"Is it bad?" I asked Malfoy. He nodded. "From Imperio to Avada Kedavra, how bad is it?"
"Crucio."
"Malfoy!" I pushed him roughly. "Stop messing around."
"Who said I was joking?" His eyes were still serious as he held his ground. "Fine. I'm not sure myself. Just go inside and we'll see what happens. It's a meeting."
I pushed open the doors, inching inside. I mean, what was the worst that could happen? I would die. The end.
The seats were filled, two empty ones set right across each other. Voldemort sat at the end, lips stretched into a cold, uninviting smile. I sat down.
"Elvira Steele," Voldemort began. I almost passed out again, my face turning cold as the blood drained from it. Suddenly, I was shivering. "Pureblood. Daughter of Serena and Cyril Steele, Gryffindors." Someone snorted. I shut my eyes. "You were sorted into Slytherin, am I correct?"
"Yes." I felt someone kick me under the table. Blood rushed to my cheeks. "My Lord," I added quickly. I glanced up at Malfoy who was staring down at the table.
"You felt the need to help our youngest follower, Draco," Voldemort pointed, red eyes watching everyone coolly, "when you found out he was to kill Dumbledore?" Again, I nodded, feeling sick at the lie. I could feel him watching me. "Then this is where you will stay. You have chosen the winning side, and will help me in killing Harry Potter once and for all."
"I will," I squeaked out.
"Come here," Voldemort ordered.
"Sir?" I looked up at his face for the first time, with him staring intently right back at me. He ushered me over. I glanced at Malfoy who said nothing. A shadow seemed to have fallen over his face as if he knew what was going to happen next. I pushed back the chair. Obviously, I couldn't object. I walked towards the Dark Lord.
"Your hand," he said, when I stopped short beside him. Confused, I turned up my palm. "Your left hand." His words seemed mocking.
I realized what was about to happen. I craned my neck to show Malfoy my pleading eyes, and this time he was looking right at me. But he could do nothing. He knew it and I knew it. I would die if I objected.
Voldemort pulled out his bone-shaped wand, twisting it between his fingers. Then, he grabbed my outstretched left hand, pulling up my sleeve.
I could barely remember the next five minutes.
It was worse than I had ever imagined. The wand was searing it into my flesh. It felt as if there were ten dozen pins being stabbed into my skin repeatedly after being scorched in hot lava. I didn't remember falling to my knees. All I heard was the sound of a girl's scream. I wondered who it was. Bellatrix? No, the scream seemed to be coming from a girl in pain.
Was it me?
When I sat up, I was alone. My arm was sore, my eyes wet. I couldn't bring myself to look down. With a groan, I shakily got to my feet. I pressed my good palm to my inner left forearm to soothe the pain, but it only seemed to make it worse. I leaned against the empty table, hanging my head. This was the worst that could happen.
"Cold water," Malfoy drawled. I looked up to see him standing at the foot of the stairs.
"What do you mean?" I sniffed, wiping my eyes on the back of my sleeve. "Where did everyone go?"
"Cold water on the Mark feels soothing. Don't be too ashamed. Even my aunt couldn't hold it together during the process."
"Your aunt?"
A pink tinge appeared on Malfoy's cheeks. "Bellatrix Lestrange. My mother's elder sister." They were related? That explained too much and too little at the same time, if that were possible. "They left after you lost consciousness. Nobody will be here to pick you up off the ground, Steele. You do that yourself."
I shook my head at him, disgusted. "I don't understand why you're so vile."
Malfoy threw his head back and laughed. "You're calling me vile? In my own home? Look down at your arm, Steele!" he said loudly, his voice worsening my headache. "Look what you did to yourself. You should be angry with yourself."
"I am!" I cried, tears of frustration brimming my eyes. "I don't feel like talking to you right now, Malfoy. I just want to leave."
"Do whatever you wish." He stood there, arms crossed over his chest. A sudden anger flared up inside me. I grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it at his head. Malfoy ducked, letting it shatter against the hard polished steps. I was shocked at what I'd done. "I'm sorry . . . it just happened-"
"It's him," Draco said calmly. "He's angry. I felt it as well. You've got to learn to control it."
"I don't want to."
"Then it's your pain to deal with." Draco turned, pointing his wand at the shattered remains of the lavender vase. "Reparo." The glass shards pieced themselves together, the vase whole again. "You can use my room again to rest. Don't destroy it."
"I don't want your room," I scowled, walking past him. I looked down to pull my sleeve over the burning feeling, accidently glancing at the tattoo. I hissed in pain. The Mark was almost moving on my arm.
"You don't want it, or you can't bring yourself to walk up all those stairs in that much pain?" Draco smirked.
"Again. Vile, Draco."
He rolled his eyes, walking towards me and holding out his hand. "Let's go, Steele. I can't leave you down here forever. You might break something else."
Reluctantly, I reached forward.
* * *
"Draco dear, why are you still sitting here?" a cool voice said, waking me up. I was laying in bed again, the covers over my head. Why did I keep ending up like this?
"I've got nothing better to do," Draco said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Shouldn't you be doing something, Mother?"
I heard her heels clicking clicking against the smooth floors as she entered the room. I pretended to sleep.
"Don't be too taken to her."
"Why would you say that? She's a complete nutter. Who voluntarily agrees to join the Dark Lord?" I scowled from under the duvet.
"Draco," she scolded. "Most of the people here are here voluntarily. Don't say things like that."
"I do what I please."
"Look, darling," his mother said, lowering her voice, "she won't last long. The Dark Lord is using her."
Draco scoffed. "Just like he used me?" I heard the chair creak as he stood up. "I know he knew I wouldn't do it, Mum. He did it to irritate Father. Do you know what I went through?" he asked, anger coloring his voice. "You don't. Obviously. Because all you care about is who I'm 'taken to' and what friends I've made. Too late for that, Mother. In case you've forgotten, I almost killed Dumbledore."
I heard him walk out of the room. He'd been a bit too harsh on her. I mean, Voldemort using me was pretty obvious. That's why he'd given me the job to get as close as I could to Harry Potter and find out what he was doing.
As long as I proved useful, I would live.
Moments later, Narcissa Malfoy walked out of the room, shutting the door behind