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+ Infest: A Harry Potter Song Fic by Canarde +
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+ Chapter Six: Blood Brothers +
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"Corruption and abuse, the salesmen of our blood
For the public's craving, existence in the dark.
It's our nature to destroy ourselves;
It's our nature to kill ourselves.
It's our nature to kill each other;
It's our nature to kill, kill, kill.
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"It was a dream and then it hit me, reality struck,
And now my life is all shifty and it all moves fast ...
In respect to the family in times of our insanity
And through the words of our profanity,
I describe our dysfunctional family.
Blood Brothers keep it real to the end,
Deeper than the thoughts you think, not a trend."
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The Marking ceremony has always taken place in a chamber which lies deep underneath the peaceful town of Hogsmeade. Every year, in the dead of winter, Death Eaters from across the globe Apparate into a series of round tunnels which lead to the large, circular chamber.
The chamber itself is primitive, its walls painted in the Ancient Languages and shining with moisture from the stalactites hanging from the rough ceiling. In the center of the chamber, a pristine pool of water lies, bottomless and a deep, intangible blue. Torches hang every few meters on the wall, their licking flames magicked to appear a serpentine emerald rivaling the sleek scales of the Dark Lord's beloved Nagini. To one end of the chamber, an elaborately carved armchair is set back in an alcove, and a crudely carved hearth lies before it, a green flame flickering within which never dies.
Each year, two new Death Eaters are Marked. Each pair is perfectly complimentary. Each pair is selected by the Dark Lord himself; each pair is bound to protect one another until death. They are what Voldemort (and, consequently, every Death Eater) calls Blood Brothers. If a Death Eater is betrayed by his Blood Brother, he is avenged by Voldemort himself.
Tonight, Death Eaters of the world come together to witness the Marking of two very special Blood Brothers, two boys fated to be so great that neither succeeds, two young men aiming to prove themselves worthy of greatness.
One, dark and lanky, is seeking the greatness sought so many years ago by Tom Marvolo Riddle. He is ruthless and cruel, able to bend any wizard to his whim. Festering within him for many years now has been the hate for his father, a Muggle-born wizard with no appreciation for his own son, and a resentment of his mother, who only as been around enough to see him off to school in the fall and home again in the spring. Secretive and brooding, he will stop at nothing to acheive greatness.
The second, pale and blond, is seeking only the approval of his father. He is determined and unwilling to betray his morals. His negligant father and narcissistic mother have driven him to desire attention, and under the Dark Lord's watchful eye, he shall receive the recognition he deserves.
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The chamber had been slowly filling with cloaked, masked wizards for nearly ten minutes when it became full to overflowing. An aura of evil had slowly filled the chamber with them, and it was not long before a single drum stung the silence into submission. Each beat was left to ring through the caves, and as it sounded, a silent line of cloaked wizards followed an emerald snake into the chamber.
Four Death Eaters, each carrying himself with pride and dignity and respect for the fifith to enter, positioned themselves on either side of the elegant throne. The fifth, cloaked in blood red robes which contradicted the suffocating black of the rest, slid into the chamber and stood facing the licking green flames, his back to the throne. The drum became suddenly silent, and two smaller cloaked figures entered from the tunnels on the side of the chamber opposing the cloak of red.
"Enter if you can prove your loyalty to the Dark Lord Voldemort," hissed a cold voice from beneath the hood of the figure in red. A shiver swept through the chamber, and the two new cloaks made their way slowly through the ranks of Death Eaters, whose heads bowed in respect of the Dark Lord.
On either side of the hearth, the smaller figures stopped, and the figure in red nodded once to the Death Eater on his right. The Death Eater stepped forward, facing the two boys, and waved a gloved hand, bidding them to kneel on the cold earthern floor.
As he stepped aside, the figure in red nodded to the Death Eater on his left, who stepped forward and took a small, leather-bound book from the pockets of his shadowy robes.
"As a Death Eater you will be considered an adult, loyal to the Dark Lord for all eternity. You are capable of everything the Lord requests of you, and by the same consideration you are not worthy of that which the Lord does not request of you. By accepting the Mark of the Dark Lord tonight you are vowing to be ever loyal to Lord Voldemort alone, and betrayal is punishable as the Lord sees fit. If truly you believe the Dark Lord to be the true ruler of the world, you will step forward now."
Two cloaked, masked figures to either side of the hearth stepped forward, and immediately the two nearest Death Eaters stepped forward as well, taking them by their arms and holding them in place.
"Then as the Dark Lord sees appropriate, may these two young wizards from this day forth be known for their loyalty to the Dark Lord and their skill in the Dark Arts. May they forever be known as Death Eaters, and may their families fear and respect them as they fear and respect the Dark Lord Voldemort.
"Present yourself for the Marking."
The cloaks by the hearth held up their arms, allowing the sleeves of their robes to fall beneath their elbows. The Death Eaters holding them in place tightened their grip, and the first Death Eater stepped forward again. He took from thin air a long, thin pole of iron, its end forming a brand in the shape of a skull and snake intertwined in malevolence.
"In receiving the Mark of the Dark Lord Voldemort, you will forever be reminded of your loyalty to him and to your Brother in Blood who now stands beside you."
With this, the first Death Eater took the brand, which he had been momentarily holding in the emerald flames, and pressed its shaped end into the inner left wrist of each new Death Eater. The first boy grunted as the iron seared his flesh, but the second, the paler of the two, refused to even flinch.
There was an almost jovial note in the speaking Death Eater's voice as he said, "You are hereby a Death Eater and loyal to the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord only. Congratulations."
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Sitting on the eathern floor of the chamber no more than an hour later, a blond sixteen-year-old boy examined the burning flesh of his left wrist. The Mark was blocky and obscure; the snake curled out of a grinning skull which seemed to mock him, their outlines charred and black.
The blond boy's Blood Brother, dark and lanky, came into the chamber in silence, his hands buried in the pockets of his robes. He joined the blond on the ground, his dark eyes momentarily studying the Mark before roving over the blond's pale face.
"Welcome to the Death Eaters, Draco." The blond slid his sleeve over the Mark, his eyes meeting the hungry gaze of his Brother.
"We're marked for life, now," Draco said slowly, his fingertips brushing over his covered wrist.
"Isn't it marvelous?"
Indifferent, Draco shrugged, his eyes leaving the intense gaze of the darker boy, whose hand found Draco's in the folds of their cloaks and robes.
"We're bound to one another until death." Draco nodded numbly. "We're not allowed to betray one another." The darker boy sighed happily, his thumb rubbing Draco's hand lethargically. "It's a bit like we're married, then."
"So it seems, yes."
"Then it is marvelous," he whispered.
His lips found Draco's before the blond could answer or object, and they celebrated their Marking as two sixteen-year-olds in love should.
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It was well after midnight when Draco came into the dormitory. He had hoped that the others would have been sleeping, but when his eyes found the bed beside his own empty, he knew his hopes and his reality were not congruant.
In spite of the absense of his Blood Brother, Draco dressed in his pajamas and turned down his bedspread quickly in a series of movements so well-rehearsed they were second nature. But as he settled into his pillow, he was joined by the lanky figure of Blaise Zabini, and he swore under his breath.
"We're a bit late this evening, Draco," Zabini murmured, his arms snaking around the blond's thin waist. "We weren't in our bed when Snape came through to see our lights were out." His hold tightened around Draco, but his intentions were unclear as he nuzzled into the blond hair at the base of Draco's neck. "We should consider ourselves very lucky that our Brother was here to omit certain truths to the Potions master, eh?"
"Thank you, Blaise," Draco whispered, too aware of Zabini's wandering hands and betraying body. "It means a lot that you should -- " A cold hand covered Draco's mouth suddenly.
"Never mind all that." He pressed even closer, and Draco shivered involuntarily as Zabini began to kiss his neck gently. "I would rather hear about where you've been all night."
When Draco didn't answer, Zabini somehow managed to flip him silently, and now Draco faced him, his gaze not meeting that of his Brother.
"Now, Draco, I know you weren't out with any girls," he said, suddenly pressing his waist to Draco's. "Nor were you out on a mission for the Dark Lord." His mouth raked across Draco's, hungry and needing, one hand dragging along his side while the other held him in place. "And you certainly weren't having tea with your father ... So the question remains: Where were you tonight?"
Across the room, either Crabbe or Goyle snorted loudly in his sleep, giving Draco a moment to collect an answer while Zabini panicked, pulling away slightly. Moments later, Draco was still without an answer, and Zabini's breath was once again mixing with the blond's as he kissed him roughly once more.
"I claim insomnia. Let's forget the entire thing in favor of," he thrust towards Zabini, who responded with an eager light in his eyes, "more important things?"
"This inquiry is postponed until tomorrow morning," the dark boy agreed, hardly able to contain himself, "so that you can show me what's more important that a real answer to my question."
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All characters used in this piece of fiction are property of J.K. Rowling and copyright Warner Brothers.
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Song lyrics are property of Papa Roach and copyright Viva La Cucaracha Music.
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Chapter Seven coming soon to a fan fiction archive near you.