Confessions of an Ex-Death-Eater

15.

Within a month of Dumbledore's death, my father was 'released' from Azkaban following my 'success'. And as I sat next to him, reunited after a year of his absence, and despite my hopes never to see it again, I witnessed the killing curse for a second time; in my own home, above my own dining table. Voldemort's Snatchers had targeted and captured Charity Burbage, the professor who taught Muggle Studies at Hogwarts. He held her under the Levicorpus spell in a body bind. She was fully conscious as she hovered over our table, a toy for Voldemort to play with in a sick kind of sport. He sneered at her, derided her for loving muggles, for believing we could marry them, and then laughed at her as she pleaded with Severus while we looked on helplessly behind sneering masks.

I could not bear to watch as I sat between my mother and father, but one does not simply fail to notice when Voldemort raises his wand. She fell into our midst with a sickening thud and Voldemort cold-bloodily said, 'Dinner, Nagini.' The woman had taught me at school and now she was being fed to Voldemort's pet snake. My mother held my hand under the table and it stopped me from vomiting there and then on the table as Nagini dislocated her enormous jaw in front of us so she could consume her next meal.

That was the evening that Voldemort took my father's wand. He was barely out of prison, barely free, and his power was stripped once more. I believe, dear Reader, that Voldemort knew by now that as a family, we no longer supported his beliefs and his ways of doing things. Our status never had been reinstated, we survived barely in our own home with minimal respect. We had lost everything that my father sought during his lifetime and it was only our money and our home that rendered us useful to the Dark Lord. And now, it seemed my father's wand was to be useful too. But that left my father defenceless. My father was a broken man after Azkaban and he gave up. This was clear right up until his death in his appearance: his shirt was often left unbuttoned at the neck, showing his prisoner's tattoo just above his clavicle, often two days' growth of stubble showed on his chin and his hair looked lank and greasy. There was a weakness about him that we all saw after his release but we were trapped, there was no escape for us Malfoys, this was my father's doing, he had taken us upon this journey and so we must face the consequences of his actions.

And Voldemort was angry. A few days later, on the eve of his seventeenth birthday, Harry escaped an attack once more. Then he disappeared. We knew he was at a safe house, probably at the Weasleys, but strong wards were up and no one could get near. Bellatrix became obsessed and eventually she tempted him out and confirmed his whereabouts. But it wasn't until the night that the Ministry fell that the Death-eaters broke through the Weasleys' wards. Once again, Harry escaped, and once again, Voldemort lost control of his temper. Once again, Harry disappeared, this time without trace. That is, until he broke into the Ministry of Magic in broad daylight under the noses of thousands of Ministry employees who were searching for him. He'd even marched into the Wizengamot Court and, Merlin knows why, attacked Umbridge. One could only admire the man's gall.

I was sent back to school. It was compulsory for every student, but my weekends were at home. I was lucky, able to escape the Carrows and their reign of terror at the Hogwarts. But home was another matter. It seemed my father had mentioned his grand plan for me, the idea that I should father a new race of pure-blood Dark Wizards. In September 1997, I was married to Astoria Greengrass. The ceremony was small, my parents, my aunt, Voldemort, my bride and her immediate family. I was seventeen, Tori was still fifteen and I was expected to get her pregnant immediately.

I tried to be as sensitive as I could, for I understood why she was crying on our wedding night. Tori was too young for what she was being forced into and I was not sure I could even perform what Voldemort desired, but he wanted a new super-race and we were expected to start this for him. You see, dear Reader, my own experiences were limited but conclusive, I had had a brief fumble with Pansy Parkinson while in our fourth year and an experiment with Blaise Zabini in my fifth year. My time with Blaise confirmed a long-standing suspicion that women were not my cup of tea.

That first night together I told Tori everything. I risked confiding in her about my sexuality, about my father, about becoming a Death-eater, about my fears, my worries, my guilt. And I cried too. I felt so selfish. I was supposed to be comforting her and it ended up being the other way around. She was an amazing young woman. I came to love her deeply during our year together and I still grieve for her enormously. We managed what was requested of us, neither of us were completely happy with the whole scenario but neither of us had much choice. Every morning after we'd been forced together, I was subjected to another bout of Legilimens and if Voldemort uncovered that I had failed to perform then I was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse much to Bellatrix's glee. So, Tori helped me and together we managed it. Just before Christmas, on her sixteenth birthday, Tori found out she was five-weeks pregnant. She was kept out of school, under the watchful eye of my mother, and I was sent back to Hogwarts.

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