Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Several direct quotes are taking from JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (pp 39 and on). These quotes are not mine and are used to keep the continuity of the story only.
AN: Thanks to all of you who reviewed! I hope that next chapter (Ch 26, which I hope to get out next weekend!) will provide some fluff for those who want Bella to be a little kinder, but you'll just have to wait and see what happens after that! Please continue to leave me your thoughts and suggestions. To my Guest reviewer with the question about the possible threat to Bella: I'm not sure exactly what you are referring to. But, yes, there are many threats to Bella from various sources that I hope will be fully explained later. If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me for details!
Also, a heads up that I've moved the summer time line a bit from that of the books. I tried to make sure events happen in the correct order, even if they don't happen on the correct date. Please R&R!
XXV. The Dark Mark
A door slammed, and Draco sat up, startled awake. He silently summoned his wand, lighting it with a flick. In the faint glow of the light, he could see three cloaked and masked figures standing silently at the foot of his bed.
"Your presence has been requested, and you will appear before the Dark Lord."
The bottom of Draco's stomach dropped, and he was positive he would be sucked into the black hole that was currently occupying his innards.
"As he wishes, it would be my honor," Draco said, without realizing it. Thank Merlin his mind was straight, even if his large intestine was currently knotting itself to trim the sails with his stomach.
Draco was allowed exactly one minute to clothe himself in something other than Slytherin sweatpants. He furiously donned all black attire, with his best robes and shoes. His wand was confiscated, and he was marched ceremoniously to the ball room, where the Dark Lord was currently holding court.
There he found, in the faint firelight, allof the Death Eaters in good standing. They were clothed in full regalia, each with his or her own mask, but cloaked in identical, hooded robes that pooled around the hands and feet. The Dark Lord sat on a large chair just outside the circle of his followers. One of the three Death Eaters that had summoned Draco stepped forward to hand his master Draco's wand before all three returned to their designated positions in the circle.
"Step forward, young Malfoy," the Dark Lord spoke, as he regarded Draco's wand carefully. "And your wand?"
Draco stepped silently into the center of the circle, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of being the center of attention. "Hawthorn, 10 inches, unicorn hair core, my Lord."
"Reasonably pliant," the Dark Lord finished, as if he'd been in the shop when Mr. Ollivander had first sold Draco the wand.
"Yes, my Lord."
"It is my intent, young Malfoy, to welcome you into the ranks of my faithful followers," he stated, stepping up from his regal seat and twirling the wand in his hands.
"It would be an honor, my Lord."
Expecting some sort of lecture, torture, or at least a brief speech, Draco was startled when the Dark Lord motioned two figures forward and retreated back to his throne-like seat.
The two Death Eaters approached, facing Draco with their backs to the Dark Lord.
"Do you swear to dedicate yourself to the service of the Dark Lord?" the first figure asked, revealing himself to be Severus Snape.
"I do," Draco replied, curtly.
"Do you vow to uphold the values and integrity of the Pureblood lineage?" the second asked dramatically, obviously Bellatrix.
"I do."
"Will you do everything in your power-even sacrificing your life and the lives of the ones you love-to do the bidding of your master?"
"I will."
"Will you protect and defend your fellow Death Eaters?"
"I will."
Bellatrix and Severus backed away, allowing the Dark Lord to step forward once again.
"An additional oath for the young Draco Malfoy..." the Dark Lord said, twirling Draco's wand between his long, bony fingers. "Do you swear to protect, defend and honor my daughter, even over your fellow Death Eaters?"
"I do."
"The Dark Lord will hold you to that, Draco Malfoy. You will do whatever is in your power to keep her safe. Following my orders is the only thing that will precede that."
"Yes, my Lord," Draco bowed in agreement.
The Dark Lord approached Draco, motioning to his left arm. As Draco rolled the sleeve of his shirt up, Bellatrix stepped forward to take Draco's wand from the outstretched hand of her master. The Dark Lord retrieved his own wand from within his voluminous robes, then took Draco's wrist in one of his frigid and slender hands, lifting his wand dramatically in the air as if preparing for a duel.
"I would have quite liked to see your hand at magic tonight. I want to know my Death Eaters have the stomach for torture—both given and taken—before they earn their Mark. However, you will not be put through the usual initiation tasks...for my daughter's sake.," the Dark Lord said, his voice low. "Nonetheless, I expect great things from you, Draco Malfoy."
Without waiting for a response, the Dark Lord pressed his wand into the pale flesh of Draco's forearm, "Morsmordre Proteus."
Draco's knees nearly buckled from the pain. It felt like he was being branded and cut at the same time. The searing, biting, prickling pain caused dark spots to appear before his eyes. He didn't pass out, and he didn't scream, but the pain, he knew, was evident in his face. When at last, the Dark Lord retreated, the pain continued. There was muffled applause from the Death Eaters encircling Draco. In the forefront of his mind, he could only hear the pounding of his heart. Someone came forth with a mask, another with a cloak, and as he donned his Death Eater garb, he was ushered to his spot in the circle.
"Well done, Draco," Bellatrix was whispering in his ear from his right as she placed him where he should go before returning to her spot closer to the Dark Lord.
"And so, we welcome our newest and youngest Death Eater into our midst."
There was applause again, followed by a brief speech by the Dark Lord. Draco could barely hear, he was so distracted by the pain. He didn't know if he could bear it much longer, feeling the sole desire to retire to his bed with a bag of ice on his forearm. He did catch snippets of important phrases, most regarding the honor of serving, the importance of pure bloodlines, and something about Arabella he didn't quite catch. When he thought he could stand no longer, they were finally dismissed to the beds they had been dragged from so early in the morning.
It was too bright. Why was it so bright? The sun was burning. It was hot and searing. Why was he so close to the sun? Blurry images of dark cloaks and creepy masks invaded the blinding, white light that accompanied the burning pain...and Draco suddenly came to his senses. He sat bolt upright in his bed, which he hadn't remembered making it back to the night before. Just as suddenly as he was upright, he fell back against the pillows, clutching his spinning head with his good hand.
"Eeeeeeeeeerrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhhhh."
A cup of coffee appeared on the bedside table.
Draco groaned again, but took a thankful sip. He extricated a damp towel from around his left arm, no doubt it had been cold and wrapped by his mother or a house elf after he'd passed out the night before. The skin of his left forearm was red and slightly swollen. An inky black image of a skull spitting a long, intricately designed snake out its mouth branded him the Dark Lord's. He traced the lines of the tattoo gently with his finger. Strange. He'd never seen a Dark Mark up close. And now he had his very own to stare at forevermore.
"Eeeeergggh."
Draco sipped his coffee slowly, and when he was done he curled back under the covers for some time. The pain in his arm wasn't waning, so he climbed out of bed, replaced his clothes from the night before with the aforementioned Slytherin sweatpants and stumbled towards the bathroom. After splashing his face and neck with water, he took the damp towel and ran it under cold water, rang it out, and wrapped his arm again. He plopped down on the floor of his bathroom, pressing his cheek against the cold tile, trying to force the heat inside him to subside.
The Dark Mark. Well, after years of touting pure bloodlines and an extreme dislike of Harry Potter, he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord, his future father-in-law and most powerful wizard of the age. And now, he would do his bidding and pander to his ego and marry his daughter...all while hiding from her the brilliant black tattoo that took up the entire lower half of his left arm.
After a while of thinking and lying pathetically on the floor, Draco took a cold shower and dressed for the day despite his discomfort and relative bad mood. A breakfast tray awaited him when he exited the bathroom, laden with foods and an odd smelling potion beside his re-filled coffee mug. He downed the potion first, without question, and was glad of it. It brought instant relief to the flames blazing inside of him.
When he was nearly done with his breakfast, Severus came to check on him.
"I come bearing the morning Prophet," he commented, plopping down at the table and helping himself to a cup of coffee from the tray.
Draco picked up the paper in one hand, a piece of bacon in the other and read as he munched. The front page article declared loudly:
Scrimgeour Succeeds Fudge
Rufus Scrimgeour, previously Head of the Auror office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic. The appointment has largely been greeted with enthusiasm by the Wizarding community, though rumors of a rift between the new Minister and Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, surfaced within hours of Scrimgeour taking office.
Scrimgeour's representatives admitted that he had met with Dumbledore at once upon taking possession of the top job, but refused to comment on the topics under discussion. Albus Dumbledore is known to (ctd. page 3, column 2).
"So, did Fudge resign or was he forced out?" Draco said, not bothering to turn the page.
Severus thought for a moment, "Yes."
Draco nodded.
"And now that you've taken the Mark, you get let in on the back story," Severus said, lowering his voice and glancing towards the door as though someone might burst in at any moment. "The Dark Lord ordered Cornelius Fudge to step down as Minister of Magic. He threatened a mass killing of Muggles if Fudge didn't do as he was told."
"And, I take it, Fudge didn't do as he was told."
"No, because that would be 'caving to blackmail' or some such thing. Well, did you see the vignette about the Brockdale Bridge in the paper a few days ago?"
"Uh, yeah, the Muggle bridge," Draco began, and then it dawned on him. "...oohhhh."
"Yes, the Dark Lord had Bellatrix and the Carrows attack the bridge..."
"I can extrapolate the rest," Draco assured Severus, taking another sip of his coffee.
"You did quiet well last night," Severus said after a moment of silence. "Not everyone can take the Mark with so little a reaction."
"Yes, well, the Dark Lord was merciful in refraining from testing me."
"You proved yourself, nonetheless," Severus said, looking proudly at his godson.
"I suppose I have you to thank for the potion this morning."
"You're welcome," Severus said, standing to take his leave. "You'll be expected at the meeting this afternoon. Otherwise, you're expected to keep to yourself. I'll send some more potion up with your lunch."
"Thank you."
Severus was almost out the door when Draco spoke again, "Why did the Dark Lord refrain from testing me?"
Severus turned back to regard Draco, his dark hair falling over his eyes slightly, "Did the Dark Lord not explain his reasons?"
"He did. He said it was for Arabella's sake. Whatever that means."
"Then that is why," Severus said curtly. "Now get some rest so your arm will heal quickly."
And he was out the door.
Draco snoozed the morning away, reading by the fire and packing his arm in ice magically replenished from the kitchens. His mother came to check on him, assuring him that she was keeping Arabella distracted and he had no cause to worry she would come knocking uninvited.
Lunch was accompanied by a potion, as promised, and a reminder that the meeting was scheduled for two o'clock in the ballroom. So, after eating, Draco donned all black once more and went downstairs, hoping someone would guide him to his spot in the Death Eater circle. He didn't think he could remember where he'd stood the night before. The others were mingling when he entered the ballroom, but broke into polite applause when Draco entered. He bowed and waved the applause away politely, as Bellatrix approached.
"Hello, Nephew," she said, steering him away from some of the others.
"Good afternoon, Aunt Bellatrix."
"I trust you have no idea where to stand," she said quietly, smirking mercilessly.
"None whatsoever," he confirmed.
"Well," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper, "considering that, upon receiving the Dark Mark, Crabbe over there cried and Karkaroff—you know him, the traitor and former headmaster of Durmstrang—collapsed and begged for mercy, you proved yourself worthy last night."
Draco wasn't sure how to respond. It was the highest compliment, and likely the only compliment, his aunt would ever pay him.
"Now, stand here. We'll be in a crescent formation for the meeting today," and she walked off. As the rest of the Death Eaters assembled, he made note of their locations so he could remember where to stand when they formed the circle again.
The Dark Lord swept in, his robes billowing behind him, taking a seat on the edge of the large chair that perched on the dais at the front of the ballroom.
"As some of you know," he addressed the room without pretense. "I was approached several weeks ago by Fenrir Greyback."
There was a murmur among the crowd, which the Dark Lord ignored by speaking over them.
"Many of you should remember he served us well during the First Wizarding War. And he, along with his werewolf pack, have returned to offer their services once again."
The Dark Lord stood and began pacing before the assembly, arms clasped neatly behind his back, wand still in one hand, "Now, I believe Greyback and his pack are still of good use to us. So we will welcome them with open arms. However," he paused for emphasis. "We will remember his ultimate goal is to infect enough young people with lycanthropy to overthrow the Wizarding race. This is, of course, complete folly," he said with a grimace meant to be a smile, as the Death Eaters present chuckled to themselves at the ridiculousness of such a thought. "And we will be ever vigilant when dealing with these werewolves, yes?"
"Yes, my Lord," the group said in chorus.
"Very good," he finished.
With a flick of his wand, the doors to the ballroom slammed open, "Greyback! You may enter."
A large man with mangy hair gray hair and whiskers entered, stalking crudely forward to present himself before the Dark Lord. His dark robes, obviously meant to be those of a Death Eater, were too tight, straining the buttons and seams, and his nails were yellow, long and claw-like. He swept his robes aside dramatically with one arm as he knelt before the Dark Lord.
"Rise," the Dark Lord sniffed, turning away from the werewolf and returning to his seat.
"It is an honor to meet with you once more, my Lord," Greyback said, his voice rough and husky. He smiled, revealing teeth that were pointed like fangs, though the full moon was a ways off still.
"The offer of your services is much appreciated, Greyback," the Dark Lord began, twirling his wand before the werewolf as if to remind him he had no wand, and therefore, no power. "I will welcome such services as long as the following conditions are met.
"Of course, my Lord. Anything you wish."
"Rightly so," the Dark Lord said, standing. "Firstly, you will follow all of my commands as though you had a proper Mark without the benefit of receiving one."
"As before, I have served you without wavering and without a Mark. I will continue to do so."
"Secondly, you will control every member of your pack. If you fail to do so, I will eliminate as many of your pack as I see fit. Thirdly—" the Dark Lord continued, not allowing Greyback to interrupt. "You will position yourself far away from this Manor during the full moon."
"As you wish it," Greyback bowed.
"And lastly, Greyback. You and your kind will stay far away from my daughter," the Dark Lord said, brandishing his wand threateningly. "You will not look at her. You will not speak to her. You will not touch her. Or you will feel my wrath like no man nor beast has felt it before."
Greyback didn't flinch, didn't waver, just smiled and nodded, "Of course, my Lord."
"Very well, welcome back."
With a wave of his wand, the doors opened again, and Greyback took his leave looking altogether too smug. After the doors had shut behind the werewolf, the Dark Lord continued with a few additional items of business before dismissing everyone.
"Inner Circle, you will stay," he said quietly after the dismissal. "And young Draco."
Draco stopped where he was, halfway to the door and freedom. He bowed and returned.
"Draco, you will sleep in Arabella's room tonight. Just to be sure Greyback doesn't decide to test the boundaries."
"Yes, my Lord."
"She needn't know."
"Of course, my Lord."
"Very well, you are dismissed."
Draco bowed, taking his leave as the Dark Lord lowered his voice to address his Inner Circle.
Although Draco had promised to watch over Arabella that night, he was thankful the Dark Lord had said she needn't know he was doing so. He hadn't planned on seeing her, still wanting some distance after taking the Dark Mark. He had this delusional feeling that she would take one look at him and know that he was a Death Eater. Of course, that was impossible, but he felt as if the sleeve of his shirt was transparent and there was a large red sign pointing to his arm.
So, after he was sure Arabella had already gone to sleep, Draco donned his black robes, left his shoes behind in his room and plodded down the hall to her room. He carefully cast a silencing charm on the door before entering and tip-toeing to the couch. He sank quietly into the cushions, pulling the quilt off the back of the couch onto his lap. The book he'd left the night before was still resting on the beside table, and he took it up, lighting his wand so he could see the pages.
He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he heard the door creek open. A shadow of a figure was cast on the floor of the bedroom from the light in the hallway. Draco, still bleary eyed from sleep, didn't bother to think of the consequences of his actions before acting.
"Stupefy!"
The figure who had entered easily blocked the spell with a silent wave of his wand, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.
Draco scrambled to his feet, almost tripping as he tried to untangle himself from the quilt.
"My Lord," he whispered, bowing low before the Dark Lord, who cast a silencing spell over the room so Arabella wouldn't overhear them.
"My deepest apologies," Draco said in a normal tone of voice. "I didn't realize it was you."
"Any competent Wizard can block a simple Stunning Spell," the Dark Lord said, approaching the foot of Arabella's bed to gaze over her sleeping form. "However, a wandless werewolf..." he trailed off, turning to leave.
With the door half open the Dark Lord looked back, "She's in good hands."
And he was gone.
It was likely the closest thing Draco would ever come to praise from the Dark Lord. And to think, it'd come on the same day as a near-compliment from Aunt Bellatrix.
When dawn broke, Draco folded the quilt he'd used and replaced it and the pillows back where they belonged on Arabella's couch. After checking that she was still sound asleep, he sneaked back down the hallway to his room. He climbed in bed for an additional hour of sleep before rising to shower and dress anew for the day. He supposed today was as good as any to face Arabella, though the feeling she'd know about the Dark Mark as soon as she saw him didn't wane. At least the pain in his arm had subsided substantially. So, with trepidation mounting, he knocked tentatively on her bedroom door a little after her usual breakfast tray was delivered.
"Come in!" her voice drifted dreamily through the large wooden door of her bedroom.
He walked in, shutting the door quietly behind him. He could see Arabella, curled up in a blanket on the sofa before an empty fireplace, her breakfast tray half finished on the coffee table before her, a book in one hand, balanced precariously on her knee, a mug in the other. A soft breeze caused the gauzy curtains to flutter, as she had left the balcony doors open.
He took a seat beside her, just as a mug of coffee arrived from the kitchens for him. He picked up the novel he'd left on the side table after departing just a few hours ago, though to her it had been two nights ago. He attempted to read, but found too easily his thoughts wondering around inside his brain, searching for someplace normal. Everything seemed out of place now that he was a Death Eater. Life would never be "back" to normal, he knew, just a "new normal." His thoughts hadn't figured that out yet.
"Good morning," Arabella finally broke the silence as she looked away from her book to steal a bite of the muffin that lay dilapidated on the tray.
"Good morning," Draco replied, beginning the chapter again in hopes of finding a place to launch back into the story.
They read in silence for a quarter of an hour. Every so often one of them would shift. Draco began stealing bites of the bacon she'd left untouched on her plate, finally coming to the conclusion that the house elves only included the bacon on Arabella's breakfast trays because they knew he would be there to eat it.
"You are rather quiet this morning," Arabella said suddenly.
Draco grunted. Arabella shrugged. And they returned to silence.
After reading all morning, Arabella finally dressed and they went downstairs for lunch. They talked very little, but returned to her room after dining with Draco's parents to play a game of Exploding Snap.
"Your mother was rather tense at lunch, wasn't she?" Arabella asked as they climbed the stairs.
"Hm? I didn't notice," Draco replied nonchalantly. He could sense Arabella eyeing him suspiciously.
"Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine."
"I didn't see you yesterday," she commented, pressing the issue.
"No, you didn't."
She sniffed at his lack of response. She didn't know it, but she was going to have to get used to Draco disappearing every once and a while for Death Eater business. He wasn't going to be at her beck and call. Not that she ever desired his presence before. And even more, he wouldn't be able to provide her with explanations anymore. And, in his mind, it wasn't even worth it to make up false excuses.
They were halfway through their 7th game of Exploding Snap, and Draco was wiping the floor with Arabella. She was discouraged, Draco was cocky, and a card ended up exploding unexpectedly between turns (a rare, but not unheard of occurrence). They were both so startled they jumped back, then realizing their unfounded fear burst out laughing simultaneously. Arabella leaned forward and squeezed Draco's arm affectionately at their shared mirth. The left one. The one that was still paining him and burning him. The one that he was hiding from her and the rest of the world. He involuntarily pulled away.
"I'm sorry!" Arabella retreated suddenly, much to Draco's dismay. Any other day he would revel at her touch. Even today, just not on that arm.
"No, you're fine," he shook his head, hoping his flinching hadn't given him away. "I was just startled."
Arabella eyed him, looking at his arm intently.
"Honestly, love, it's nothing," Draco said, utilizing one of her hated pet names in an attempt to distract her. But she just continued to stare.
"Draco?" her voice was soft and low as she shifted her position on the floor. "Is everything okay?"
"I just said it was, didn't I?" his response was curt.
"You just seem on edge."
"I'm just tired. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."
She continued to regard him suspiciously, until Draco began stacking the cards back in their box. After a moment or two, which had Draco sweating, nervous she'd discovered his secret, she began to help him.
"How about we have Trinky bring the tea tray and then we start a puzzle?" she suggested suddenly.
Draco couldn't help but smile, which he hid by keeping his head bent. Arabella was being very accommodating, considering her previous reluctance to do anything but read silently in his presence.
"I'd like that very much."