Draco had never seen the ballroom so dark, not even at night there were always candles burning in the corners. Tonight, though, no tonight it was pitch black spare one single candle in the middle of the room. He couldn't see anyone else, but he could feel them, which was perhaps worse. He could feel their hatred, their desire for him to die on the spot. This was a game to them. He thought it was a game for so long, but this was real. He was really in this position, how had his family let it come this far?
His mother refused to watch. He told her that this was his choice; he wanted to do this for father, now he wasn't so sure. He was alone in this. He wasn't joining a fraternity; he had no brothers in arms. The Death Eaters were a group of people who thought only of themselves and how the Dark Lord could benefit them.
"Come forward Draco," the Dark Lords voice hissed softly at him. The Dark Lord was standing next to the candle now, when did he get there? Draco didn't notice, he took a gulp and stepped towards the man that would change his future. Draco would no longer just be a bully or a troublemaker, he will now and always be a Death Eater.
Soft music had begun to play, and Draco recognized it as Mozart, a well known Wizard composer who also became popular with the muggles. An interesting choice to be playing, but you can't question the Dark Lord. Draco stepped in front of the Dark Lord who's snake-like face was even scarier against the shadows that the candle was making.
"Tonight begins your journey into greatness Draco. Have you come here on your own volition?" The Dark Lord's beady red eyes were peering into Draco. Draco knew it wasn't really his choice on some level, but he needed to do this, he wanted to this. "Yes my Lord," Draco bowed his head in observance.
The Dark Lord smiled an evil smile "exquisite my son. I hope you won't disappoint me as your father has. Hold out your left arm."
Draco willed himself not to shake, trying just to focus on the music that was playing in the background. He held out his forearm "I'm ready my Lord" his voice shaking only slightly. He felt the cold tip of the wand press against his skin, and then things went blank. He couldn't see all he could feel was the excruciating pain; it was almost as bad as crucio. He bit his lip so hard he could taste the blood. He dared not scream, though, that is what everyone in the room wanted. They wanted to see him fail, to be in pain. He focused on the music. It was keeping in time with each movement and incantation that the Dark Lord said. When the pain was very intense so wasn't the music. Was this the Dark Lords sick twisted joke? Draco's eyes began to tear; he was glad that his mother wasn't here to see this after all. It took everything in him to not break down and fall to the floor.
When it was over the music still played the Dark Lord turned to the dark crowd and said: "Draco will be a great asset to the cause, let us adjourn to the great room to feast in his honor." With that, they left, leaving Draco alone, where he knew he always would be.
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