Disclaimer: it is a good thing that I don't own Harry Potter or it would never have seen the light of day.
** This is only a little ficlet. I was attacked by this idea, today, while taking the Final in one of my classes. I uploaded before I had enough time to decide it was a bad idea and scrap it.**
Defining Moment
The screaming and terror is plentiful and very frightening. I know I am terrified. Nearly twenty people in black robes and grisly masks are holding over thirty of us. Invisible tethers are keeping us where we are. A little boy is curled up beside me shivering. There is nothing that I can do. Petting his hair I tell him of my nieces and nephews who are much like him, I tell him of pets that I have and other things that come to mind. The little boy looks up at me with sky blue eyes, "I'm scared," he whispers.
"I'm scared too," I tell him.
"Are we going to die?" he asks me. I look past to where I see a man writhing on the ground in pain two masked men pointing wands at him. My thought is, if we are lucky. I pull the seven year old close to me, he allows himself to be cuddled.
"Death is but the beginning. When we make it to the other side, I will wait for you and we can explore it together. My mother has already passed on and she would love to meet a wonderful boy like you."
"But I've done bad things, I've hit my sister and lied. Mommy said that I am very bad."
I smile at him, "Are you sad that you did that?" He nods his head. "That is all that matters. Everybody does bad things at one time or another. Nothing is unforgivable, sometimes you just have to realized you've done wrong, and not do it again. To love is to forgive, I am sure that you are forgiven and still loved."
The little boy in my arms nods again, "Thank you," he says.
The only thing for me now is to watch the torture and murder of others. I know my time will soon be up, this is a nightmare that I won't be waking from.
To get my mind off what is imminent, I study our captures. Even though they hide themselves it is easy to study them. I have always been sensitive to feelings, and most of this group makes me ill. I have never believed in magic, though I thought that it would be a wondrous thing if it existed. Now I know that magic exists, and I can see how this group of magic wielders is using it. The sickening joy that the majority feel as they use it on their victims is something I can't comprehend. How can they get joy from hurting others? Only the fact that there are a few who hesitate a second before they say the words that shoots out brilliant green death keeps me from wondering if, maybe, those who say magic is evil is right.
The thing that is even more sickening is the fact that some of them in those black robes are only children. The one standing closest to where I am being kept can only be sixteen at the most. There is something that tells me he isn't comfortable with what is going on, though his stance says differently. It isn't too late for the boy, though soon it will be. My sisters always said I was too soft, even with all the death and pain around me I feel sorrow for the boy. What can make him want to be a part of this?
My silent question is answered when a tall figure walks up to him and places a hand on the boy's shoulder.
"It's your turn."
I can actually hear the excitement and blood thirst for pain in the man's voice.
"Yes, father," The boy answers dully.
The father doesn't notice, "Pick out your muggle and move to the center.
This man is a preview of what the boy can, maybe will, turn into; it horrifies me. The boy looks at us captives, indecision in his beautiful silver-gray eyes. I have never seen eyes like these. I look down to the innocent boy in my lap. Was that boy ever innocent like you? I wonder. Was he ever given a chance to be innocent? Will he lose the hesitation of torturing and killing to become who he calls father? Does he have anyone who loves and cares about him at all?
I suddenly make a decision and look back down at the boy on my lap. Kissing his forehead I whisper, "Its my turn now."
The little boy whimpers then gives me a hug kissing me on my cheek. He gives me a brave smile,
"I'll be seeing you then."
Blinking back tears for the brave little boy I force myself up on legs quaking with terror. I don't really want to die, but I will take what life gives me. The silver-eyed boy stares at me for a minute realizing that I am volunteering. He looks around me with reluctance, like he would prefer his victim be anyone but me. It makes me wonder, did he listen to me talk? This reluctance warms a part of my heart that isn't frozen with fear. He isn't completely lost yet.
Finally the boy says a word and I am able to move away from the others. His wand is pointed towards me; I walk where he directs. I look at his eyes in the ghastly mask and speak without thought, even through my fear of what is to come.
"You have beautiful eyes."
The boy jerks slightly, surprised. He stares at me a moment before raising his wand, eyes showing pain before he closes them whispering a word, "Crucio"
Blinding, indescribable pain. Only after it is called off do I realized that I am now on the floor. Tremors rack my body like aftershocks of an earthquake. I can taste blood from where I nearly bit through my tongue. I didn't notice biting it. Through the left over pain I can barely make out what the tall man says, "finish it."
I stare into those beautiful eyes as the boy slowly lifts his wand again.
"Avada Kedavra"
Staring into those self-disgusted, pain filled eyes I whisper three words before the flash of green light swallows me.
Draco could barely breathe, horrified at what he had done. Those three, barely whispered, words thundered in his head louder than all the screaming that went on around him. The woman's body lay empty of the beautiful soul that once occupied it. He couldn't look toward the little boy the woman had comforted, all he could do was stare at what he had done. He swallowed harshly to keep from vomiting when his father clapped him on the shoulder with a "Well done, you'll be one of us yet." After his father wandered off he stumbled away from the site, tears filling his eyes, tears that he couldn't blink away.
The woman's eyes stuck in his mind along with everything she said, whether it was to him or not.
You have beautiful eyes.
Draco threw off the mask, how could she be so kind to him?
Everyone does bad things at one time or another.
He doubted he could even look at his father now. He had thought before, though he didn't like it, he could do this. But now…after using Crucio and Avada Kedavra on that muggle woman…
Nothing is unforgivable.
Draco knew he couldn't go against what she had asked of him without asking. Those whispered words of hers went through his mind again. She was the only person in his life who had ever looked at him in that way, like she cared.
He was never cut out to be a deatheater. Spoiled? yes. Vindictive? at times. But able to torture? no. He wouldn't be able to use those curses on anyone again. He was all show and no depth.
The woman, the only person who he had ever killed, was also the only person who had ever directed those three words at him. Three words that though simple made him loathe himself, but also lightened his burden. She was the only person to make him stop and re-evaluate what he was doing and if he really wanted to do this, forced him to make the right decision, and she did it with three words.
I forgive you.
With three words the muggle woman became the only person to look at him, past the surface, and care enough to forgive him.
**************
I don't normally write in first person, it does strange things to my brain. I'm also not completely sure whether or not I did a good job in staying in present tense in that part. I'd appreciate any comments, especially those that may better my writing.