Through Different Eyes

year six; of unwanted house guests and cabinets

"I love you," she told before they parted on the train. It was the first time she had said it. He took hold of her cheek and kissed her, mumbling his sentiments over her lips. He didn't want to let go of her, but students were filling the halls to exit the train and they could be found any moment. Releasing her, Draco turned and didn't look back at her, dreading the summer to come and not having enough willpower to watch what he was missing. He heard her faint whisper behind him as he distanced himself. "Be careful."

He held his pinky up in front of him. I will, Hermione, he promised. I will.

He had turned sixteen this month, and now he was finally old enough. To become more active with the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters in place of his father. He suppressed a shiver. He would need to occlude all summer.

Hermione was worried for him, and he didn't blame her. She didn't want him to be harmed, to receive the Dark Mark, to join, to help Voldemort.

He still had trouble saying the name. In Hermione's words: "fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," and he didn't want to be afraid. Of course, that didn't stop him.

"Malfoy, mate," a voice said as he made his way back towards the carriage to retrieve his bag. It was Zabini. "Where have you been?" He put his arm around Draco as they walked.

"You all are a draining lot to be around, Zabini," he replied. "I need to rejuvenate so that your stupidity doesn't rub off on me."

He laughed, patting Draco's chest with his other hand. "Every time you open your mouth, the insults you spit are so... effortless and composed. How do you do it?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, not deigning to reply.

"Nothing!" Zabini howled. "Amazing!" He must be drunk.

His mother was waiting for him on the platform. Draco, carry-on in hand, made his way to the edge of the crowd where she stood apart from the rest. He caught sight of Hermione looking at him.

"Draco," she greeted, nothing more than a gentle hand on his arm. "You can pick up the rest of your luggage tomorrow. Right now we have a meeting we must attend. Come." Without another word he was apparated away.

They wasted no time at all, Draco thought when the meeting began. It was about him and his role among the Dark Lord's ranks. It had never been so crucial to keep his emotions locked inside and his face to remain stone.

"Draco will revive the Mark at the end of July," his mother announced, setting a date to his doom and taking the place of his father, who was otherwise occupied in his prison cell at the moment. "As will the other initiates." Funny, Draco thought. Since none of them are here.

"Draco," Voldemort said in his scaly voice. "I'm sure you have noticed that you are the only young initiate here, and that is not a mistake. With your fathers failure, I have deemed allowance to begin training early to defend your family honour. You will be present for meetings and learn our ways before your official ceremony."

Yeah, what an honour, he thought sarcastically. "Thank you, my Lord," was all he said aloud.

"And," he added melodiously. "If you exceed, you may even join my men on certain raids." Oh, yippee.

***

Draco was at a loss for what to do. His training was exceptionally easy and lessons weren't more than a few times a week. He wasn't doing his best or particularly trying, and he definitely wasn't practicing, but it turns out he was surpassing standards.