Menteur: Prequel

April 25, 1944

I cup the torn material of my jeans in my hand and roughly press it down on my thigh in attempt to stop the bleeding. I bite my lip in pain when the damp fabric makes contact with the exposed injury.

My hands shiver and there doesn't seem to be enough air in my lungs. I pull my healthy leg as close to my chest as possible. This always used to calm me and make me feel warmer on the cold nights back in London, but not today. Maybe it's due to the fact that I'm sitting on a dark stone floor cover in icy water, injured, or maybe it's because deep inside I know that I'm not going to live to see another sunrise.

I can hear them coming closer with every second. I curse under my breath and think of my best friend. Where is he? After all, he IS the hero and I... I wasn't even supposed to be here… but yet all somehow seems to fit in. With a past like mine, I knew I wouldn't live long. I never had this disillusion of surviving and living happyly ever after, but now, when I'm so close to death, I can't help but feel scared and empty. Harry...

At the thought of my best friend, I look down at the object in my hand and suddenly I can breath again. A massive wave of energy washes over me as I realize; I have to protect Harry and others at any cost! I tighten my grip on the small octagonal object hanging loosely on a small chain around my neck. I would almost concider it beautiful, with its sleek and clear surface and petite aqua colored looking glass sitting tightly in the middle...almost...

They are here. I can hear their voices just behind the corner. Any second now they will spot me.

I give the cursed object one more quick look. They cannot find it! With one swift swing of my arm I tear it off of the chain and with another I toss the pegant into a dark corner to my left. I have no time to watch it disappear in the water, because the door fly open and they march in, following the blood trail right towards my hiding spot. I hold my breath…it's here. Three of them charge straight towards me, their wands ready to kill. I can only assume, who is who, since my vision is blured from the continuing bloodloss. One yells at the others as soon as he sees me and within the seconds they're all around me, waiting for their master.

Then he walks into my field of view. I feel sick pleasure, when I notice he looks just as bad as I do. His left arm is turned in unnatural maner and I can tell he's doing everything in his power not to cry in pain. His head is injured as well. The fairly large gap on his forehead, which almost completely mended this morning, is bleeding, staining his porcelain skin a sticking to his hair. His face is turned into a disturbing scowl. It's not like I've never seen him angry, but usually he at least tries to hide it. Now, his eyes are narrowed into two slits, reminding me of Slytherin serpent, and of my eminent destiny.

He stands just a couple of feet away from where I'm sitting; my own wand is in his hand pointed at me. I raise my head defiantly and say with the sweetest tone possible: "Bonjour"

I don't even bother to fake my accent anymore, I think they all know I lied. He bends down and reaches for my throat, searching for the small necklace. When he finds only the broken chain, he looks into my eyes with a look of confusion. That quickly changes to surprise and than to back to anger. I smile. He knows I'm mocking him.

I might have lost, but you know what they say; when you go, go with boom… just couple more minutes…

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