We're recruiting this week. So much of me is relieved, but I have to mask it behind a wall of pretending to be excited about drawing new people into the cause. But it's getting harder and harder to do.
Usually there are people picked out to be targeted for recruitment. This time around though, apparently I'm being left to my own devices. I can't help thinking this is a test of some sort, which doesn't allow me to feel any relief at not having to go with the others who will no doubt be murdering those who deny us.
Knockturn Alley apparently is the best place to go, so Malfoy sneers at me as I'm preparing to leave on my mission.
"Just be sure you don't get lost. The Master wants at least one recruit out of you today. See if you can manage to not get killed." And then he's off, slinking away like the slimey snake he is.
I shake the feeling off that this isn't right. That feeling barely leaves me these days. I don't even sleep that much anymore, haunted at night by the faces of the people either I or my comrades have murdered. Today the face of two girls, five and six, are floating in my vision. Struck down, screaming for their parents...
It's all just over so quickly.
Knockturn Alley hasn't changed in the ten years I've been coming here. Mother thought it best to get me used to the place at a young age. It never worked though, the place gave me the creeps until I joined Voldemort's forces. Here, Marks are worn openly and no one dare bother someone on the Dark Lord's business.
I stride through the alleyways and streets, trying to look purposeful, but I have no idea where I'm going. And then I see her. I would swear to anything that it's her. Amelia. What the fuck is she doing in Knockturn Alley?
Before I can help myself I stride over to her, a couple of people scatter out of my way. I think the look on my face must be murderous, but I just can't believe she's here. Why is she being so stupid?
I grasp her arm sharply and begin walking away towards a deserted alley. I see her glance up alarmed at me out of the corner of my eye but I don't turn to look at her. What the fuck is she doing here?
I push her up against the wall, still not releasing my grip on her arm. Her face is pained, but I don't lessen it. I'm so angry, so damn angry all of a sudden. And it's a shock even to me, because I've been so numb for so long.
Despite the confusion, pain and anger marring her features she's even more beautiful than I remember. Long, flowing black hair, bright blue eyes and the most red, plump lips that I have longed to kiss for over half my life... I can't believe she's in front of me again after all these years. But she shouldn't be. This isn't right.
"What are you doing here?" I manage to spit out.
