Davina | hp. ✓

20 | The Dark Mark Ceremony

IT WAS THAT day that Davina decided that she would no longer assign herself to any names or bloodlines when all it had ever done to her was bring her shame, suffering, and  heartache. She decided that she would fashion herself a new legacy and it would not be for the benefit of others, but for herself -- someone she hadn't put first in a very long time. Davina Malfoy was born a frighteningly beautiful and immensely powerful witch, but years of abuse had forced her to believe she would surmount to nothing more than a spoiled heiress to a horrid legacy that probably wasn't even hers, anyway. 

The day Davina that decided to sever her ties with her bloodlines was also the day that she made an alliance with Death. It was a quiet, subtle pact -- a promise of ruthlessness and cutthroat righteousness -- and the proof of it glimmered in her electric blue eyes as she strolled through the cobblestone path between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley. The hood of her dark green cloak was drawn up, but not so much that her face could not be seen. Many people who passed by recognized her for who she was, but she didn't give them the satisfaction of meeting their gazes. Her face looked as though it was carved out of smooth, pale marble; her entire expression was hardened and unwavering as her storm-cloud eyes settled upon Borgin & Burkes. From a distance, she could see into the shop through the showcase windows: the front of this store was cleared to accommodate the many guests they were hosting this evening. 

As she advanced upon the shop, quite literally feeling the cold chill of dark magic oozing from the shoppe, she felt a twinge of dread in her chest. The very fate that her loved ones hoped she would escape lied in that room, and she was charging toward it at full speed. Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy were all in there with their parents looming proudly behind them -- possibly displaying the most affection and pride they've ever experienced in their lives, and all because they were damning themselves to a life of evil and wrongdoing. 

Davina braced herself for what came next, but it never would have been enough. This was the day her entire life changed and the only comfort she had as she faced the cold, stony face of misery was that she knew it was entirely her choice. She pushed the door open and slipped into the shop. Her eyes sparked with satisfaction as every single person in the room turned to her with shock etched across all of their features.

"Did you start the party without me?"

"How could she be so bold?" whispered one deatheater.

"Probably coming to save the Malfoy name after what Lucius has done." Another muttered.

Davina spotted Narcissa standing with Theo and his father, Mr. Knott, at the front of the gathered circle. Theo was doing his best not to touch his newly marked forearm when he noticed her walk in, and if he wasn't in unbearable pain before, he was now. His entire face screwed up in horror and he shook his head, trying and failing to convince himself that this was a hallucination from the new foreign dark magic in his veins. She could have gotten away. She could have fled London or even Europe and started her life anew, away from the ruthless reign of the Dark Lord. She finally had a chance at a good life, and she was choosing to throw all of it away for them. 

Davina gave Theo a sorrowful, meaningful look and forced herself to look away before she could lose her composure. She turned to the center of the room where the Dark Lord stood, ever so menacing and sinister, cloaked in black robes. His skin was a the sickening, marrer color of clay  slithering with black veins. He turned his ghastly snake-like face to face her and narrowed his slitted red eyes at her as an inhuman smile curved at lips. 

"Davina Malfoy. You're just in time."

Davina's heart leapt into her throat and she forced herself to remain upright as her gaze fell upon the inductee standing with him forearm extended out to the Dark Lord. Draco turned his head and when he met her gaze, it was finally he who was the strong one. The Dark Lord pressed his wand to his pale flesh and black magic -- the Dark Lord's own rendition of dark magic -- polluted his blood as it started to take form of the snake. When he lowered her wand and released Draco's arm, the young man stared at the eternal brand for a long moment before turning and nodding once at his sister. The boy who whined and hid behind the wrath of his father no longer stood in front of her; he was a young man forced into a world of horror and misery, but he wasn't going to let it ruin him.