The Mark of a Death Eater

I Shouldn't Have Looked

I froze, carefully turned around, and surveyed him through narrowed eyes.
"I know you're there," he repeated, "even if I can't see you."
I ignored him, rolled my eyes and began to walk back to my room. He obviously didn't know who I was, he was just speaking on a guess that someone was there. I could be a ghost or poltergeist, for all he knew.

"Fine, Evergreen. I'll get you at breakfast."
I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him. I had to know. Sighing heavily, I pulled off my cloak and took a seat next to him.

"What gave it away?" I asked. "Actually, I knew you've had it since you bought it," Malfoy replied flatly.
I snorted. "Sure you did." I rose to leave. I wasn't up for Malfoy's infamous mind games.
"I'm serious. Mr Borgin told me."
I did a double take. Yes, I did buy the cloak from Borgin. I sat down again.
"Fine, you win. Tell me." I said.
Malfoy chuckled slightly. "Let's see..." he drifted off, in a typical him fashion.
"Look, if you don't want to tell me, I'm leaving." I said.
Malfoy sighed. "Well, if you want to know so badly, I had my eye on it before you did. I had it all worked out: The money, when I was going to buy it. Except, when I got there the next day, it was gone. Mr Borgin explained that he'd sold it to a girl with green hair, around my age. Of course, I didn't know you had green hair until I saw you did in fourth year. It was obvious you'd bought the cloak. And I wanted to buy it from you, but I knew you'd never sell it to me."

The end of his speech caught me slightly by surprise. "That's it then?" I asked, rising to leave again.
"I supoose so," he shrugged.
I sat down again. "And you've been, what? Waiting to corner me wearing it everyday since?" I asked.
"Something like that," he answered with the faintest hint of a smile. "You should smile more often, you know." I quipped. "It improves your otherwise faltering looks."
He turned and looked at me, finally. "Says the girl who I have never seen smile, except when she's doing it grimly, or sarcastically."
I scowled. "I do smile!" I countered angrily.
Malfoy smirked. "Sure you do," he countered.

I stood up, began to walk away, then stopped, remembering something.
"Why are you doing that essay?" I asked, peering over his shoulder.
"Uh, because we have homework, Evergreen? Why do you do essays?" he retorted.
I sat down again.
"You're going to ruin that chair, at the rate you're sitting down, and up, and down and up..."
I scowled again.
"It was due last Tuesday." I said, ignoring his last comment.
"Yeah, I forgot about it," he drawled.
"And Professor Snape didn't mark you down?" I demanded.
Malfoy looked up. "You sound like Granger. Only she talks like that."
I gritted my teeth. "Don't compare me to that mudblood." I hissed.
He shrugged.
I glared at the back of his head and grabbed a book off his desk, flipping through it absentmindedly while I tried to figure out why Malfoy would be lying. I'm not sure why it is, but when I'm anxious, I usually must have something in my hands. As I flipped through the textbook, a few pages fluttered onto the floor. I bent down to pick them up, and a few pieces caught my eye.

They were newspaper cuttings, and the important parts were marked. Curiosity is a Slytherin sin. I had to look over them.

The one in my hand read "Pardoned Death Eaters seek protection from You Know Who". The heading was marked with a big red star. I glanced at a couple of lines: '...people forced into his ranks, asking for protection...' and '...I had to take my parent's place... pure blooded...' and '...did you think I could help it? If the Dark Lord says something, you don't question his orders.' The others had similar things in them.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"...from tomorrow?" I snapped back to reality.
"What?" I asked, a hollow feeling in my stomach. Malfoy frowned, annoyed that I wasn't listening, then glanced at my hands. In one quick motion, he grabbed the articles and book from my hands.
"What are you keeping that for?" I asked curiously.
He muttered something like, "background reading."
"Background reading? On those things? What kind of background reading are you doing?"
Malfoy shoved them all in his bag.
"Look, it's none of your business Emma," he said. "It's personal, alright? Just forget you saw them."

Ah, he shouldn't have said that. No way was I going to be able to forget them now.

"You may as well tell me. There is no way I'm going to let this go."
Malfoy shouldered his bag. "You'd better try, then," he hissed, eyes hard.

In that second, our eyes met and I read so clearly through them, I felt almost stupid. Stupid, and also very sick. I understood everything. His late nights, why he was so quiet, those articles. His father was in Azkaban, that was common knowledge, but his father was a loyal death eater before.

Malfoy must have seen my expression because he rose suddenly, swinging his bag and striding off.
No way was I just leaving him. I grabbed his arm, his left arm and he jerked it away as if he'd been stung. He caught my eye as I let go quickly, horrified. His light eyes were worried.

I held my hand out awkwardly. "I'm sorry - Look, don't go, it's okay —" I choked out. I was never good with emotions. I never disliked it as much as I did then.
Malfoy spun around "Okay? Okay?" he hissed. "What else - What do you-What..." he trailed off, looking pale and exhausted and sank into the nearest couch.

His bag dropped from his shoulder and fell to the floor. He shook his head and dropped it into his hands. I sat down beside him, watching him shake his head in his hands, muttering softly.

How long we stayed like that, me sitting straight, as wound up as an elastic and him looking so tired, I don't know. All I know was that it seemed like an eternity before I cleared my throat and said: "So, it's true then?"
He shrugged and muttered something again.
"Why didn't you tell someone?" I asked.
He lifted his head, glowering at me. "And who do you suppose I tell?" he countered with sarcasm laced in his words. "My mum? Crabbe? Goyle? Snape? Because they all know. What can they do? Nothing. Don't you understand? No-one can help me! He needs a job done and I'm the only one that can do it."
Malfoy's eyes were stony and cold. "I'm forced to do this. He'll kill me if I don't. I don't have a choice," he mumbled finally.
"But... but you're sixteen!" I blurted, horrified.
"And you think that matters?" he asked angrily.

I simply sat there, at a complete loss for words. In my head, I was playing the sentence over and over: Malfoy's replaced his father as a death eater. Malfoy's replaced his father as a death eater. Malfoy's replaced...

He looked at me, straight in my eyes. "You won't... tell, anyone, right?" The mixture of hope and trepidation in his eyes shocked something into me. Draco Malfoy did not ask anything. He needed help. He needed my help.

"Of course not," I assured him, and I made up my mind right then. "But, I'm going to do everything I can to try and get you out of this."
Malfoy shook his head.
"I'm going to help you in any way I can." I said slowly.

Malfoy rose, slowly, picked up his books from the floor and turned to me. "Thank you," was all he said. And he turned to walk away.
But he paused in the doorway, and, without turning back, weakly said, "I should talk to you more often. Keeps me sane."

And leaving me to figure out exactly what he meant, he disappeared.