Draco
Just two weeks after what happened with Potter and the Dark Lord at the Ministry, the school year ended without any end of term exams. On the train ride back to Platform 9 ¾, I tried to act like I was happy to be going home—but the closer we got to the station, the harder it got to hide the fact that I wanted nothing more than to jump off the train and sprint in the opposite direction.
"You okay?" Eve asked me quietly while Flint and Goyle got up to take a look at the trolley. We were sitting on the same side together, seated so closely that the slight rocking of the train was causing us to gently bump shoulders every so often.
I glanced over at her to see that she was watching me with concern, and I felt a bit guilty for making her worry over me. Reaching for her hand and giving a small smile, I squeezed her fingers and told her, "Yeah. Don't worry, alright?"
"Alright," Eve said uncertainly, and it was clear she was doing just the opposite of not worrying. She was opening her mouth to say something more to me, but Flint reentered the compartment at that moment and she quickly looked away before he could think anything was wrong. I kept holding onto her hand, though; my heart was pounding incredibly fast and, for some reason, I was too scared to let it go.
The train ride was much shorter than I'd anticipated. We reached the station all too soon, and I felt light-headed as I helped Eve with her trunk. This was all happening too fast, I didn't want to leave yet—
"Are you alright, mate?" Flint asked, grabbing my shoulder when I almost tripped down the steps off of the train. "You look a bit pale, if I'm being honest."
"Thanks," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes and trying to play it off. Eve had gone to say goodbye to Weasley, and I didn't want anyone to know that I felt as though I was seconds away from passing out. "Get off my back, yeah?"
Flint laughed at this and clapped me on the shoulder, saying, "My dad's over there. See you next year, mate—tell Hawkings I said bye."
"Yeah, I will," I said, shaking myself and forcing a grin. "See you around."
"She's alright, you know," he said, his expression suddenly turning more serious—something that didn't happen very often. "Hawkings. She's alright."
I looked over at him a bit warily, unsure what he really meant. But before I could say anything, Flint's grin returned and he said again, "See you, Malfoy." And then he turned away and disappeared into the crowds of students and parents, leaving me staring after him and wondering why he'd thought to say something like that.
I was still feeling confused when Eve appeared beside me, making me jump guiltily as though I'd been doing something wrong. Eve didn't seem to notice, however, and she told me, "Ginny's gone off to find her mum, but she promised she'd write me over the summer. Isn't that brilliant? I thought she'd forget about me."
"That's good," I said, turning and looking down at her with the train on our left and people bustling past on the right. I thought I'd managed to make myself sound cheerful—after all, I really was happy if she was happy—but Eve frowned and looked up at me as though she knew exactly what I'd been thinking.
"What's wrong?" she asked, reaching over and lacing her fingers through mine. "I thought you'd be glad to be leaving school."
"I am," I lied, but it was clear Eve knew I wasn't telling the truth. So I looked at the ground and admitted carefully, "I just...I don't want to be apart from you for so long. I won't be able to see you." It was true—it just wasn't the whole truth.
Eve shook her head and told me, "But we can meet up somewhere. I'll just tell my aunt I'm meeting Ginny, it's no big deal. Really."
My heart sank, because I knew that I probably wouldn't be able to meet with her at all over the summer. Feeling my gut twist with guilt for lying to her—of all people, Eve was the last person I wanted to lie to—I said, "Yeah. Okay."
"Yeah?" Eve asked carefully, looking up at me as though she was trying to make sure I was really okay. The concern in her eyes actually managed to make me smile, so I grinned down at her and squeezed her hand.
"Yeah," I repeated quietly.
Eve glanced around us quickly, asking in a low voice, "Are your parents around? I don't want them to—you know, see us—"
I blinked down at her as she looked around cautiously, wondering why she was so worried about something like that. I reached up and put my hand on the space between her jaw line and neck, rubbing my thumb against her right cheek and saying blankly, "But I don't care if my parents see us."
When Eve exhaled softly and turned her face to me, I ducked my head forward and pressed my lips to hers. Because in that moment, I didn't care that students and parents were everywhere around us and it was possible her aunt was somewhere near by—this was going to be the last time I saw Eve for a very long time, and I wasn't going to waste it. She let go of the handle of her trunk and leaned into me, bringing her hand up to rest it on the back of my neck.
I pulled away from Eve with her cool fingertips pressing against my skin, the hair on the back of my neck raised at her touch. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could feel her warm breath on my wrist as I ran my thumb along her jaw line. Feeling breathless, I told her, "I'll write to you. As often as I can."
"Okay," she said, looking up at me with wide eyes. Letting out a small, nervous laugh, she added, "You're making it sound like this is goodbye forever."
"Not forever," I insisted. And then I lied to her again, continuing, "It's only for a little while."
My heart twisted inside me as Eve gave a small smile and nodded, hating the fact that I couldn't just tell her the truth about what was going to happen to me. But how could I tell her—someone who had to do everything they could to stay out of the Dark Lord's way—that I was going to become a Death Eater?
"I'd better go," Eve told me reluctantly, "my aunt's probably getting impatient. I told her to wait in the parking lot."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," I said, stumbling over my words a bit as I looked down at her. My heart was pounding in my chest as I pulled her tight against me, wrapping my arms around her and realizing that this would be the last time I saw her for the rest of the summer. And when I came back to Hogwarts next year, I wasn't going to allow myself to even glance her way. I whispered in her ear, "Bye, Eve."
Goodbye forever.
Eve pulled away and looked up at me, our noses so close they were almost touching. When she spoke, her voice came out sounding much more serious than I had ever heard it. "I love you a lot, okay? I really do, I'm not just saying it."
"I love you too," I told her, and I realized this was the first time I truly and completely meant it—for anyone. "You mean a lot to me, Eve. Please stay safe, alright?"
"I will," she promised easily. She pulled away then and reached for the handle of her trunk, saying, "See you, Draco."
And then I couldn't say anything in return, because there was a lump in my throat and I suddenly felt as though I couldn't breathe. Eve stood on her tiptoes and quickly kissed me again before turning away, dragging her trunk and disappearing into the crowds. I watched her go, feeling like someone had punched me and all the air was escaping from my lungs. That was it, I thought to myself as I finally lost sight of her blonde hair among all the people. That was the last time I'll ever hold her.
Because I wasn't going to let myself near her once the tattoo was branded onto my arm and I was completely devoted to the Dark Lord.
I pressed my teeth tightly together and grabbed my trunk, swallowing hard and finally starting through the crowd. My legs felt like lead as I saw my father standing alone by the exit of the platform, suddenly finding it extremely difficult to just walk forward. As I got closer to him, I hoped my expression didn't betray how absolutely devastated I felt on the inside.
I barely heard Lucius as he spoke to me, resting his hand on my shoulder and giving it a small squeeze. All I could do was nod, feeling hate burn in the pit of my stomach as I glanced at him. I found that I had never hated anyone so much for what he was going to put me through.
Maybe it was wrong to hate my own father, but in that moment, I had never despised anyone more than I did Lucius Malfoy.
~*~
"He's ready for you, Draco."
I was sitting next to my mother, my heart in my throat and my back straight as a rod. My hands were twisted together on my lap as I looked up at Lucius, the fabric of my finest black suit scratching against my knuckles. He was standing by the door of the sitting room, awkwardly leaning forward slightly with both his hands clenched over the top of his cane. I felt sick to my stomach as I realized he was clutching it so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.
He was waiting for me to stand, but I suddenly felt as though my legs wouldn't support me.
"Come, Draco," he said, reaching out one hand to me—I did my best to pretend I hadn't noticed it was shaking. "You heard me. He's ready for you."
My mother put her hand on my shoulder and stood, so there was nothing I could do except follow suit. My knees nearly buckled when I stood up, but I managed to keep myself from falling to the floor. As we started over to my father, I repeated to myself, Keep it together. Just keep it together, and get this over with.
I had my teeth clenched together so tightly that my jaw was aching, but I was worried that if I opened my mouth I would say something I shouldn't. Lucius reached for me when we got close enough, and he put his hand onto my shoulder and clenched it tightly.
"Are you ready?" My mother's voice came out in a whisper, and I glanced over to see that she was doing everything she could not to cry. I swallowed hard and looked at the ground instead of answering, so she let out the breath she'd been holding and wrapped her arms around me. I didn't reach up to hug her in return—because for the first time, I didn't want her anywhere near me.
When she finally let go, she really was starting to cry. I refused to look at either of them as Lucius said in a tight voice, "He's just down the hall. I can't go in with you, so...so—we'll see you afterwards."
He was waiting for me to give some sort of a response, so I gave a stiff nod. Lucius clenched his jaw and nodded again before putting his hand on my back and turning me towards the door. It felt as though the air in my lungs was trapped and I was suffocating as I stepped forward, twisting the doorknob with shaking fingers. I exited the sitting room and shut the door behind me before I could turn back around and beg for them to not make me do this. It was too late for that, anyway.
The walk down the length of the hallway was the longest of my life; I felt as though the walls were closing in on me and that the floor was seconds away from dropping out from under my feet. Oddly enough, I found myself wishing that the ground would open up and swallow me—anything sounded better than entering the approaching room and having to go through what was about to happen to me.
When I reached the door, my heart was pressing hard against the inside of my ribs as though it wanted nothing more than to escape my chest. I reached up one hand to knock, but my arm hesitated without my permission. I forced my wrist forward after blinking hard, knocking my knuckles against the wood before I could turn away. He probably knew I was outside the door anyway, so there was no point in trying to back out now.
There was no response from the inside; instead, the door opened on its own, creaking loudly and swinging inside the room. I felt like my chest was caving in on itself as I stepped inside the formal dining room, seeing the Dark Lord standing by the empty, cold fireplace with his back to me. I stopped a few feet in, and I nearly jumped when the door shut behind me on its own accord.
"Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord mused, his voice coming out thin and nearly a hiss. As he turned to look at me, it seemed as though the temperature in the room dropped nearly ten degrees.
I kept my knees locked and my hands clenched into fists at my side so they wouldn't shake as he looked me over, watching as he raised one eyebrow. He stepped closer to me, and I managed not to back away. "You are...afraid."
It didn't come out sounding as though he was disappointed, or even like he was laughing at me—his voice sounded dull and blank, like he was just stating the obvious. I knew I couldn't lie and he was clearly waiting for me to respond, so I said in a steady voice, "I am."
Then the Dark Lord nodded and said quietly, "Yes. You should be."
He took another step closer to me until we were only separated by a foot of space, and my heart was pounding so fast that I was positive he could hear it over the silence of the room. I squared my shoulders as the Dark Lord took out his wand, twirling it between his fingers as he asked quietly, "Are you ready?"
"Yes," I said, and my voice sounded much stronger than I felt. He was looking down at me through slitted eyes, and he was standing so close to me that I could feel the coldness literally radiating off of him. I blinked hard to keep his image straight in front of me; my vision was swimming before me, and I was suddenly worried I was seconds away from passing out.
"Good," he said, then slowly reached out his left hand. My head spinning, I lifted my left arm and placed it underneath his, praying that he wouldn't be able to feel my uncontrollable shaking. The Dark Lord clenched his hand around the skin of my arm, twisting it around so that the underside of my forearm was facing upwards. When he spoke, his voice was cold and quiet and I could feel his gaze burning into me. "Draco Malfoy. Do you swear complete and absolute obedience to me...until the moment of your death?"
I swallowed hard and breathed, "I do."
And then the Dark Lord tightened his grip on my arm, his sharp nails digging into my skin so fiercely that I was sure they were drawing blood. The air in my throat felt tangled up, as though it was trapped somewhere between my mouth and lungs—it was strangling me, and my knees were seconds away from giving out underneath me—
The Dark Lord raised his wand and held it centimeters above the skin of my left forearm, and all I could do was repeat to myself over and over, Don't make a sound. Don't make a sound, don't let him believe you're weak—
Then his wand was pressing into my arm and it was like my skin had been set on fire, the dark ink searing through the layers of my flesh and making me truly believe my skin was melting. The pain was unbearable, my face was twisted up and my jaw was clenched so tightly that I was sure my teeth were cracking under the weight. I didn't realize my legs had given out on me until my knees slammed into the floor, but the Dark Lord's grip was only tighter on my forearm. And now I knew his nails had drawn blood—I could feel the hot liquid dripping down the length of my arm and pooling on the underside of my elbow, but all I could think about was the searing hot pain of his wand against the skin above my wrist.
My vision was starting to dip and blur before me, and my right hand had gone up to clutch my left elbow without my permission—as though my body was trying to pull my arm away from the incessant pain. But I couldn't move it, the black ink was still burning into the layers of my skin and there was nothing I could do—
Tears were in the corners of my eyes, but I keep repeating the same thing to myself—Don't make a sound, don't make a sound, don't—
All I wanted was for the pain to stop; all I wanted was for the wand to leave my skin and for the dark tattoo to finally be branded onto my arm so the pain would finally stop.
The scream was in my throat, it was seconds away from escaping into my mouth and out into the air when the pain abruptly cut off; the wand left my forearm, leaving the skin feeling burnt and singed from the burn of the mark. My body fell to the side once he had let go of me, my shoulder slamming into the hard wood floor as I tucked my left arm against me. I rolled onto my back, my eyes squeezed shut as I held my forearm close and tried to ignore the pain that was pulsating up my entire arm.
My chest was heaving and my heart was pounding impossibly fast, as though I had just sprinted two miles. I couldn't open my eyes and look up, because the idea of seeing anything other than total darkness was enough to make my stomach turn in on itself—and the last thing I wanted to do was vomit in front of the Dark Lord.
"That will be all, Draco Malfoy." For a moment I thought he was going to tell me to get out—and I knew that my legs were not going to support my weight now—but I heard his smooth footsteps as he started for the door himself. I couldn't bring myself to open my eyes, but I heard him say in a low voice, "I'll be expecting you at the meeting in two weeks time. You are one of us, now, Draco."
And then I heard the door open and close, heard his quiet footsteps fade away down the hallway. The silence of the dining room fell over me, pressing against my ears as I lay there with my left arm held close against me. I couldn't open my eyes, couldn't bear to look down and see the snake and skull branded against the skin of my forearm.
It's over, I thought to myself weakly, the only sound in the entire room being my panicked, exhausted breathing. It's over.
I was a Death Eater.