The moon seemed to stand still, time was moving so slowly - but the full moon had finally arrived. Lucius insisted that Severus could not be marked wearing his shabby robes, and had him fitted with a beautiful new set - tailor-made, in fact. Before he could protest or even promise to pay him back ( how do you imagine you'll do that? ), Lucius interrupted him. "Don't be ridiculous," he said - "the Death Eaters are your family now." Family… the word echoed in his mind in exactly the opposite way of Walburga Black's vicious words, and Severus struggled to control the wave of warmth and gratitude that washed over him.

Severus allowed himself to relax into his fitted robes. He stood in front of the full-length mirror. Lucius's tailor crouched on the floor, and clumsily summoned needles that had scattered there. Before Severus could help him, Lucius signaled to him that he must not help the help, and encouraged him to look in the mirror.

As soon as he saw himself, he felt different - his head held itself high, his shoulders pulled themselves back, his chest stuck out. Gone was the ever-present wariness and nervousness that always travelled up and down his arms and legs. He felt like he was seeing himself for the first time - mirrors had always been functional at best, to him. Other than revealing that he had something in his teeth or that his clothes were stained, they never told him anything useful or beneficial. He did not much enjoy looking at himself, whatever Regulus had said. Now, however… he was striking - impressive. A man with a future was looking back at him, a man who looked like he belonged in his luxurious surroundings, a man who was untouchable, of whom nobody could guess that his clothes disguised such scars, who commanded respect… In the mirror, Lucius's reflection smiled. Oh, Merlin, I must have been staring at myself like an idiot for too long , he berated himself and his face was hot. Unfortunately, he was still Severus Snape from Spinner's End, who stuck out like a sore thumb, who attracted hate like doxys attracted doxycide spray, but not for long - his transformation was already under way, he could feel it. He could not resist one last fleeting look at his reflection before he turned his back to it - he was handsome, handsome! - and told Lucius it was perfect, and Lucius confirmed - "you finally look like a proper wizard". And in a few hours, you will have the Mark. Just like Lucius. And Reg too… family. The Dark Lord promised him - you will be safe. You will be powerful. You will be loved. All he had to do was not die in the next few hours, and his life would finally begin. Most importantly, he would finally be able to return to Grimmauld Place and rub Walburga's nose in it - he hoped she would make good on her promise and drop dead on the spot.

Lucius escorted the tailor downstairs to settle their bill - he was gracious enough to not let Severus hear the exact figure, or even a ballpark - and alone, behind closed doors, Severus indulged himself in a few more moments in front of the mirror. Imagine that some people feel like this all the time… he briefly wanted to set all of his own clothes on fire. Now, now, don't be bitter, he told himself. What matters is you have got it now.

Regulus showed up before moonrise, looking more perfect than ever, of course, to drink for the occasion. He had started growing his hair out ("I'm tired of looking like the dog" was the official reason), and it was now chin-length, contrasting beautifully with his complexion and his eyes, and Severus could not understand how the grey of eyes could be vibrant . He was brimming with anticipation and yet confident, and of course, he already had tailor-made robes, and he looked even more regal in them, and that was Regulus, who carried himself like royalty even in his sweaty Quidditch uniform! Severus saw him shaking Lucius's hand heartily, and waited for him to notice that he was there too - and sure enough, when he did, his eyes opened wide and his lips parted, and his hand stopped moving inside Lucius's. Lucius followed the direction of Regulus's eyes and said: "Oh yes, he looks like he was born in them, doesn't he?"

Fortunately, Regulus managed to compose himself before Lucius turned back around. "Very nice, Snape," he said, but when Lucius turned his back to him, he mouthed: "smashing," and it was even better than looking in the mirror.

The three of them raised a glass of firewhiskey to the Dark Lord. "You will apparate with me by side-along apparition, as I am the one who recruited you. I expect that the others will get there before we do, but we mustn't be late, so let us not dawdle." They put on their travelling cloaks and apparated to the forest where the marking ceremony was to take place. "Remember, as soon as we arrive, we must kneel. The rest will be very simple."

Severus and Regulus nodded, and each one took one of Lucius's hands. Instantly, they found themselves at the center of a circle of Death Eaters, all in black, all holding hands as well. Severus started to kneel before they had had time enough to recover from the temporary disorientation that inevitably followed apparition - "I said as soon as we arrive, not mid-apparition," Lucius hissed at him under his breath as his hand pulled Severus back up. Then, he began to lower himself, and Severus and Regulus followed. "Brethren, old and new, welcome," the Dark Lord announced. "I am proud and thrilled to accept two new members into our noble family. We must all be grateful to Lucius Malfoy, for offering them a path to greatness, and allowing us to benefit from their many gifts. Lucius, you may rise and join your brothers and sisters.

Lucius, who was kneeling between Severus and Regulus, rose, held his head unnaturally high, and brushed some dirt off his robes as he walked, his gait stiff, toward his place in the circle. A smirk flitted across the Dark Lord's face - Malfoy loathed bowing down to anyone, which made it all the more pleasing.

He drew closer to the new recruits. They were so very young - Black was still at school, the other one barely out of school himself… a Death Eater at Hogwarts was a very good thing. The Headmaster will be none too pleased, Tom Riddle told himself. I did not need the teaching job to recruit students right under your nose after all, did I, Albus.

He drew his wand out - yew wood and phoenix feather - the wand that had chosen him all these years ago. He remembered that day like it was yesterday - the day his life truly began. Immense power surged through his arm when he held it for the first time, and a shower of sparks issued out of it. He was overjoyed. When he learned about the unique properties of the yew tree and the phoenix's feathers, he felt content for the first time in his life. For as long as Tom Riddle could remember, he had been alone. Surrounded by people - Muggles - but alone, feared for his strange powers, despised by those who were not even fit to serve him. The wand that had chosen him was the first perfect fit - magic understood Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle understood magic. The wood and the core told him what the answer was - immortality, by any means necessary, and power - all the power he was denied.

The Malfoys and the Blacks had been the wizarding world's nobility since time immemorial, and here they were, kneeling before Lord Voldemort, previously known as Tom Riddle, the orphan. Malfoy had only just got up, and Black was still on the ground, waiting to be marked like his cousin. Let us not keep him waiting much longer.

He moved toward the center of the circle, standing over the kneeling figures of his new recruits. "Regulus Arcturus Black. You are standing in a circle of fine witches and wizards - the finest there are. All of them have learned the Dark Arts, all of them have explored their secrets under my tutelage, and all of them are on their way to moulding themselves and the world. Lucius Malfoy vouched for you, and brought you here today. Do you still want to join us, as you did on the day you passed your test?"

"Yes," Regulus said, so fast he almost spoke over the Dark Lord. "Yes, I do."

"Do you swear to serve your master faithfully, to fight alongside your brethren, and if need be, even to die, to see to the removal of undesirable elements and scourges from our world, and to the protection of our kind?"

"I swear."

"Then hold out your hand."

Black glanced at the other one and stretched his hand out. Lord Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand to Black's inner left forearm. For the length of one blink, Regulus was on fire, but immediately after that, he was floating on a cloud, as an overwhelming sense of harmony overcame him. His eyes glazed over in idiotic tranquility like all Death Eaters' had when the hypnotic effect of the spell kicked in. "You will serve your master, Lord Voldemort," a voice said inside Black's head. The Dark Lord's lips were not moving. "You will address me as your Lord and Master. You will kneel before me. You will be unfailingly loyal, you will serve me skillfully and fight fearlessly, and you will be rewarded. I have not made my Death Eaters take an unbreakable vow, for breaking such a vow guarantees a quick and painless death. It is a kinder fate than traitors deserve, and all traitors will be caught. You will forget the words, but your soul will know. You have been marked, Regulus Black."

The dull complacency was gone. Regulus looked keenly at his arm, now bearing the Dark Mark. It was beautiful, wondrous.

"You may rise," the Dark Lord announced, and Regulus rose and walked toward Lucius absent-mindedly, looking at his arm as he did. He took his place beside Lucius, who patted him on the shoulder. "Well done, Regulus," he whispered. Severus was next. Regulus looked at him intently. His head was down. Don't let it go wrong, Regulus prayed. Please don't let it go wrong . With the Mark, they will finally be free…

Now, the other one, Lord Voldemort told himself. Ah, yes. Severus Snape, the part-Muggle half-blood of Slytherin… I have felt your loneliness, and your powerlessness, Snape. I too have been denied the life I was owed by a Muggle father who did not want me. But you see… I am not as contemptible as you. Your father whipped you and your mother? Mine left her, and she died. You have allowed luckier, stronger wizards to turn you into a joke, and the Headmaster to take the words right out of your throat. You will be like clay in my hands. The Headmaster alone knew what I was, but I have never let him deny me power, for I am not as weak, as pathetic, as you are, you despicable fool. I am not like you. Some make their own luck, and some kneel before those who do. You will be mine forever, Severus Snape from Spinner's End.

The Dark Lord's contempt did not show on his face as he made his speech and asked Severus to hold his hand out. A fleeting moment of searing pain, followed by an intense release, euphoric ease - Severus's conscious mind registered the curious effect. A voice in his head told him he was bound forever. Even though the Dark Lord was standing right in front of him, a part of his psyche was reminded of another disembodied voice that whispered in his ear - Sirius's. The hypnotic effect that did not quite work wore off, and his hand was marked.

He rose, and took note of how dizzy and unfocused he felt, and of every other detail of what he just experienced. He was sure that he was not meant to remember what had just happened. Remember? Perhaps you're hallucinating? He was sure that he was not like the others, that it was different for Regulus, who moved to make room for him in the circle and whose face was beaming. He resolved to ignore the doubt. After all, had he not just made it? Had he not just become the first half-blood to earn the Dark Mark? He was determined not to let his mind get in the way of his dreams like it always had. Why do you always have to be different? Is it the Muggle? Is it Spinner's bloody End? Is it the fact that you exist despite nobody being interested in that? Was it those two weeks you spent recovering from taking that stupid potion?

It didn't matter. He struggled to put the gnawing unease to rest. You bear the Mark, you are one of them. He smiled at Regulus, and at his urging, they compared marks.

Lord Voldemort did not fail to notice the difference in their reactions.

[A/N: If anybody is interested, I listened to that song on a loop while writing this: watch?v=ZwzhXdMY9rk
Thank you for reading and commenting. I hope you've enjoyed my take on the Dark Mark ceremony. Keep yourself safe and leave reviews, because I live for reviews!]