I do not own Harry Potter, if I did it would have ended a hell of a lot differently.
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It is vain for the coward to flee; death follows close behind.
Voltaire
Have you ever been so terrified that you couldn't hear over your own heart thudding in your ears? Paralysed and swamped by it. Overwhelmed by it. Eaten alive by it. I'm referring to a fear so great that you do things you never believed yourself capable of.
I have. I have felt this fear ever since that bastard first came into my life.
Ever since he first sneered at me with those cold, bloody eyes.
I know why he chose me. I was the weak one. I was the one that he knew would easily break and mould to his will. And he was right. He was always right about me. So when he whispered his will I followed it. I sold myself out that first day and everyday after it. I sold out everything important to me. I held my survival above theirs and it left me bereft.
You should have died for us as we would have died for you!
If I could cry, I would mourn the loss of her smile. She never teased me as they did, not even lightly. She would smile at me in a conspiring way, as if telling me she knew that we two, were the only sane ones.
If I could cry, I would mourn the loss of his understanding. He had it worse then I ever did but he was always able to lift me out of my depressions about being the odd-man-out. He could always comfort me.
If I could cry I would mourn the loss of his jokes. Yes, he would tease me mercilessly, but always in good cheer and never with cruelty. He could always make me laugh and smile.
If I could cry I would mourn the loss of him most of all. He was ferocious in his protection of me. Vindictive in his revenge. Constantly telling me to stand up for myself. Constantly being my friend.
But I can't. I can't cry. I have no tears. What's more, I don't even have the right to cry for them. The jokester killed by a mad women. The smiling girl and my protective friend killed long before that. By my betrayal.
I was weak against that bastard. I failed them. I killed them. And now here is my moment to earn his dark favour and make some of my pathetic choices worth it and I have failed once more. I cannot kill their son. He will think it was the life debt I owe him, but it's not. I am despicable enough of a person to even ignore that. It is her eyes and his face glaring at me. The two faces that only ever looked at me with love, melded together, and looking at me with the hatred I so deserve.
I cannot kill their son.
The magic hand that bastard gave me is killing me now and I cannot even find solace in this final act of mine. I was simply too scared to kill him. I am responsible for all their deaths and if the understanding one dies I will be responsible for his death too. I killed them all but I was too scared to kill him.
I am weak.
I am a coward.