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    Prologue:

    Initiation

     
    image by nmpsr_14 @ tda!

    The light was dim, only a few lamps were lit across the large drawing room, and in the marble fire place, the embers of the previous fire were slowly burning out and changing to black. It cast a golden glow along the dark, polished tables and throughout the room. Above the table, a chandelier dangled, catching the light on the tear dropped shaped crystals, making them glitter.

    “Draco Malfoy.” A voice hissed, barely above a whisper. His slit like nostrils flared, and his long, thin fingers clutched the handles of the ornate, high-backed arm chair that he was poised in so comfortably.

    “Yes My Lord.” Draco Malfoy stated, lowering his tall, thin frame to one knee in front of the arm chair and bowing his platinum blonde head to the floor, his gaze trained on the highly polished hardwood.

    A large snake slithered across the floor and between Draco’s legs, and it wound up the side of the armchair, wrapping itself around Voldemort’s neck. It let out a low hiss, and stared at Draco with small, black eyes as its tongue darted out maliciously.

    “You wish to become a Death Eater, do you not?” Voldemort said, standing, making the chair creak and the snake shift positions ad he did so. He paced around Draco, looking over him, his cold red eyes burning a path all over the teen.

    “My Lord knows it would be of the highest honor.” Draco said, his voice calm, hoping that it hid his feelings of fear and anxiety. His cold grey eyes remained on the floor.

    “Of the highest honor.” Voldemort repeated, taking his place in the chair again and looking towards the door where his two most loyal stood.

    Lucius, though emaciated, watched the exchange between his son and his Master with a haughty expression on his face. Soon Draco would be joining the ranks as a Death Eater, and it made him extremely proud.

    On the other side of the door, Bellatrix Lestrange watched the proceedings carefully, a glint in her eyes as she looked longingly at the Dark Lord, not paying Draco a single mind. Though she was proud of her nephew, she considered it more of an honor to have her Master in the family home to do what must be done.

    “My Lord knows I speak truthfully.” Draco said, lifting his head and locking his stormy grey eyes with the blood red ones, pushing all of his emotions aside to empty his mind, preparing for the push of Occlumency he knew would come.

    “Yes.” Voldemort drawled, trying to calm the furious snake as he proceeded. “Well, Draco Malfoy, I see that you are loyal. And only the Purest of blood runs through your veins.

    Draco gave a brief nod, and lowered his eyes to the floor again. He should be proud that he was joining his father, that he was living up to the expectations that came with being a Malfoy, but he was not.

    “Tonight, you will be joining the ranks of my followers.” Voldemort continued, folding his hands together and observing the boy in front of him. “After you are Marked, you must take part in a mission that is extremely important. Do you understand?”

    “Yes My Lord.” Draco said

    “You have been chosen, very specifically, for this mission, and if you do not succeed, you will be killed.”

    Draco’s eyes widened, and he was suddenly thankful that he was staring at the floor.

    “I sense fear Draco.” Voldemort said, scathingly. “Are you afraid? Are you going to run to your mummy and hide behind her legs while you cry?”

    “My mother,” Draco said, pausing slightly so Voldemort would get the message. “Is dead to me.” He continued harshly, the words stinging, “And I only fear for the persons involved in the mission, the ones I will have to kill to get the job done.”

    “You’re turning out to be more and more like your father every day.” Voldemort sneered. “That is an excellent thing.”

    Draco repressed a snorth

    “Will you, Draco Malfoy, serve me honorably?” Voldemort said, taking out his wand.

    “I will.” Draco said, locking eyes with Voldemort once more.

    “Hold out your left arm.”

    Draco rolled up the left sleeve of his robes, and held out his arm, looking at how thin it was. The veins stuck out, bright blue against the pale complexion. He watched as the Dark Lord gripped his wrist tightly, pressing his wand into Draco’s forearm.

    “Who is standing in as your second?”

    “My father.”

    Lucius Malfoy stepped into the golden light, and placed a hand firmly on his son’s shoulder, his lips in a tight line. He knew the responsibility that came with being a second.

    “Very good.” Voldemort said, a smile gracing his lipless mouth. “Typicius Apperium.”

    Draco felt a stinging, burning sensation in his arm, and bit back a moan of agony.

    This was his destiny, and nothing he could say or do would change it.

     

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