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."
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."
