One Day

by donotsrock

A/N: Okay… This story is about Lucius Malfoy (Lucius' POV, actually) and he reflects his life as a Death Eater. I don't like him being the bad guy all the time (but I don't say he's good!) so I wanted to give it a little twist. Maybe he was forced into all of this and isn't that happy with his life and deeds – but is too weak to object and does as he's told.

Whatever, it's after midnight already and I'm very, very tired and I hope you understand half of what I wrote there. If not, feel free to flame me (as if I cared – some people more or less who hate me, well, I can stand it).

Disclaimer: The usual, nothing mine, all hers. The two lines from the song are from Lifehouse's song 'Anchor' from their album 'Stanley Climbfall'. And no, I'm not Jason Wade, so I don't own that one as well.

And now: Enjoy! (Or maybe: Brood! Because that's what it did to me…)

I sigh heavily and rub my eyes with my left hand… of course, my right is holding the wand. But I could let it go if I wanted to because my opponents are in no position to do anything – except breathe, maybe. I'm not really sure about that. And I don't care. I'm tired. And wary. But who cares? As long as I do my job, everything will be perfect.

At least for them and – most important – for HIM.

I am tempted to spit at the thought of him.

One of the poor souls I hold prisoner sees my obvious distress. He tries to crawl away.

I have to admit – I am impressed. Not many could so much as lift their head after the amount of torture he just went through. Being the target of the Cruciatus Curse – repeatedly – is not easy to bear. I know from experience. God knows how often HE used that Curse on my until I begged for mercy and swore my eternal obedience and service to HIM. And he did not only use it to ensure my loyalty. Sometimes it was just for the fun of it… well, fun for HIM. For me it was not so much fun. More like torture, actually.

I let out a sharp and cold laugh. And I almost shudder. Was that how my voice sounded? No wonder that those poor little fellas down there looked at me with so much fear in their eyes. But of course that could also come from my black Death Eater regalia and the Dark Mark clearly exposed on my left forearm. I skipped the mask today. First of all it's damn hard to stay under that cotton thing long – especially on a hot summer's night like this – and still be able to breathe. And after all, I don't really need it. It isn't as if they wouldn't recognize me, anyway. They won't have the chance to tell the tale… so why bother?

When they're dead they can't tell anyone. And after all, that's why I'm here… to kill the four of them.

"Stop right now and I will let you live," I snarl at one of the boys. He tried to reach for a heavy looking branch lying on the ground. Probably intended on hitting me over the head with it. Fool. And he actually seems to believe in what I said. Even more a fool. I wouldn't even believe myself. How can anyone else do it then?

I can see the hope glimmer in his eyes, only dimmed by the sight of his fellow classmates – lying unconsciously on the ground, one of them bleeding badly from a cut on his forehead. I can't stand it. How can he have hope in such a situation? There is no hope – for none of us, I want to scream in his face and slap him hard to make him believe in this truth. There just is no hope.

"Maybe," I add therefore and he flinches. Good. I smile to intimidate him even further. It works. The faint glimmer of hope is dimmed until I can only see despair and pain. Maybe I could add a bit more of the last. All of the others are still out from the Cruciatus.

I quickly consider my options. And decide – just as HE would have liked it.

"You know," I say casually to the boy. He is about seventeen, just as old as my own son. I can see his fear, I can almost smell it, too. He is close to wetting himself, I bet. "Maybe I will let you live-" The glimmer comes back, but only for a second. "-to see your friends die."

I point my wand at one of the boys – the one nearest to the stupid brave one (has to be the Gryffindor, I think) – and he stares at me, eyes wide open.

I know that I do not only look frightening but as if I could be the Dark Lord himself. And I hate it. Fury boils up inside of me. I'm furious at everything and everyone – most of all myself. Why did I let all of this happen? Why wasn't I strong enough to stop I when I could? That is the one question I ask myself every day, every hour, every minute. I dream about it. I can't even look at myself in the mirror. Not anymore. I can't face it. So I have to play along, be the nice obedient Death Eater, the Master's pet and only a substitute to HIS beloved Severus. Hell, I wish that Sev would be back. Together we would have been stronger. And if that rat Wormtail hadn't found out that Sev was a spy for that old fool Dumbledore, than everything would be better now.

"Avada Kedavra!" I shout, watching the green lightning exit my wand and circle the boy's unconscious form. After seconds, he is dead. And his friend – did they even know each other? I wonder – lets out a cry. Finally, I see what I wanted to see in his eyes. Surrender. He sees that whatever lies in front of him is only death. No future. Not for him.

And for me. I sigh again. That there was no future for me – that was clear. From the day I was born everything I did – and thought, if it would have been up to my father – was formed to be… well, I don't know what they were thinking, but I guess they meant well. Or was that what I was hoping? That they cared and loved me? I shrug. The thought of my parents died with them, or so I thought. Why do those memories come back and haunt me now? Because I am not as they had planned? But I do what they had in mind… my father himself brought me to the Dark Lord so that I could receive the Mark. Yes, my mind may have swayed, but I always obeyed.

Something clinging to my robes brings me back to the present. The boy is practically hanging at my legs, clinging to them as if his life depended on it. Well, in a way, it does.

I laugh hoarsely. I wish Severus was here. I miss his sarcasm. Mine isn't as good. Obviously.

I shook the boy off and retreat further into the shadows. It's dark behind the lonely hut in the forests and the huge trees prevent the moonlight to reach the ground.

It kind of reminds me of myself, in a way. My soul – if I still have one – is the ground. Every tree, every branch, even every leaf stands for one bad thing I did – and boy, there are a lot of trees, I can tell – and that keeps the light away from the ground, keeps it away from my soul. I'm condemned to live in darkness. But I knew that already. So I focus and concentrate on the task at hand. Maybe I can be home before the night is over. That would be good.

Home. Strange how one word can change everything for the good – or the bad. Thinking of home I can see her. Radiant, beautiful, and understanding. She doesn't judge me. She understands me. She knows of everything I did (after all, she my confidante) and still loves me. One of her favourite songs comes to my mind, and I start to hum it quietly. The boy looks up at me questioningly. I don't care.

I know that I'll never be alone / You will never let me go / You are my anchor / Hold my hand / While I'm sinking in the sand / No one else could understand / You are my anchor

Yes, sometimes I believe that she is the only reason why I go on with my life. When I go home, I know she'll always be there, waiting for me. Sometimes I would find her asleep on the sofa, a book still on her lap, the fire already burnt down. And I would sit down opposite to her and watch her sleep. I don't know what I would do should I ever lose her. I think I would die.

"Please," the boy starts whining. "Please, Lord, no!"

I freeze. Lord. He is praying to a God who obviously left him. I've long since given up to believe that there is a God. Otherwise wouldn't he have saved me? Or warned me? Done something… anything to save my soul? He didn't.

"There's no God, there's no hope," I bark. "Get that already."

The boy stops crying and looks up at me. He is still on his knees, hands folded. It looks oddly as if he were to worship me. I feel sick. Pointing my wand at him, I say "Crucio" and watch him topple over in pain. His cries change into sobs at some point, but I don't let go. I can't. And I won't. Because I don't want to. I am the one who is in control now. It the last bit of power I have. Every other part of my life – my whole being – is and was controlled and thoroughly planned by others. Now it's my turn.

Suddenly I realize what I am doing. I stop the spell and nearly let my wand fall out of my hand. But I won't show any more weakness. I close my eyes for a brief moment. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Easy.

I straighten my composure and ban every emotion from my eyes – and my heart. Shut them out. I'm used to that. If I weren't, I'd be dead by now.

Seeing that the boy is still alive, I murmur the Killing Curse. He dies and with him die his two companions. They were just chosen at random. Left the Three Broomsticks at the wrong time on the wrong day. It could have been anyone. No Slytherins, of course not. But those were a Gryffindor, two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw, I guess. I just know that HE summoned me to come here and torture them a bit. And then finish them off.

I levitate what's left of them into the air and walk towards Hogwarts' grounds. When I come close to the gates, I put on the mask – just to be safe. I don't want anyone to look out of a window the wrong moment.

I depose of the bodies as ordered and Apparate home.

She is waiting for me, just as I thought she would. She embraces me, caresses my back and kisses me softly. I close my eyes and hope that one day, maybe, some of her radiance and light will rub off at me. That maybe one day, I will be standing in the light and not hide in the shadows of my soul.

One day.

I smile into her hair.

Yes, one day.