The drawing room was illuminated only by the light of a crackling fire. The normally soothing sound did little to calm Draco as he did his best to keep his breath even and steady and pretend that his heart wasn’t about to pound out of his chest. His mother had fixed his collar and smoothed his robes and told him that it would "be over in an instant’ though her aversive eyes told him that was not true. The hand she placed on his back before guiding him into the drawing room was cold and shaky. He remembered the steel expression he wore, the way he gritted his teeth and set his jaw. The way the flesh on his arm seared and burned as the Dark Lord performed the ritual. 