Cold air swirled in through the open window and filled the otherwise silent
room with an eerie whistling noise as it whipped past the shelves of books
and the table and chairs in the corner. A man sat at the table reading.
Shadows covered him making him almost invisible. And that's how he liked
it, he liked to fade away and be unnoticed.
His cold, grey eyes skimmed over the words, reading them, but not taking them in.
The door to the room jarred open slightly and the figure shut the book and slammed it on the desk. Whoever had opened the door jumped and opened it a little more, so little it didn't really move at all.
"Who is it?" the figures voice made the room seem colder.
Out from behind the door a house elf stood shaking from head to toe holding a leather bound book in his hand that shook with the rest of the body as though it were a part of it.
"The book you requested master Malfoy." The elf stuttered moving forward and holding the book out.
His master snatched the book from him and nodded towards the door. The elf turned and almost ran from the room, the door closing with a click behind it.
The man ran his hands through his long blonde hair and sighed deeply. He looked far older than he was, cause by the fact he hardly ever slept. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep his dreams were filled with that voice. The voice of his master, the man he had vowed to serve. His dreams turned to nightmares and he found himself waking in a cold sweat and having to get out of bed and walk around the manor to calm himself. Most people thought because he was a Deatheater, he wasn't afraid of the Dark Lord. But, in truth, Voldermort scared him more than he scared the regular witch or wizard.
He saw first hand what he was capable of, he saw the terror with his own two eyes, and yet, he stayed probably out of fear, fear of death. Now death was another thing that scared him. But death scares everyone right?
The sound of flapping wings from outside the window made the man look up and just as he did a beautiful, chocolate brown coloured owl flew in and landed on the desk with a letter tied to his leg.
He could see Lucius Malfoy written in blood red ink on the front and he immediately knew whom it was from. With hands shaking, he began to untie the letter, fearing what it would say.
He opened it slowly, and carefully, like it was a bomb waiting to explode at any given moment. It read:
10:00. London Cemetery. Bring Draco.
Lucius closed his pain filled eyes. He didn't want his son to have the life he had. He wanted his son to live, but how could he defy the most powerful wizard?
A gentle knock on the door threw Lucius from his thoughts.
He managed to choke out, "Come in,"
The door opened and his son stood there.
"Come in Draco," his father tried to smile but all he could manage was a smirk causing his son to enter with distrust and unease.
"Mother sent me to tell you dinner will be ready in 10 minutes."
"I have a. Er . meeting tonight, and I'd like you to come with me!"
Draco subconsciously raised his eyebrow. "I have to pack, I leave for Hogwarts tomorrow."
"The house elves can do it."
"Uh.."
"You don't have any choice in this Draco." Lucius voice was filled with anger something he regretted the moment the words had left his mouth.
Draco nodded, "Yes father," and with that he left the room.
He shut the door behind him and let out a sigh. He leant against the door and closed his eyes. He had been expecting this day to come for quite some time, he knew the day his father took him to a meeting would be the day he would die. His life would no longer be his; he would live in the shadow of Voldermort, behind a mask that spread fear throughout their world.
He straightened up and began to walk the stairs to his bedroom. He threw himself backwards onto his bed and closed his eyes.
A frightened house elf entered his room. "Dinner is ready,"
"Tell Mother and Father I'm not hungry."
"But sir,"
"JUST DO IT!" shouted Draco throwing a shoe at the elf who scurried out the room.
Draco climbed under the covers to keep himself warm. It would be a long cold night.
***************************************
Late that night Draco found himself in a cold cemetery surrounded by masked figures who spoke in hushed voices to one another and occasionally shot Draco a glance. Or so he could assume, they certainly seemed to look in his direction. Even his father had a mask on. He spoke with Crabbe and Goyle's fathers.
The cold wind slapped his reddened cheeks and he pulled the top of his cloak up to try warm them. And then, out of nowhere appeared the Dark Lord himself. His face concealed, but unmasked, by his hood, only his lips could be seen. He scanned the people around him and his lips broke into a triumphant smile when he layed eyes on Draco.
"Ah young mister Malfoy," he said. Draco had to try hard not to shiver at the sound of his voice. "I trust you know why you're here."
"I do." Draco replied making sure every trace of emotion was left out of his voice.
"Very good." Was the only response for quite some time as the Dark Lord stood in thoughtful silence.
"If asked, would you serve me loyally?" He finally asked.
Draco didn't reply at first but decided to think about it. He closed his eyes and the first thing that came to mind was the green eyes of his enemy, the way they light up with triumph any time he beat him at anything. His body tensed with pure hatred.
He opened his eyes slowly. "Yes!"
His cold, grey eyes skimmed over the words, reading them, but not taking them in.
The door to the room jarred open slightly and the figure shut the book and slammed it on the desk. Whoever had opened the door jumped and opened it a little more, so little it didn't really move at all.
"Who is it?" the figures voice made the room seem colder.
Out from behind the door a house elf stood shaking from head to toe holding a leather bound book in his hand that shook with the rest of the body as though it were a part of it.
"The book you requested master Malfoy." The elf stuttered moving forward and holding the book out.
His master snatched the book from him and nodded towards the door. The elf turned and almost ran from the room, the door closing with a click behind it.
The man ran his hands through his long blonde hair and sighed deeply. He looked far older than he was, cause by the fact he hardly ever slept. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep his dreams were filled with that voice. The voice of his master, the man he had vowed to serve. His dreams turned to nightmares and he found himself waking in a cold sweat and having to get out of bed and walk around the manor to calm himself. Most people thought because he was a Deatheater, he wasn't afraid of the Dark Lord. But, in truth, Voldermort scared him more than he scared the regular witch or wizard.
He saw first hand what he was capable of, he saw the terror with his own two eyes, and yet, he stayed probably out of fear, fear of death. Now death was another thing that scared him. But death scares everyone right?
The sound of flapping wings from outside the window made the man look up and just as he did a beautiful, chocolate brown coloured owl flew in and landed on the desk with a letter tied to his leg.
He could see Lucius Malfoy written in blood red ink on the front and he immediately knew whom it was from. With hands shaking, he began to untie the letter, fearing what it would say.
He opened it slowly, and carefully, like it was a bomb waiting to explode at any given moment. It read:
10:00. London Cemetery. Bring Draco.
Lucius closed his pain filled eyes. He didn't want his son to have the life he had. He wanted his son to live, but how could he defy the most powerful wizard?
A gentle knock on the door threw Lucius from his thoughts.
He managed to choke out, "Come in,"
The door opened and his son stood there.
"Come in Draco," his father tried to smile but all he could manage was a smirk causing his son to enter with distrust and unease.
"Mother sent me to tell you dinner will be ready in 10 minutes."
"I have a. Er . meeting tonight, and I'd like you to come with me!"
Draco subconsciously raised his eyebrow. "I have to pack, I leave for Hogwarts tomorrow."
"The house elves can do it."
"Uh.."
"You don't have any choice in this Draco." Lucius voice was filled with anger something he regretted the moment the words had left his mouth.
Draco nodded, "Yes father," and with that he left the room.
He shut the door behind him and let out a sigh. He leant against the door and closed his eyes. He had been expecting this day to come for quite some time, he knew the day his father took him to a meeting would be the day he would die. His life would no longer be his; he would live in the shadow of Voldermort, behind a mask that spread fear throughout their world.
He straightened up and began to walk the stairs to his bedroom. He threw himself backwards onto his bed and closed his eyes.
A frightened house elf entered his room. "Dinner is ready,"
"Tell Mother and Father I'm not hungry."
"But sir,"
"JUST DO IT!" shouted Draco throwing a shoe at the elf who scurried out the room.
Draco climbed under the covers to keep himself warm. It would be a long cold night.
***************************************
Late that night Draco found himself in a cold cemetery surrounded by masked figures who spoke in hushed voices to one another and occasionally shot Draco a glance. Or so he could assume, they certainly seemed to look in his direction. Even his father had a mask on. He spoke with Crabbe and Goyle's fathers.
The cold wind slapped his reddened cheeks and he pulled the top of his cloak up to try warm them. And then, out of nowhere appeared the Dark Lord himself. His face concealed, but unmasked, by his hood, only his lips could be seen. He scanned the people around him and his lips broke into a triumphant smile when he layed eyes on Draco.
"Ah young mister Malfoy," he said. Draco had to try hard not to shiver at the sound of his voice. "I trust you know why you're here."
"I do." Draco replied making sure every trace of emotion was left out of his voice.
"Very good." Was the only response for quite some time as the Dark Lord stood in thoughtful silence.
"If asked, would you serve me loyally?" He finally asked.
Draco didn't reply at first but decided to think about it. He closed his eyes and the first thing that came to mind was the green eyes of his enemy, the way they light up with triumph any time he beat him at anything. His body tensed with pure hatred.
He opened his eyes slowly. "Yes!"