Branded

All my scars are yours - Fleur Adcock

It was the first time for many years that the boy had been unable to sleep on the night before his birthday. Nervous anticipation coursed through his body as he counted down the hours. He was aware of seeing each hour of the night: midnight, one, two. Three o'clock came and in his mind he tried to picture the scene of the coming day and quickly put it from his mind. Slowly the hours crawled past and seven o'clock found him in an agitated slumber, sheets strewn around the bed.

Drawing the curtains around the bed he saw the other boys in his dormitory were still asleep, or at least had shown no signs of being awake. Carefully he got out of his bed and grabbing his clothes made his way to the bathroom. His fingers shook as he did up the buttons down the front of his shirt, and as he turned his attention to tackle his cufflinks he drew back the crisp white cotton and traced his trembling fingertips over the skin on his forearm. Once dressed he didn't wait for his housemates before going down to the great hall. He was one of the first to take his seat at the long house table, and for once he didn't notice and sneer at the students who had arrived before him, sitting without friends. He took a piece of toast and slowly and mindlessly ate it. As a swoop of wings was heard above he lowered his head, trying to avoid the inevitable letter that he knew would arrive. He barely noticed the arrival of the thick parchment tied with a venomous green velvet ribbon. The letter was placed down on the table as the owl flew off, and the boy's pale trembling fingers wrapped themselves around the scroll. With quick strides he made his way back to his common room, passing his housemates who were making their way to the great hall.

When he stepped into the common room he discovered that he was the only person there, as he had planned. Carefully his fingers untied the ribbon and let it fall carelessly to the floor as he unrolled the scroll. The writing was intricate, yet this was lost on the boy, whose eyes scanned the written message, already aware of the subject, yet unsure of particular intricacies of the plan. He memorized the details that he would need and discarded the letter into the smoldering fire. He returned to his dormitory, mindlessly fastened his long cloak around his neck and took three deep breaths. In his mind he traced out the route to the illegally arranged portkey, went over his plausible excuse for his absence and imagined the reactions of some of the staff if they knew where he was going. He was aware that Snape would make an intelligent guess, but he could hardly imagine Dumbledore realizing his mission - why would he have any reason to doubt that the boy was visiting his sick mother, after all it was true that she had been ill, although he knew it was through worry about this day. Without delaying for another moment, in fear that his housemates might see him and stupidly talk too loudly about his destination, or worse than that, see him in this state of panic, he left the small sanctuary of his dormitory and made his way through Hogwarts castle to a hidden spot about half a mile around the forbidden forest. His steps were slow and short, yet he still arrived before the predestined time. After a final deep breath, his eyes closed, Draco reached forward and took the black stone skull in his hand.

On opening his eyes he found himself in the circle, exactly as he had imagined. He stood in the centre and felt hundreds of eyes fixed upon him. He carefully stood up from his crouched position on the ground, and felt their gaze follow him as he straightened his body to his full height. He bit the inside of his lip, carefully trying not to show any hint of nerves, as he tossed his chin in the air to demonstrate his self-control, even though he felt that it was faltering. With measured steps he walked into the centre, towards his Lord and his father, not certain which one he feared more. They two men stood as two vertices of a triangle, which Draco completed as he took his final steps towards them. His eyes focused up and ahead of their triangle, unable to meet the piercing looks of the two men who had had equal shares in bringing him up. As he heard words echoing in the still air he swallowed hard, although his mouth was dry. The ceremony had started. The words washed over him - spells of dark magic that he did not understand, and did not wish to - the chorus of Death Eaters reiterating the words of the two feared men in the centre. Then he knew it was time, and his fingers unbuckled the silver clasp that held his long cloak around his neck. As he heard the gentle 'click' of the buckle, he dropped the heavy fabric and it fell to the ground. Seemingly hypontised by the whispering sibilant sounds, he slowly offered forward his left arm, and with a negligible swish and flick of his father's wand, his cufflink disappeared and the white sleeve folded up to the elbow. The noise of different spells from each Death Eater filled his ears as the careful ritual came to a crescendo. His heart was beating increasingly faster, as his wait became less and less, and a sickening shiver prickled its way down his bare neck. Then, after what felt like an eternity, the men who formed the circle fell silent, and Draco felt the eyes switch from himself to the Dark Lord as everyone held their breath in anticipation. The wait was unbearable, and then as if unaware of the tension running through the air, the Dark lord slowly lowered his, head, although his eyes remained fixed on the boy's face. His piercing gaze never faltered, even as Draco heard his words and the crack of the powerful spell in the air. Dark magic filled his body to every extremity, and it felt both satisfying and sickening in the same moment. As he felt the warmth manifesting itself in his arm he heard the spell repeated by the Death Eaters that surrounded him, who he had somehow forgotten about. The pain in his arm started lightly, which surprised him somewhat, but then gradually it built up until he was sure he would collapse on the ground under the immense burning that he felt. Then, with no dulling of the pain, the feeling of magic running through his body stopped, and the sound that filled his ears was that of applause from the surrounding wizards. The crowd disappeared, apparating their way to Malfoy Manor, no doubt, although Draco recognised that it was neither the time, nor place, for asking questions. His father was the only remaining wizard when Draco was finally able to move and pick up his cloak.

"Well done, my boy" was all Lucius said before shaking Draco's hand and disappearing himself, leaving Draco all alone on the barren moor. Draco examined the mark - a mark he had seen before on the forearms of his father, and his father's friends. His seemed to burn more brightly and clearly than those he had seen before, perhaps because it was so new, perhaps because his young skin was so pale. The pain was excruciating, and he delicately rolled his sleeve down to cover the ugly scar. He was certain that he could see it burning from under the cotton shirt. Replacing his long cloak, he started to wonder how he was meant to return to Hogwarts, then he realised that the small cufflink at his left wrist was different from the one he had worn before, and that this green jeweled snake that curled into a tiny circle was evidently his portkey out of this sparse area.

That night, in the comforting arms of his lover, his tear filled eyes burned as much as his forearm.