First Drarry fic, so I'm hoping it doesn't end up too horrible. Anyway, characters and settings aren't mine, you guys know the drill.

Enjoy!

/

The harsh wind and rain bounce sharply off the stained glass that overlooks a seemingly endless dining table. A grand chandelier hangs on the high ceiling, dimly illuminating the room and causing everything to cast long, dark shadows. On one end of the polished black expanse sit three people, each with the same platinum blonde hair and solemn expression. They all wear fine dark silk and are bedecked in jewelry that all appear to be family heirlooms. Their posture is stiff and their are shoulders tense, their delicate features are locked into an expression so frosty, the only indication that they are indeed living people and not ornate porcelain dolls are the occasional blink and intake of breath. The entire manor is silent, the only sounds that can be heard are the raindrops and the quiet tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the hall. No one says anything.

Draco grips the armrests of his chair until his knuckles are practically translucent and fights off the urge to empty the contents of his stomach all over the floor. He can confidently say that this will be the worst birthday of his entire life.

Narcissa Malfoy quietly reaches out to place her cold hand on top of her son's clenched one. Draco looks down to see her rub her thumb soothingly against the back of his hand. Their hands are stark against the dark bleakness of their surroundings and their clothes.

She smiles softly at him, that calming motherly smile that says "Don't worry, everything will be just fine." But Draco can see right through her façade. He can see the slight tremble of her lips, the redness and puffiness of her eyes, and he can see how her other hand is digging into the table cloth, holding on for dear life. It's not a smile, it's a cry for help.

Draco thinks he will actually throw up now.

Somehow, he steels himself and forces a shuddering breath through his lips that almost turns into a hysterical sound. He looks to his father, and is surprised by the sight that greets him.

Lucius Malfoy has always been steely, smug, haughty, and self-assured. This is a man who holds a position in the Ministry second only to the Minister, a man who is the leader of one of the oldest and prestigious wizarding families in Great Britain, and a man who will pay anything and do anything to get what he wants. That is not the man that Draco looks at now.

His father seems... un-composed. There is a five o clock shadow on Lucius's face that Draco has never seen before in his life. His hair, usually done in a meticulously neat and polished ponytail, is fraying at the sides of his face, which is when Draco notices that the hairs are not platinum blonde, but white. Lucius's eyes try to maintain a steady gaze at the space in front of him, but they keep flitting nervously to the sides, as if something is about to pounce on him. It's a sight that makes Draco more on edge than he already is.

The tension in the large room is palpable that one could slice through it like a knife through butter. The entire Malfoy family clenches down, waiting, all on the verge of a mental breakdown.

The polite ring of the doorbell shocks them all out of their reverie

They all look to each other frantically, startled and confused. Does the Dark Lord ring doorbells? Doesn't he just waltz in like the fear inspiring entity that he is? Who else could it possibly be?

A split second of nothing passes by and is suddenly interrupted by the loud scraping of a chair on marble floor.

"I-I will go see who is at the door" Lucius chokes out, grabbing his serpent head cane with him. He steps quickly out of the room, his dark cloak flowing behind him as he turns the corner and escapes their sight.

After Lucius leaves, everything is silent for a moment. Mother and son wait with bated breath to hear who is at the door.

They hear the creaking of the large oak doors being opened, and hushed conversation between Draco's father and a chilling, faceless voice. Suddenly, Draco hears a distinctive wild and malicious cackle that could only come from one woman.

"I believe that is my sister, your Aunt Bellatrix, at the door Draco." Narcissa looks to be on the verge of tears.

Draco grabs hold of the hand resting on top of his, trying to anchor himself. The entire situation is surreal to him. He feels like nothing s real and that he could just tear himself up into tiny little pieces, like paper, and just hide someplace. He only wishes it were so.

As the sound of footsteps draw nearer and nearer to the dining hall,

Draco feels like something is slowly crawling up his spine.

First to enter the room is Draco's father, looking nothing short of terrified, closely followed by a disturbingly eager looking and unbridled Bellatrix Lestrange. She walks up to Draco and his mother, giving each of them an enthusiastic peck on the cheek. The kiss feels like a death sentence on Draco's skin

"Sister dear! How lovely it is to see you again, you're looking quite well." Bellatrix turns her dark mop of curls towards Draco, a wild look in her eyes.

"And Draco! My sweet nephew, how much you've grown over these past few years. Yes, a fine young wizard. You shall make a good addition to our ranks, yes?"

Draco struggles to meet her eyes as he speaks

"My only hope is to be able to serve the Dark Lord and support his noble cause to the best of my abilities."

"I am glad to hear that"

At the sound of those words, all the heads in the room bow down, a reverent greeting of "My Lord" coming from each person. Draco still has his head facing the floor as he hears the Dark Lord approach him. He trembles with fear and anticipation.

A hand rests on Draco's shoulder, and long, pale, spindly fingers that are impossibly cool to the touch tilt his head up until he is staring eye to eye with the devil himself.

The eyes are the first thing that Draco notices. They are more like thin slits rather than eyes, his irises colored an inhuman shade of crimson red. The Dark Lord's skin is pale and pasty and almost translucent, he can see the blue and red of his veins running down his neck. His cheekbones jut out of his face, looking more like knives rather than a facial feature. Thin lips are turned up at the sides in a chilling smile that makes Draco feel a sense of unease on a whole different level. This is the face of his new leader, his new god.

"Those in my service who show me unwavering loyalty will be greatly rewarded. Those who fail will not be granted a place in my new world. I wonder, which one are you Draco Malfoy?"

Draco puts on a blank face, hoping to shield his terror from the Dark Lord's prying eyes. His close proximity only makes this harder.

"My Lord, I am willing to do whatever it takes to serve you faithfully and carry out your will. I promise you, I shall not fail."

The Dark Lord steps back, seemingly pleased with Draco's answer. Draco finally releases a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looks at his mother, who is nodding at him in encouragement.

"I suppose we shall see. The ceremony will begin now." says the Dark Lord, and he offers a pale hand to Draco.

Every single nerve in Draco's body is screaming at him to say no, to just push him away and run as fast as he can. Instead, Draco obediently presents his left forearm to the Dark Lord. Bellatrix slides up to the Dark Lord's side and places her wand on top of Draco's arm

"Deliver your oath and declare your loyalty" she hisses at him.

Draco looks at his parents and then back at Bellatrix. His entire body feels numb and overwhelmed with fear at the same time- He barely even notices the words that leave his lips.

"Dico animo corpus et animam in domino obscuro.

Voluntas voluntatem meam

Est vita tua

Et serviet tibi usque in finem dierum.

Donec tandem vicit mortem."

"Mosmorde"

When he finishes, Draco watches in undisguised horror as a dark snake bursts from the tip of Bellatrix's wand and wraps itself around his forearm. He can feel the creature slither up his arm, and when it bites at his skin, Draco jumps at the pain.

Suddenly, a slow burning sensation sits right in the middle of his forearm, which soon turns into a searing pain. Draco clenches his knuckles so hard that he can feel his fingernails digging into his palm. A bright light sprouts from his arm and suddenly, Draco can barely stand up because it feels like someone is carving into his skin, his bones, his very soul, with a flaming hot knife. Draco screams but it sounds distant to him.

The pain doesn't dissipate. Draco can see a skull being branded onto his skin through the light. His knees buckle and he hits the ground hard but Draco doesn't notice. His entire world has dimmed down to the one spot on his left arm.

It ends as suddenly as it began. Draco looks down as the snake slithers up to the still burning skull, embracing it like a lover. Blood trickles from his palm as Draco slowly picks himself off the ground. Narcissa rushes over to her son, who leans heavily on her as she helps him up.

The Dark Lord replaces his look of mild annoyance with an unnerving smile as he looks at Draco.

"Congratulations Draco Malfoy. You are now an official Death Eater. Now that we have that out of the way, I believe you and I have something of great importance to discuss."

Draco looks up at Lord Voldemort's smiling face and tries not to puke all over the carpet.

Well, Happy fucking Birthday to me.

/

Reviews are love!

Sorry about the terrible Latin, I just used Google translate so it's probably completely unrecognizable, but oh well.