Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing! I worship J.K. in all her

splendor.

Wake me up inside, wake me up inside

Call my name and save me from the dark

Bid my blood to run

Before I come undone

Save me from the nothing I've become.

~ Evanessence "Wake me up"

As the golden rays of the sun rose upon the Malfoy Manor,

another golden beauty rose from his bed. Draco Malfoy lay on his back

looking at the ceiling. His handsome face held his trademark smirk as

thought with excitement of what the day would bring.

"Finally," he breathed. "I am finally being initiated."

His father had taught him two things. Never let anyone below

you(which was, in a sense, pratically everyone) make you feel inferior.

Malfoys must always shine. The second was to bow to no one. A Malfoy

bowing was as common as pigs flying over London, and causing havoc

inside Buckingham Palace.

Draco got out of his four-poster bed and browsed his wardrobe.

"Something Slytherin," he murmured. He set his eyes on an emerald green

turtleneck, with black jeans and black boots. He then picked out an

emerald green robe made from the finest of silk. Draco picked a brooch

in the make of a Celtic snake, its tail in its mouth, and clasped it

onto the robe. "There."

As he surveyed his rather handsome reflection, the trademark

smirk drifted off his face. Today was the day. The day that would

change his entire life. The day he would become a servant to the Dark

Lord. What puzzled Draco the most about this whole ordeal was the fact

that being a servant to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named broke the 2 cardinal

rules taught to him by his father.

"Never let anyone below make you feel inferior." Well, he

wouldn't go as far as to say the Dark Lord was inferior. But strip

away his powers and take him back to when he was a teenager, and you

had someone must frowned upon by the Malfoys. A half-blood. Almost as

bad as a mudblood in Draco's opinion. What self-respecting witch or

wizard would dare associate with and marry a muggle? Even worse, to

have children that will be magical. Yes, definitely right up there with

mudbloods. Like that know-it-all Granger.

"Bow to no one." Draco knew very well that that night he would

have to bow to someone. It was either bow...or die. And Draco was much

too handsome of a man to die.

Draco strutted down his stairs, giving a few house-elves a good

kick on his way to the dining room. He sat in his chair and ate.

"Good morning, Draco." The highly infrequent warm voice

floated across the table. Narcissa Malfoy sat, smiling at her son.

Then she turned back to admiring herself in the mirror behind Draco.

Draco narrowed his eyes and turned back to his breakfast. As much as

Draco loved his mother, he knew she could never totally love him and

care for him. There were only two people Narcissa held close to her

heart. Lucius Malfoy. And herself. And just like Narcissus, Draco

was sure Narcissa would one day drown in her arrogance.

"Draco." A familiar voice wafted into the room and the hairs on the

back of Draco's neck stood up. This was it. He was finally going to be

Death Eater.

******************

The cold, damp dungeons of the Malfoy Manor had a thick stank

to it. Coppery smells mixed with the smell of sweat and rotted flesh.

You could smell the death in the air. Draco could taste it on his

tongue.

He followed Snape down the corridor, past all the cells

that were now empty. But once upon a time, you could hear the screams

and moans throughout the once. To be locked in the Malfoy dungeon was

said to be like being locked in hell. Burning, but not dying. No, death

was too kind. Burning, for all of eternity.

Draco felt his stomach clench, from fear. From anticipation.

From the dungeons. Millions of emotions were running through his head.

But it was okay. Draco could keep his emotions under control. He'd felt

them all before.

Except for love.

Snape walked down the corridor, deathly quiet. He was scarier

silent than when talking. At least, that was Draco's opinion. It might

have been because Snape never spoke ill word to Malfoy. Severus stopped

in front of a brick wall and whispered an incantations.

"Morsmordre."

A green skull floated up into the air. At a certain point, it

stopped and placed itself on the wall. It seemed as though that point

was a lock. And the Dark Mark was the key.

The bricks in the wall opened into a room. This room was worse

than the entire dungeon. Torture devices were place around the room,

and blood stained all of them. The floor was stained, the wall was

stained. Even the roof had a nasty splatter of blood. But what was

sitting in a black throne in the middle of the room was more

terryifing.

A pale hand that stretched out of a black robe beckoned Draco.

A horrible voice filled the air, and the hooded men shrank to their

knees. "So. Young Malfoy has chosen to grace us with his presence. I

must say I am incredibly pleased with your decision. For a moment I

thought you might betray us. But I see that the recent captivity of

your father has given you fresh resolve. Do you become angry when you

think of Potter?"

Draco snarled and felt his blood heat up. That damn Potter! How

dare he take away my father. Sure he hadn't been a very good one. But

he was my father! Strutting around like he owns the fucking school! I

will make him pay! This thoughts ran through his head. What he didn't

realize was that he had said this all out loud.

The cold dungeon was deathly silent, as all looked towards the

Dark Lord for his reaction.

The cold voice chuckled from underneath its hood. "Good. You

are angry. Anger can be a very helpful thing. It can motivate one...or

it can destroy one. Are you sure you want to become a Death Eater? Are

you prepared for the hard work that comes with this honor? Will you do

all in your power to help me, the Dark Lord, rise above that son of a

bitch Potter?!" His voice raised with angry upon every word. Then he

spoke softly in a calm voice. This was somehow scarier than when he was

yelling. "Will you be loyal to me, Draco?"

Draco stared at his feet and searched deep inside himself for

the courage he needed. He looked at the horrible creature on the throne

and stared. He replied his voice shaking in anger at the damn Potter

and that damn Granger and that damn Weasley, angry because they always

outdid him not matter what. They had taken his top grades, they had

taken his father, they had taken the glory of winning at quidditch.

Those fucking bastards had stolen everything from him. But no more.

Draco's voice had firm resolve and dripped with anger, an anger that

frightened everyone in the room except for Voldemort. Draco looked the

Dark Lord in the eye and said:

"Yes."