Chapter 6.
A/n: This story has kind of taken on a mind of its own. I didn't intend for the plot line to get too involved, but it kind of just happened. This chapter isn't much on the Dramione front, but it is setting up a lot for the plot. I have written a few chapters ahead, which I've been trying to post sort-of-monthly. I know it's a long wait, but I don't want to post everything I've written and then have nothing left after. I do try to write as much as possible, but life sometimes doesn't allow it for a couple of weeks so monthly posting lets me stay ahead.
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and followed so far :)
Draco sat by a large boulder on the shore of the Black lake, his tired eyes staring out at the small waves that were rippling back and forth as a strong wind blew across the water. It was getting much colder now, with the sun barely peeking out of the sky in the last few days, and he knew that it would snow soon. The thought usually brought him a sense of childhood comfort, but now all it brought him was a sick feeling to his stomach, because it meant Christmas would arrive soon, and with it, the Dark Mark.
He wrapped his cloak around himself more, as the cool wind whipped on his face. He had a free period that morning, and decided he needed to be away from the Dungeon's. Pansy was constantly in his face, asking him what was wrong, despite the fact that he thought she knew exactly what was wrong. All the Slytherin's knew the Dark Lord was back by now, and though they would never say it, he could see the trepidation in a lot of their eyes. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. Weren't they supposed to be pleased that he was back?
Maybe his classmate's were more like him then he thought. Maybe they just wanted to live?
He thought of Nott then, and of Crabbe and Goyle. They were the only ones who seemed to be basking in the 'celebration'. Nott, had a sick affinity for cruelty, Draco had learnt over the last few weeks.
After the Dark Lord returned, he had began his torture of those with lesser blood-status again. It was easier though, because the Dark Lord had infiltrated the Ministry. No Auror's came this time. The teachers ran around like wrecks, setting curfews, escorting students to class. They had won out eventually. Now half the students weren't willing to set foot outside their common rooms at night, so thankfully Nott had given up the hunt and was twiddling his thumbs in expectation for the real thing.
"My father told me how the celebrations for Christmas used to go," Nott had whispered to him one night at dinner. "They get a bunch of muggles. And you can do whatever you like with them before you kill them."
Draco had been unable to respond to that, as he'd been fighting the oncoming panic attack that had been rising in his throat.
Crabbe and Goyle had similar feelings. The boys had been brutes all through school, and Draco hadn't bothered to speak to them much any more since they weren't much for conversation, and enjoyed violence much more. Over the last few days, he'd heard them say they were going to be taking the mark too, and it made him hate himself more. Setting those two loose was a bad idea.
Then there was Culver. The teens father worked in the Ministry, and had never been charged with anything, but Draco knew the man had the Dark Mark, and that Culver would also be taking it at his insistence. If anyone looked more sickly then Draco, it was him. He'd never had a penchant for violence, and he mostly followed Nott around without much thought on what he was really getting into. He hid his emotions well, like most Slytherin's, but he had the tell-tale signs of panic written all over his face, and a conversation he'd had one night had confirmed it.
"Are you taking the mark?" Culver had whispered, as he came to sit by Draco in a secluded corner of the common room one night. Draco eyed the boy for a moment, before he realised that everyone would assume he had taken it anyway, so there was no point keeping it a badly kept secret. Draco nodded.
Culver let out a shaky breath, before swallowing thickly. "Do we even have a choice?"
Draco shook his head before replying in a low voice. "If the Dark Lord wants you, then he gets you."
His face had turned white at that, and he'd sat back in his seat, quietly staring at the fireplace with a blank expression. For once Draco didn't mock someone for their weaknesses, but instead left the boy alone.
It seemed like the atmosphere of the whole school was changing as Christmas loomed closer, and Draco felt himself sleeping less, eating less, and thinking about the Dark Mark more.
"Draco?" He heard a curious voice call out to him from across the the grounds. He let out a sigh, and barely turned his head before seeing Blaise walking toward him.
In the background were Potter and Weasley, walking towards a secluded rock-seat down the shore. Staring at Blaise's back and Draco's face every now and then, was Granger. After a moment, she seemed to give up her curiosity, and made her way to sit with Potter and Weasley.
Blaise made it to Draco's side and crouched slightly. He looked much healthier now, Draco knew. There was no trace of the teen he had seen a few weeks ago.
Blaise stared at Draco for a moment. He knew his hair was messy and hanging in his eyes. He knew his pale skin had gone from snow white, to sickly white. He knew his eyes had dark rings beneath them. He knew they looked tired and almost dead. He knew he looked wiry and thin from not eating. What bothered him was the pity he saw in Blaise's eyes. He didn't need that.
"Run along back to your friends," he snapped at the Italian. "It was noble of them to adopt a stray."
Blaise merely raised a brow, and made himself a seat on the cool stone shore beside Draco. The blond sighed. He didn't want his fucking pity.
"You look like shit, mate," Blaise said simply, his arms looping around his knees in a similar position to Draco.
Draco ignored his words, and instead scowled at the dark water in front of them.
"I don't know what's going in with you, since you refuse to speak to me lately," Blaise began, his eyes boring into the side of Draco's face. "But I can take a wild guess. When are you taking the mark?"
Draco's head snapped around, directing his scowl at Blaise. "Don't assume-,"
"I don't assume anything with you any more," Blaise snapped, looking impatient. "But we used to be friends, and I'd like to think that I might know you, at least a bit. He-who-must-not-be-named is back, and you look about ready to die, so I can only assume he's chosen you to take the mark."
Draco grit his teeth, not responding for a moment. "I'm not telling you anything. You'll just run off and tell your new keepers."
Blaise shook his head, letting out a low breath. "Potter already assumes the worst of you. He thinks you've somehow already taken the mark; he barely trusts me now. He's got it a lot worse than you, you know. They don't tell me much, but Hermione made it clear that if a war breaks out, Potter is the key to ending it. Dumbledore has been meeting with him nearly everyday."
"What a fucking hero," Draco seethed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He heard Blaise sigh from beside him.
"You don't have a choice, I know that," Blaise told him, his voice slightly calmer, "but you don't have to go home for Christmas. There's a place you can go where you'll be safe, and he-who-must-not-be-named wont be able to find you."
Draco turned to him, his eye's narrowed before he let out a bark of a laugh. "You don't even trust me enough to tell me where."
Blaise turned his eyes to his feet, and at least looked somewhat guilty. "I'll tell you if you choose to come with us. But I can't risk you telling you-know-who."
Draco nodded bitterly, trying to ignore the sick hurt that appeared in his stomach, along with the bitterness. He stood and glared down at Blaise.
"How about you stop pretending to give a shit and run back to your new protectors?"
"I'm sorry alright," Blaise responded, standing until he was the same height as Draco. "People would die if he found out, and I can't risk that. I'm not saying you'd tell him voluntarily, but he'd have other ways."
Draco eyed him for a moment. The panic he'd managed to rid himself of for a few moments came rushing back at Blaise's words. The other teen seemed to mistake this for something else.
"I wont tell them you're getting the mark," he assured him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "They can assume all they want."
Draco shrugged the other boy off roughly. "Tell them what you want. I'm damned either way."
Blaise stared at him, and Draco knew he couldn't talk about it any longer. He moved past him, and made his was across the rocky shore toward the castle.
"Malfoy!" Blaise called after a moment. Draco slowed his steps but didn't stop. "Just think about it. You do have a choice."
He didn't bother to respond and instead braved the cool wind all the way back to the castle.
The days seemed to fly by as if they knew he was dreading something and sooner then he was prepared for, he found himself waiting for a carriage to take him to the Hogwarts Express. He was dressed in a thick cloak and scarf, and as students filled one of the carriages, he stared up at the snow falling from the sky, and felt a chill run through him.
He glanced to his side and a few feet away he saw Blaise standing with Hermione and a few other Gryffindors. He looked up after a moment, and gave Draco a meaningful look. Draco turned away.
Blaise was a fool if he thought Draco could just walk away from the Dark Lord. His mother and his father were currently under the wizards control, and he wouldn't risk them getting hurt because of his selfishness.
The carriage rolled up, and Draco pulled his trunk on and climbed in. He was accompanied by some 4th and 5th year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, who looked at him with apprehension, though he was certain it was because they were afraid of him and not because he was a future Death Eater.
He loaded his trunk onto the train, and sat in an empty compartment, busying himself by staring out the window for a while at the students bustling past.
He heard the compartment door slide open, and people chatting idly, and he didn't bother to look up. It would be Nott, or Crabbe, or Goyle, or Culver.
However, when he heard a spoken argument, he glanced up and his face contorted into a scowl instantly. Blaise was already seated across from him before he could protest, staring at him with an inquisitive expression. Hermione was at the door, gripping Weasley's arm with a tight grip.
"There's no bloody way I'm sitting with a Death Eater, Hermione!" The ginger boy crowed. Draco was sure the whole train heard. "Zabini, I can handle, but I refuse to sit near Malfoy."
Hermione argued back, but he wasn't listening to what the oaf was saying any more.
Draco turned his bitter gaze toward Blaise, "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm sitting with my friends," Blaise said with a shrug. Draco scoffed, standing and grabbing his coat.
"I suppose I'll find somewhere else to sit," the blond retorted. He went to move through the door ignoring Blaise's protests, but found it was still being blocked by the Golden Trio, who were now arguing over the top of each other.
He sighed irritably.
"Move it, Granger," he snarled, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. Her bum plopped onto the seat.
"Don't touch her!" Weasley cried, pulling his wand out of his cloak. Potter stood behind him, slightly hidden by the door, but oddly quiet. He looked like Draco did. Tired, sick and angry.
Hermione was staring at Draco blankly for a moment, but he turned away toward Weasley's outburst with barely veiled interest. He needed to get away from this pack of idiots before someone saw him.
"But this was your compartment first," he heard her say quietly, almost apologetic. He wanted to laugh. How did she go from kicking him in the bollocks one day, to apologising the next? He shook his head, bewildered.
"I'm fucking leaving, Weasley, you git," Draco snapped at the boy, as he began moving past the two teens. "I doubt Granger needs you to protect her honour, she seems to do pretty well herself." He missed the way her eyes widened as she looked down at her hands.
"I don't trust you, Malfoy," Potter said, his voice quiet but the tone very clearly filled with dislike.
"Smart move, Potty," he said, wandering off through the train without a second glance back at that circus. What was Zabini thinking, bringing that pack of idiots to his compartment, as though they would sit around and swap their holiday plans.
He couldn't help but let his mind wander to Granger's strange reaction. She never ceased to confuse him. It was like she was always one step ahead, like she always knew something he didn't, or maybe she was just too delicate and forgiving? He shook his head, why did he care? Blaise was probably working his way into her pants every chance he got. Draco would never get a chance with her; well, not consensually, anyway. He chased away that thought as soon as it formed.
He found the compartment with Nott and the others, and slipped inside.
"I was starting to think you were avoiding us," Nott said, his voice laced with accusation. Sure, he hadn't spoken to them much lately, but that wasn't to say he actively avoided them.
"I got held up by Potty and his gang," Draco responded with a scowl. "They have a lot of opinions of me."
The group made sounds of dislike.
"I can't wait for Potty to get it," Goyle said darkly. "Might burn down Weasel's house too."
Nott chuckled, "I'm sure the Dark Lord would be fine with that. They're a pack of blood-traitors."
They passed the trip to King's Cross station with idle chit chat about what to expect on Christmas. Draco was silent for most of it, and he found Culver staring out the window in thought and not participating in the conversation unless he was asked something.
They arrived at King's Cross as the sun was starting to go down. They exited their compartment, and found themselves on the platform with their trunks.
"I suppose we'll be seeing each other very soon," Nott said with a meaningful look at each person. Draco nodded. They would all make their way to Malfoy Manor on Christmas night, where they would be marked and begin the Christmas 'festivities'.
Draco took a Port key to the Manor, and was greeted by a house elf who took his trunk from him without a word.
The Manor hadn't changed at all since he was gone. The décor was still turn of the century, and everything was still as it was when he left.
But there was something off. He could feel the dark magic crackling throughout him, and he barely resisted the urge to shiver. The house was the same, but it felt cold and dead.
He moved through the long hall that was lined with multiple doors to different rooms, and stopped in front of the large door that led to the dining room. He could hear muffled voices behind the closed door, and wondered if the Dark Lord was only an inch of wood away from his very eyes.
He let out a sharp breath as he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, and was relieved when it was the guarded face of his mother looking back at him. She pulled him in for a hug, though it was still reserved. They weren't accustomed to showing much emotion.
After a moment, she pulled back, her lightly lined brow furrowing at the closed door. She led him away. He followed silently for a moment, before speaking.
"Was...he...in there?" He asked, and noticed her tense slightly, so she seemed to understand who he meant.
"Yes," she answered, her voice distant and quiet as usual. "Are you hungry?"
Draco nodded distractedly, his eyes glancing back at the door.
His mother took him to a small room, filled with décor that was much brighter and livelier than the rest of the house. The wallpaper was white with swirling patterns, compared to the dark grey of the rest of the house. The furniture was white leather, compared to the black lounges that sat in the other rooms. His mother had also decorated the room with mirrors, flowers, and exotic artwork. It was also the only room in the house whose windows weren't covered by giant black curtains that blocked out any sunlight.
When his parents had first begun living in the manor together, his mother had apparently hated the décor (she still did), so his father allowed her one room to do with whatever she liked. It was her room alone, and the entrance (behind a large tapestry of two wizards duelling) could only be accessed by waving her wand in front of the secret door.
He sat opposite her on one of the chairs, there was a 'pop' from a house elf appearing with a plate of hors d'oeuvre's, tea cakes and tea. Draco picked up a cracker topped with salmon and soft cheese and popped it into his mouth.
"How is school, Draco?" His mother asked, before taking a sip from her tea cup. "And Pansy?"
Draco leaned back on the soft leather, and crossed his leg. He eyed his mother with a raised brow and a sceptical expression. "Are we really going to make idle chit chat while there's an immortal psychopath in the next room?"
His mother's mouth formed a terse line. "Be careful what you say. You must show respect, even if you don't necessarily agree with him. He is a powerful...wizard." She seemed to struggled on what to call him.
Draco wondered idly if he looked like a half decomposed corpse. He technically did die, and had been dead for many years, or so he was told. He certainly doubted he'd have the former good looks that Tom Riddle had.
"I understand, mother."
"And besides," Narcissa sniffed, her eye's drifting to the open window. The sun was going down, and the snow was losing it's white sheen to a pale blue hue. "That it your fathers business, and I try to stay out if it as much as possible. I merely want to celebrate Christmas with my son."
Draco wished he could protect her from all of this. Narcissa Malfoy had always been a regal woman. Her hair of half blond and half brown ran down her shoulders and curled slightly at the ends, and despite her age, her face was showing little signs of wear.
Draco always mused that her hair matched her demeanor perfectly. She had the cool, distant, emotionless personality of a Malfoy, Draco imagined this was the blond that matched his family well, but that was only part of her. On the other side, there was something completely her own. Vulnerability, kindness and love that not many people saw.
He wondered if his father ever saw that part of her. The brown part of her hair. The part that made her love him despite how horrible he could be. He rarely saw it, but sometimes he thought that maybe it was a part of her that was reserved for the type of love a mother has for her child, and in a selfish way he was glad for it.
"Where is father?" Draco asked quietly.
Narcissa sipped her tea before responding. "He's in a meeting. There's much to be organised before Christmas. The Dark Lord wants to publicly announce his return with lots of celebrations."
Draco picked up another piece of food as she spoke, but at the mention of celebrations he found he'd lost his appetite.
"What exactly will those celebrations involve?" He asked, trying not to look as scared and disgusted as he felt.
His mother eyed him for a moment, her face passive. "Torturing muggles, killing children. I will not lie to you. You must know what to expect. You can't let fear get in the way, or he will kill-"
"I'm not afraid," Draco lied, feeling the need to defend himself. He did not want his family to think he was weak. He didn't want to kill people, but he would if he had no choice. If it was them or him, he would always save himself.
"The Dark Lord is pleased with you, Draco," his mother went on, not acknowledging his outburst. "If you can stay in his good graces, you will move up the ranks quickly and earn power and respect amongst his followers. But if you displease him..."
"I won't displease him," Draco told her, calmly this time. "I will do everything he says."
Narcissa stared at him, her face conveying her worry, before she spoke in a low whisper. "No, do everything you must to stay alive."
He stared at her a moment, wondering if it would ever come to such a desperate situation. His mother spoke after a moment, her voice back to her normal tone.
"Severus has agreed to be your mentor," she told him, glancing down at her tea cup. "He has agreed to keep you safe."
Draco felt his face grow hot with anger. "I'm not a child, mother. I don't need protecting. Besides, Father will be there. Snape doesn't like me as much as he may pretend."
He knew Professor Snape favoured the Slytherin's because he had been one one, but he doubted that he actually liked any of them. He didn't seem to like anyone at all.
Narcissa sighed. "You're his god-son, it's his duty to protect you. He has served the Dark Lord for longer. He will prove invaluable at keeping you safe."
"And what about Father?" Draco pushed, noting that she only answered half his question.
Narcissa was silent for a moment. "You're father is under a lot of pressure. The Dark Lord is... displeased with him. He did not immediately answer the summons, you see. He was in a Ministry meeting at the time and couldn't get away..."
Draco wondered what punishment had befallen his father for that. It was a simple error in judgement. His father was not normally so foolish.
"So, you see, your father must focus on himself, and you must focus on yourself."
Draco nodded slowly. For a moment, his mind flashed to Blaise, and he wondered how he was spending his Christmas. Probably safe, in the company of his new friends, without a worry in the world. He felt bitter at the thought.
They were silent for another moment, before his mother spoke again. "Eat, Draco. You're too thin."
He picked up another morsel, but found that he was struggling to keep it down.
Draco was surprised that he wasn't summoned to the dining room to meet with the Dark Lord that night. They must have been preoccupied discussing the Christmas festivities, and since he wasn't yet a Deatheater, he supposed he wasn't privy to those plans. Unless they'd just forgotten about him.
His doubts were slightly lessened that night when Lucius entered the small sitting room on the second floor where Draco and his mother were dining. Draco had spent the afternoon wandering the house, wondering why it felt dead and cold. There was a chill in the silent air that made his skin crawl.
His mother had called him to dinner not long after that. Since the dining room was otherwise occupied, the house elves had set up a small table in the sitting room, which was filled with roast vegetables, braised quail, thick gravy, pumpkin soup, and crispy bread.
It was a decadent meal, and it reminded him of the feasts at Hogwarts, but even the tempting smell couldn't get his appetite going. There was a permanent lump of nerves in his stomach.
Just as he gulped down the glass of wine his mother had allowed him, the door swung open heavily, and Lucius had entered. All of Draco's polite greetings died in his throat, and only a sharp breath left his mouth as he spied his father for the first time in weeks.
How a few weeks could have such a drastic effect on someone, Draco didn't know. His father's skin was sullen and held a grey tinge. His face was gaunt, and his hair was stringy and unkempt. He had never been a large man, but Draco could see the bones in his wrist protruding out. He chanced a glance at his mother, who was staring into her wine glass.
"Draco," his father greeted with a nod, his voice hoarse from use. He seated himself at one of the empty seats. Ironically, despite the feeling of dread in the house, this was the cosiest dinner Draco had ever experienced at home. Their meals were normally taken at their impersonally large dining table.
"Father," Draco returned, trying not to stare at the man too much. "How was your meeting?"
His father sipped some red wine. "Productive, son. We have established new people in the Ministry. Along with those joining the ranks tomorrow, the Dark Lord's power is rising swiftly."
His expression didn't seem to match the sentiment of his words. Draco prodded a potato with his fork.
"What exactly should I expect tomorrow, Father?"
Lucius seemed more interested in the wine then the meal in front of him.
"The Dark Lord will speak to you one on one, to gauge your alliances. You will have no issue with that. When you pass, he will place the Dark Mark on your arm, and you'll begin the initiation. The celebration."
Draco nodded. His alliances? He was certain he wouldn't have to worry about that. He didn't have any goodwill towards those with dirty blood.
Her face came to his mind in an instant, and he pushed it away quickly. That was something different. A sickness. He wanted to own and possess her, nothing more. Surely the Dark Lord would see no harm in such thoughts.
"The Dark Lord is a skilled Legilimens, I hear," Draco added, his tone casual.
His father nodded, not looking at him. "Yes. It's how he learns the true will of his followers. Be careful what you think, son. One traitorous thought could have you tortured, or killed."
There was a clatter from the other side of the table. His mother had dropped her fork, and was breathing quickly, her jaw clenched.
"Must we talk about this business at dinner? It's Christmas-,"
"Tomorrow is Christmas, Cissy," Lucius informed her, his tone betrayed his exhaustion.
"We will not be able to celebrate Christmas as a family, Lucius," she snapped at him, but Draco could see her eyes had turned wet.
The room fell silent, and Draco averted his eyes to his plate. He used his fork to pick away some of the soft flesh of the quail and brought it to his lips. He chewed without tasting, but he did it for her.
They ate mostly in silence, with the odd question about school, or Pansy. When Draco had cleared a large portion of his plate, his mother stood and moved to the other side of the room.
She came back with a small box, wrapped in dark grey paper, and handed it to him.
"You're not a child anymore, so there wont be more gifts for you than this," she told him sadly, as she sat back in her seat. Her hand went straight for the wine glass.
Draco slowly unwrapped the package. Underneath was a small velvet box. He opened it, and sitting atop a bed of smooth fabric was a large silver ring. Draco picked it up and inspected it. It was a ring with the Malfoy family crest embedded on the top, similar to Blaise's family ring, except his was gold. He slipped it on his finger, admiring how it glinted in the dim light.
"It's great, Mother, Father. Thank you."
"It was your mother's choice," Lucius said offhandedly. "She insisted on getting it for you. She even asked Severus's opinion on it. Planned it for weeks."
Draco had know his father had nothing to do with it. He never had before. But Draco did notice his father seemed slightly different. Humbled, maybe? He supposed it had to do with the powerful wizard downstairs emasculating him daily.
Narcissa smiled sweetly into her glass, but there was something else there in her expression. Something his father had obviously missed. Draco looked down at the ring. Was it special in some way?
He didn't get much time to think about it, as his father suddenly hissed and grasped his arm.
"I'm needed downstairs. Goodnight, Draco. Goodnight, Cissy." He placed a chaste kiss on Narcissa's cheek, before leaving.
"I'll have the house elves run you a bath, and prepare your room, Draco."
He nodded, his eyes turning back to the silver ring, before slipping it on his finger.
He spent Christmas day in his room, apart from the few hours he spent in his mothers company. As the sun went down, a house elf delivered a pair of dark robes to his room, and Draco knew it was time.
The dining hall was dimly lit with only a few candelebra's as he entered. His eye's searched the room for any familiar faces. He spotted several students from Slytherin house, including Crabbe, Goyle and Culver, and some that had graduated years before. Would they all be taking the mark tonight?
There were several senior Death Eaters standing at the front of the room. Draco assumed his father and Snape were among them, but all of their faces were covered in masks, each one unique in it's own way.
"Draco!" He heard a loud whisper across the mostly silent room. It was Nott.
He beckoned Draco to his side with a nod. He made his way over with long strides.
"The Dark Lord will be here soon," he whispered. Draco nodded, but didn't speak. He was afraid if he did, he would throw up. His stomach was churning, and his heart was racing.
After a moment, the hall fell completely silent and dimmed even more, except for the light that surrounded a large throne-like seat on the dais at the other end of the hall.
After a moment, a dark figure entered through the door behind them. Draco turned his head slightly to watch. The figure seemed to float across the floor, almost like a dementor. His face wasn't visible, as his dark hood fell over his features. Draco watched with wide eye's as he made it to the high seat, and turned.
You could have heard a pin drop in the room, and the tension was palpable. Draco could almost sense other people's curiosity and fear. Even Nott was trembling beside him, though he wasn't sure if that was out of fear.
The hood dropped from the Dark Lord's face, and it took all of Draco's self control not to jolt away from the sight. He was hideous to look at.
"My loyal followers," he said to the room. His voice was cold, dangerous, deadly, but strangely charismatic. "We're here tonight to witness the initiation of your new brothers." There were cheers throughout the large room, before the Dark Lord held his hand up for silence. "We have two very important member's among them, who will receive a special place by my side because of their effort to reignite the beliefs I built many years ago. Without them, I may not be standing here, strong, tonight."
His red eyes turned and looked straight at Draco.
"They will have the honour of being the first to take the Dark Mark in several years. Come forward, Draco."
The sound of his name coming out of that mouth made Draco want to shiver. But if he was good at anything, it was guarding his emotions. He stepped forward, feeling all the eyes of the room on him. The walk to the dais felt like it was in slow motion, but too soon he was standing before the two steps that led to Dark Lord.
"Come closer, Draco. Kneel before me."
Draco moved forward until he was only two feet from the wizard, and kneeled. He kept his head down, respectfully.
He saw the Dark Lord wave his wand from under his lashes, and felt a familiar wave of magic rush over him. A Privacy charm.
"Do not fear Draco, your brothers wont hear what we speak of. Look at me."
Draco lifted his head, and grey eyes met red. A strange sensation hit him.
He felt a tugging in his head, and he could see memories flashing towards him. He tried to stop the feeling, and he felt like he was winning, when he heard the Dark Lord speak.
"Do not resist me, Draco. The sensation is uncomfortable, but I must see your true thoughts."
With great reluctance, Draco stopped fighting. It was like watching a thief rummage through his most personal belongings, but he knew he had to allow it.
Minutes passed, and the Dark Lord found new memories to explore. And that was when he saw her face in his mind. He reared back out of instinct, and pushed hard at the prodding feeling in his mind.
"Let me in," the Dark Lord prodded, his voice dangerous. Draco bit his lip hard. If he let him in, he would be punished for his thoughts. If he didn't he'd be killed, most likely.
It was hard, the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. But he stopped resisting, and with great difficulty he watched the memories flick through his mind quickly like he was filing through a pile of photographs.
He saw her face, angry and hissing words at him. He saw her pressed against him in the Herbology classroom, fear in her eyes. He saw her in class, her dress hitched up slightly as she innocently jotted down notes, her pasty thigh exposed, his own eyes focused intently on the sight.
He saw her walking up the staircase with Harry. Entering the Potions classroom, while rolling her eye's at Ron's jokes. He saw her laughing with the Weasley girl, as her head fell back and her curls bounced around her face.
He swallowed thickly, though his mouth had gone completely dry.
He saw himself fucking Pansy, but seeing thinking of her instead. He saw himself in the shower, pulling himself to release, her face dancing in his mind.
He clenched his eyes closed harder. He would be humiliated if he wasn't so fucking terrified of what was about to happen to him.
He felt the push in his brain lessen, until it was gone completely. There was silence. He was tensed in preparation of a hex, maybe even the killing curse. He hoped it would be quick.
"Interesting..."
He didn't dare look up.
"I thought you were steadfast in your loyalty, Draco." He heard a shuffle and realised that the Dark Lord had seated himself in the tall chair behind him. "Although, it would be quite naive of me to assume that my followers do not have their weaknesses. Their vices."
Draco looked up, surprised at the words.
"I am surprised to have learned your weakness so quickly. Though, I don't know if you love the mudblood. Do you love her, Draco?"
He shook his head quickly. "No, my lord. I don't love her. I hate her...she's just..."
The Dark Lord held up his hand. "I understand. You remind me of Severus, I only hope you prove as invaluable. Many years ago I granted him a favour. It ended up being my downfall, so I will not have the same mercy again. The girl is clever, I've been told. She is also a close ally of Harry Potter. When they time comes, she will die with the others. I will not punish you for your perversions, if you swear that your loyalty will remain with me."
Draco stared at him a moment. He knew what he was signing up for. The pure bloods lived, those with dirty, traitor blood died. It didn't make it easier to accept. Draco also sensed that the Dark Lord didn't extend much understanding, and that another slight would not be tolerated.
"I swear it, my lord," Draco responded. There was no feeling behind the words.
The Dark Lord appraised him, before waving his wand. The Privacy charm faded.
"Hold out your arm, Draco."
He did as he was bid, rolling up his sleeve and exposing the pale skin on his left arm. He felt the cold wood of the wand on his skin, and as the Dark Lord muttered a spell, his skin burnt and bubbled, until it was no longer pale, but now the dark black of the skull and snake intertwined.
There was no going back now.
"I have high hopes for you, Draco," the Dark Lord told him, before calling Nott over to the dais.
In total, there were only ten wizards who took the mark. Draco gave a rough estimation that the total number of Death Eaters looked to be about fifty. He assumed the Dark Lord would be adding to his ranks regularly in order to gain strength. When the last boy had received his mark, the atmosphere in the room changed. It was no longer silent and serious, but almost jovial.
He saw Nott's father pat him on the back, and wondered if his own father was proud of him.
The Dark Lord stood, and addressed the room.
"Our newest members will accompany our more senior Death Eaters for the celebrations. You have several targets tonight, and they must be eliminated. I want to send a message to Albus Dumbledore that no traitor, or muggle, or mudblood is safe now that I have returned."
The masked Death Eaters split into groups, and gathered several of the newer Death Eaters. Nott was led off by his father, but Draco noted that his own father did not approach him. Draco was instead paired with several people he didn't recognise, and one boy from his own year at Hogwarts. He was handed a mask, with intricate patterns.
"Draco," the Dark Lord called over the throng. Everyone fell silent as heads turned between he and the pale wizard on the dais. "I would like you to accompany Mulciber tonight. You will do well, I believe."
Draco merely nodded, and moved over to where he had gestured on the other side of the room. He was the only new initiate in the group, and he wondered what exactly his mission would be.
"Mask on, Malfoy Jr.," the man named Mulciber ordered him. "We have killing to do."
It was dark outside when they arrived in a quaint, quiet street. Draco looked at his surroundings. Judging by the cars parked in the driveways, they were in a muggle neighbourhood. So their targets were a muggle family?
Draco was unsure whether these attacks were well-planned, or whether they just picked a random muggle family to attack. After all, this night was about sending a message.
Draco adjusted the mask on his face. His breath was heating it up, and he could feel a sheen of sweat forming on his skin. His mouth was dry, and his stomach was in knots, but he needed to get through this. He wasn't going to die for some muggle.
"Let's go," Mulciber ordered. The two other Death Eater's who accompanied them followed, and Draco caught up a moment later. He realised after a moment, that they were walking towards a small two-story town-house. The lights were on, and laughter could be heard from within.
"Looks like they got company," the taller Death Eater said, as they got closer to the door. Were they just going to walk through the front door?
"The more the merrier, I always say," Mulciber responded, and the three men chuckled.
They got to the front door, and stopped. Mulciber turned toward him.
"The plan is," he began looking at them all in turn, "get in, get the lights, silence the place, cover the exits. We don't want any strays escaping. Malfoy Jr., don't worry, you'll get a kill tonight, but just don't get in our way, alright?"
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but one of the nameless Death Eaters spoke up.
"He's too skinny to get in anyone's way, lets just get this thing started."
Draco scowled at him, but it went undetected under the mask.
Mulciber pulled his wand out, and pointed it at the door, "Alohamora."
It clicked, and they pushed their way inside the house.
There was classical music playing from somewhere, and Draco heard muffled conversation and laughter, along with the occasional clang of cutlery. So they were going to rudely interrupt someone's Christmas dinner?
Mulciber waved his wand again, and the lights in the house fell dark. He heard the conversation stop suddenly. The only light was coming from the moon and street lights outside, and everything had a blue dim.
He heard a chair scrape along the floor, and then footsteps getting closer.
Mulciber waved his wand one more time. Draco knew that no matter what happened to these muggles, their neighbours would sleep peacefully through it now.
"Surround them," Mulciber ordered, "Malfoy, get the back door."
Their attention was suddenly turned to the door leading to an adjacent room, where a man had just entered. He hadn't noticed them yet, and seemed to be muttering to himself.
"-don't know why I bother to pay for the electricity, when it shuts off-who the bloody hell are-?"
"Avada Kedavra."
The green light came from Mulciber's wand straight into the man's chest, before Draco could even prepare himself for it. The man's limp body fell to the floor with a soft thud. Mulciber sighed.
"It's a shame to kill them quickly, but we couldn't very well have him screaming to the others before we secured the place. Go on. Get the back door covered."
Draco found that it was easier to just do as he was told right now. If he opened his mouth he was sure he would throw up. He made his way through the hallway, toward the back door, and locked it with his wand. He hadn't been in a rush to get back, when he heard the sudden screams and shouts.
Most were from the muggles, but he heard exuberant yelling and laughter from the other Death Eaters.
"Come on, Malfoy! You're missing it!"
He thought about ignoring them. Maybe escaping through the back door, but he knew there was no option that would end well for him.
He made his way to the dining room, where he found the three Death Eaters standing over five muggles who were kneeling on the ground, grouped together. There were three women and two men. The table was spread with a platter of food and wine, which confirmed that they had interrupted Christmas dinner.
"Just take what you want and leave us be," an older man told them, his voice sounded strong but Draco could sense the fear within it. His hair was grey and thinning, but he had a thick moustache.
"Kill the men," Mulciber ordered. "We'll keep the women for fun."
The muggles began getting hysterical at that, as the two Deatheaters raised their wands, and green light flew out of the end. The two men who were previously kneeling, fell to the floor, lifeless.
The women were screaming and crying at this point, except one who looked like she were afraid, but understood something the others didn't. She had brown hair, and her eyes were wet with tears.
"You're wizards," she observed, her voice shaking. "Please, don't do this. Let us go. We wont say anything. Ple-"
"We aren't letting you go," Mulciber interrupted, his voice lacking any kind of emotion. "The Dark Lord named you, so tonight you die."
The other two women began screaming even louder if possible. No one would hear them and they didn't know that.
"They know nothing about the Wizarding world," the brunette screeched "let them go!"
There was a chuckle, and Draco couldn't tell who from. "We're going to have fun with them first. Three of us, three of you. Sorry, Malfoy, no rewards for the fresh meat. You can collect the gold, we might even give you a cut."
The taller Death Eater stepped forward and grabbed the gold chain from around the brunette woman's neck, ripping it off roughly and throwing it at him. Draco caught the locket in his hand.
"No. The target has to die," Mulciber said suddenly, looking at the other Death Eater. "The Dark Lord takes no chances. The other two are spares, and fair game, but she dies now."
He pointed at the brunette woman, who began hyperventilating and choking on her sobs.
"Let Malfoy have some fun first," the shorter Death eater suggested, "he's probably never even performed an Unforgiveable."
Mulciber sighed, before pulling a pocket watch from his robe and glancing at it, he seemed to think there was time. "Go on then, Malfoy. Better time than ever to practice the Cruciatis Curse."
Draco swallowed. He lifted his wand up and tried to keep his hand steady.
"Crucio."
It was an odd thing to be so distanced from somebody and have them screaming and writhing in pain because of something he was doing. The bile was getting higher and higher in his throat, until he was certain he would throw up in his mask.
The brunette had bitten her tongue, or her lip, so hard her mouth was now covered in blood. He dropped the spell.
"That was alright for a first timer, but it's got nothing on me," Mulciber boasted. "Crucio."
The woman writhed on the floor, and for a moment Draco thought she were having a fit. Mulciber's curse seemed to have a more powerful affect. Her eye's rolled back into her head, and her mouth was gushing blood from where she was biting into her own flesh. The pain seemed to be too much for her to scream, but the other women were making up for that.
It seemed like the spell held for hours, and Draco wondered if he planned to let her die in such agony. She may have been a muggle, but didn't she deserve a quick death?
Suddenly, one of the women on the ground jumped up and sprinted toward the door. Mulciber dropped the spell in order to run and catch her, her screams getting louder. The other two Death Eaters grabbed the remaining woman and dragged her away. She screamed so loud that Draco's ears hurt.
Mulciber returned with the woman struggling in his grasp. "Finish her off and get the valuables. We'll be quick, won't we, sweetheart?"
The woman let out a strangled sob as a response, before she was dragged away again.
Draco was left standing in the silence of the room, the only sound being the distant screams of the two muggles. A sudden rasping caught his attention, and he looked toward the brunette woman on the floor.
He had assumed she was already dead from Mulciber's curse, but she seemed strong. He knelt down beside her. She was definitely breathing, but for all intents and purposes, she was dead. Her eye's stared unseeing and watery, straight ahead, and her blood covered mouth mumbled soft words.
Draco leaned forward, placing his ear beside her mouth in order to hear what she was saying. He didn't know why he wanted to, but he felt she deserved to have someone hear her last words.
"Save her...save her...find her...save her..."
Draco furrowed his brow slightly. Was she referring to one of the muggle women upstairs? Maybe they were family?
He regarded her again, and knew that there was no way she would come back from this. He remembered his father's story about what Bellatrix had done to Longbottom's parents, and he remembered thinking if it were him he would rather them be dead.
This woman had lost her family, and if she had any left, she wouldn't recognise them.
He realised after a moment that he was trying to rationalise what he was about to do. He'd been ordered to kill her. She was the target apparently, but he felt as though he had to decide it was for the best. In this case, he really believed it was.
He was pulled from his thoughts by another weak, rattling breath, and realised the woman had begun to choke on her own blood. He raised his wand, and pointed it at her chest.
"I'm...I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing that there was a chance she couldn't hear him, and hating himself for his weakness. "Avada Kedavra."
The green light shot out, and he heard one last rasp, before she fell still. He knelt beside her for a moment longer, before he remembered his other orders. Collect the valuables.
He felt like a common thief taking the wedding ring off her finger, and the bracelet from her wrist. He moved to the lounge room, where a large Christmas tree was sitting in the corner, and oddly there were a few unopened gifts beneath it. He didn't focus on that for long, though.
He saw a few expensive looking ornaments on the mantle above the lit fireplace and moved towards them. He had just grabbed a silver vase, when one of the framed photographs caught his attention.
It was of a family, happy and carefree, smiling at him. A smile that looked so familiar that the bile which had been sitting dormant in his stomach finally made it's way up. He ripped the mask off his face roughly and threw up on the white carpet, retching until nothing else would come out. He shuddered.
He reluctantly looked back at the photograph. In between the brunette woman, and the man who was now lying dead in the front room of the house sat a smiling girl, her bouncy brown curls framing her face.
Hermione Granger.
No. It wasn't her. It couldn't be. This wasn't her family, he tried to convince himself. He dropped the frame on the floor, barely noticing the breaking glass.
He pulled out the locket and opened it with shaking hands. Sure enough the girl in the small photo smiling back looked just like Hermione. He snapped it shut and pocketed it again.
He moved to the tree, and grabbed a small gift, reading the card outside. Hermione.
The unopened letters on the table beside the door were addressed to Mr and Mrs Granger. He threw them on the floor with a curse.
The Dark Lord had been playing with him this whole time, he realised suddenly.
He glanced back at the photograph, which was now shattered on the floor. Hermione was still smiling back at him, almost mockingly.
"Fuck," he muttered, running his hands over his face. "Fuck!"
He heard footsteps on the stairs and slipped his mask back on, trying to control his emotions.
Mulciber appeared only a moment later. "We need to leave now. The Dark Lord will want a full report on tonight."
Draco merely nodded and followed the others out. When they made it to the road, Mulciber turned and pointed his wand at the sky. The other Death eaters threw curses at the house which quickly set it alight, and the fire engulfed it quickly.
"Morsmordre," Mulciber muttered, and above the house appeared the intertwined snake and skull. Draco stared at it bitterly, before he felt the tug of apparition on his arm. They disappeared into the night, leaving death, destruction, and any possibility of Draco's redemption behind them.
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