Written for the Kill That Character competition. Prints were: mortal, dazzling, tribute, vase, wine, scream and bankrupt.
Also written for the Get Psyched Challenge where I was given Narcissistic Personality Disorder.
Warnings: Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Mental Health Issues, Character Death, Explicit Language, Suggestions of Abuse, Violence.
Drinking wine alone in a downtown bar is not what I had planned for my Tuesday night, but after the fourth glass, it began to feel like home. It had been a week since I last saw my old friends, and I was beginning to miss them.
I knew I had to leave. It wasn't like they wanted me there anymore. But all this laying low with nothing to do and no purpose… it was really starting to get to me.
I knocked the glass back against my lips and winced at the vinegary taste of the old, cheap red. The familiar burn of the alcohol as it slipped down my throat was a comfort. Ignoring the dirty look from the ageing bartender, I glanced around the dark, dusty room. Muggles. Every one of them. Good.
The door flew inwards and the harsh neon lights of the street outside hurt my eyes. That was when he walked in, pacing across the room like he owned the place. When he recognised me, he smiled. It was a knowing, calculating smile, and if I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have smiled back.
Regulus Black sat on the stool next to me, his tailored suit just about plain enough to go unnoticed in the muggle world, but still too well groomed to fit in here. The barman asked no questions as he ordered a neat Scotch with no ice and turned to me.
"Shady bar on the wrong side of the river. I should have known I might find you here, Lauren Potter," he said to me.
"Am I that predictable?" I asked in a deadpan.
"Yes."
His drink arrived and he slowly began to sip.
"You want another, girl?" the gruff voice of the bartender asked me as he leant his hands on the taps. I nodded.
"So, what are you planning? Our sources say you haven't been seen for a few days," he asked, like I would tell my secrets to anyone with dark ink sitting ugly on their forearm.
To all intents and purposes, we looked like two acquaintances having a casual chat. To anyone who knew us, we were two soldiers on opposite sides of the war, who should have been fighting instead of talking. But I was too tired.
"Nothing, actually," I said and sighed. "I got out." The drink was encouraging my tongue to form the shapes of words I should never have said. A small part of my brain was trying to warn the rest of me that this was dangerous.
"What?" he asked.
"Office politics," I vaguely explained. "It got a little hot under the collar."
"So, you just thought 'fuck it' and walked out?" he asked. He didn't even sound curious, let alone incredulous. I briefly wondered if that was a good thing or not.
"I'm looking for alternatives. Testing the waters, and all that. And the wine," I said.
He said nothing. The barman brought me my next drink and I took a few long gulps. Six. I told myself eight was my limit. Regulus finished his whiskey and held up a hand to the barman when he caught his eye signalling for another drink each. At least I wasn't paying for this one.
"Shouldn't you be at School?" I asked him, suddenly realising it was April, and the Easter holidays would be over.
He smiled. "I decided it wasn't for me," he said as I noticed the steely coolness in his grey eyes.
"Are you to good for Hogwarts now?" I asked.
"Something like that."
We fell into a silence. I watched him as he stared at me, his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to work something out.
"How good are you at Occlumency?" he asked.
"I've fine-tuned the skill through years of practice." My voice was bitter. "Why?"
He ignored the question. "Is there a part of you that hates your old friends? My brother? The order? All of that?"
I didn't want to answer, but there was a knot in my stomach. It churned at his words and spoke for me.
"Yeah," it said, with my shaking voice.
"Then I need your help," he said, so matter-of-fact and decisive that it annoyed me.
"With what?"
"I'm going to kill Voldemort," he said. "Will you help me?"
No. My brain screamed 'no' at me like it was the only word it knew.
"Yes," my heart said.
He smiled. "Excellent."
When I woke up the next morning, I was glad to find I was safe in my own bed. My mouth was dry and my head pounded as I saw him lying next to me. That hadn't been the plan. I dragged myself out of bed and, wrapping myself in my robe, left him there to put the kettle on. I needed coffee.
I knew that it was stupid, but I smiled as I admitted it was also exciting.
By the Wednesday after, we'd settled into a routine. We hadn't talked about it. We hadn't even tried, but he'd spent every night in my bed. I'd even begun to cook for him, and he didn't complain. He'd be out for most of the day, he'd go home to shower and change, but I didn't ask about what else he did. I wasn't sure I wanted to know. I didn't even stop to think about how easily he'd come into my life. I didn't have time. A week ago I barely knew him and now my thoughts came so easily back to him. Had I been that lonely?
It was Wednesday evening, and I was sat with a glass of wine, staring out of the window. He'd brought me flowers home that evening, a flashy array of rhododendrons in pink and white. Rhododendrons had an ancient symbolic meaning of 'beware'. I should have listened. Instead, they sat in an old crystal vase on the coffee table. Regulus was sat in the chair opposite me pouring over an ancient tome and I didn't ask what it was about. I didn't want to know. But there were other questions burning at the back of my mind.
"Why do you want to kill Voldemort?" I asked him. He looked up from his book.
"Doesn't everybody? I thought it was in at the moment," he shrugged.
"Not with your friends," I countered. He said nothing. "Why?" I asked again.
"I've been doing some research, and it doesn't look good," he said, looking back to his book. "I'm not sure he's, well, mortal."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I challenged him.
"What I said," Regulus replied. "And it just isn't fair, is it? What makes him so special? None of his ideas are new. None of his followers are converts, they were all thinking it before he came along. It could have been anyone, really, so long as they had the guts. And now he thinks he's some kind of God and, it seems, does some seriously twisted magic so he can live forever? He needs to be stopped. The playing field needs evening out again," he explained.
Half of his words made perfect sense to my ears. Half of his words had me nodding along. The other half outright scared me. It could have been anyone... The playing field needs evening out... But he couldn't be saying what I thought he was saying. He wasn't that malicious. I knew him, didn't I?
I buried the thought. Wanting rid of Voldemort could never be a bad thing. That was what I told myself.
"Anyway, who told you that you could ask questions? I don't need to explain myself to you. I told you that I needed you, and you agreed to help me. Don't get it into your head that it's the other way around," his steel eyes flashed darkly like the edge of a blade. That was me put in my place, and I just sat there and accepted it. I was too tired, too alone to put up a fight. He was comfort when there was none to be found.
"You make it sound like you're using me," I told him.
"What made you think I'm not?" he asked.
I didn't sleep much that night. I lay awake replaying everything he'd said to me, every glance he'd thrown me, the look in his eyes as we lay together. I was trying to understand what I'd let myself in for. I was trying to understand him. I don't think I had a clue. The next morning, the first thing he did when he woke up was look at me and smile. I smiled back, but I was confused.
"I'm so glad you're with me," he said when sleep left him behind.
"Who said I was with you?" I asked.
He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it before trailing kisses up my arm.
"I did," he smiled at me, before kissing me properly. I could hardly protest.
"Is it really the smartest thing I could do?" I asked, teasing.
"Oh, please," he said. "You're one of the smartest people I know, and I'm already in your bed."
"And that isn't enough?" I asked him.
"No," he said, and kissed me again. "I want all of you."
I laughed. I couldn't help myself. It was the first time I'd laughed in a long time, and it felt nice. It wasn't that I was happy, but I felt wanted. I guess that's why I didn't argue. Why I let him stay.
I went for a shower, and when I finished, Regulus cooked breakfast for us before he left. It struck me then that I didn't have to care about where he went. I didn't have to ask questions. I didn't have to care. His life outside of these walls didn't matter to me.
For a few weeks, I went along with it, but as time passed, he spent more and more time away, and when he was here, he was pouring over books and research that I wasn't allowed to ask about. It was starting to worry me, but every time I thought about calling him out on it, he would come home with a gift or sweet words that kept me on his side. Home. He'd started calling it that, now. I liked it.
One evening, he came home late and headed straight into my arms.
"Do you love me?" he asked, and it took me completely by surprise. We'd never talked about feelings, certainly not love, so I didn't know what I was supposed to say.
"I like you. A lot," I smiled, hoping it was enough. He frowned.
"Did you love him?" he asked, and my heart leapt into my throat.
"Who?" I asked, as if I needed clarification. Two months, and we'd never talked about it. Never talked about him. I thought we could ignore it forever.
"My brother. Sirius," he said, his face impossible to read.
"I guess so," I said. I knew so.
"Do I remind you of him?" he asked, probing me like a plant in Herbology.
"No," I lied. He didn't need to know that when sleep still clouded my mind in the early morning, I looked into those grey eyes and forgot who he was every morning. I didn't admit it to myself, so I wouldn't admit it to him.
"He turned his back on you, remember. He didn't trust you. I can't compete with someone who isn't here, someone who never even gave a damn," he said as his eyes flashed in jealousy. For a second, fear crept into my mind.
"You aren't competing with anyone," I told him. I wanted it to be true.
"Then what do you like about me? What do you see in me?"
I thought about it. Why was I here? Because he was so persuasive he could sell snow in the Arctic. Because I needed someone, and he was there.
"You're thoughtful," I smiled. "You have conviction, and aspirations. You aren't content with a normal life, and neither am I," I said, and as I said it, I realised a normal life was exactly what I had now. I wondered what had become of me.
Then he smiled, and it was so dazzling, I forgot my concerns. If I was happy when I looked into his eyes as he smiled, then nothing else had to matter. I had convinced him of my admiration, and that was enough.
The next day, he came home early, and he was angry. I'd never really seen him angry before, he always kept a check on his emotions, and what I saw unsettled me. It wasn't the anger I was used to. There was no shouting, no pacing, nothing was thrown. He was silent, seething inside his own mind, impossible to reach. I didn't know how to ask him what was wrong so I just sat beside him until he volunteered to speak.
"Voldemort has taken Kreacher for the day," he told me, his words so quiet.
"Oh," I said, not understanding what the problem was.
"Kreacher isn't his to take. The elf might not even live out until sunset. Kreacher listens to me, my orders, and he made me hand him over for his sick torture. Haven't I given that bastard enough?" he asked, his voice still low.
"I'm sure Kreacher will be fine. House elves have talents beyond even the greatest wizards," I told him, hoping it would console him.
"That's not the point," he said, venom in his smooth words.
"Then what is?" I asked.
"The point is that Kreacher isn't his. Voldemort is getting too big for his own boots, and people don't like it. Discontent is growing, and it would be so easy to offer them another Lord to follow," he said with a sick smile.
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"Voldemort's time has come. I need to kill him." The lack of feeling in his voice scared me. Sat next to him, I felt like there was a hundred mile ravine between us.
"I thought you needed me for that," I said.
"And you've been a great help. You've given me a nice quiet place to study and form my plan," he said. "But there's one more thing I need you to do."
"What?" I asked.
"We'll get to that. Do you trust me?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. I wasn't sure if it was true, but I knew that was the right answer.
"Good. Then let me tell you something. I know I can kill him. I know things no one else knows. I've found a way. Only I can do this, do you understand?" He spoke with such conviction, I had to nod. "But when he's gone, they'll be looking for a leader. I'll offer them the perfect alternative. I've got everything worked out."
"No," I said. "You can't follow in his footsteps. You can't do that. You're not that evil." I had to convince him out of this. He was only 18, he didn't have all the answers... Did he?
"Oh, I haven't decided which side I'll be on yet. Your side are winning at the moment, they might be my best shot. And killing their biggest enemy is sure to win them over," he said.
"You can't just pick a side on the toss of a coin."
"Can't I?" he smiled.
"I'm going to do it. All of it. And you can be there, right at my side, or you can be my enemy. Do you understand that?" he asked.
"Why are you telling me this?" My voice cracked and broke as it forced its way past the lump in my throat.
"Because I need you to do something for me, tomorrow. And now that you know, you can't say no," he said.
"I can if I want to," I replied.
"But you won't want to. My side don't trust you enough to have you, and you're so estranged from your side, they won't want you back either. And the werewolf saw me here last week. The mudblood saw me the week before. They know you're seeing me. They don't trust you any more than we do," he told me. "You're alone, don't you see that? You have nothing but me." He had me backed into a corner so tight, I hadn't even been able to look out of the window. I had forgotten about the rest of the world.
"What do you want me to do?" I looked at the floor as I asked.
"I need a diversion, tomorrow night. I don't care what it is, as long as it's good. I need to go somewhere, and I need Voldemort to not wonder where I am. I need you to do this then we can start our life together without all this hiding and fear," he said.
"You aren't scared," I pointed out. There was no fear in his eyes. There never was.
"No, but you are. You live in fear every second. I can take that away, if you do this for me."
What choice did I have? I nodded and walked away.
I lay alone on my bed and cried. I'd done this to myself. That's what I thought. My heart used to be a bank full of love and now, it was bankrupt. It started the moment he smiled at me in that shady bar. I threw my love's coins at him hoping some would land in his pockets, and I saw now that it didn't. That his pockets were sewn shut against all feelings I ever had for him.
If I did what he asked, I'd always hate myself. If I didn't, I would wind up dead. He hadn't threatened me, but I knew it would happen. He'd told me everything. It amazed me how it all seemed to make so much sense to him. How he thought that he, and only he, had the power to kill the darkest wizard we'd ever seen, and then replace him. How did anyone come to think so highly of themselves? At least he'd never lied to me. He asked for my help, he told me he was using me. I'd been more than a fool.
It was seven o'clock the following evening when I found myself stood outside the Malfoy Manor. Regulus had been right to choose me. I'd once been a formidable enemy to the Death Eaters, and he'd found me when I was vulnerable. Weak. I drew on that old strength, the Gryffindor courage I'd buried when I walked out on my old friends. I let it ignite a spark within me. I hoped this would work.
I couldn't help but think I was offering myself up as a tribute to his twisted schemes as I walked towards the front door, knowing any second now, they'd be on my back like a pack of wolves. I took a deep breath in, and let my old recklessness take over. I held my wand up high and strong. I was ready, whatever my fate might be.
Bellatrix appeared in front of me first.
"Potter," she spat. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
I smiled, "I've not seen you in a while, Bella. I was missing the insults. You can be very creative."
Malfoy appeared next to her, his wand raised and his face set. Rodolphus appeared next, followed by Rosier and Wilkes. Four. I could take four. Then Mulciber appeared, and Rabastan. Six. The odds were not in my favour. But if I could keep them fighting long enough... If Voldemort were to come... I could die a soldier's death. My friends would know which side I was on, and Regulus would be able to carry out his plan. I would be okay.
"It was very nice of you to join us," Wilkes said as politely as he could with a sick grin on his face like he was going to enjoy this. Rosier threw the first curse, and I was suddenly thrown into a desperate array of dodging the flashes of light that flew my way. I knocked Mulciber to the ground and caught Wilkes with a blinding hex, but the others were proving more difficult. As I attempted a full-body bind on Rosier, Bellatrix caught me unawares.
"Expelliarmus!" she called, and as my wand flew from my hand, my last shred of hope went with it. "Oops," she said with a smile.
"You should never go anywhere without your wand, Potter," Rosier, my cousin, taunted. "Didn't your mother teach you that?"
"You're all alone, little girly," Bellatrix sang. "Defenceless. A little lamb caught in the lion's mouth."
"So kill me," I told her.
"Oh, no," she said with a pout.
"That isn't our pleasure to have," Lucius Malfoy added, straightening out his long hair. "You've been too much trouble to us. I'm afraid you won't get away that easily."
As he spoke, the sky suddenly grew darker as a black cloud covered the sun. My enemies looked up in anticipation. And then I saw him. Voldemort. I realised then that my job was complete, and it didn't matter what happened to me anymore.
He walked right up to me as calm and casual as Regulus had always been.
"Lauren Potter," he said. I was glad he knew my name. That meant I'd made enough of a nuisance of myself. "How kind of you to offer yourself up on a plate."
"I'm not dead yet," I told him, knowing as well as he did that it was an empty threat.
"No," he agreed. "And it'll be a long time before I'm through with you. You'll wish for death long before it greets you."
He considered me for a moment, and I met his gaze without fear. I stood tall, as if I were his equal, and stared him down.
He seemed to disapprove of the look of defiance in my eyes.
"Crucio," he said, and blinding pain shot through every atom in my body. I clamped my jaw shut. I would not give him the pleasure of hearing me scream.
As the pain raced through my frame, I found myself faced with the knowledge that Regulus had known this would happen, and that he had never cared.
I woke up in a room with no windows. I didn't even know I'd passed out until then. The pain had continued in my dreams. A man in a cloak and mask handed me a glass of water as I sat up.
"Drink," he ordered me. I wanted to refuse, but my throat was so dry it hurt.
"She's awake," he called gruffly. The door opened soon, and I wasn't surprised when Bellatrix walked in. I'd heard she was a Lestrange now, and it confused me that she was married. I didn't know she felt anything.
"Sweet dreams?" she asked as she sulked towards me. I said nothing as I stood to face her, ignoring the pain that screamed from every joint.
"I hear you've been spending some time with my sweet younger cousin recently," she taunted. "Why are those Black boys so intriguing to you?" I held my silence like it was the only defense I had left.
"Anyway," she carried on. "I thought you should know he died last night," she said like she was commenting on the weather.
I didn't know how I felt, but I wasn't surprised. His fantasies had grown too strong, he was naive in his self-belief. He didn't see himself as others saw him. He didn't realise he was just a boy. But if he was dead, did that mean I was free?
"Our Lord believes you were his diversion," she said, like he was my Lord, too. "But his plan didn't work. How does it feel to know you're dying for nothing?" she asked.
"I'm not," I told her. "I'm dying because I have nothing left to lose."
"How very dramatic," she cooed. She came to stand directly in front of me, threatening me, glowing in the power she had over me as she pulled my wand out of her pocket. At least it was still in one piece.
I looked away from her and thought I saw something in the corner of my eye, like the candlelight had caught the edge of a transparent cloth as it moved. No. It couldn't be. I wouldn't let myself hope.
"No one will come to save you now. You've lost everyone. This room will be your home now. You'll rot here, and it's no more than you deserve," she spat.
I did the only thing I could think of. I sent my fist into her face as hard and as fast as I could.
"You bitch!" she screeched, and as the Cruciatus curse was sent my way again, I wasn't surprised. It was as though I hardly felt it, like I didn't know how to feel anything anymore.
The next time I came around I was barely conscious. There was no one there at first, and I began to drift back into sleep, but then a face appeared, concern and fear etched into it like wrinkles on an old lady. At first I thought it was Regulus, the eyes were the same. Then I remembered he'd never looked at me like that. Only one man ever had.
"James and Remus are working on removing the anti-Apparition charm. We won't have much time when it's down, we'll need to move quickly. We're going to get you out of here," his voice said as a hand pushed my hair away from my face.
"Sirius?" my voice cracked with pain as I spoke. I was trying so hard to fight the sleep but it was calling me.
"Yeah, it's me," he said before I drifted away from him.
The next time I woke up, the lights were too bright and there were unfamiliar background noises. I looked at the itchy white sheets and realised I was in St Mungo's. I began to look around for water but every little movement hurt and I barely lifted my head off the pillow.
"Lauren?" Sirius' voice rushed to my ears, full of concern, and this time, I knew it was him.
I managed to articulate the word 'water' and he came into my view, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed as he brought the glass to my lips. I spent a few moments letting the memories flood back to me.
"Why are you here?" I asked. He looked at me with pity in his warm grey eyes.
"We knew you were in trouble, Lauren. We were trying to help but we couldn't reach you. We were here all along," he said.
I wondered if it was true.
"Lily and James are outside," he said. It all felt so surreal.
"Lauren, I love you," he said, "And I'm sorry." The sincerity in his voice made me look at him, properly. That was when I realised that although the colour might have been the same, his eyes were nothing like Regulus'. Not at all.
"I always loved you," I told him, and he bent down to place a gentle kiss on my forehead.