Immortal
By cedar
Disclaimer: As if I own anything, except perhaps a crummy plot!
Chapter 3: One night, two different worlds
She gently knocked the dark wood door and waited for her husband to answer.
"Come in."
Opening the door Narcissa was greeted with the sight of her husband pacing up and down impatiently in his extravagant study. His tall, proud figure was clad in black robes, which grazed against the plush evergreen carpet when he walked. Narcissa remained silent, trying to dissolve into the background as not to disturb him, for she too had learnt her lessons well.
A few painful minutes passed until Lucius finally broke the stillness, "Where is the insolent boy. Does he forget who he is meeting?"
Unsure whether he was speaking to her or if he was merely thinking out aloud Narcissa kept her lips tightly pressed together. It was only until she could feel his stare on her, her signal that she answered. The answer was brief and short, "He is coming," for Lucius did not care for unnecessary words. Not quite happy with this reply Lucius resumed his pacing.
Narcissa remained with her back pressed against the door as she watched her unsettled husband. Despite the brief spell in Azkaban, following that fated night in the Department of Mysteries his physique had barely changed. Perhaps any excess weight that had appeared during middle age had been lost, for now he was pure muscle. Like Draco he too was beautiful, with long silver - blonde hair flowing onto his shoulders, aristocratic features and ice blue eyes. But none of that was significant when compared with the aura of power and evil that radiated from his very presence. Thus all beauty was lost leaving behind only darkness and ugliness.
These thoughts did nothing to aid Narcissa in her attempt to raise her courage levels to ask the very question that had been plaguing her since she had left Draco's bedroom. She waited and waited until she could not wait any longer, " Lucius, does he have to enter the death eater circle tonight? He is still a boy, what use could he be to Voldemort. Can he not join after graduation?" The words ran off her tongue in one quick stream, her eyes not breaking away from the minuscule piece of fluff that lay on the carpet at her feet. No sooner had she posed the first question that Lucius was bearing down upon her, eyes boring into her, burning her skin.
She stayed still awaiting the penalty for disobedience that she knew would be coming. In the corner of her eye she glimpsed his hand coming away from his side and gradually rise. Agonizing seconds followed with Narcissa wondering when the hand would finally land on her cheek searing her skin. What happened next surprised her but was not without the pain that went hand in hand with one of Lucius' punishments. He seized her chin in a vice grip, fingers pressing into her flesh pushing onto the underlying bone. Slowly he began to raise her head, until his flashing eyes met her fearful ones. " Never question me again my love," he whispered, dragging the last two words so they hung heavy in the air surrounding them. His cold fingers began caressing the flaming skin beneath them, without loosening their painful hold. Leaning in he brought his full lips against her ear, the warm breath escaping from them traveled down her neck igniting all her nerve endings. "Do that again and I will not be so lenient."
Before her mouth could utter words of compliance Lucius brought his lips crashing down on hers. His teeth biting painfully on her lower lip, forcing her to give his fervent tongue access into her mouth allowing it to explore the crevices within. His hands started to become entwined in her hair, twisting it up so his fingers could dig into her scalp. Unexpectedly they pushed against her skull; she could almost hear the bone cracking as the kiss was instantly deepened. Every part of her body was screaming out in pain as she felt herself being crushed against him, however to her shame she found herself responding to his attack. Her own tongue was as eager as his, for she wanted him to experience the same destructive sensation that was ripping her nerves to shreds. The intense connection between husband and wife continued until it was broken when a sharp knock came on the study door. Immediately Lucius tore his lips and hands from their contact with Narcissa, the force of the action propelling her to the other side of the study. A shocked Narcissa remained strewn on the floor, her body still shaking with the tremors that Lucius' kiss had created. Bringing her hand to her raw bruised lips she wiped away the stream of blood that oozed from her bitten lower lip.
On the other side of the door stood Draco unaware of what had just taken place and wondered what was taking his father so long to let him enter. Looking at his watch Draco noted he was already late, he knocked again.
Almost at the same time Lucius bellowed a "Come," from inside. Opening the door Draco strode into the study just in time to catch his mother rising from the floor, flushed and sporting a red bloodstain just below her mouth. Draco moved to help her, but stopped with left foot in mid air; his mother could look after herself help. Helping would only make a show of his weakness. Planting both feet on the floor he turned to face his father.
"What took you so long?" questioned Lucius.
"I would have been here earlier if you had heard the first knock. Deafness really does hamper the work of a death eater Lucius, you should get it checked," replied Draco with mocking concern.
Although this sentence was stated there was no doubt Draco respected his father and even looked up to him; but as the years past he no longer wanted to be intimidated and put down, only to be seen as his equal. Lucius understood this and appreciated it and allowed his lips to curl into a cold smile at the comment. He started to walk towards his son stopping till his eyes met Draco. There was no looking up or down with both standing at an impressive 6 foot 4", and as equals he passed on some advice, " I would keep that tongue firmly in check tonight, Voldemort does not appreciate smart comments which haven't come from him." Draco merely nodded to show that he heard and understood. Turning to face the grandfather clock they waited for the hands to move to 9' o clock, and finally it came. Arm burning from the mark, Lucius turned to Draco, "It is time," and together father and son apparated.
Everything around Draco passed as a blur, his head spinning with the motion. Suddenly he felt his feet make contact with soft grass, and the world stopped moving around him. Looking up he came face to face to several figures all dressed in black robes identical to himself and his father. They inclined their head in greeting. Draco followed suit and did the same. Lucius ushered him into the middle of the gathering. Unexpectedly he felt a sharp pull on his robe, whirling round Draco peered downwards. Standing next to him was a short, bald man with tiny watery eyes. A look of disgust graced Draco's features, Wormtail, it wasn't hard to fit the man with the description his father had given him of the pathetic so called right-hand man of Voldemort. "Master, wants you next to the alter." Draco however did not move, his gaze still on Wormtail's grubby hand that clutched his freshly laundered robes. Realizing his line of sight Wormtail quickly removed his now trembling hand. Draco checked his robes for dirty marks, before striding to the alter practically running Wormtail over.
"Stupid little man," muttered Draco under his breath.
" Hope you weren't referring to me young man," came a high-pitched voice from behind him. As soon as the man had spoken a deathly hush fell over the gathered death eaters, as each one fell to their knees bowing to their master.
However Draco remained with his back turned and straight. "You do not kneel young Draco, do you not intend to live long?" inquired Voldemort his voice tinted with curiosity. Taking his time Draco turned to face the man he would in affect be giving his life to. He had to use all his self- control not to twist his face into pure revulsion that the white snake like featured man caused to raise within him.
" My lord, I have come to serve you for whatever purposes you desire, but I do not feel that groveling aids you in any way possible. I am a follower of yours but I'm nobody's servant," responded Draco looking directly into evil red eyes.
Gasps could be heard among the congregated mass, and an audible muttering of, "Idiot boy!" Lucius, who else thought Draco. However all were to caught up in the shock of the moment to realize the only person who had yet to react was Voldemort, except of course Draco who was waiting.
A high-pitched chuckle escaped from Voldemort's thin, scaly lips. Death eaters began to look from side to side, exchanging glances with their peers. The unspoken question on each of their lips being, "Has he finally cracked?" Even Draco was slightly confused as he watched Vodemort's chuckle gradually deteriorate until only a smile graced his grotesque features.
A bony white hand settled on his shoulder giving him a fatherly pat, "Finally a death eater with an individual thought. Its been years! Lucius," enquired Voldemort. A flabbergasted Lucius rose to his feet. "You should be proud of the boy, yourself and Narcissa have trained him well." Lucius merely nodded accepting the compliment. Ha, take that Lucius thought Draco, as his father blatantly avoided making eye contact with him.
Once again Voldemort's attention focused on Draco, " I believe you will make a fine death eater Draco Malfoy, providing your skills meet your mental capabilities."
"They exceed it!" responded Draco cockily feeling his body relax under the admiring gaze of Voldemort, getting one more chuckle.
"Well, well! Lets see how well you handle the pain of receiving the dark mark. Wormtail." The poor excuse for a man came scurrying next to him waiting further instruction. "Since young Malfoy is so confident of his potential let us not burn the mark but instead pass me the dagger." Oh fuck! Was the first thought in Draco's head, he had just successfully ass whooped himself. As Wormtail presented the simple silver dagger to Voldemort, it wasn't the intertwining serpents on the cylindrical handle that caught his eye but the sharp blade that was glinting menacingly in the surrounding darkness.
Draco recalled the memory of his father holding a hot poker iron against his pale skin, telling him that the pain that coursed through his body would be tripled when receiving the dark mark. As the ten-year-old Draco had begun screaming out in agony Lucius had simply recounted the fact that this was nothing compared to receiving it at the hand of a knife, as he increased the pressure of hot metal against the burning flesh. But the image of his father smiling maliciously at him then, stuck in his mind, for no doubt he would be wearing the same expression now hoping his son would scream like he had when he had been a slip of a boy. With a grinning Lucius engraved in his mind Draco began to roll up his right hand sleeve, for there was no way Lucius was going to enjoy this. Lucius always had a twisted ways of relieving the pain, thought Draco.
Taking the exposed arm Voldemort slowly began whittling the firm flesh, carving the intricate design of the skull, the calling card. As soon as the tip of the blade had pierced into his arm Draco's mind was concentrated on one thing and one thing only; the gradual stream of pain that begun flowing through his blood vessels, reaching every part of his body. Soon enough Draco felt that his entire person from his heart to his extremities was on fire. Anymore and he would be nothing but dust. As if answering the silent prayers that he had been uttering, Voldemort stopped. Draco's arm immediately collapsed to his side, almost as if it was trying to run away from the abusing blade. Looking at Voldemort's handiwork Draco could barely see the mark, so covered it was in his own bright red blood which was beginning to soil the grass below. "Gather death eaters for the final step," commanded Voldemort. His devout followers circled the two figures that were stood in front of the altar. Pulling the dagger on himself Voldemort cut deep into his wrist and placed his slashed hand over Draco's own blood covered arm. Droplets of blood fell from Voldemort's cut flesh into Draco's, as their blood mingled with each others a silent Snape watched transfixed as the younger Malfoy sealed his fate.
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In an entirely different part of England Hermione Granger prepared to pack her trunk for her last year at Hogwarts. The summer had passed in a blur of fun and laughs, and shockingly for her she had never wanted it to end. This year was different, for Hermione was not brimming with excitement to step onto the scarlet train at platform 9¾. 7th year marked the end of so many things that had become familiar and comforting to her; her life as a gryffindor, quidditch, her dependence on the friendship with Ron and Harry all in all her childhood. After graduation the members of the named "Golden Trio" would separate and make their own way into the world. Personally Hermione was shit scared. Sure she was friendly and smart, but she never had the ability to make really good friends, barring Harry, Ron and Ginny, it truth she was a bit of a loner. For she had always preferred the company of dust covered books to girlie chats in the Gryffindor dorms. And it was this that scared her, how was she going to make her way in the big wide world if she could only ever open up to three people?
Amidst these thoughts Hermione began lifting one book after another into the trunk. Over the years Hermione had remained true to her book- worm character, her desire to get the highest marks only increased with years gone by and as she shined the new badge against her T-shirt she knew it had all been worth it. Head Girl. She even liked the way it rolled off her tongue when she said. Her parents had been so proud telephoning all the relatives. Hermione put up a front of embarrassment when they did this, but on the contrary secretly she would have been happy if they went on top of the rooftop and screamed it out at the top of their voices.
Of course she owled Harry and Ron at the burrow to tell them her good news. They replied just as quickly telling her the news that Harry had been made Head Boy. He deserved it of course, after Sirus' death he had thrown himself into his work to take his mind off all the things that had happened in the past. However she couldn't help but be slightly disappointed, for she was never allowed to shine by herself. Harry and Ron would always be right behind her, or in Harry's case way in front. To everybody else Harry being Head boy was more important and impressive than her new appointment; he's always the center attention overshadowing everybody else. Oh god I sound like Malfoy, Hermione mentally slapped herself. No I have to be happy for him, he deserves it. Yes that is right. Hermione thought to herself trying to get those disgraceful notions out of her head.
"Hermione are you done packing, dinner's ready." Her mums voice floated upstairs. "Coming," Hermione screamed back. Closing her bedroom door Hermione headed downstairs to enjoy her final meal with her parents before the new school year. That night Hermione went to bed; sleeping dreamlessly unaware of what the coming year would hold for her.
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A/N Personally am rather proud of myself my longest chapter yet and over 1000 words. PARTY! But is it good? Was it worth the blood, tears and sweat? Should I hang up my biro and cheapo lined paper? So many questions so review and let me know! Please! (The more reviews I get the quicker I'll post my next chapter - c how desperate I am for reviews am actually resorting to bribery!) And finally a big shout out to Natalie and Serpent Du Feu for ure lovely reviews, keep them cumin! ((( Thanx, Bye 4 now(((