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The smell of burning flesh nearly collapsed Draco's resolve. The Dark Mark was being imprinted on his arm, but he could feel it marking his soul. He was under control of somebody else now. Every time his "Lord" wanted him, he would feel it, and he would have to obey.
He pushed these thoughts from his brain and he felt Voldemort's red eyes burning into his mind, trying to read everything within it. He focused on thoughts of glory and triumph, of killing and winning despite the cost. Hermione's face was banished into crevices unable to be sensed by the cruelty embodied in the creature beside him.
Finally, the pain diminished, but the sweet, sickly smell of his ruined flesh still lingered. Draco glanced at his arm, and had to fight the revulsion that automatically arose at the sight of the coiled snake marring his white skin.
"Do you not like it, my child?" The serpent-like voice hissed with fake kindness.
Draco fought, and he won against his emotions, keeping his face perfectly still, and even curling up his lips in a small smile. "Of course I do, Master. Now you have no reason to doubt my loyalty."
"It is in your best wishes that you keep it that way." The warning was barely concealed, and Draco's heart raced with cold fear.
"Always, Master." Voldemort coldly looked at him, and then offered out his hand to be kissed. Draco stared at it with dread, but serenely brought it to his lips and kissed it lightly. The clammy skin felt dead to his touch, and the red eyes that bore into the back of his head made his new Mark burn. Voldemort spun away, and disappeared under the black cloak mimicked by his followers. Only Draco and his father were left in the room.
"I must admit, Draco, I had my doubts about you."
"Well, I hope they have left you, father."
"They have...ceased. Soon the Dark Lord will want you to prove yourself to him, and if you manage to pull that off, then I will trust you."
Draco bowed his head in acceptance, expecting his father to leave. But Lucius stayed, his cold eyes resting on his son. 'Even now, he can't love me,' Draco thought ironically.
"You are going to need a suitable mate to help carry on the family name, Draco. I have already chosen one for you, as your mother was chosen for me." At these words, the icy coldness that had threatened Draco since he arrived tightened even further around his heart, threatening to make it stop beating forever.
His father's eyes slid to the door of their small room, and Draco hesitantly looked over. There, Pansy was being escorted into the room, her eyes small and triumphant, but Draco saw the horror lingering behind them. She had won her prize, but at the price of sacrificing her freedom.
"You will win this girl after your first task, Draco. She is perfect to carry on our name, and you will hopefully get her pregnant as soon as possible."
Disgust crept up Draco's throat, but a quick mental image of Hermione dying at the hands of Death Eaters was enough to qualm his protests.
"What will my task be, father?"
"Our Lord is waiting to show you. Can you not feel it?"
At that moment, Draco felt sharp heat run up his arm, and as he glanced down, he saw the snakes moving on his Mark.
"I can." Lucius nodded curtly at Draco's reply, and led his son out of the room. Draco met Pansy's eyes on the way out, and any pity he felt for her was swept away at her hungry gaze.
Soon, Draco found himself in the dungeons below his family's Manor, and he saw the eyes of Death Eaters gleaming in the gloom. Every one was there to witness his first test. Voldemort stepped out of the shadows, his white skin shining with deadly power.
"Kill her."
The voice sounded exactly as it had in his dream, and Draco's eyes swung to the ground, where a young girl was crumpled in a broken heap. Panic rose inside him as he envisioned Hermione looking at him, and him having to murder her. He wouldn't do it.
The girl looked at him, and Draco started as he saw blue eyes instead of brown. He didn't recognize the girl, and relief swept through him.
"Who is she?"
"A filthy Mudblood. That is all you need to know." His father's voice was emotionless, and Draco knew he was counting on his son to fail.
The hatred that circled in the room was causing the girl below him to shake, and her gaze turned pleading. Draco's emotions battled within him, but his natural instinct were fueled by the dark power around him. He raised his wand, and pointed it at the girl.
"No! Please! My name is Rachel White, I'm 17-years-old. I go to Beaubaxtons. I have an identity, Draco. Don't kill me."
Draco started. "How do you know my name?" He felt the tension in the dungeon rise, as the Death Eater's disapproval mounted. He shouldn't be conversing with his victim.
"Fourth year. I was at the Triwizard Tournament. Please, Draco. Don't do this. Please don't kill me. I never did anything to you." Her voice was barely a whimper as his posture didn't change - his wand didn't lower.
"You're wrong, Mudblood. You were born." With this, her eyes widened, and green light filled the room for a single moment as Draco shouted the last words she would ever hear - Avada Kedavra.
He stared at her still form, her twisted features, as cheers rose around him. He had to do it. It was all an act, but a necessary one. Was the life of one girl worth the others that he would be saving by performing his play as a follower of the Dark Lord? Was her life replaceable with Hermione's? No matter what, an innocent girl was killed, and he had done it. She would never know the truth - that despite his previous hatred, he was in love with one of her kind, and he was doing everything in his power to save her. These thoughts were only a flash though, before he was able to put on a smirk and turn to face his father.
He directed his next thought at him. 'You thought I couldn't do it'. The unspoken words were received by the older man, and he tilted his head at his son for forgiveness. Draco made him think he was forgiven.
"You have proven your loyalty to me, young Malfoy. Now go, collect your earthly prize."
Voldemort had accepted him. His first task was passed. But what would follow?
Lucius led him to his room upstairs, where Pansy was waiting. "You showed your loyalty to our Lord, Draco. Now show your loyalty to me. You are 18 - an adult. Take Pansy as you please, for it is the only way you're going to fit in with your new peers. Your mask will be sent soon."
Draco nodded, and glanced into his open door. Pansy was on his bed, dressed only in a thin slip.
"Go ahead, son. She is your's now and forever. We will perform the marriage ceremony soon, but don't let that stop you from claiming her. It is expected that our wives be obedient. That is why your mother has allowed me back in our bed, even though I had to punish her quite severely."
"Yes, father." Draco tried not to show his hatred. Even after he left his mother, he still had a soft spot for her, and Lucius' mention of his abuse only fueled the fire growing within his son.
Lucius left, and Draco walked slowly into his rooms, where Pansy looked at him with happy apprehension.
"Come to bed, Drakey..."
"Why are you doing this?"
Her face melted. "I love you! And I know you love me too! That Mudblood just has you blinded." Draco tried to protest, but Pansy cut him off. "I know what I saw, Draco. But I'm not going to tell. Just as long as you take me now as I know you were taking her. We are going to be married. There's nothing you can do to stop it."
Draco felt complete despair clutch him. He was doing this to save Hermione, but in the long run, he was going to have to give her up anyway. There was no way to escape his life now without being killed and having her killed as well. His life was murder and marriage to a woman he didn't love.
He walked slowly to Pansy, and she draped her arms around him. She murmured that everything was going to be OK, that he would grow to love her as she loved him, and life would right itself.
It was a lie, but one she wanted to believe, and he let her.
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