who gave me nightmares as a little girl when my mother used to invite her over for tea before she was thrown in Azkeban.

"I suppose so, mi'lord," I whispered, licking my dry lips. The wizard's attention returned to me, and suddenly he was right in front of me. I pointedly stared at my feet, and was a little too aware of how fast my heart was beating.

"Why won't you look me in the eye, Miss Cromwell?" he hissed, so quietly and lightly I wasn't sure the other Death Eaters could even hear him.

"I didn't want to be disrespectful," I managed to choke out. I flinched when I realized I forgot to address him by title. "Mi'lord."

"Don't lie to me, Miss Cromwell," he replied in the same whisper, and lifted my chin up with a long, pale finger. My eyes were forced to meet his terrifying red ones, and I found my body curiously frozen, as if under a spell. Then, my mind started to flicker uncontrollably through my memories, and I realized that I was. I tried to scream, but couldn't move, and was forced to re-live my life in fast motion as the Dark Lord used Legillimency on me.

He knew everything. He knew that the only reason I was becoming a Death Eater was because I was terrified of what would happen if I didn't. He knew how I felt like there was no one else in the world that I could depend on besides myself, and how I dominated other people because I was afraid of feeling vulnerable, and how I pushed Draco away because I was afraid of feeling vulnerable, even though I had loved him ever since I was seven years old when he pulled me out of the river in the woods near his manor after I fell in when I walked too close along the rocks even though he told me not to. I hadn't realized I loved him completely until I was looking back, however forcibly or horrifically it was brought about. Hogwarts and the past five years there were flashing by faster and faster, and my overwhelming loneliness of this summer warranted no more lingering than the snap of a finger.

The spell ended and I was brought back to myself suddenly with a jolt. I was on all fours, gasping damp underground air in huge gulps at the Dark Lord's feet. Shaking, I managed to catch my breath and staggered to my feet, and slowly raised my eyes to the Dark Lord's face, becoming aware of someone else in the room. I could hear muffled, terrified sobs behind me, and I slowly turned around.

A woman was before me, tied to a beaten looking wooden chair and gagged. She was shivering and tears ran down her cheeks, and her dark hair was frizzy and tangled, and plastered to her scalp with sweat where it touched her forehead. Her face was taught and pale, her eyes empty and blank with fear. The resulting vision was grotesque and frightening. I felt no remorse for her, whoever she was, but only a distant sickness and revulsion about what I had to do, what the Dark Lord was whispering in my ear. The Death Eaters in the circle seemed to lean forward in excitement and eagerness.

Somehow my wand had found its way into my hand, and I raised it, my hands damp and sweaty around its wooden handle, which I was griping so hard my knuckles were turning white. I watched the tip shake as I reached deep inside myself for the strength to do this.

"Crucio!"

The screams began, but I quickly became deaf to them. She cried out for mercy many times between sobs, but I was afraid to stop without the Dark Lord's permission. The Death Eaters around me were becoming more agitated, moving closer and hissing excitedly. I was forced to split the half of me that was screaming at me that this was wrong, that I had to stop, from the other side that was the cold survivor, who knew that I had to kill or be killed myself. It's not as if my protesting would have saved her anyways, I told myself, as I forced myself to not listen to the woman's shrieks bouncing painfully against my eardrums. I wasn't sure how long I tortured her with the Cruciatus Curse, but when I stopped, it was long enough for everyone to know I did not stop from weakness, that if the Dark Lord asked me to keep going, I would. My eyes slowly raised to meet his, and I no longer needed to fight to keep the emotion from my face, as I no longer felt any. I felt empty and dead inside, like a walking corpse. His terrible face split into a smile.

"Kill her," he whispered. I realized now that I was out of breath and sweating too, and I stared blankly at the woman who hadn't stopped screaming and twisting in her chains even though I had stopped torturing her. The other part of me struggled to break free for a moment, crying out in sickness and revulsion, before I crushed it again. "Don't you know the words?"

"Yes," I said, but the voice sounded like it was coming from far away as I raised my wand and closed my eyes and pointed my wand at her. I reached deep inside me, deeper than I ever had before, to the cold passion that lay in dark pools in the recesses of my mind. I opened my eyes.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

There was a green flash, and she was gone. I stared at her for a few hollow moments, stunned at what I had done, then I slowly turned my gaze to Voldemort after surveying the motionless masks surrounding me. The Dark Lord had his strange red eyes closed and face tilted up, as if he was savoring the moment, before he turned his gaze to me, his snake-like face unreadable.

"My, my, the Sorting Hat was right. What a cold passion you have, Erilyn," he softly said, drawing closer again. I should have felt something, but I didn't. I could have done anything then, if he had ordered me to do so. I would have killed every single person in the room. It was a sickening feeling, knowing that I could.

He motioned behind him, and one of the masked Death Eaters came forward, holding a sterling silver tray carved with serpents with a decanter on it, full of dark liquid. The Dark Lord took the elaborate goblet from the tray, and presented it to me. I stared blankly at it.

"Drink it," he ordered me.

I took the goblet with both hands, not trusting my numb, slippery fingers not to drop it, and held it in front of my lips for a moment, closing my eyes to the purple, swirling potion and inhaling.

"It's poison," I barely whispered, lips shaking. No, it couldn't be! I had come this far, hadn't I?

"Do you trust me?" the Dark Lord hissed menacingly. I looked into the goblet at the swirling deep purple liquid through my lowered eyelids, then closed them and drank the goblet. The potion felt cool to my mouth but burned going down my throat, and I forced myself to finish the goblet in one gulp. The instant I was finished, it slipped from my fingers to the floor as I gasped, clutching at my burning neck. It was poison.

"Poison," I gasped, staring up at the Dark Lord with wide eyes. The tips of my fingers were beginning to tingle and feel cold already, and I felt tired suddenly. It wasn't just poison, it was the Draught of Living Death. It wasn't incredibly strong, or I would be dead already, but I could feel it slowly draining the life from me. "You've poisoned me."

"The third part of your initiation," the Dark Lord smoothly said. "Is a testing of skills. You have already proven your loyalty and trust, and now you must brew your own antidote to show your worthiness to me."

The wizard moved aside slightly and I could see that a cauldron and table with ingredients and tools was prepared for me. I walked forward slowly, unable to demonstrate the grace I had earlier as I focused on not staggering. I was passable at potions, I had received an 'Outstanding' on my O.W.L., although I felt like I didn't deserve it, since the only reason I did so well was Draco tutored and studied with me. I did not know the precise antidote, but I had read the recipe to the Draught of Living Death in my new potions book before, and had learned about it from Snape previously. I distantly wondered if he was here at my initiation. I hoped he wasn't. I didn't want the only teacher I actually liked to see me die.

My hands operated mechanically, obeying the instructions as I made what I could remember and improvised the rest. A bezor to counter the sopohorous, salamander blood to strengthen the tired body, crushed scarab beetles to sharpen the wits that had been dulled… the list went on and on, and my potion changed from deep blue to clear as water gradually. By the time I was nearing finished, my mind was moving so sluggishly I could hardly keep concentrated on one coherent thought, and could not stand steadily. My hands were shaking so hard that I was unable to ladle the clear antidote into the goblet and spilled it all over the table and floor. My eyelids kept drooping shut as my knees shook and locked and gave out, and I fought my own collapse into endless sleep: living death. I slid down to the floor of the room, and tried to slide along the floor and pull myself to my feet on the table, only to find that I lacked the strength. I had come so far, only to fail in the end.

I prayed that Draco wasn't one of the masked Death Eaters watching my initiation. Tears ran down my cheeks as I realized that I was going to die, clear as day, and that I couldn't hold on much longer. Then, I felt the back of my head be tilted up, and cool liquid slide down my throat. I spluttered a few times and was able to open my eyes, finding the draining of my energy and life stopped. The Dark Lord stood over me, and was replacing the silver goblet on the table.

"Rise, my child," he grandly said, holding out a long, pale spider of a hand to me. "You have proven yourself worthy."

Confused, I hesitated for a moment as I tried to remember completely what had just happened, and I reached out to take his hand. The Dark Lord instead reached farther and seized my wrist in a vice-like grip as he pulled me to my feet with a sadistic grin. Suddenly, a burning pain worse than anything I had ever experienced or imagined erupted on my wrist, encircling it like fire ripping across my flesh, and I screamed uncontrollably as the Dark Mark was emblazoned on me at last.

After my initiation, Richard brought me back home. I endured my mother's fawning and my sister's jealousy, then ran upstairs and locked myself in my room. The two halves of myself I had tried so hard to keep separate during the initiation, the emotions I had coldly crushed, came rushing back all at once. I threw up what little food was in my stomach, then I collapsed on my bed, sobbing uncontrollably, utterly overwhelmed with what I had done. Eventually I calmed down enough to flick my wand at my lamp on a bedside table and turn it on, before I looked down at the wand in my hand and flung it away, sobbing hysterically and burying my face in my pillows. I had never been so afraid of anything, of what I was capable of and dying in my entire life.

Finally, I think my eyes cried themselves dry and I began to hear a small tapping sound on my window. I was frightened for a moment, then remembered that I had sent an owl to Draco. The poor creature was probably out there tapping for the past hour. I rolled off my bed and pulled the white lace curtains away from the window and raised the blinds, only to see nothing but darkness and my own dim reflection in the glass. I looked like hell. I must have been hearing things. It would figure.

I sank slowly down on the floor with my back against the side of my bed, and lowered my face to my knees, feeling empty and ill from the nausea and dead tired from crying. Then I heard another tap, followed by several more. I weakly raised my head, and my bloodshot eyes nearly fell out of my head when I saw none other than Draco Malfoy outside my window, floating precariously on a broomstick while tapping on my window. I didn't know if I should scream or cry in relief, but I ended up just gaping blankly at him.

"Don't just stand there gawking, let me in!" he called, voice muffled through the glass as he rapped on it with his knuckles. I staggered to my feet, knees locking and wavering like noodles and I struggled to shove the old, sticking window open all the way. "Stand back," I heard him say from outside in the darkness, and I stepped aside. I heard him apparently land outside the window on the roof and scraping sounds on the side of my house as he scrambled inside, dragging his broom in after him. I hurled myself at him as he stood up from the floor, and tackled him in a hug as I somehow found more tears to cry.

"Erin, I'm sorry," he whispered softly, and returned the tight embrace and buried his face in my shoulder. The hug lasted for a few moments before we awkwardly broke away once I realized he was soaking wet and shivering, and was making me wet as well. We sat down side by side on my bed, and I could hardly believe he was here next to me after being separated by Death Eater politics for three months. Draco didn't take his eyes off me, and seemed to be drinking in my presence like a man at an oasis who had been abandoned in the desert without water for a summer.

"I missed you," he simply said, and I found myself chuckling at the anticlimactic statement, although no more was really needed to be said.

"Why are you soaking wet?" I asked, grabbing one of my wrinkled blankets off my bed and wrapping it tightly around his slumped shoulders. I would have used my wand to dry him off, but the thought of touching it again made my stomach roll.

He sighed, and was clearly putting forth effort to stop shivering. "I had to fly through clouds to stay hidden," he explained. "I didn't trust myself with a Disillusionment Charm, so I got drenched. Sorry, I'm getting your bed all wet…" He tried to get up, but I pulled him back down.

"It's fine," I dismissively said, and scooted closer to him, feeling the sudden need to touch him, just to make sure he was there, and I wasn't alone. "I just…can't believe you're here, after all these months…" I trailed off, unsure of myself now.

"I got your letter," he said after a lull in the conversation. "I'm sorry I was too late. And I'm sorry about what they did to you. I don't think I'll ever forget what they did to me." He closed his eyes and shuddered involuntarily at the memory apparently, then reached out and squeezed my hand tightly.

"I did everything he asked me to," I slowly confided, as the tears on my cheeks began to dry, leaving salty tracks behind. I wiped them away furiously. "I tortured. I killed. I swore loyalty, and drank poison to prove it. And then I brewed my own antidote. All because he told me to do so." I closed my eyes, only to see the face of the woman I tortured in the darkness of my eyelids as she screamed in pain and madness. I opened them instantly, finding the world I was living in no better than my nightmare. "I'm a monster."

"No more of one than I am," Draco quietly said, turning my hand over and stroking my palm with his thumb. "It'll be all right. Somehow, things will turn out." His voice sounded dead, like he no longer believed in what he had been saying ever since he could talk. I took comfort in it all the same.

We were silent for a while, until I heard creaking in the hallway as my sister walked by my door. I instantly crooked my fingers, my wand jumped to my hand and I turned the light out with a flick of it, Draco falling silent immediately when I pressed the forefinger of my left hand over his lips in the darkness. Elisabeth's footsteps paused outside my door for a moment, before continuing down the hallway. I barely trusted myself to breathe, and we were quiet for a long time. There was no light, my family's estate was so isolated in the northern English countryside that we had absolutely no neighbors, wizard or Muggle, for miles.

Draco's thigh was pressed against mine. He was shaking with the cold. At least I thought it was the cold. Before I realized what I was doing, I had put my arm around him and pulled his head to my shoulder.

"Erin," he stammered, "I feel so alone. I'm afraid to talk to anyone. I feel like everyone's watching me. I'm afraid everyone is going to ask me what I'm studying, and why, and under whose orders. I've only seen you once in three months, and there's no one else I can talk to."

I patted his back. "I know, Draco. I've wanted to talk to you, too, but I've been so afraid. I don't know how to be a Death Eater. I'm afraid of dying and never seeing you again."

"I'm afraid too," Draco said, squeezing my hand and wrapping me tightly in his arms as we leaned back and curled up on my bed. I rested my head on his chest, wrapped my arms around his middle, and listened to the comforting sound of his heartbeat and breathing while he stroked my back until I fell asleep.

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