For the Love of an Enemy

CHAPTER ONE: A FATHERS PRIDE

Date: 29 December

Time: 11:55pm

Location: Malfoy Manor

Seven-teen year old Draco Malfoy turned the large, brass handle of his father's study with a heavy heart and a light head. His naturally fair skin was now the shade of snow with fright as he entered the dimly lit room.

The broad window at the far end of the room was obscured behind thick crimson curtains, bathing the room in a soft red glow. The antique furniture that had, no doubt, cost more then any other Wizard family's house, was arranged proudly along the richly papered walls. The floor beneath Draco's feet was a soft; yet firm carpet, coloured to match the curtains.

The centrepiece of the room was an extravagant oak table, complete with white candles, a Pensive and dozens of Ministry papers, behind which sat Lucius Malfoy, superior of the splendid Manor and the rooms within.

He surveyed his only son with a malicious stare, his silver eyes, as beautiful as his kin, glinted only for a second, then returned to their severe state. His long, artistic fingers were crossed beneath his chin; the white-blonde hair, which was partly concealing the handsome face, fell over his shoulders.

At length, the eldest in the room spoke.

"Come Draco, don't look at me with such anxiety, you are a Malfoy are you not?"

Draco nodded and fixed his eyes upon an oil painting hung on the wall. It showed a boy; whose hair and eyes were mirror images of his own. Draco guessed it was of his father as a child.

His eyes remained on the painting, his stare almost penetrating through the canvas, as he tried in vain to deafen himself against the words his father was directing at him.

"My son, you are to do me proud tonight. You know what is expected off you, and you will do what is asked of you here tonight. Do you understand?"

Another nod from the teenager answered the questions.

Lucius' voice switched to a stony whisper, making his words only barely audible in the tranquil room.

"Do not lie to me Draco. I know you feel fear towards your anointment, and I will not accept it from you. You are off age now; no longer a child that needs to be secluded from his responsibility."

Draco bit harshly upon his lower lip to prevent it from trembling, as he knew his father would surely turn his wand on him if he witnessed such a spineless action. He could not, however, stop the solitary tear from gliding down his cheek. His heart pulsated so violently in his chest he was sure it would break through.

A bitter laugh escaped his father's lips.

"Draco, do not weep before me I have no time for your weaknesses. God knows Narcissa would collapse if she witnessed this..."

Draco then thought of his beloved mother. She had previously been forbidden from coming within ten feet of the west wing of the Manor, in which the study laid. She had shed many a tear and spent hours in the dead of night speaking with her son, pleading for his forgiveness for her weakness against her husband. Alas, Lucius' word was law, and she had taken to the library that evening, after embracing Draco; promising him nothing besides what he was told of, would happen him.

An ancient grandfather clock which stood in the corner struck mid-night, the piercing chime of it jerking Draco back to the present, leaving thoughts of his mother behind.

A vivid flash of emerald light shot from the floor and stretched towards the high ceiling. Dense smoke emitted from the same spot in the ground. Draco stumbled back, his eyes stinging from the fumes; his hand moving to cover his mouth.

He was only too aware of what had caused such uproar, but the figure, which stood before him when the smoke cleared, still caused his blood to run cold.

The tall, skeletal body, clothed in a thick regal robe chilled the very air around it. Draco was paralysed; and his father also looked frightened, which was so unlike his standard cool nature.

The head upon the feared body, which had been bowed until this point, raised, and revealed a pair of eyes so scarlet-red, and of such an elongated shape, they gave the impression that they were indeed immortal. A pair of sliced slits made the nose of the face, followed by a set of lean lips, which were surely cold to the touch.

Draco could no longer look at man, and forced himself to have the daring to look away. Although he reminded himself, as his father had done so in the past, that the new body in the room was no mere man like he.

Lord Voldermort was so much more.

Lucius had then found his voice and his ability to move, as he rose from his high-backed, leather chair, and bowed elegantly, yet nobly to his master.

"My Lord, we have been anxiously awaiting your arrival. I pray you had an uncomplicated time in getting here?"

Lord Voldermort gave a sharp nod of his head, which was draped in a thin hood. As he spoke, the icy breath of the most feared man in all his world made Draco's hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Yes, indeed Lucius. Though I have many a task to attend to and plan to complete what I have come here to do and promptly leave."

"Yes, yes of course my Lord, I understand. I am aware of your schedule and am most appreciative of your time here."

Lord Voldermort turned and addressed Draco, who had now taken refuge in the corner of the study, gripping the wall; his breath ragged as he observed the meeting between the two.

"Come here boy. Come and receive your honour."

He beckoned Draco forward with an unnaturally long forefinger, which ashen colour was fairer even than Draco's skin tone.

Draco's lean body trembled from head to foot as he made his way forward; his footing uneven. The serpent-like eyes of Lord Voldermort bore into his, showing more superiority than Draco could have thought possible.

He seated himself upon the plush, plum coloured chair, which had been previously sat out for him.

Lord Voldermort; He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; the most feared Wizard for centuries, stood before the silver haired Slytherin and peered down upon him. After a moment of observation, he spoke; his voice stronger and more penetrating than even before.

"Draco Lucius Salazar Malfoy, on this night you are to make your father, and your ancestors, who in turn have made me very faithful servants, proud by what you are about to receive. You are to accept your duty like the man that you have become."

With this, he reached out a finger and drew it down Draco's cheek, sending shots of ice throughout his entire body. They were face-to-face now, ruby eyes meeting silver. Lord Voldermort spoke again; his breath equally as frightfully cold as his touch.

"Give me your arm, boy"

Draco obeyed, though purely out of nervousness and fright.

Lord Voldermort took hold of Draco's arm, chilling him to the bone, and turned the underside of his forearm upwards to face him. Draco's eyes met his fathers; Lucius's reflecting power, pride and seriousness. Draco didn't doubt his own showed pure fright.

Lord Voldermort touched Draco's arm with the tip of his wand; made of durable oak wood.

Draco's heartbeat, which had gradually been increasing since his arrival in the room, doubled, as his future Master's eye glowed a piercing emerald green; much like the colour of the smoke in which he had appeared in.

"MORSMORDRE IMPALAEM!"*

A fierce, white-hot pain, one unlike Draco had ever encountered, seared up his arm with the speed of a bullet. He winced and barely kept himself from crying out. Burning tears stung his eyes as he clenched them shut; cold sweat forming upon his forehead and the pain crept throughout his entire lithe frame.

Draco was no longer aware of his surroundings, though he could only too well feel himself trembling from both shock and pain. Knifes seemed to be piercing every inch of his skin, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

A sudden deafening cry echoed through Draco's exhausted mind, and he recognised the voice as his fathers.

The pressure of the wand tip decreased upon his arm; causing the pain to cease rapidly. Draco had never felt such relief. He opened his eyes, tears flowing freely from his eyes, his temperature at least double of what it had previously been.

Lucius was glaring at his son with contempt; murderous rage in his eyes and across his strong features.

Lord Voldermort had now risen from his crouching position in front of Draco's chair and had risen, a look on his face similar to that of Lucius.

"The boys body rejects the Dark Mark. He is unable to accept it; he turns his head and heart against it."

Lord Voldermorts voice was of such a stony nature, his already frightful eyes set in such a manner that Draco felt his was still in the lethal pain he had received. He himself was confused and could not bear the shame in his fathers face.

Lord Voldermort then turned to face Lucius with an indignant swish of his cloak.

"You have sorely displeased me Lucius. The boy is worth nothing more to me than a mere Muggle."

He Apparated the instant these words had left his lips, leaving Draco alone with his perplexity, fatigue...and father whom had the look on his face of someone who would not think twice on using the Avada Kedavra upon his disgraced son.

Draco sat, dreadfully weary, his head had the impression that it was filled with lead and his vision was distorted. Though he had enough sense at the present moment to expect anything from his father.

Lucius's first action was to upturn his oak table in a fierce fit of blind rage. Quills and papers littered the air and ground, Lucius's voice pounding against Draco's eardrums.

"How DARE you Draco?You are no son of mine!the disgrace you have placed upon our family!"

Draco thought he could get no worse, though nothing in neither the Muggle, nor Wizarding world would have prepared him for his fathers next words, which he heard clearly despite his confusion.

"Get out Draco. Get out and never return. I disown you."