Unforgivable
Memories cross your mind while you walk by the Manor corridors. There is nobody else but you, nobody to tell you if you're right or wrong, if you have made the correct decision. You've been alone for so long, and you haven't hended an advine befote now. The unforgivable things you've done are so many that they've separated you from everything you knew. But it doesn't matter anymore, you tell yourself, as you walk across the manor to the dungeons.
When crossing the lobby, you glance at your image reflected in one of the Venecian mirrors hung on the walls. It's been years since the last time you took a glimpse to your aspect, but now you approach a mirror and you're astonished to find that your eyes still have the dangerous silver brightness of the daggers that sharpen in your heart. Your hair is no longer as long as it used to be, although it keeps still that blonde almost white color. Nevertheless, you repeat to yourself that it doesn't matter anymore, you keep walking, wand in hand, an only purpose in mind.
You remember so many things you believed were forgotten. But your past is not something to be easily forgotten. They cross like flashes through your memory, leaving as they pass shining traces of realization.
The first spell you were able to execute.
Your first day at Hogwarts.
Each curse that left your lips, hurting your friends, hurting your enemies.
Your father's glance the day you knew which was your future, shouting "Death Eater." He wanted you to take the Dark Mark.
The eyes of your greater rival in school. Emerald and jade, big and open, wide awake.
The first time you realized which were your true feelings, where resided your loyalty. But the fear prevented you from following your heart, and you decided on the easiest way. You still remember those sad green eyes following you when he realized your betrayal. Too late. Always too late.
Your first Unforgivable.
Your desertion, in the heat of war, when there was hardly time to decide what was the right side. If there was one.
The persecution, the pain, the shouts, and the curses furrowing the air.
Crucio.
Avada Kedavra.
You know that you must stop thinking about those things. They only leave you pained. Scared. But unforgivable in your past chases you, it has always hounded you, it wasn't going to quit right now.
You reach the dungeons, your pulse shaking when you try to open the doors. You raise the wand and throw an Alohomora against the lock. Everything is so dark that you think you've missed the target, but mysteriously you open it. You step in cautiously.
Inside, a figure is curled up in a corner. You smile sadly, knowing how little time you have left. To end his suffering. To end yours. You approach him.
"How are you today?" you ask, but you don't wait for an answer.
Those green eyes watch you begging you end the pain. Today, finally, you have decided to consider his quiet requests.
"Today Voldemort has managed to take control of Muggle London," you say. "It's the end."
You don't expect an answer now, either. You continue getting close, smiling sadly. The war finished long ago for you, the day they told you to be his guardian. The day they decided you'd have to torture him but not kill him.
"Please..." you hear his fragile voice. "Please, Draco..."
You love him too much to make him suffer even more. What's another unforgivable act in your personal record? In the end you are going to suffer the consequences, you're aware.
You raise the wand.
A thought crosses your body. You aren't sure if you have said it aloud.
Avada Kedavra.
And the green light that surrounds him, that surrounds you, matches the very same green in his eyes.