ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ it's kill or be killed, but they can't fully concentrate on anything but each other.
Or
Emma Cresswell and Draco Malfoy have never got on, despite both being in Slytherin and coming from highly...
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That summer, the sun never seemed to hide behind the clouds. It was constantly beaming upon Malfoy Manor and the pristine grounds surrounding it. Now, Emma Cresswell normally adored the sunshine and would be outside at any chance she got, but now she couldn't bare to step outside for even a few minutes.
Since the sun's rays on her dark mark hurt so goddamn much.
Emma had never thought she'd actually become a death eater, even with her mother having been a follower of the Dark Lord since she was a teen, but when she'd arrived at Malfoy Manor and had the mark branded on her skin, Emma realized how much of her future was actually set in stone.
Malfoy Manor was very different to the Cresswell household, with it's high ceilings and elegant look. Emma's childhood home was much cozier and smaller, which just the right amount of space for her, her two older brothers and their parents. Emma sometimes envied her brothers, both having left home a couple years previous, since they were free to go anywhere they want. They didn't have to spend the majority of their summer in another families house, and they also didn't have to spend far too much time with the most irritating boy Emma knew.
Draco Malfoy.
Emma sometimes wished she could steal a time turner and go back in time to when her mother was at Hogwarts. If she could stop the young Sabrina Lee from befriending Lucius Malfoy as they bonded over the terrified looking first years, maybe she wouldn't be in this situation; sitting in the Malfoy's living room alone, since the only person her age couldn't stand her.
Emma swirled the ends of her tea around the china teacup before setting it down on a coaster on the table next to her armchair, since she knew she'd be murdered by Narcissa Malfoy if she left a tea-ring on the shiny wood. The door of the living room opened, and Emma prepared to be faced with another death eater she didn't recognize but thankfully, it was her father. Emma smiled as the gentle man sat down beside her.
"It still hurts?" Emma's father asked her, nodding towards her forearm. The left sleeve of Emma's jumper was rolled up, since fabric on the mark made it itchy and painful.
"Yep," Emma nodded, titling her arm towards her father. The snake stood out against her skin, which was paling due to her lack of time outdoors. The skin around the mark still burned red and raw, despite it having been over two weeks since Emma became an official death eater.
"How much longer will we be here for?" Emma asked, really hoping her father's answer would be 'not much longer' but unfortunately, he said the complete opposite.
"Your mother seems to have a lot of work to do with Narcissa and a few others," he said, eyeing his daughter while he paused. While they sat in a comfortable silence, Emma's eyes scanned her father. Mr Cresswell looked to be a very kind and gentle man, and Emma knew him to be exactly that. You wouldn't expect him to be married to one of Voldemort's most loyal followers, and to worship said dark wizard. With his brown hair and eyes that seemed much older than their owner, Emma was proud to be his daughter.
