Stolen Glances

five

  Draco

Draco sat quietly by the Black Lake, feeling the cold seep into his pale skin. The cold had become his only solace, his last shred of comfort to keep him sane. He hadn't slept in days now, and the bitter, November frost seemed to be the only way to keep his mind and body alert.

He supposed he could always take a Draught of Living Death to ease the pain, but thought that relying on vials was too pathetic. He wasn't yet in enough despair to depend on drugs and potions to keep his mind at ease. After all, it wasn't his mind that was the problem.

Draco had never wanted to receive the Dark Mark, or succumb his services to the Dark Lord in the first place. But there wasn't much choice in the matter; being enslaved to a mass murderer doesn't give you much choice in your freedom. He remembered his father, and snarled at the mere thought of the coward.

Lucius Malfoy had always believed he was of much more significance to his Master, and thought of himself as irreplaceable. But nothing he did could ever be enough to prove his loyalty, no matter how many muggle-borns he slaughtered. After his failure at capturing the Prophecy at the Department of Mysteries, Voldemort had turned the blame solely upon him. Lucius had been subjected to weeks of torture, the Cruciatus curse eventually penetrating what had been left of his sanity and morality. He never recovered.

The rest of the Malfoys were punished in accompaniment. One man's failing was leashed upon his wife and son. Draco shuddered, as he recalled his mother's wails that could be heard throughout the walls of the Manor, as she was tortured mercilessly for acts that she never even been a part of.

"Please..." Narcissa cried. "N-not Draco! He's just a boy..."

The Dark Lord smiled, his red eyes flashed with appeasement as the writhing woman below him lent her final words to the mercy of her son. A mother's love. A pitiful and futile sentiment.

"Find the boy! Search the grounds." He rasped, a flick of his wrist sending cloaked figures throughout the house, trails of smoke curling from the floorboards.

Draco hugged his knees, his muscular but defeated frame rocked back and forth as he heard his mothers faint cries. A loud pop sent him to his feet, his wand held in front of him quivered.

His aunt Bellatrix apparated in front of him and grinned with satisfaction.

"Draco, baby!" She cackled. "You've been summoned." She grasped his wrist tightly and shoved him down the cold marble steps, her squeals echoed off the walls.

Draco landed in a heap next to his mothers figure, all the life drained from her once electric blue eyes.

"Look at me, boy." Voldemort held his wand against Draco's throat, forcing his chin up. Draco quivered, a tear falling down his cheek. He cursed himself silently; the Dark Lord did not accept weakness.

Voldemort sneered, forcing Draco's sleeve up forcefully.

"I have hope for you yet, boy." His voice sent chills up Draco's spine.

"Let's just say... I have a mission for you. To regain your family's namesake." He pressed his wand firmly into Draco's skin, a dark shape seeping out like ink. Draco cried out in pain, and bit his tongue. The louder you screamed, the more pain the Dark Lord would give you. He looked down in horror at the mark forming under his skin, a snake writhing out from Voldemort's wand, as if it had a life of its own.

This Dark Mark was different. It wasn't frozen in place, like a tattoo. It moved on it's own, constantly twisting underneath Draco's skin, each movement sending a burning sensation up his arm.

"A slow-acting venom..." Voldemort drawled, as if reading his mind. "Only until you prove yourself...restore honor, will it cease."

The memory ceased in Draco's mind as he stood up from the lake's shore and cast a cleaning charm on his trousers. He couldn't stand to be filthy. The sun had set, the last of its warm touch fading from the mountain tops. Draco closed his eyes and inhaled the cool night breeze, filling his lungs with the fresh air he craved so fondly. He hated how trapped he felt within the castle's walls, the repulsed stares of his peers followed him like the plague. Everyday there seemed to be a new person he had to prove himself to and a new judgement he was forced to face.

Draco made his way up the snow-covered hill with the weight of the day resting heavy on his shoulders. As he walked into the dungeons he heard the tail end of laughter and his nose was met with the burning smell of fire whiskey that hung in the air. The group in front of him seemed to be the typical group of late night drinkers he associated with; Blaise, Pansy, Theo and Daphne. He froze slightly as his eyes caught on Theo resting his hands on a familiar girl with long dark hair and an empty bottle of fire whiskey in her hands. Iris Snape was the very last person Draco wanted to see tonight, but his presence must have not registered yet in her drunken state. Draco found an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach watching the two interact as everyone in the group's eyes snapped up to look at him, and a look of familiarity and relief washed over them. Pansy spoke,

"Why good evening Mr. Dark and Brooding!" Draco ignored her and looked at Iris. With a nod of his head he sneered,

"Healthy coping mechanisms I see." He watched as her face flushed red and her head duck down with shame. He had never respected those who rely on substances to rid their problems, it always seemed like such a pathetic and easy way out. He added that to the running mental list of reasons he didn't like Iris Snape, the girl with the victim complex, uncontrollable anger issues, and inability to respect those who were obviously superior then she was.

"Lay off Malfoy, you twat." Theo shot back. "The poor girl's barely holding it together as it is." Draco scoffed at this comment; Nott had always been infamous for his ridiculous gallantry and choice of women, the firewhiskey obviously not doing him any favors. He needed to be knocked down a peg

"Yeah, it sure as hell seems like it. Wouldn't expect anything less from the filthy half blood." The entire room went quiet. Draco knew he was adding fuel to the fire at this point, but part of him wanted to get a rise out of him.

"Just leave it." Iris pleaded at Theo, looking at him with half-lidded eyes. He ignored her and shot up from his place on the couch and stalked towards Draco, the two boys caught in an intense stare-down. Neither of them had ever been the type to back down in a battle of dominance.

Theo broke the tension.

"What the bloody hell is your problem mate?" He made a slow, staggered attempt to swing his fist in Dracos direction. He was firmly halted by Blaise stepping in between them. On any other day, Draco would have been grateful for Blaise's level-head and reasoning.

"Alright you two, we don't need any more trouble tonight. Let's just sleep it off, yeah?" Blaise aimed the last part towards Draco, sending him a knowing glance of kindness.

"Theodore, he's not worth it." Iris pleaded once again from the background. Draco couldn't help but roll his eyes at her attempted innocence.

"Yeah, well he better fucking watch himself." Theo muttered, sending Draco a glare and stomping off to the boys dormitories.

Draco felt hot anger at the intervention, but was coldly held against Blaise's large frame. He stuck an accusing finger towards Iris.

"Oi. Tell your boyfriend that the next time he tries to fuck with me, it won't end all nice and pretty." By the look of embarrassed stupor on her face, he narrowed his eyes at her. She must have been the most fucked up out of any of them, and he had a slight suspicion that firewhiskey wasn't the only thing in her system. Her eyes looked glazed over and distant almost as if she was looking through him, come to think of it he couldn't remember the last time he saw her without that look in her eyes.

With that, he spun on his heel and headed to the boys dormitory, his head full of frustration as he stomped off. Why was it always Iris Snape that had him storming away angrily?