Disclaimer: The Malfoy family as well as Voldemort belong to JK Rowling. I don't own any of the major characters.
A/N: Thanks to my beta on this project, scarletheartedlioness on hpffdotcom. Kudos to slyteringinny on hpffdotcom for issuing such a lovely challenge topic. Enjoy.
The floor was stone, making it ideal for a person who wished for powerful footsteps. Even the softest step would echo off the walls as though a herd of elephants were rushing through. Not only did the sound mimic itself throughout the room, it caused hearts to beat faster when heard. So it was to no one's surprise that Draco sat in his chair, panicking at the sounds of his father's footsteps.
"Up," Lucius Malfoy simply barked at his sixteen-year-old son, walking towards his desk in the middle of the room. It was large, expensive and dark; perfect for the man it belonged to. Lucius sat behind it, leaning far back in the black leather chair and resting his upscale clad feet on the cherry wood top. Never motioning for his son to sit down, Draco assumed it would be safer to remain standing.
"Have you decided where your loyalties lay, Draco?"
Draco only nodded, fearing his father's entire presence.
A wide smirk crossed Lucius' face, "I assume they will make me proud?" Draco nodded once more, "Good. Tell me, Draco, why are willing to serve the Dark Lord?"
"To rid of the world of Mudbloods, of course," Draco answered, his confidence rising.
That was his mistake. Seeing anger flash in Lucius' eyes, Draco knew he had clearly said something horribly wrong. What it was, he was sure to find out soon enough, "Is that all?"
Searching his father's face for any sign of what he wanted Draco to say, he felt another wave of panic wash over him. Normally his father's long white-blonde hair covered up any expression the man might have, but today Lucius' hair was pulled back. Despite this difference, his aristocratic features were still hard and completely unemotional. It was becoming evident that Draco wouldn't get his answers from him.
"Glory," Draco mumbled, "To be known as a follower of the greatest wizard of all time," nervously, he stole a peek of his father's face. It hadn't changed, "Wealth and power as well. Only he can give me those things."
Their gazes were held for mere seconds before Lucius dropped his feet from the desk and focused on the papers spread out in front of him. Draco, not sure of what this movement meant, stood there. Needless to say, he looked like a fool.
Snapping his head up to his son, Lucius growled, "Go."
Rushing to leave his father's study, Draco slowed down by the time he had made it to his third hallway. What had he just done? True, it was a stupid time to question his agreement to servitude, but he couldn't help it. He had just told his father that he was gladly entering himself into the Dark Lord's world. A world without an exit.
Sighing heavily, Draco pushed the door open to his room. The walls were dark green with an even darker green trim. The floor was stone, like the rest of the manor. His bed jutted out into the center of the room. The satin bedding was silver with a crest bearing a snake wound around a large M. Two windows were placed on either side of the bed, creating two uncomfortable places to sit. It was dark outside, the glow from the lit candles casting a sad feel to the room. Perfect for the way Draco felt.
Collapsing roughly onto his large bed, Draco stared up at the ceiling. Shadows dancing before his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder more about what he was agreeing to believe. He was taught ever since he was born to despise anyone without full wizard blood. Yet now, it seemed almost foolish to hate anyone for what they could not control. He was taught to despise muggle culture as a whole. But yet again, their customs and way of life was almost mirrored by Draco's. He was taught to despise those who become friendly towards muggles, mostly those who fell in love with them. But without those willing to stray out of their own kind, the wizarding world may have become no more.
So why had he agreed? Maybe out of fear of disappointing his father. Maybe out of fear of disappointing the Dark Lord. Maybe out of fear of disappointing himself. Racking his brain, trying to figure out why he had done what he had, Draco's memory seemed to finally click on. Images of Hermione Granger floated in front of his eyes. Her eager hand waving in class, her eyes staring at the pages of an enormously thick book, her bag stuffed to brim with textbooks and rolls of parchment. Was that it? Was it because someone like Granger, a Mudblood, was able to beat him at everything thrown her way? He doubted that.
As images of Granger flashed in his head, they progressed into more than her just studying. Scowling at him as she stopped Weasley and Potter from attacking him. Smiling softly whenever he was told his answers were wrong. Muttering "Ignore him" each time her two lackeys were insulted. He never fazed her. She was always so calm around Draco...that's what angered him the most.
Except in their third year. He had somehow struck her when she was down. Draco would never forget that slap he was given; he was certain his cheek was still red from all those years ago. He could remember the anger in her eyes, the thin line that was her lips and the more wild appearance of her bushy hair. But above all, he could remember what he had felt just before the hit. Satisfaction that he had cracked Hermione Granger. Satisfaction that he was finally able to push her buttons. Satisfaction that he had angered her.
It was remembering that moment that made Draco sure what he was doing was right. He wasn't in it all for the glory, the wealth, the power or the killing of Mudbloods. He was in it to anger people, to get someone like Granger to react in a way they believed only people like Draco would.
He was running. Where to, he hadn't a clue. Around him were trees, all of them dead. The grass beneath his feet lay brown and limp. His blonde hair was sticking in all directions; the cloak he'd been so careful to fasten was now closing to falling off. But he didn't care, he just kept running.
Glancing back, he saw his father, grinning evilly at him. His head wiped forward only to see none other than Harry Potter and his sidekicks. Abruptly stopping, he stared at the three, fearing them for a reason he didn't know. Glancing back, he watched his father inch closer to him.
Draco snapped open his eyes, the pillow under his head soaked in the sweat that had poured from his face. Breathing heavily, he sat up. Pushing his covers off, Draco winced slightly as his toes touched the ice cold stone. At that moment a whisper came from behind him. Quickly climbing back up onto the bed, he stared in the direction of the noise. To say his heart was thumping was an understatement.
Another whisper was heard from behind him followed by what Draco could only classify as a snigger. Frowning, his heart rate picking up, Draco snatched his wand up from the bedside table. Quite foolish of him, as he was still underage and definitely not allowed magic outside of Hogwarts. Either way, having the wand in his hand made him feel a bit safer.
"Is anyone in here?" his mouth said, his brain still trying to figure out what was going on. Slipping off the bed, Draco barely noticed the near frostbite his feet were used to. Another sound came from in front of him, this time anticipated. His hand shaking, he moved forward, looking completely absurd with his useless wand in front of him.
Candle light flooded the room to reveal the noise-maker. Or makers. Standing in various parts of the room where hooded figures, each with a mask hiding their identities. Every one of them was staring at Draco, or at least as well as a faceless person could. Completely forgetting about the wand in his hand, Draco's arm dropped. His head swimming with confusion, he simply stared back at the intruders.
"Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy. Quite a rich bloke, aren't we?" asked a death eater standing directly in front of Draco. The only thing uncovered on their face was their eyes. Staring at the man, Draco couldn't help but see envy in the person's eyes. Inwardly smiling, Draco decided he would get to this person before they would get to him.
"My father would be far from insulted by such a comment," he gloated.
"Hiding behind Daddy won't get you anywhere, Malfoy," Draco's smirk dropped. He didn't expect this person to strike him back.
His silence seemed to amuse the person, who had stared to approach him, "In our world, there is only one person who means anything. Contrary to what you'd learned in the past, Draco, it is not Lucius Malfoy. In fact, there are many who deserve more respect than your father. Quite a bit more. It'll do you well to remember that, " At this point the person was inches from Drake's face. Their noses touching, Draco barely batted an eyelash, both afraid to show this man his discomfort and afraid to anger this man.
"Grab him," the man ordered, pulling away from the gaze first. Two strong arms roughly grabbed Draco's forearms, pulling him out of the room and down the pitch black hallway. Still wearing his thin pajamas, Draco felt a shiver go down his spine as they traveled down the cold hallways. Giving up navigating along with their path, Draco willingly allowed the two men to drag him along.
Stopping just as roughly as they had started, Draco stared at the brick wall in front of them. Confirmed by the windowless walls and the odd odor, Draco was certain they were in the dungeons of the Malfoy manor. Pushing open one gate to the many stable like cells lining the walls; Draco watched the death eater that had insulted him haul out a man tied up in thick ropes and violently drop him to the floor.
Draco didn't have the faintest idea who this man was, but he was certain that the man was near a horrible death. He was also certain that, no matter what this man did to deserve this chamber, he himself would be involved in ending this man's life. Tightening the muscles in his arms, hoping the two men would loosen their death grips, Draco watched the death eater lower himself and whisper something in the man's ear. The man, still bounded, scowled deeply as the death eater stood back up.
Smirking, the death eater slowly walked towards Draco. "Let him go," he barked, refusing to break Draco's eye contact, "Take your wand out," Draco complied, "Come forward, Malfoy. You aren't much help from over there,"
Draco stepped forward, leaving the warm feeling his bare feet had left behind, dreading his next task. He was now directly next to the death eater, and was only eye level with the man.
"You see Draco, your next move is simple. This man before you has been damaging our cause. He must die, Draco. If you do this, but only if you do this right; you will gain not only what you desire from the Dark Lord. You will gain freedom from men like this who make our talents into a mockery,"
Draco stared into the eyes of the man he was to rid the world of. His eyes were a cold and hard blue, refusing to show any emotion in fear of showing his weakness. Pointing his ebony wand towards the helpless man, Draco felt powerful. This man was nearly dead, the chances of him living slowly trickingly away like water in the blonde boy's fingers. Regripping the wand, Draco was more than sure he was making the right choice.
"Avad--" Before Draco could finish the curse, a green light shot of the wand of the death eater next to him. Draco watched the body of the man slump in place. He watched the man die before his eyes, shocked as to what had really just happened.
"Nice work, Malfoy. Didn't think you had it in you," the death eater, who had caused all this confusion, congratulated. He had dropped his arm around Draco's shoulders, steering him out of the cell. As they walked, the group of death eaters followed.
"But...I didn't do anything,"
"Didn't do anything? Malfoy, you just proved your ability to kill an unarmed man,"
"I didn't kill him. You did,"
The death eater shook his head, "Look kid, did you really think you were going to actually kill him?" there was silence that filled the room as the death eater stared at him. Realizing that Draco indeed thought he was going to do the honors, the death eater burst into laughter,"You don't even have the mark and you...oh kid, you are thick," chided the death eater, shaking his head once more, "You're serving the Dark Lord now. There'll be plenty of times to kill, trust me,"
Draco woke up that same morning to what felt like a gloomy day. Still feeling very annoyed by his miss last night, he shoved his covers off himself and slid off the satin sheets. His bare feet touched the freezing cold stone for the umpteenth time. Most mornings Draco would follow a precedent schedule. He would get out of his bed, wince at the cold floor, stumble through a shower, put on his aristocratic clothes and head down stairs for his elf-made breakfast. But today, hanging from his wardrobe, was a long black robe, a muggle pencil and a white mask. Pinned to the robe was note with Draco written on the front.
The pencil is a portkey. The Dark Lord expects you dressed appropriately for your marking.
Quickly dressing in the bulky, black robes; Draco stared at the pencil he had let drop to the floor. Taking a deep breath, Draco was positive he wouldn't let his nerves get the best of him. Sighing, Draco picked the pencil up and felt a tug just above his navel.
Draco was standing in a hall of an ancient castle. Standing around him, in a perfect circle, were many hooded figures; each hiding behind the same white mask on Draco's own face. He stood directly in front of a man who also wore the same black robes. His face, unlike the others, was uncovered. The man had two slits for a nose and his eyes were the color of blood. Swallowing hard, Draco stared into the eyes of the man he had agreed to follow.
"Draco Malfoy...quite a background you have, no? The Malfoys and Blacks alike have served me faithfully for ages. I am not at all surprised in presence here, Mr. Malfoy. You seem to be much like your father, something I'll give pity for," the Dark Lord whispered, circling Draco. He seemed to be shouting to Draco, who could hear a pin drop in the large room.
The Dark Lord, taking Draco's left forearm, gently pushed the tip of his yew wand against Draco's pale skin. Draco's heart was beating fast as the Dark Lord whispered an incantation so low that even Draco couldn't hear him.
One minute Draco felt fine, the next his entire body was engulfed in blinding pain. It was as though there were ropes tugging at every organ in his body. Each vain seemed to be twisting into every knot it could. Grinding his teeth to keep from screaming in pain, Draco could feel his left forearm being branded. Just as soon as it had all started, it stopped.
Flexing his fingers, Draco's eyes drifted to his still outstretched forearm. Rested in dark black was a skull with a snake protruding out of its mouth. The Dark Mark.
The Dark Lord was staring at Draco as he drawled, "You're a strong one, Draco Malfoy."