Prompt; Word Dubious Simple Definition of dubious
: unsure or uncertain : feeling doubt about something
: causing doubt, uncertainty, or suspicion : likely to be bad or wrong
—used ironically in phrases like dubious honor and dubious distinction to describe something bad or undesirable as if it were an honor or achievement
Word count: 909
There is no way to describe what love is. For some it can be, unassumingly, the reflection of the sun in someone's eyes. A smile from across a room, or across a table. The way you take a loved one's hand in times of strife, or the first time you kiss – even if it is in the pouring rain.
Some say it can be even more simplistic, like when you brush against a stranger in a crowded room – but it feels like you are completely alone with them and a rush of fireworks goes off in your soul. Perhaps even less pronounced is the slow crescendo over time, a familiarity of feelings that no longer have a name that comes to mind other than that which seems absurd – but it is the only word that seems to explain how you feel.
But–
I can tell you what it is not.
It is not running barefoot in the torrential rain while branches scratch against your skin, ripping the classic, white, nightdress that you had been wearing when a noise had startled you awake, mud squishing between the toes like a soft reminder that death will follow.
Nor is it the heavy beating of a rapid heart echoing in your ears as you glance over your shoulder, aware you are breathing; but not knowing how it is that it sounds more like you are underwater.
And yet, even in this moment, I know that this emotion I feel is not hate.
I cannot bring myself to hate her, though her death will certainly be at my hand.
And I hesitate as she whispers, "You don't have to do this."
It sounds strangely like, "I love you."
My wand is up, my aim is perfect – yet this girl in front of me is not afraid.
I can see myself in her eyes, and in that moment I finally understand why this is forbidden.
I love her as I love myself.
She knows this, for she whispers, "I love you too."
She has to die.
It isn't right.
"Avada Kedavra."
It isn't right at all.
Sitting in a chair in a rather childish way, he tried to keep pushing the look in her eyes out of his mind – he wished that her image was out of his head.
Long blonde hair, almost brown in the wet nature of the stormy night.
Pale freckled skin, catching rays of the moon.
Blood soaking in patches where cuts had formed on the white fabric.
The steady, eerily calm, rise and fall of her chest as he could feel his heart beating in his ears.
His clothes had borne no blood, though her family's lives were a cross he had to bear – and she knew that – before the end.
Still, there had been warmth in her eyes, those dark expressive grey orbs that seemed drowned out in the moonlight.
Nothing about the so-called secret missions was normal, or even gratifying; though he was beginning to suspect that they were never meant to be.
"It isn't right," he whispered, looking to where he had written her name on his forearm like he was carving it into his flesh. "This isn't right."
"Did you say something, Regulus?" a voice asked, making him jump.
"No," he replied, offering a smile to the older young man. "Just thinking about… the raid. What was yours like, Lucius?"
"Your first kill," the silver haired boy murmured, "It is something you never forget."
How like you to dodge the question, Regulus thought bitterly, no wonder no one trusts you.
"What was it like?" Regulus pressed, feeling the unsettling memory swirling in his mind.
"I don't know," Malfoy huffed impatiently. "One Mudblood is like the rest."
Regulus nodded, turning back to his arm.
Her name is Kayleigh, he knew her from school.
No, he thought bitterly, her name was Kayleigh. Now she is just an unmarked body in a forest far away.
When the Dark Lord had asked him for the names of Muggle-born witches and wizards he knew of in school he had easily done as he was told. He could only think of two names that stood out to him: Lily Evans and Kayleigh McDare.
When the Dark Lord had told him, with a snake-like smile in those dark, uncaring eyes, that Kayleigh could be his first kill – he knew.
Something wasn't right.
What am I doing, he thought, I shouldn't doubt the Dark Lord's word.
Standing, Regulus moved into a different room, leaving Malfoy alone in the study as Narcissa could he heard down the hall; his face would give him away.
"Ah, there you are." Severus' voice rang out, clear as a bell in the thick fog of his mind. "I wanted to congratulate you on killing one –"
"Her."
"What?" Severus looked confused for a moment, tilting his head.
"She had a name." Regulus murmured. "She was a person." The older boy opened his lips to speak but shut them, as if he knew what Regulus was feeling. "I loved her, by the end."
"That sounds dubious," Severus stated in a low whisper, but even Regulus caught something in his older companion's eyes – he knew.
"We can't talk here." Regulus whispered, leaning in like he was telling a joke.
"There is nothing to talk about," Severus said quietly, forcing a loud laugh as someone was approaching. "One less monster in the world."
"Yeah," he forced a smile, "There is."