Initiate by clanmalfoy

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 29/11/2003
Last Updated: 29/11/2003
Status: Completed

The night of Draco's initiation has arrived. (one-shot)




1. Initiate
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*Disclaimer: all characters and the first flashback belong to JK Rowling, though I'd trade
her three years' salary for Draco Malfoy and an aging potion.*

I've never been so nervous in my life.

For nearly eighteen years, my father inculcated me with the knowledge of my destiny. At every
turn he reminded me that when I became of age, I would become the first of a new generation of
Death Eaters, the hopes of the continuation of the Dark Lord's regime falling like a cloak upon
my shoulders.

I await my initiation.

I watch with guarded eyes from under the hood of the black robe I wear as others take their
place in the circle. Two of the people who will soon be my colleagues bring forward a third to
stand next to me. They speak no words, but as the pair turn to go, to leave their companion alone
in the circle, one of them rests a hand on the third's shoulder for just a moment before
pulling away to take their proper place.

I wonder for a moment about that curious contact. This doesn't seem to be an appropriate
place for obviously close ties; then again, Death Eaters tended to all be family or friends of one
another. The Lestranges certainly made following the Dark Lord a family affair, and my own father
had crowed to his friends that his son would someday lead the next generation of Death Eaters.

I can't help but think back on all of the events that have led to my taking my place in the
circle at this time. Everything that my father - the Dark Lord's first lieutenant, his most
loyal supporter - did in the name of strengthening me, preparing me for the role he cast me in as
an infant. If I close my eyes, I can see him standing by the picture window in his library, his
long blond hair a striking contrast against the inky blackness of night.

I prefer to remember the timbre of his voice at these times. Gone was the raucousness and
violence of his anger at my failure to beat Saint Potter to the Snitch or pass that mudblood
Granger for highest marks in our year. Instead, my father spoke of the Dark Lord, of his agenda and
his convictions, in tones of the utmost reverence.

*"Our Lord has the right of things, my son. We should be proud, proud of our ancient
magical heritage and unbroken lineage. Instead, we are forced to congregate in secret, to avoid
persecution from those whose inferior minds will simply not allow them to understand. We must
remain concealed until such time as we have amassed enough power to effect profound
change."*

*"The Malfoys have long been known for their magical and political power. Allying
ourselves with the Dark Lord will further our ends. There is only so much they can teach you at
that ridiculous school you attend; once you have been accepted into our Lord's ranks you will
have the opportunity to increase your knowledge of both."*

*"Did you learn nothing in your History of Magic classes, Draco? The Muggle infestation
has always posed a very real threat to the Wizarding population, not only in Britain but all over
the world. Once we have dealt with the mudbloods and blood traitors, we can begin to restore the
world to the proper order, with pureblood wizards in their rightful position of
power."*

I break from my reverie and notice that the circle is complete. Its leader, a tall figure
shrouded in black, steps forward from his place in the shadows, breaking between the two
black-robes directly across the circle from where I stand. The leader walks around the inside of
the circle quickly, coming to a stop directly in front of me.

"Tonight we dispense with the usual formalities, in favour of proceeding directly to the
matter at hand." The voice that issues from the figure standing in front of me is almost a
whisper. "We are fortunate to be accepting two initiates into our midst this night."

The members of the circle nod their heads silently, their robes fluttering around them at the
motion, making the circle seem almost as one living entity.

The leader waves his hand forward, and another figure steps toward him. "If you would do
the honours," the leader says in his frightening whisper. Without warning, the leader takes my
left wrist in his hands and extends my arm. In one smooth movement he brushes the sleeve of my robe
back.

The firelight is weak, and night is well fallen. I cannot see what the leader's assistant is
doing. In the space of one heartbeat something touches the pale, unmarked flesh of my inner arm,
and a blistering pain sears through my entire being.

For the first time, I'm grateful for my father's insistence on corporal punishment for
my more severe offences to the Malfoy honour. My experience with it may be the only reason I remain
standing. I cannot fight the urge to pull my arm back, to cradle the wound to my chest as the pain
begins to ebb, excruciatingly slowly.

"The Mark of your affiliation," the assistant speaks, his voice's familiarity
pushing its way past the agony in the forefront of my mind.

My eyes follow the leader and his assistant to where they now stand in front of the initiate
left at my side. He bares his arm willingly, holding it out in front of him steadily, without fear
of what he now knows is coming. The assistant presses something to the initiate's arm, and when
the assistant pulls back the initiate replaces the sleeve of his robe smoothly, as though he has
not just experienced the worst pain of his life, and returns his arm to his side.

I drop my own arm and straighten my shoulders, not wishing to be outdone by my new
associate.

When the leader reaches the center of the circle, he whispers one word.

"Welcome."

He then drops his hood, and I am looking into Albus Dumbledore's eyes.

I push my own hood back from my face, as the rest of the circle has followed suit. I discover
that the familiar voice belongs to none other than the Head of my former House at Hogwarts. Severus
Snape is not smiling, but after spending seven years in his presence, I can tell that he is pleased
with the decision I have made.

A secret part of my soul rejoices as I see the horrified looks on the faces of Potter, Granger,
and Weasley staring back at me, wondering what the hell the son of a Death Eater is doing, swearing
himself to the Order of the Phoenix. Their expressions clearly indicate their intense distaste for
the idea that they will be required to work side-by-side with someone they have spent so long
hating.

I then notice that a large portion of the remainder of the circle, the majority of them
red-haired, are looking with expressions of pride at the initiate standing next to me. I turn to my
left just as the initiate raises his hands to the cowl of his robe.

*Her* robe. Virginia Weasley is standing next to me, her auburn hair shining, her face
radiant.

I regard the young woman next to me for only the briefest moment before looking away; it is
quite long enough for fragments of memory to push themselves to the front of my consciousness.

*"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" said a voice Harry had no trouble
recognizing. He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy, who was wearing
the usual sneer.*

***"Famous** Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a
**bookshop** without making the front page."*

*"Leave him alone, he didn't want that!" said Ginny. It was the first time she
had spoken in front of Harry. She was glaring at Malfoy.*

*"Potter, you've gotten yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went
scarlet.*

I wonder how my fellow initiate will respond to my decision to pledge myself, my magical
abilities, and my energies to the Resistance against the Dark Lord. An entire year of study in the
same advanced classes, her sixth year and my seventh, has taught me that Virginia Weasley is a
smart woman. Not only does her mind contain a wealth of knowledge, she's also quick to
comprehend complexities and subtleties in a way completely opposite to the Weasel King's
obtuseness. Furthermore, her intimate knowledge of the allure of the Dark, gained her first year at
the price of childish ignorance, gives her some insight into the delicacy of my particular
situation. If any young person in this circle will understand exactly what I risk by joining the
Order of the Phoenix, it is she.

On the other hand, six years of mutual antagonism stand, as tangible as the stone walls of
Hogwarts castle, between us.

*Ron stopped shoveling his breakfast into his mouth long enough to notice that his sister had
gotten a note of some sort by owl during the daily delivery of mail. "Ickle Ginnikins is
getting mail! Who's the letter from?"*

*Ginny was distracted enough by the contents of the letter that the words tumbled from her
lips before she could consider the wisdom of speaking them aloud to her brother. "Uh,
Pansy," she said offhandedly, looking sideways at her brother for only a second before
returning her attention to the parchment in her hand.*

*Ron sputtered inelegantly and leaped out of his chair, looming over his sister. "What in
Merlin's name are you doing receiving mail from Pug-face Parkinson, of all people?" he
shouted.*

*Ron's outburst had attracted the attention of most of the school. All four House tables
became deathly silent, and only the restraining arms of Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy kept Pansy
Parkinson from bounding to her feet and giving that pathetic Weasel a piece of her mind. The faces
of each one of Hogwarts' professors turned in concern to where a battle royale was brewing in
the Weasley family.*

*To Ginny's credit, she fought the Weasley temper's urge to howl like a banshee at her
brother. "Not that it is **any** of your concern," she spat venomously at Ron, looking
up at him with cheeks pinking dangerously fast, "but Pansy and I have become
friends."*

*"You can't be friends with her! She's - she's - she's a filthy
Slytherin! And it most certainly is my concern. I'm your brother!"*

*Ginny's last emotional restraint snapped. She unfolded her legs from where they had been
tucked under the bench she'd been sitting upon, and raised herself to her full five feet eight
inches. Her face was now as red as it had been the day six years previously in Flourish and Blotts,
and she'd grown a full clip of nerve and perfected the use of the Weasley temper since
then.*

*"Ronald Weasley, how **dare** you throw the fact of our common parentage in my face
like some sort of trump card? You haven't treated me like anything more than an annoyance since
you boarded the Express on your first day at Hogwarts!"*

*"How - how can you say such a thing?" Ron asked angrily.*

*"Let me refresh your memory, then if you've forgotten so easily! Who promised to
send me loads of owls when all of my wonderful, caring siblings left me alone at home? You, dear
brother? No! It was the twins! Who noticed when I was acting so strangely all during first year?
You, dear brother? No! It was Percy!"*

*Ginny paused her tirade only to swipe a hand roughly across her face. It came away wet.
"The only times I have ever factored into your concern is when something I did interfered with
your precious plans! If you think I will ever, **ever** forget that I nearly died in the Chamber
because you were too thick to see my distress over the course of a whole year .. or the fact that
you were quick to refuse my help when the lot of you went to the Ministry in fourth year, despite
the fact that I'd trained just as hard as anyone else in the DA and acquitted myself perfectly
well against Umbridge's inquisitorial squad .. you are sadly mistaken!"*

*Ron's jaw dropped, rendering him speechless. "Ginny!" Harry and Hermione
interjected, shocked.*

*"The rest of the Golden Gryff Trio can stay **out** of this," Ginny snapped, her
eyes flashing with unchecked anger. "Understand me, Ron. You may be my brother, but I am
certainly old enough to choose my friends. And let me assure you, especially after the way
you've behaved today, that you are **not** counted among them."*

*Ginny slapped her hand down on the table, the sound causing nearly everyone in the room to
jump in their seats, and swept the small pile of books that sat next to her plate into her arms.
Gathering the remnants of her dignity together, squaring her shoulders and setting her mouth in a
straight line, she walked out of the Great Hall.*

"Malfoy." The voice from my memory issues forth from the woman standing next to
me.

"Virginia," I respond in recognition. I'd ceased thinking of her as just another
Weasley that day in the Great Hall, and it seems ridiculous to use the name when there are eight
others who answer to it in the circle. I meet her gaze, searching her eyes for some clue to her
current state of mind.

"I know there are some individuals in this meeting who aren't pleased that you're
here," she begins carefully. "I thought you should know that if you've decided to
pledge yourself to the Order, at least one person besides Dumbledore and Snape will be glad for
your help."

She holds her right hand out, as steady and as certain as she'd held her left hand out to
receive the Mark of the Order. The simple gesture of goodwill surprise me, but I know there is only
one thing to be done. I school the carefully neutral expression on my face, and give the offered
hand a gentle squeeze. The rest of the circle sees the Malfoy heir and the sole daughter of the
Weasley clan shake hands.

I wonder if she knows that the meaning of her words has not been idly disregarded.

The smile I see pulling at one side of her mouth, before she lets go my hand and turns once more
to face the rest of the circle, tells me that she does.



