How to be a Death Eater in 5 easy steps
Disclaimers 'n' stuff are all in the previous chapters.
(…but Frazer, Dross and Skeet are MINE)
Yikes! It started off as a bit of a laugh, but the story's getting more angsty than I had anticipated. The more I write Draco (my version of him at any rate), the more the boy seems to unfurl his petals (bless). At any rate, I apologise for the rather uneven tone.
Huge thanks to Charmed Vampyre for her review. So I've got you fooled then have I? [insert evil cackle]. Be assured, nothing is quite what it seems at the moment…
Severus Snape alert! Our favourite tortured Potions Master makes a guest appearance in this episode
Step 3: Walking the Walk and Talking the Talk
"On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting'
'Twas only that when he was off he was acting"
Oliver Goldsmith
"What is acting but lying and what is good acting but convincing lying?"
Laurence Olivier
Draco watched as his owl took off from the balcony and glided skywards, her wings eerily silent, her pale feathers catching the last yellow gleams of the evening sun. His hand in the pockets of his Muggle trousers, he stared at her shrinking form, even after it disappeared from view altogether. She carried a letter. It was a very short letter consisting of a single phrase. It read:
"It's done"
The sun was setting rapidly now and Draco could feel the early-April chill seeping up from the stones of Malfoy Manor. Seeping up through his bones. Perhaps it was the fading light, or perhaps the slowly dying bird-song, but he felt strangely oppressed, even nervous. He sighed and ran a hand down his face as though he could rub the depression off his skin. He may as well have been trying to scrub the Dark Mark off with a nail brush for all the good it did him.
It's done, he reiterated in his thoughts. I'm committed now and come what may…
He wondered briefly what his mother would have made of all this, but he never allowed himself to think about her for very long. Only when it mattered.
I wonder what would have happened if she was still here. Perhaps I'd never…
He cut himself off abruptly and sighed. What ifs were of no earthly use to him. She was dead after all.
She'd been dead for many months.
He turned back to the candlelit bedroom and hesitating only momentarily, stooped to pick a robe of heavy cloth and a strangely shaped mask that were lying haphazardly on the low, long bed. With quick, decisive movements, they were slung over his shoulder. There was a flash of wood, a softly muttered charm and the candles extinguished themselves with a suddenness that seemed to intensify the echoing silence of the Manor. The room was plunged into darkness.
Draco Malfoy left the house
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"He's going to have to tone down that smirk", said one voice in the gloom.
"I like the smirk", responded another, deeper voice, "it looks like he's enjoying being intimidating"
"He's not supposed to enjoy it", was the reply, "He's supposed to relish it. There is a difference, you know"
"I doubt that a Mudblood in the last throes of agony is going to appreciate the subtle nuances of his expression, Dross"
"Are you being sarcastic?"
"Moi?"
Draco ground his teeth together and tried to block out the incessant commentary as he fired off a particularly nasty Pustulae curse. He'd arrived a little early for a meeting with his father to find that Lucius was with Voldemort and the rest of the 'Inner Circle' and probably wouldn't be back for a while. His fellow Death Eaters had decided that Draco needed an impromptu lesson to brush up his cursing - which was fine by him, but he hadn't expected the heckling from the audience.
He wouldn't have minded, but they seemed more concerned that he look good than if he actually did any damage with his wand. And no-one had even mentioned the Unforgivables, which made him wonder if they were the preserve of more senior members.
I should find out
He sighed and raised his wand to try again. The curse was supposed to give someone the Pox, but it was hard to tell if it was working since he was currently practising on trees.
"Pustulae!"
"No, no, no. More venom! You're not going to scare anyone like that".
Smothering a grimace, he turned enquiring eyes towards the robed figure to his right, who had been observing his actions in silence for a while. He'd been introduced to the man only half an hour ago, and already hated him. He was short, slight and pretty damned venomous himself; and he delighted in the name of Waldorf Skeet. He'd attempted to be civil to him however because, frankly, there were only so many enemies a boy could cope with all at once.
"Did I say it wrong?"
Skeet's pale, bulbous eyes opened wider in surprise.
"The curse? No, no, dear boy, not at all. Quite perfect I should say. Frazer?"
"Adequate execution", rumbled the large man, who had been talking to Dross.
"See? The curse was fine… I meant your stance!"
"My what?"
"Your stance. Your approach. Your presentation." Skeet threw his arms out dramatically to emphasise his point.
"My…presentation?". There was an incredulity in his tone that he couldn't disguise.
"Skeet's right," said Frazer, strolling towards them. "You look like a wuss, Malfoy."
A WUSS? Are they Death Eaters, or Hufflepuffs?
Draco couldn't think of a thing to say that wouldn't instantly result in a lip-locker curse. This was worse than school.
Skeet frowned, considering. "I don't think I'd quite go that far, Old Chap. But…well, why don't you show him?"
Frazer shrugged. "If you want, but Dross can do it better than me."
"Ooh, yes. Dross, you show the lad how it's done. Come on, you're really good at this!"
Skeet gestured eagerly at the hulking figure of Grubious Dross, who shuffled forward almost bashfully
"I'm not that good" he muttered, embarrassed.
"Yes you are! Go on. Do the Detonatus!"
"Yeah, that's a good one."
Draco watched with surreal disbelief as Dross took a deep breath, settled his shoulders and pasted the most alarming sneer on his face. It looked positively painful. Then the heavily-robed man started forward into a stiff-legged, ground-eating walk which looked curiously unstoppable (not to mention intimidating) and began to draw his wand with ominous deliberation. His wand arm moving upwards to eye height, pointing forward, the walk never slowing, he opened his twisted mouth and snarled,
"DETONATUS!"
A nearby sapling exploded impressively.
Brushing the bark from his hood absently, Skeet turned towards Draco, his other arm gesturing wildly towards Dross.
"Like that!"
Draco had imagined many things about being a Death Eater. The pain, the cursing, the Dark secrets, mayhem, revenge, but for some reason, he'd never imagined he'd be having…sneering lessons.
"This is a farce," he muttered quietly.
Good his subconscious added a moment later.
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"No! Stop! Start again!"
Frazer, Dross and Skeet had begun to get into the spirit of the proceedings with alarming enthusiasm. Draco had been trailing backwards and forwards with his wand arm raised for almost twenty minutes while the Comedy Relief trio had shouted encouragement and criticism as the mood took them.
"What now?" he asked, weariness evident in his tone.
Frazer shook his head, disapprovingly. "Rubbish," he said, baldly.
"I'd have to agree," said Skeet. "You're supposed to be stalking not walking."
"And the difference is…?"
Skeet sighed melodramatically.
"A stalk is supposed to be ominous. It's inexorable. You just look…stiff."
"Like an ostrich," added Frazer, helpfully.
"And your sneer needs work. It still looks like a smirk." said Dross, not one to let go of an idea.
"I am sneering," retorted Draco, his temper fraying slightly at the edges.
Skeet looked at him almost pityingly. "You're really not," he said. "A good sneer should frighten people, not make them feel slightly uncomfortable. What's the secret of a good sneer, Frazer?"
"Hatred," was the prompt answer.
"Correct. So, what do you do to get a good sneer…?"
"Think of something I hate?" drawled Draco facetiously.
"Right! Or even better, somebody you hate. That always works for me."
"Me too," piped up Dross.
Draco sighed resignedly and unholstered his wand yet again. Getting into the spirit of things, just so that he could get this over with already, he dutifully fixed a sneer on his face and thought about someone he really loathed. It wasn't all that hard.
"Not bad," admitted Frazer. "Try hissing your enemy's name under your breath before you start, it gives the sneer more impact."
That piece of advice gave Draco a little pause. He didn't want the threesome to hear the name he had been thinking of, so he hastily readjusted his thoughts, assumed the position and hissed,
"Potter!"
…then sneered.
The three startled intakes of breath and the strangled "No!" from Skeet removed the expression speedily from his face.
"WHAT?" he barked, exasperated beyond all measure.
Dross, looking slightly pale and almost frightened muttered, "You can't use Potter's name."
"What? Why not?" Draco's voice came out slightly squeaky, much to his chagrin. It was the surprise, he supposed. There he had been congratulating himself on being clever, and now he was being glared at by three Death Eaters.
Skeet sidled forward, glanced around him and said in a low voice,
"The Dark Lord can't bear to hear his name spoken. It's just a little…foible of his."
"Hatred of all things Potter is the exclusive preserve of Voldemort," added Frazer. "If we so much as mention him, the Dark Lord gets a little…angry."
"He loathes him so much, it's almost as though he's jealous of anyone else loathing him too," rejoined Skeet, "especially after that business last year. With the Dementors and Potter's animagus form."
"You mean the…?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
How very, very, interesting…
Draco was still pondering the interesting-ness of that little piece of information five minutes later when Lucius, Snape, McNair and Avery joined them.
Lucius had come to tell Draco what would be expected of him in his new role.
It didn't come as a surprise.
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The second non-surprise of the evening came in the form of Severus Snape.
Despite his best efforts, Draco hadn't been able to avoid the man for long, and hadn't really expected to. He just wasn't sure if he was ready for this conversation yet.
The man had followed him on the walk back to the Portkey and resigning himself to the inevitable, Draco had obligingly stepped away from the path to stand concealed in the gloomy shadow of a Yew tree. He stood leaned against the trunk and listened to the harsh breathing of the professor and the muted rustle of his robes.
"You'll be spying on Potter and his friends."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes," he replied, without prevarication.
A quick intake of breath.
"Don't expect me to help you."
Draco's eyes widened and he reeled a little with shock, until Snape's next words sent relief running through his limbs.
"I have to concentrate on Dumbledore. I can't afford the distraction of watching anyone else too. You'll have to manage on your own."
"So. I'll do my job and you'll do yours?"
"Yes."
There was silence, but neither moved. Draco closed his eyes and waited.
"Why did you do it?" The words were said haltingly, almost reluctantly.
"Why not?" Draco's reply was smooth, unconcerned. "It was always intended…"
"Yes, yes, I know what Lucius intended," spat Snape. "It still doesn't mean you had to go and get the Dark Mark yourself."
Draco wondered if Snape really knew how dangerous his words were, how close they were to disloyalty to Voldemort, to treason. He suspected that Snape did know - but he'd said them anyway. Draco found himself suddenly and unaccountably touched.
But he remained silent.
Snape tried again. Draco had to commend him on his bravery, but wanted to shake him for his stupidity.
"I was surprised to see you the other day. I'd thought…after what happened to Narcissa…"
Draco sucked in his breath.
"You know about that?"
And would you like to explain exactly HOW you know about it, Professor?
A pregnant silence.
"Yes."
Keep it short. Don't explain. Very good
"You mean, I suppose, why would I do this when I had a Mudblood for a mother?"
The question came out of Draco's mouth more harshly and bitterly than he had intended. Snape merely stood beside him and didn't respond. Draco supposed that there would be no answer to his question that made any kind of sense, so the Potion's Master had decided not to press the issue. Instead, he asked,
"I suppose Lucius…took care of it?"
"Oh, he took care of it, all right."
The last, faintest gleams of light filtering through the canopy above them revealed a thoughtful look in Snape's eyes as they rested on his student's face.
Suddenly, Draco couldn't take it anymore. With an abruptness that had Snape stepping backwards, startled, Draco launched himself upright again and backed towards the path.
What a tangled web we weave…
"I'll see you tomorrow, Professor," he said. "At Hogwarts."
He turned and strode away without looking back. Thinking about it, he supposed that Snape thought him an ignorant, stupid boy. He certainly hadn't done or said anything that would disabuse him of that notion.
Draco was not entirely ignorant, though. He possessed a very interesting piece of information. A vital piece of information:
He knew that Snape was a spy.
And if Snape only knew that Draco knew, he'd be a very, very nervous man right now.
But don't worry, Professor. You're safe for now. I have my own game to play…
To be continued…
Coming Soon: Step 4: Mastering those tricky curses.