I'm not Allowed to Love You

The Branding

Draco had been silent after those words. The ones that he knew had determined that the innocence he had attempted to keep was forever going to look upon him with hateful distrust. He was silent as Lucius turned to his mother to give her a goodbye. He was silent when the Ministry official warned that they had five more minutes. And he was silent as his father turned to him again, and issued a terrible order.

"Make him hurt. Make the Boy Who Lived hurt."

In fact, Draco Malfoy was silent for the next two days, as the Branding was taking place soon, and he feared he could lose everything he held dearest to him. His mother was asking if he was okay every hour or so, and it was all Draco could do but nod.

"He is coming soon, Draco. You best get your dress robes." Narcissa whispered. She was whispering everything nowadays, as if in the home of someone who was dying.

A swirl of robes appeared in the yard a few minutes later, and the deadly red eyes pierced the foggy grounds. Draco needed to force himself to not shudder. Narcissa gripped Draco's shoulder in what appeared to be a comforting way, although it did little to calm his rapidly beating heart. His hands were sweating, which only happened when he was very nervous. When he was around...

The door opened with a slam, and a gust of cold wind swept through the warm house, blowing out candles and making the windows shudder. A tall, white figure stood in the doorway. The snakelike face was impossible to get used to. The slitted pupils. The thin, gaunt face. Draco had had many nightmares of him, but he learned to not bring it up. It was bound to inflict him pain.

"Ah, Draco. The newest... recruit. Narcissa, you have gotten a room ready, I presume?" The high, cold voice echoed in a terrifying fashion. Draco commanded himself to block off his mind, his emotions. The Dark Lord could not know of his second-guessings. Narcissa gave a curt nod and led the way into the drawing room. All but one chair was gone, and the Dark Lord gestured for Draco to sit. He did so. Very stiffly. On high alert.

The Dark Lord tilted his head, as if to think of where he should begin.

"The high honor of branding you with the Dark Mark, as a symbol of your loyalty, has a consequence. In return of you pledging your eternal loyalty to the Dark Arts, you will need to become powerful. You will need to feel pain. Right now you are weak, a newly hatched bird. You need to learn how to fly. For survival."

Draco was stony faced. He had felt pain. He had felt a lot. And something inside of him told him it would always hurt more when inflicted by your own flesh and blood. The Dark Lord seemed to enjoy the suspenseful air he had created with his words, and was in no hurry to speed it up. The Dark Lord had begun to pace on the opposite side of the long table.

"You are still young, Draco. That is when you must begin to learn how harsh the world can be. And it can be very harsh. But you can gain immunity, yes. Once the pain and cruelty is written into your very bones, you cannot feel it. You become powerful. And power is what you desire most, if you want to succeed," Here the Dark Lord came closer, and put his face right in front of Draco's. "And I know you want to succeed, Draco. You are very much like I was."

Just do it already, is what Draco wanted to plea. Just get it over with. Maybe his thoughts had been too loud, because the Dark Lord gave an awful, knowing smile, as if he had heard everything. His voice went down to a whisper when he said:

"And sometimes, the bird must fall."

Before Draco could do anything more than gasp, the spell had hit him. It struck him in the chest, and the world was full of pain. Flames seemed to engulf him, and he was blinded, unable to see anything from the alarms ringing in his brain. Run, they said. Hide, they said. Freeze, they said. The pain had jumbled his senses, but he did not scream. It hurt, certainly, but he had learned from experience to not show weakness. It would only make it more powerful.. Suddenly the pain released, and Draco began regain his vision. The Dark Lord seemed surprised that he had not screamed and begged for mercy, and looked as if he had been robbed of a great treat. But his face was instantly masked with a cruel smile.

"Very good Draco, do you want more?" And he again smirked when there was no answer. The curse was shot once again, and Draco lost track of everything,  time, his thoughts, everything. The fire was burning inside of his very bones, and he wanted to be released, he wanted it to be over. He wanted to be gone. To be dead. He wanted to beg for mercy, fall onto his knees at the Dark Lords feet, to cry and beg for death.

But no sound escaped his lips. Sure, he withered in his seat, his spine stretching out then curling back in, but he did not give the Dark Lord what he had been longing for. The Dark Lord stopped, looking a little more disappointed than before. Three more spells were released, until the Dark Lord grew tired of it.

"You are stronger than you seem, Draco. I have, I admit, underestimated you. You will be an excellent part of the cause. I think you have proven your worth. It is time to brand you." The Dark Lord went right beside him and grabbed his left arm, not bothering to be polite, and put Draco's arm on the table. The Dark Lord slowly, lovingly, put his wand up to the exposed forearm.

"To many years of loyal service," The Dark Lord hissed sinisterly.

More pain was coming, Draco was sure of it. And he was correct. A jet-black snake slithered out of the tip of the wand. It hissed and gained a sense of its surroundings. It saw the arm beneath it, and instantly, it struck. Two small holes were punctured in the skin, and two bubbles of blood sprouted. The pain was less instant, but when it registered with his brain, he was still too numbed with shock to really feel it. The snake continued to strike until the skin was shredded and covered in blood.The snake then found an opening between the skin and the muscle and, to Draco's horror, slid inside. The pain was obvious now, even the shock couldn't hold it off for too long. But as the snake moved deeper through the skin and muscle, the ripped up bits healed over, although still red with blood. Draco could see the small creature through his skin, as it arranged itself into the infamous shape of the dark mark. When the snake finally settled, a skull appeared, the snake seemingly crawling out of its mouth. Then the movement underneath stopped, and the skin shrunk back to its original size.