Loyalty and Treachery...[Introduction]...A Draco Malfoy Story

My heart was beating so hard when i wrote the end of this update! I don't know why, I've had it planned for months, another twist in the tale! And there's still so much more to come! Enjoy!



"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

There was a blinding flash of bright green light, like the beautiful colour of Shade's eyes, but it wasn't beautiful at all. It was horrific.

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Several things happened at once but Draco Malfoy was certain he had not killed this man.

The old man's legs buckled beneath him, but before he could collapse on the spot, his body was flung backwards, crashing violently into the top of the wall. His limbs hung limp, as he slid down the rich crimson wallpaper, and curled into a heap. He was dead.

At the same time, a sudden sense of clearness washed over Draco. The light-headed determinedness he had experienced, only moments before, pushing him onwards, dissolved like melting snow. He saw his mother's arm move rapidly, beside him, depositing her wand into her robes. Draco had been sure she hadn't had it out before.

His heart was crashing about in his chest, pushing upwards so intensely that Draco felt as though he was about to vomit. His arm was still stuck, motionless, outstretched in front of him. He stepped backwards hastily, almost stumbling over his own feet, gagging on his breath, but his mother's arms reached out to steady him. His head jerked suddenly to look at Yaxley. Draco had realised that he felt...empty. There was no surge of electricity coursing through him, the way he usually felt after he used magic.

"I didn't...I didn't-" He couldn't find the words.

He hadn't killed this man.

Yet, the satisfied look on Yaxley's face seemed to tell him otherwise.

Before the tall, shadowy stranger could congratulate him, tell him that the Dark Lord would arrive soon after, Draco swept upstairs, escaping the scene. Upstairs, he slammed his bedroom door behind him. There was no sadness, no remorse, and it frightened Draco that he could feel nothing after...

The anger was beginning spark inside him, then, anger at letting Shade down and anger at himself...had he become as cold hearted as his father? To feel nothing after he had murdered a man?

He would not go any further. He would not be branded.

Draco thrashed out at his desk, wanting his fists to connect with anything, to expel the anger prickling horribly inside of him. Bone collided with glass, as his heavy crystal pen holder flew off his desk, smashing into the wall in the same way that old man had been slung across the room. The glass shattered on impact, glittering slivers showering the plush carpet. Draco cursed loudly and jerked his head sideways, looking for something else to thrash out at.

Before he could do anymore damage, however, Draco noticed his eagle owl perched proudly at his open window, blinking curiously at him.

The letter was in his hands before his heart had time to beat, his father's handwriting on the envelope. The note inside was short.

"I hope all goes well today. Make your family proud, Draco."

The brief moment, when Draco Malfoy had actually believed he could refuse his branding, was instantly destroyed. He had to make his father proud, make his mother happy and keep his family together. His pale fingers played with the corners of the letter, shaping the stiff cream coloured paper into curls. He exhaled slowly, attempting to calm his shaken nerves and letting the letter fall onto his desk. It had been months since he had had contact from his father, now he couldn't bear to look at that majestic handwriting.

There was a knock at Draco's door and his mother swept gracefully into the room, not bothering to wait for a response.

"Draco, you need to change into your robes. The Dark Lord will be arriving here shortly."

It was an order, the words lashed with authority. She glanced at his wardrobe and lifted her wand, the heavy mahogany doors sprung open, his dark black formal robes floating out. With a flick of her wrist they settled on his bed and she nodded her head sharply at them.

Draco's heart was still erupting inside his chest, he had to say something.

"I...I didn't kill that muggle."

There was a cold anger on his mother's face, but his tender forehead creased with worry at the bemused look she quickly replaced it with.

"Of course you did, Draco. Don’t be ridiculous. Yaxley and myself saw you. The Dark Lord will be proud. Your father will be proud." She whispered to him, a loving smile tweaking the corners of her lips.

Draco's throat tightened, his fingers curling into fists, raising the muscles in his arms.

"No." The syllable only escaped as a ghostly murmur, as he shook his head in denial.

"I didn't kill him." He repeated softly, more sure of it now.

"Hush! And get changed!" His mother hissed sharply, grabbing his shoulders to spin him, to face his robes, before storming from the room.

Had he really murdered that man? Without any sense of guilt, without a second thought? Was that what it was like to murder? To, in a split second, lose all sense of compassion, because that was what was necessary.

Draco shuddered involuntarily at the thought and shuffled forward to lift his heavy black robes, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

He would accept what he was. A murderer.




The Dark Lord was still, bar his twitching fingers, as Draco entered the room, irritated that he had been kept waiting. The boy's heavy hood was pulled up over his head, casting his handsome, sculpted face into shadow. He could tell that Draco was nervous, they always were. His mother and Yaxley still stood by the other side of the room, eager onlookers for Draco Malfoy's union with the dark side.

Burning red eyes peered down at the teen as he hovered uncertainly in front of the Dark Lord. With a single flick of a finger, he gestured for Draco to lift his arm and place it in his left hand. Draco did as he was told.

Voldemort's skin was chilling against Draco's, making goose bumps burst out across his arm. He suppressed a shudder, at the appearance of the wizard's skin. Voldemort's hand was a pale grey in colour, the surface of his skin almost transparent, ghostly thin and Draco was sure he could see the bright white bone beneath.

Amidst the soft gloom, there appeared a tiny ball of light, like a dazzling firefly, at the tip of Voldemort's wand. Draco held his breath as the wand crept closer to his arm, his skin warming as the proximity of the light decreased. He noticed the way the Dark Lord's slit like nostrils quivered as he breathed, deep in concentration.

He let his eyelids flutter close, his mind plunged deep into heavenly, comforting thoughts of Shade. Her gorgeous face pressed to his cheek, her lips on his cold skin, her hand weaved with his. The beauty of those memories still could not calm his shuddering nerves. His arm was growing warmer and Draco tried desperately to concentrate harder on the darkness in front of his closed eyes. He tried to recall the soft, ringing sound of Shade's laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when he made her laugh, how he'd catch her just staring at him sometimes, how her cheeks would flush with colour when she was angry.

Draco's heart caught fire a little bit and he almost felt a tiny surge of hope.

Then the pain began.

The Dark Lord's wand connected with his skin, pressing powerfully into his arm. Draco winced with pain, his memories broken, his eyes flying open, against his wishes, as a searing scarlet light exploded from Voldemort's wand.

Fluid, unfamiliar words danced from the Dark Lord's arrow shaped tongue. They seemed to spark like a match, as they hit the intense ruby light, and crackled loudly. Draco's skin felt as though it were on fire, melting and burning and turning to a bubbling liquid. His eyes had squeezed tightly shut again, in agony, his teeth clamping down so fiercely on his tongue, to ensure he did not cry out, that he could taste spots of blood emerging.

The pain shot through his arm, throbbed inside his body and thumped deafeningly inside his head. He was sure his legs were beginning to shake, a hot sweat breaking across his forehead, he was about to collapse, still in excruciating pain as the Dark Lord forced his fiery wand harder against his skin.

Draco's knees buckled as the light collapsed in on itself and Voldemort lowered his wand. A sickening sense of darkness flooded through Draco's veins, curdling his blood.

"It is done."

His arms were reaching out to Draco, catching him before he could fall and helping him to steady himself. Draco's face was soaked with sweat, his arm still in such fierce pain that he didn't dare to look at it.

Draco Malfoy had been branded. He was now a Death Eater.

"And so, the Malfoy's remain loyal. Congratulations."

The Dark Lord's thin lips curled into an ugly, satisfied smile.




Draco still did not care to look at the mark on his arm. Part of him, a small, wishful desire, was teasing him, at the back of his mind, that maybe he could pretend it didn't exist at all. He was sitting alone in his room, the pain in his arm had subsided, too faint to notice now, and the remaining tingling sensation was almost pleasant.

His head was bent low over his desk, he was trying to write to Shade. He didn't care what his mother had to say, he needed to contact her. Yet, the words would not come.

"Shade, I am so sorry for not writing sooner. I have missed you terribly and-"

Draco glared accusingly at the paper and furiously crumbled it up, throwing it onto the floor with the shattered glass. What words could express how much he missed her and what words could excuse how he had not replied to her? She deserved so much better. He had killed a muggle...how could he ever bring himself to tell her that?

"Shade, please forgive me for not writing the moment I was here. All contact has been cut-off by my mother. I feel like my heart has started to shrivel up, it just isn't complete without you-"

No. He was avoiding the truth. Draco tore up the paper, ripping it to shreds and yanked another piece over. His hands were shaking now, he didn't know why he felt so scared all of a sudden.

"Shade. It is done."

He hated this coldness, but what more could he say? I killed someone today, and I did not feel a thing?

Draco pulled an envelope across, dipping his ink in the liquid blackness again, scrawling Shade's name across the surface. He lifted the note with trembling fingers and tucked it into the envelope. He was about to lick it shut, when it fell from his fingers, onto the desk.

His head slammed forward into his hands and the tears suddenly broke from behind his eyes. Hot, salty tears cascading down his chiselled cheeks and staining the envelope, his body convulsing with sobs.

And so Draco sat, shaking quietly in his chair, crying, ruined by his own family.




Narcissa Malfoy pushed the furniture back into the centre of the room. She lingered by the wall, ensuring every charcoaled, burnt patch was removed. Her wand worked rapidly, twisting magic into the wallpaper itself to repair the royal red surface. The body had already been cleared away. She straightened up, sweeping her glowing blonde hair from her face and turning back around to examine her work.

Back to normal.

She could not help but let out a gentle sigh, however, as her disappointment caught up with her. She had not thought her son would show such hesitation, such weakness. Such unwillingness to follow in his father's footsteps.

She had thought that Draco would be proud to fulfil whatever the Dark Lord asked of him. She had been wrong. She had seen the terror in his eyes, when he was asked to kill that old muggle. She had seen the hesitation in how he lifted his wand. She had seen Yaxley's impatient, unforgiving eyes.

She had been forced to act, to ensure the Dark Lord was pleased with her family.

She had been forced to put her own son under the Imperius Curse, to make sure that he, Draco, murdered that old man.
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