Note from author: This is my first fic! r&r if you feel like it. I apologize for careless grammar. I'm bored.
Chapter 3: The Muggle Massacre
That evening he prepared to apparate to the Malfoy Manor. Classes were over and he would reach his home just in time for dinner. Lucius had obtained special permission from the Headmaster allowing him to spend the evening and part of the night at Malfoy Manor. Lucius had dropped some elaborate excuses about 'pureblood rituals' and 'coming of age.' The end result was that almost every day he was allowed to apparate into and out of HW so that he could report home. It wasn't really 'home' anymore, he thought, as he made his way through the stone corridors of HW. He was fond of the castle itself, despite it being made of light magic. It wasn't warm to him, like Malfoy Manor was, but it accepted him and it was alive and growing in a way that made Malfoy Manor seem plain and boring. The arrangement was necessary; otherwise he wouldn't be able to attend his initiation and the following death eater meetings.
Being late was unacceptable. Another one of Lucius' rules. He greeting Lucius and Cissa cordially with a 'Good evening' and joined them at the dinner table. They smiled at him warmly. His initiation was in two days. Conversation at the dinner table was focused on politics, like it had his entire life in Malfoy Manor. Cissa and Lucius analyzed people, things, teams, alliances, countries, nations, and the world. They analyzed opinions, theories, philosophies, propaganda and lies. He politely joined their conversation at appropriate times, making sure to skirt any issues that his parents were stubborn about.
After dessert, Cissa apparated away without goodbyes and Lucius lead Malfoy out into the sprawling gardens. They walked briskly to the apparition point and Lucius chatted about the 'party' that was going to happen that night. His eyes glowed with anticipation and he licked his lips as he explained that Draco had been invited but could not participate. Lucius had secured an invitation for him with difficulty. Malfoy stopped himself from cursing out loud. Lucius probably thought this was some kind of favor he was doing for him. A favor he would have to return. Lucius ran a strong tapering hand through his short yellow hair and paused at the apparition point. Then claws curled around Malfoy's upper arm and they were off.
Malfoy appeared to be in a park. It was a dark night, with only a tiny slit of a moon. Short grey branching trees surrounded the clearing. Lucius left his side leaving his instructions, he was only an observer he could not move from here, he could not participate yet because he hadn't been marked. Malfoy swallowed, apprehension filling him completely. In his bland excitement, Lucius had mentioned that the dark lord himself would grace them with his presence. Malfoy had never seen Voldemort before and he was terrified. Malfoy was terrified of the arch mage of the dark, Voldemort. This was the most powerful dark wizard of all time. He was a genius at invention and unrivalled in the dark arts. His magic when unleashed was so awe inspiring that it left you breathless and weak in the knees. Malfoy controlled his expressions and body carefully, preparing for what he was about to witness.
There was deadly sound of a hundred little pops as the death eaters apparated into the clearing. Malfoy stood right at the edge of the gathering, his hood up and just a shadow on the side. Some of the death eaters didn't wear their masks. Then came the Muggles. About a hundred and fifty of them, he couldn't be sure. With then came the noise of tortured screams and shouts. Malfoy watched the Muggles being tortured and killed with little emotion. They were not people. They were inferior beings who deserved to die. He could distinctly hear his Aunt Bella's insane laughter amongst the chaos. His silver eyes searched the heaving masses of bodies for her, but he could not see her.
Then with a crack appeared the Dark Lord himself. Malfoy swallowed the disgust that rose in his throat as he took in his appearance. His eyes were bright red and glowing, his skin was tight, wrinkled and stretched over a disfigured face. He had no nose at all, just two slits that quivered with pleasure as he joined in the orgy. Malfoy has always hated ugly people and things as long as he could remember. Voldemort did not look like the amazing genius leader that everyone talked off. He was so ugly, Malfoy was revolted. He steeled his mind and observed his future leader as its eyes shone with pleasure as it tortured some Muggle child. Voldemort laughed hysterically as he made the child watch the death of his younger sibling.
Malfoy's lower lip curled in disapproval. This obvious pleasure that Voldemort got out of torture was a weakness. It was an unacceptable weakness that was unworthy of such a great leader. It reminded him of Lucius. Lucius had slowly succumbed to this guilty pleasure over the years as his career as a death eater took up more and more of his time. Voldemort seemed even more lost to this temptation than Lucius. His red eyes were wide with exhilaration as he absorbed the pain of his victims with all his senses.
Disillusionment tasted bitter in Malfoy's mouth. Several hours passed and the air became heavy with the sweet smell of blood and death. Few of the Muggles remained, moaning and begging for their lives pathetically. Malfoy reassessed his chances of survival. Suddenly, victory or defeat looked like a fifty-fifty chance. His lips compressed into thin line as he pondered fighting for a cause that had a half chance of losing. Defeat would mean he would lose everything, his pride, his money, his heritage, and probably his life. He plotted about surviving through defeat. Changing sides was impossible, but he had to make sure that he could live comfortably and without losing face after the probable defeat. With a detached air he counted that as a young one in the ranks his chances of survival were even less. He needed times time to rise and there was no point if he didn't survive long enough. His heart became ice when he realized his way out. He would have to play the other side. He would become a spy for them, convince them he was theirs so that if they won his comfort could be guaranteed. He frowned at his risky idea, but did not shy away from the huge risks. Malfoy made snap decisions based on experience and taking risks that involved loss of his own life came smoothly to his mind. It was all a play that he intended to win in his own way or not at all. If he calculated carefully, he could tip the scales in his favor until he felt more secure. He never once considered actually going to the light. That was ridiculous.