Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER (not that I'd want to, I'd prefer Draco Malfoy)

AN: Okay, the arm the Dark Mark goes I found in the fourth book. Otherwise enjoy. Onwards!

Draco Malfoy was bored. Not the kind of twiddle-your-thumbs or wait-for-something-better-bored, but that nagging boredom that consumed your thoughts until you couldn't twiddle your thumbs because you were too bored.

Right now he was on his bed looking up at the green silk curtains. His room was done in the 'family colors' as he liked to think of them: black, silver and green. The floor was white marble with swirls of grey in it while the furniture was expensive wood stained so dark it looked black. Almost all things that were fabric from the curtains to the bed sheets were deep emerald silk. Some may have found the room a little frightening and cold, but Draco was used to it.

Draco rolled over onto his stomach and hid his face in the cold silk of the pillow. It was summer and he could see the sweat on the house-elves faces as the staggered in from their outdoor work. Draco rarely went outside, he'd never really enjoyed the outdoors and he didn't plan on doing anything to change his mind.

"Draco!"

Draco jerked his head up and stared at the door. That was his father's voice and—oh god were those his footsteps? Draco felt his head momentarily stop before he took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. Quickly he stood up and walked to the door, placing his hand on the smooth sliver doorknob.

"Draco, may we come in?"

Draco's jaw dropped this time, his father was making a request. Draco closed his mouth and opened the door in one fluid motion. Standing in the doorway was Lucius Malfoy wearing black robes with the hood pushed back. Loosely in one hand was a mask. Behind him was a tall man in white robes.

"My Lord, this is my son Draco."

Draco eyed the Dark Lord coolly, trying not to run screaming in the other direction. Instead he stepped aside and let his father and Lord Voldemort come inside.

"Draco Malfoy," Voldemort said, "your father has told me great things about you."

"Thank you—" Draco faltered, not sure how to address him, "My Lord." it came out as more of a question than a title. Voldemort let out a high cold laugh that made Draco's skin crawl.

"I have discussed this with the Dark Lord for a long time and we have decided its time for you to take the next step."

"Sir?" Draco looked at his father with a slightly puzzled stare.

"Roll up your sleeve Draco," Lucius instructed, "usually this would take place in a formal ceremony but the Order is becoming increasingly more annoying and we cannot risk it. Therefore we'll do this here."

Draco's grey eyes went from Lucius to Voldemort and back to Lucius again. Lucius gave a small nod and Draco rolled up the sleeve on his left arm.

"Now kneel—one knee—in front of the Dark Lord, bow your head."

Draco went down on one knee in front of him and bowed his head obediently.

"Remember what I told you," Lucius said to Draco. Draco swallowed, his father made him memorize those vows when he was a little boy—he should have seen this coming.

"I swear my undying and unwavering allegiance to Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord as my one true Lord whom I will obey without hesitation or doubt. Once fallen now risen I chose thee as my first and foremost commander for you have proven yourself as worthy of my loyalty—" Draco faltered as a searing and burning pain started in his arm and continued up it, "—I give you my trust, my body, my mind and my soul. I am you're my Lord, in death and in life, light and darkness until you release me."

The pain was all consuming now and burned at his very soul. Draco shut his eyes against the agony and bit his lip trying not to scream and succeeded. In return he tasted blood and more pain. Finally the pain lessened slightly.

"Rise Draco, son of Lucius."

Draco got to his feet slowly, shaking his head quickly he shook away some of the fog and focused on the Dark Lord who nodded coldly.

"Tomorrow night," he said, "you take your place in my circle."

After a minuet Draco was left alone in the room.

Far away a boy named Harry Potter sat up in bed, breathing hard. His scar felt like it was on fire and he wanted to scream but kept in inside.

Ginny Weasley wasn't so lucky and she sat up with a horse yell, her hands clutching the bed sheets. Tossing off the covers she ran to the window and pushed it open. Like on all nights where nightmares invaded her dreams, Ginny did the one thing that seemed to help: she ran. Swinging her legs over the window sill, Ginny slid down the side of the small patch of second-story roof and grabbed the edge, easing herself over to the tree next to the house. She climbed down and began to run. Her feet hit the ground in time with her pounding heart as she tried to outrun the pain and fear that haunted her.

But she was always unsuccessful and the nightmares were starting to get worse.