Chapter One - Draco

He had known it was coming; his father had been boasting about it for weeks, since the Easter holidays. Draco lived in anticipation each day, wondering if it would happen that day, or the next. He went to bed each night expecting to be called upon the next morning. He was waiting for it. He knew it would happen.

But knowing it was coming didn't lessen the fear. He was to get the Mark.

And he was terrified.

He awoke the morning of June 5, his stomach filled with dread. He was anxious in his studies all morning, making no headway on his homework. At the lunch hour, he received an owl from his father. He was to be in Snape's office immediately.

Draco dropped his fork onto his still-full plate, no longer hungry. Mechanically, he grabbed his bag from the floor beside him and left the Slytherin table. He exited the Great Hall at a snails pace but still made it to Snape's office in the dungeons much too fast. He knocked once, and entered after Snape's voice granted him permission.

"You are to use my private Floo to arrive at the Manor. Your father wishes to see you in his study in no more than ten minutes."

Draco nodded at Snape, and grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the pot on the mantel. Draco stepped into the fireplace. Clutching his school bag tight to his side, he called out the drawing room of the Manor. Once there, he quickened his pace toward his father's study. The door was open when he arrived, and he walked directly in, dropping his bag in the hall. He came to a stop in front of his fathers desk and waited for the older man to cease writing in his journal.

After a few seconds, Lucius slipped a ribbon to his page and closed the journal. He looked up at his son.

"Happy birthday, Draco. Sixteen. Almost a man."

'Thank you, Father," Draco dipped his head out of habit, in a sign of the respect he no longer believed he held for his father.

"I like to see that you still dress reasonably while at that sad excuse for a school," Lucius drawled, taking in Draco's black trousers and shoes as well as the crisp white, button down shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. "You could do without showing your forearms. You'll need to get used to that."

Draco swallowed hard. He had suspected why he had been called to the Manor. Lucius had now confirmed it, with his thinly veiled reference.

"You are free to go for now. Be back in this study at 7. There is a meeting to attend."

With a wave of his hand, Lucius excused Draco. Once in the hall, Draco grabbed his bag and nearly sprinted up the staircase to his bedroom. Only after placing a silencing charm on his childhood room, did Draco allow himself to succumb to his panic.

Six o'clock came too quickly for Draco. He showered and dried his hair quickly with a drying charm. He donned the black robes that appeared on his bed at six thirty without question. He knew what they were.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Draco ceased his pacing and looked into the floor length mirror in his room. He looked every bit the Death Eater, without a mask. Closing his eyes and controlling his breathing, he employed the Occlumency his aunt Bellatrix had been teaching him since he was twelve.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, Draco exited his childhood bedroom. He swiftly made his way to his father's study. The door was closed this time, so he knocked once. The door opened on its own without a sound. Draco entered the room, straight-backed and head high. His face was a blank slate, his mind clear and calm. If anyone were to enter his mind using Legilimency, they would not be aware that he was terrified, and dreading this encounter. They would see the excited facade he had perfected for this moment.

Draco came to a stop in front of his father's desk. This time, seated behind it, was not his father. Voldemort himself was sitting in Lucius' leather desk chair, elbows propped on the edge and hands clasped with each other on the mahogany surface. Voldemort's red eyes were downcast for the moment, but as soon as Draco came to a stop in front of the desk, the former lifted his pale face. Red eyes met silver and Voldemort gave a ghost of a smile.

"Hello, Draco. I hear it is a special day for you."

Draco inclined his head slightly. "It is, My Lord."

"Impeccable manors. Lucius, you've done well," Voldemort looked across the room to Lucius. Draco looked with him and for the first time, he took in who was in the room. Who was allowed to be in the room.

Draco locked eyes with his father, who looked proud. It was the first time he had seen Lucius look that way in regard to something that involved Draco. The thought made Draco seethe, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He'd analyze that later.

Also in attendance was Aunt Bellatrix, of course. Professor Snape, Draco was relieved to see. While Snape may be on the Dark side, he knew Draco's fears and secrets, and kept them to himself. Dolohov was there as well. Draco didn't know much of him, just that he had been involved in the Ministry attack a couple of weeks prior.

Also in attendance were Crabbe and Goyle seniors. This meant that Draco's two closest 'friends' at school would definitely know the events of this night. Draco's eyes roamed over to the fireplace and—-his heart clenched.

Seated primly in a wingback armchair, hands clasped in her lap and her left ankle behind her right, Narcissa Malfoy sat. Her face was blank but her eyes... Draco could see the fear. And the anger.

Draco didn't want his mother here. Didn't want her to see...

But he had no choice in the matter. He looked back to Voldemort, who was watching Draco. Draco suspected he was looking for a reaction, a weakness. Draco would not let him see one, although Voldemort had guessed correctly. Narcissa was Draco's biggest weakness. He loved his mother.

Voldemort held Draco's eyes a moment longer. His small smile dropped; he seemed slightly disappointed that Draco showed no reaction. Draco internally breathed a sigh of relief. He'd never held up his Occlumency walls for so long. They still felt strong.

"Let's begin," Voldemort hissed. Standing, he rounded the desk and stood in front of Draco. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Then let us begin. Left hand," he demanded, and Draco lifted his left hand in front of himself. Voldemort took hold of it, lifting the sleeve of the black robe to reveal the white shirt sleeve below. He unbuttoned the wrist cuff and folded that as well.

Draco looked up from his arm and locked eyes with Voldemort. The latter gripped Draco's forearm and without warning, dragged his wand across Draco's forearm.

Searing pain stretched across Draco's are, like he had stuck it in a boiling cauldron. His eyes watered, but he refused to cry out. Just as it became unbearable, the pain stopped. It was over. He looked down at his arm and suddenly felt faint. Draco felt his body sway...

Draco's eyes snapped open. He groaned and rolled over, noticing that it was only five in the morning. No use now, he decided. Time to get up.

The nightmares where becoming more frequent, now that he had started his sixth year and had been given his task. He didn't know how on earth he was supposed to complete it. How was a 16 year old supposed to kill a great sorcerer like Albus Dumbledore? He had already failed with the necklace, cursing the poor girl named Katie. Draco had anonymously sent a bouquet of roses to St. Mungos.

Draco pulled on a pair of black trousers from his wardrobe floor, not caring that they were wrinkly. His clothes fit poorly these days anyway, due to his lack of appetite and near constant vomiting. He was much too stressed. He entered the bathroom that adjoined the Slytherin boys dorm, taking care to make his footsteps light so as not to wake the other sleeping teenagers.

He supposed he didn't scream when he had nightmares. No one ever woke up, even after the nasty ones he had. He may need to find new sleeping quarters if he started screaming, lest Crabbe and Goyle report to their fathers that he was cracking under the pressure.

And cracking he was. Draco Malfoy was the youngest Death Eater there had ever been, and he hated it. It was never the life he wanted for himself; not even when he was younger and still had believed the drivel his father spouted about pureblood superiority.

Draco snorted. Pureblood superiority, my arse. Granger's a mudblood and is better at most things than me... No, he chastised himself. Don't go there.

Draco crossed the bathroom to the sinks on the wall. He splashed water on his face then looked into the mirror. His skin was paler than usual, and he was much thinner. He looked every bit as tired and defeated as he felt, at least to himself. Will a few well placed glamour charms under his eyes and his signature smirk, no one noticed how deeply he had fallen.

On top of attempting to kill Dumbledore, Draco had to mend a broken vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. He had an idea of why the Dark Lord wanted it mended, but Draco had never confirmed his suspicions. He was trying to keep his head down and follow orders to keep himself alive...and to keep his mother alive.

After his failure with the necklace, they had tortured Narcissa for hours, and made Draco watch. Once Narcissa was rendered unconscious, they started in on Draco. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was that his mother did not see him get tortured.

Draco sighed and cleared his mind, burying his worries and his struggles beneath a layer of false pride. He could not show weakness.

Draco brushed his teeth and returned to his dorm to finish dressing. As the time ticked closer to six, he made his way to the Great Hall, knowing only a handful of people would arrive this early to eat. Maybe he could actually force something into his stomach before heading to the Room of Requirement for a couple of hours prior to classes.

He seated himself at the Slytherin table, avoiding the curious glances from a few lower years, and keeping his eyes averted from scanning the Gryffindor table. Potter and the Weasel had been ever more suspicious of him, since the ministry battle where they fought his father. And he had guessed they noticed how aloof and skittish he had become since start of term. They were watching him like hawks. Even if they hadn't noticed, surely Granger had. Draco had noticed pity in her eyes the few times he had accidentally caught her gaze.

He laid three sausages on his plate, along with a fried egg, all the while thinking about how he could possibly mend the cabinet. He was halfway through eating his second sausage, when he sensed eyes on him. He lifted his head to find the Weasel looking at him, his face mixed with curiosity and disdain. Draco refocused on eating his breakfast and ignored the redheaded Gryffindor.

About twenty minutes later, Draco was standing in front of the door to the Room of Requirement, unaware that just a few meters away, three Gryffindors were watching him under the safety of the invisibility cloak.