Draco Malfoy. Regulus Black. They were connected by blood and family, they were first cousins once removed, but also by something much deeper.
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As was expected of him, Draco Malfoy always showed the greatest pride in his family name, his lineage, his pure blood. As a child, he recited the names of his family, some dating back centuries, on the orders of his Father. He knew all the names of the portraits which lined the long halls and corridors of Malfoy Manor, each with the infamous deathly pale skin, white blonde hair and haughty expressions.
With his mother, he had looked through ancient photograph albums, pointing out various family members as he turned the musty pages. He could recognise his Aunt Bellatrix instantly; tall, beautiful with long dark hair, wearing an expression of mixed distaste and arrogance. Andromeda, whom his mother would never speak about, was also instantly recognisable – she looked exactly like his Aunt Bellatrix, but much friendlier, he thought. He remembered finding his mother for the first time – she would have looked quite angelic with her long blonde hair, and pale blue eyes, if it wasn't for her look of overwhelming snobbishness.
He had passed over Sirius Black – he was forbidden to speak of him – without hardly any thought. He was a traitor to the Black family, and at the time, in Draco's mind there was no worse crime. His eyes passed over the sulking boy with long brown hair, and came to rest on the smaller boy standing next to him. He had black hair, while Draco's hair was almost white, but the smirk on his face, his expression, was almost identical to the one he saw on his own photographs.
"Mother – who is he?"
He was Regulus Black, he soon found out.
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They had both been born in the same family; both had been brought up on pure blood ideas, with the idea that they were superior to other families. Who could blame them if they seemed proud and elitist, when they were taught of their superiority from such a young age?
Both were Slytherins, and displayed the characteristics of that House; ambition, cunning and resourcefulness.
They had both been dragged into a world in which they didn't really belong; a world of death, violence and hatred – serving under the Dark Lord. They had been pulled into a dark abyss; from which it was difficult to escape.
They had both been branded with the dreadful Dark Mark, had suffered the ordeal of having it burned into their skin.
Both their lives had been tragic, their fates had been decided as surely as the baby Harry Potter's was on that fateful day when he brought down the Dark Lord. Neither can live while the other survives. Neither Regulus nor Draco could survive in that world of death while the Dark Lord reigned.
They had done their parts for the Dark Side. Draco had contributed to the death of Albus Dumbledore. Regulus had joined the Death Eaters, and had become involved with the Dark Lord's inner circle.
But both had also done their part for the side of good. Despite being Slytherins, Death Eaters, both had shown their good sides during that ongoing bloody battle. Regulus had taken the Dark Lord's horcrux, this sacrifice leading to him being dragged down into the watery depths to his death. Draco had hesitated in killing his headmaster; he had refused to identify Potter and his friends when they had been captured and brought to Malfoy Manor.
Their lives had been tragic, but they were not evil. They were simply victims of circumstance, victims of birth.
---
The pain was unbearable. It was shooting up and down his arm, agonizing, excruciating pain. He wanted the pain to end, but he seemed unable to tear his arm away.
This is what he wanted isn't it? This, surely, is honourable. This pain is a small payment in return for the honour of serving the Dark Lord. This is what he wanted, right?
At least he was finally following in his Father's footsteps. His Father would be proud of him at last. It was time to prove to the world what he, Draco Malfoy, was capable of.
Here was his chance to prove how much better he was compared to his traitor brother. He could show everyone how a real Black ought to behave. He alone will reverse the dishonour Sirius had brought upon his family.
The Dark Mark was taking shape. Soon, he would be a Death Eater.
Surely only a little longer until the pain stops...
There is no turning back.
It's a lifetime of service - or death.
He was one of them.
He was a Death Eater – something he had always wanted, since he was a boy.
So why did he feel so alone?
So why did he feel so scared?