Chapter 2
Seventeen-year-old Hermione Granger sat in her bedroom, staring out her window as she stroked the sleeping half-kneazle on her lap.
The sun had long set, and yet, the young witch could not find any peace in slumber. Every time she closed her eyes anymore, all she saw were steel gray eyes staring back at her.
For all her trying, she hadn't been able to stop thinking of him.
A frustrated sigh left her lips as she closed her eyes. Why can't I get him out of my head?
Hermione had asked herself this question hundreds of times over the past week, and she was no closer to finding an answer than she had been.
Seeing Malfoy weak and broken in the Hospital Wing had undone something inside of her, and she couldn't figure out what it was.
It was like one of her constants in life – like books, and getting in trouble with Harry and Ron – had just vanished, and it left her utterly lost.
With a shake of her head,the chestnut-haired girlstood from her perch on her bed and set Crookshanks down, earning a sleepy glare from him before he settled back down and promptly fell asleep again.
Deciding she needed some fresh air, Hermione walked downstairs and out into her small backyard.
Settling herself into one of the patio chairs, she leaned back and stared into the star-strewn sky.
It was a new moon tonight, so the stars shined more brilliantly than they usually were able to. Still, the relative darkness of the night settled her frayed mind a little, or at least enough to allow her to relax.
I wonder where he is right now, she thought morosely as she finally drifted off to sleep.
Draco Malfoy walked into the middle of the circle created by the towering rocks of Stonehenge, feeling awed at the pure magic that flowed over him.
This was one of two places in the entirety of the British Isles in which the very land you walked upon contained so much magic it could almost be considered sentient.
No one had ever been able to tap into magic lying here and live.
Except Him.
Draco couldn't help but shake his head as he followed his father to his appointed place among the other initiates of the night. This is wrong. I shouldn't be doing this, he thought solemnly. But, father will be proud. He'll finally accept me. I have to do this.
Today was June 5th, his seventeenth birthday, and he was being inducted into the ranks of the Death Eaters, a powerful band of Dark Wizards under the control of Lord Voldemort. He didn't do it because he agreed with their ideals. He didn't do it for the power it would give him.
He did it for his father. For the chance his father would look at him with pride in his eyes.
He did it for the love he wanted.
Draco stood there, familiar faces, and some not so familiar, to his sides.
And then there were the faceless white masks that surrounded them all.
His bride-to-be, Pansy, stood to his left, and Goyle was positioned to his right. Crabbe was next to Goyle, followed by a third year Slytherin Draco had never paid any attention to, and then Alex Weston, a fourth year.
On the other side of Pansy stood Millicent Bulstrode in all her blocky glory, then Heather Knowles, another fourth year.
There were soft murmurings all around as Death Eaters gradually joined the circle.
His father had told him that all of the foremost of the Dark Lord's army would be here to witness his initiation. He began to sweat nervously.
Without warning, silence fell upon the collection.
All eyes turned to the dark presence that had entered the clearing. It created a heaviness in the air that caused one thought, and one alone, to enter Draco's mind.
Bow to me.
All around him, he heard Death Eaters falling to the ground in reverence. Next to him, Pansy hit her knees, groveling to the awesome power of the creature approaching.
Draco fought the compulsion, knowing he would bow under his own power, not from any coercion.
Crabbe and Goyle did likewise.
Red eyes pierced the darkness and fell upon the three boys, causing the command to repeat with tenfold the power.
Still they resisted, gaining strength from each other.
Coming to stand before Draco, the Dark Lord stared into his eyes. The blond Slytherin realized then that he was no match for such an imposing figure, but he had made his challenge, and he would not back down.
Slowly the pressure faded, and those gathered around the circle slowly rose.
Gasps and murderous murmurs abounded as more and more of those gathered realized the three had not bowed before their lord.
The red-eyed demon raised a hand, commanding instant silence.
Sweat beaded Draco's brow, and he fought the urge to flee. He had planned this with the other boys several weeks ago, and he would see it through to fruition.
"Do you dare defy me?" the greatest dark wizard of the age hissed.
Keeping his gaze averted, Draco shook his head lightly. "No, my Lord. We do not defy you. We merely wish to show our loyalty by bowing of our own free will, and not by any outside compulsion," he spoke clearly enough for all gathered to hear.
Then, with fluid grace, he and Goyle went to their knees.
Crabbe didn't move.
"It seems as if one of you does wish to defy me, Mr. Malfoy," the demon hissed, stepping over to Draco's friend. "Do you have something to say, Vincent Crabbe?" he asked, his face a mere inch from the Slytherin's.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco could see the boy nod, even as his entire body trembled in fear.
Kneel, damn it. This isn't a part of the plan. Just shut up and kneel.
The words that came fromCrabbe's mouth froze Draco's blood.
"I won't die like a dog for you."
A hushed murmur ran through the crowd, and Draco heard Pansy stifle a gasp.
Stepping away from the pudgy boy, the Dark Lord swept his hand toward the circle around him. "So, here in front of my most loyal followers, you will die in defiance of me?" he asked incredulously.
Crabbe didn't respond.
Then, something happened that would revisit the Slytherin Prince in his nightmares.
The Dark Lord laughed.
It was an evil sound that left his nerves razed, and the hairs on his neck standing on end. He held down a shudder, but ended up vomiting in his mouth.
He swallowed it back down, not wanting to show any weakness. Not now.
The shout was sudden, and caused Draco to nearly jump out of his skin.
"Avada Kedavra!"
In a flash of green, it was over.
Crabbe lay dead where he had stood only a second before, and the Dark Lord was no longer laughing.
"Are there going to be any other acts of defiance tonight?" he screamed at those gathered in the circle.
There was, predictably, no response, and Draco couldn't tear his eyes from the rapidly cooling body of his friend.
Wormtail stepped forward and began the ceremony, hoping to keep his lord from killing all of his followers in a fit of fury.
"Charles Windermere, step forward!" he squeaked, his alternate nature showing through in his actions as well as his speech.
The little third year that had stood next to Crabbe scurried toward the Dark Lord's servant.
Draco could see the urine that had stained his pants.
"Do you pledge your loyalty, your life and your soul to me?" the red-eyed demon hissed, his voice sending shivers down Draco's spine.
"Y-y-y-yes my Lord," the boy stuttered.
The boy received the Mark, howling in pain throughout the ordeal, earning him a scowl from the Dark Lord.
It continued in the same manner, throughout all of the remaining initiates.
When Millicent was called, Draco glanced at his remaining friend. Goyle was staring straight at the Dark Lord, hatred in his eyes, his knuckles white.
Knowing what the other boy was contemplating – for he had considered it himself – Draco shook his head subtly. "We can't do anything if we're dead, Gregory," he whispered out of the side of his mouth.
After a moment, Draco saw the larger boy nod, then watched as his fists uncoiled.
Satisfied he would not lose another friend tonight, Draco zoned out the next two, preparing himself for his Mark.
Goyle followed Bulstrode, then it was Pansy.
Pansy was the first to not show any outward signs of pain from her reception of the mark.
Even Goyle had flinched.
Draco knew she was trying to prove that she was worthy to be his bride.
When she stood and returned to her place by his side, he could see the sweat streaming down her brow. She gave him a relieved smile, but he knew her.
It was just to cover up how much pain she was truly in.
Turning his eyes back to the rodent standing before the Dark Lord, he knew.
He never should have taken this path.
"Draco Malfoy, step forward."
The moment was upon him. He surrendered his wand to Wormtail, then stepped to the Dark Lord and dropped to one knee.
"So, the time has come for the young Malfoy to follow in the footsteps of his father," the Dark Lord hissed, his tone pleased.
The urge to turn and run returned full force, almost causing Draco to rise. Instead, he tried to swallow, attempting to rewet his suddenly dry throat. "Yes, my lord," he intoned, as his father had instructed him to. For father, he reminded himself.
"Do you pledge your loyalty, your life and your soul to me?" he asked, as he had asked all those who had come before him.
"I will do as you ask of me, when you ask of it of me," he recited from memory. "My life is yours; it exists to do your bidding. In death, my soul is yours – to serve you forever, my lord," his voice was strong and clear, not at all how he felt at the moment.
"Rise then, Draco Malfoy, and receive the Mark of your loyalty." Draco stood and held his left forearm towards the Dark Lord, keeping his eyes averted as a sign of deference. He felt the slight tap of Voldemort's wand against his skin followed by excruciating pain. He refused to cry out, to flinch, to even acknowledge the pain as it traveled up his arm and throughout his body.
The pain crawled up his neck suddenly, and Draco could feel it trying to settle into his mind.
He stood there, stone-faced, using all his willpower to keep the magic from invading his thoughts. My mind is my own…he struggled, mentally warring with the magic. STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!
Suddenly the pain receded, remaining as nothing more than a dull throbbing in his arm, where the Dark Mark now stood like an ugly blemish on his already scarred skin. He felt sweat pouring down his forehead, but refrained from wiping it away, fearing the Dark Lord would see such a casual motion as a sign of disrespect.
"Go home and rest, young Malfoy. I have grand plans for you," the heir of Salazar Slytherin whispered so only the boy in front of him could hear.
Draco bowed again before returning to his place among the others.
Wormtail then walked forward, two other Death Eaters trailing him.
"Here, before our lord, we are equals. To signify this, we cover our faces and our bodies, to remain anonymous in the face of our enemy, and to share our collective mind toward one goal."
After this brief speech, the rat walked from one initiate to the next and handed them, in turn, the items that struck fear throughout England.
A white, featureless mask, and a midnight black cloak.
When he was done, all eyes turned back to their lord.
He was gone.
No high words of praise, no congratulations.
He had simply disapparated, leaving them to make of it what they would.
Draco was slightly stunned at the abrupt ending to the ceremony, but it was quickly forgotten when he turned and saw his father smiling at him.
It wasn't the malicious sneer his father had directed at him for the past six and a half years. It was sincere and full of… pride.
For once in his life, Draco Malfoy had earned his father's pride. He smiled back, a true smile.
For the first time since he was ten years old, he was happy.
It was nearing two in the morning and Ginevra Weasley tried again to stifle the yawn she had successfully been keeping at bay for the last hour while her eyelids had been falling further and further.
A tapping at her window caused her to jump in surprise. She blinked as she turned to see an owl sitting on her sill, looking at her with its head turned sideways.
Setting down the book she had been reading, she walked over to the window and opened it, yawning as she undid the latch. Damn it, she chuckled.
It wasn't an owl she knew – it seemed more like the plain barn owls the post office used – never mind that she had no idea who would be owling her so late at night.
She took the letter from the owl and gave it a treat. It squawked in gratitude before turning and flying off.
Ginny stared at the unopened letter for a few moments before moving to her bed.
A goofy grin settled on her face after she opened it and realized it was from Luna. She had written her letter by cutting out letters from magazines – like ransom notes from those cheesy muggle crime movies Ginny had seen a few times.
tO oNe GineVRa WeAslEy,
HOw Has youR SumMEr BeeN? DaDDy and i haVe gONe to romANiA, and I WAs wonDerInG if You woULd LiKE me to BrinG AnYtHing BacK wITh me?
At this point, her letter reverted to her normal handwriting.
Alright, that was a little to time consuming for me, and I ran out of magazines anyway. In case some of the letters fell off (it happened in the letter I sent to Harry, so he didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about when I told him about the Ravenous Triglobiters that live in the sewers of Bucharest.
They're really fascinating, but if you get too close, they'll eat all of your clothes before you realize it.
They live in packs and just swarm over you and are gone in the blink of an eye, taking your clothes with them.
Ginny smiled as she noticed that Luna had forgotten to close her parentheses and finish her thought. She also didn't think Harry would know what she was talking about anyway.
I was wondering if you had heard anything about Hermione, because I heard something slightly disturbing from an acquaintance of mine in Slytherin about her and Draco Malfoy.
Just curious.
Let me know if you want me to buy you anything!
Your friend,
Luna Lovegood
P.S. Make sure you pick up the next issue of the Quibbler! My dad let me write an article about the Ravenous Triglobiters of Bucharest!
Ginny blinked. Luna had heard about something going on between Hermione and Malfoy?
While that would explain her concern about the Slytherin git after the fight on the train, it still didn't make any sense.
I mean, they hate each other.
Right?
And since when does Luna associate with Slytherins?
Ginny decided she would get to the bottom of this.
The redhead sat down and began writing a letter to her friend, quite aware that they hadn't spoken since she and Ron had their falling out.
Her brother hadn't been handling the end of his and Hermione's relationship very well, and it had only gotten worse after the fight he had gotten in with Malfoy on the train ride home.
He had just been moping around the house, waiting for Harry to arrive from the Dursley's so he could try and keep his lonely mind on things not related to the brown-haired bookworm.
It was driving Ginny insane.
Not that she wasn't sympathetic to him; it was just that she thought he was very much in the wrong at the moment. You just didn't say those sorts of things to anyone, much less your girlfriend.
So, here Ginny was, writing to her brother's ex-girlfriend, trying to make sense of something her best friend had told her, and just too utterly tired and scatter-brained to realize she really should be waiting until morning to do this.
When she finished her letter, she snuck into Ron's room – not that she needed to sneak, considering he slept like a rhino – and took Pigwidgeon out of his cage, gave him the letter and smiled triumphantly as she watched the little owl shoot off into the night.
Her smile quickly fell when she realized she had forgotten to tell the little bird where to go.
"Shite!"
Hermione woke to the sounds of excited scratching at her window.
Pig… what is he doing here? she thought groggily as she got out of bed and walked over to her window. She stopped and looked at the miniature owl, almost expecting him to do a jig to get let in.
Instead, he hovered in the air, almost like a humming bird, and started scratching at the window again.
The young witch smiled as she let him in. The hyperactive owl immediately zoomed in and tried to find the perfect place to settle before giving up his letter.
Eventually, he figured her shoulder would be the best place, and settled there with an energetic and exultant air.
She smiled as she gave the hyperactive bird a treat and pulled two letters off his leg.
One was written on plain-ruled notebook paper (from Harry she guessed) and the other was all pink parchment and curly handwriting, leading her to believe that it had to be Ginny writing her – or that Ron was trying to trick her into reading an apology.
She opened Harry's letter first and started laughing almost immediately.
Hermione!
So, yesterday I wake up to this scratching sound, at which point I figure it must be Pig bringing me a letter from Ron.
I get out of bed, open the window, and suddenly find myself on my ass with a tiny feathery ball sitting on my lap looking dazed.
Before he had a chance to recover, I pull the letter off his leg, and open it, not realizing that Ron would never write to me on pink parchment.
I got to 'Hey Hermione' before I realized that Pig was very lost.
So, I wrote you this letter, and sent the bundle of feathers and energy to harass you.
I hope he doesn't end up as forgetful as Errol was.
Hope to here from you soon,
Harry
Still smiling, she set his letter aside and tore open the letter from Ginny.
At this point in time, Pig poked his head into her line of vision, quite obviously interested in what his owner's sister had sent over.
After pushing the bird out of the way, she began reading
Hey Hermione!
Okay, so… I don't really know how to say this. So I'll just say it.
I just got a letter from Luna and she told me that she had heard from someone she knows in Slytherin that there's something going on between you and Malfoy.
Hermione's heart instantly sank as she read this.
Look, I know it's none of my business, but if there is anything going on…
I don't know. But if something is going on, and you broke up with Ron because of it, well that's just wrong.
I think we should talk.
Let me know, okay?
-Ginny
Hermione let go of the breath she had been holding shakily.
What did I get myself into?
Unbidden, tears started forming in her eyes. "How could Luna have found out?" she whispered to herself as the tears started falling. "Why did she have to find out?"
She cried quietly for a time, Crookshanks coming up to set his head on her lap, trying to give some comfort to his obviously distraught owner.
After her tears had spent themselves, she moved to her desk and wrote a quick letter to Ginny, telling the younger girl to meet her at the Leaky Cauldron around noon. She tied the note to Pigwidgeon's leg and sent him off with strict instructions that no one was to see the letter except for Ginny.
She stood at her window for a few moments, watching the already small bird become a dot in the distance, before turning and heading to her bathroom to get ready for the day.
As she brushed her teeth, her mind wandered to Malfoy. Maybe I should start calling him by his first name, she thought as she spit. After all, we did sleep together. That means something, doesn't it?
Malfoy's words from the day after returned to her then.
"This may have changed everything, but it doesn't change anything."
Hermione thought she had known what he had meant by those words, but now she wasn't so sure.
With a forlorn sigh, Hermione undressed and climbed into the shower, letting the hot water loosen her tight back.
She was unsure of what to think about her situation, especially in regard to Malfoy.
He was a horrible person.
Of that there was no question or debate.
Manipulative, snide, and malicious were some of his better personality traits.
Except for that day.
That day, she had seen him as a regular human, quite capable of being normal and caring and kind.
It came crashing down when he remembered who they were and what they were doing, however.
She sighed, washing her long hair for a third time. I wonder the kind of person he would have been if he hadn't been born a Malfoy.
I wonder if we…
The thought trailed off, partly because she didn't want to think about 'could have been,' but mainly because it hurt to think about something that had felt so right for such a short time.
She turned off the water and grabbed the towel off the rack before stepping out. I can't believe I slept with him. For one stupid night I didn't want to be 'Hermione Granger – Perfect Little Gryffindor," and I took a chance.
I wanted… Hell, I don't know what I wanted, but it wasn't this.
She walked back to her room and began to dress, forcibly turning her thoughts to Ginny and what she might know, and what exactly Hermione was going to tell her.
Would she be understanding and realize it had been a mistake made in the heat of the moment? Or would she spit in her face and hate her for cheating on her brother?
It wasn't really cheating, though, considering she had broken up with him shortly before.
That's a technicality and you know it, Hermione, she reprimanded herself.
As she sat on her bed and looked at her clock, which read 10 o'clock, she fervently prayed it was the former, but her mind wouldn't let her rule out the latter.
Two hours...
Draco lay in his bed, staring at his ceiling. He mildly ran his thumb over the newly inscribed Dark Mark.
It had felt good to finally achieve a kind word from his father. But at what price?
He hadn't left his room, hadn't eaten or slept, since they had returned from Stonehenge the night before last. I am a Death Eater. I sold my soul to the devil for a glance at my heart's desire, he thought for what seemed like the millionth time since he had returned home. Then why do I still feel so empty?
It was a pointless question, he knew. His elation at receiving his father's pride disappeared quickly when he turned to Goyle and saw Crabbe's body laying behind him.
His friend being killed in front of him by the man he had just pledged loyalty to would be enough to make virtually anyone feel empty.
He rolled off the bed and stormed to his bathroom, hating himself for not being able to do anything.
"How could you Lucius? We discussed this! You said you would let him decide his course of action! What was the point of pushing him into this?" Draco shook his head as he reached the bathroom and opened the door. When are they ever not fighting?
He heard his father's voice start to raise, something that only happened when he was truly angry. "You cannot possibly know the future the Dark Lord has planned for our son. He will be elevated within the ranks of the Death Eaters faster than any of his peers!"
"If he doesn't end up dead like the Crabbe boy first!"
Draco felt his blood run cold at her words. Oh no…
He turned and ran to his father's study.
He ran to his mother's screams of pain. If there's a God, don't let me be too late. The screaming stopped suddenly as he reached for the doorknob.
"That will teach you to place your business where it does not belong, woman," he heard his father sneer through the thick oak doors. There was a short pause before Lucius continued. "You've far outlived you usefulness to me. Obliviate."
Draco burst into the room in time to see the blank look of a lost mind fall onto his mother's face.
He looked at his father, disgust showing fully in his eyes. It was one of the few emotions he was allowed. His father met his glare lazily. "Draco, send for Dr. Minter at St. Mungo's and have him come pick this up," he gestured lazily at the woman crumpled at the foot of his desk.
This man was no longer the man he remembered admiring.
He was a new breed of monster.
"Yes, father."
Author's Notes
I realize the updates are coming quickly, but I'm quite sure for how long they are going to be coming this quickly, just to warn you.
Please let me know what you think, whether it be praise or just letting me know that I'm a complete and utter fool.
Thank you as always
-Damien J. Frost