Lucius Malfoy stared down at his left forearm, where the Dark Mark pulsed and throbbed. The Dark Lord himself had put his mark there earlier that same day. The magical tattoo burned as the image of the snake writhed within the skull's mouth, but that sharp pain only served as a reminder to Lucius of the pain he was protecting himself and his family from at the Dark Lord's hands.

Choose your friends carefully, Lucius, his father, Malissius Malfoy, had often told him as a boy. It was a lesson that the new master of Malfoy Manor had taken well to heart. Lord Voldemort was rising to power, and it seemed none could stand against him and hope to survive. Therefore, it only seemed sensible for Lucius to offer his services as the Dark Lord's servant, rather than waiting with the rest of the fools in the world to be picked off or tortured by the Dark Lord and his followers. Oh, it was easy enough to present the proper face to his Lord... Lucius had never cared very much for Muggles and those 'wizards' that were born of them. The Muggle-borns. Mudbloods, he mentally corrected himself. He found such a dirty word distasteful to use, but it was better than seeing his wife and infant son writhing under the torture curse from Lord Voldemort's wand. Still, he did not feel a need to root out those lesser wizards from Hogwarts, as long as they kept their place. He knew the noble House of Slytherin would remain pure, and that was all that really mattered to him. However, he would have no problem with following the Dark Lord's bidding if it kept himself and his family safe. Let the others see to their own safety. Any who were fool enough to stand against Lord Voldemort would have to face the consequences.

Lucius finally lifted his gaze from the Dark Mark on his arm to his own reflection in the ornate bathroom mirror of his home. His blue eyes shone coldly out of his young, thin face with an icy light of cautiousness that had never been there before. His confident boyish smirk from his Hogwarts years had been replaced by a still-confident but much more subtle expression of solemn superiority - though he still allowed himself that old smirk whenever he ran into Weasley. His fine, light blonde hair which was the trademark of his proud Malfoy heritage had been pulled smoothly back into a very short ponytail at the back of his neck. The thought suddenly struck him that this sight that he saw reflected in his mirror would be the last sight of many victims he would no doubt kill at the Dark Lord's command. The thought was chilling, but he set his heart resolutely and reminded himself that it was for his own family's safety.

You've made your choice, he told his reflection silently. I just hope you can live with it.

Nearly eleven years later, Lucius Malfoy stood before the same ornate mirror, examining his reflection. He had indeed lived very well with his decision, though the pain in his arm and heart were like a constant weight on his conscience. He pulled the black ribbon tight into a snug bow around his now-long hair, still pulled back in a ponytail, and slid his black leather gloves onto his hands.

Lord Voldemort had been defeated - defeated! - by a mere baby not long after Lucius had become one of his Death Eaters. Lucius feared that the Dark Lord would return, but it was merely a question of when. Until then, Lucius Malfoy intended to walk the fine line in society between revealing his service to the Dark Lord and betraying that same Lord. He would have to be careful, but there were perhaps some things he could do to prove his loyalty while he awaited Lord Voldemort's no doubt inevitable return.

Giving his reflection one final, satisfied look, Lucius turned and walked out of the bathroom, heading for the large foyer. "Come, Draco!" he snapped, seeing his son in the hall. "We don't want to be late for the train to Hogwarts, now do we?"