I was frozen to the spot, my wand arm still outstretched and trembling slightly. The prone form of Regulus Black was all I could see. He lay in a crumpled heap on the garden lawn, a dark and gruesome fixture under the glow of the April sun. A loud ringing grew in my ears as my legs collapsed beneath me and I fell to my knees.
I am a murderer.
Black's young face was turned toward me, his lifeless eyes accusing. The wand fell from my hand. A gutteral sob escaped my lips.
"Well done," Tom murmured, crouching low beside me and placing his hand on my trembling shoulder.
I could barely breathe as I struggled to tame the anguish that threatened to rip me to pieces. I finally ripped my eyes away from my victim and turned them to Tom, whose features swam before my tearful gaze. "I am a murderer," I whipsered.
Tom grinned evilly, his grip tightening on my shoulder. He lowered his mouth to my ear and whispered, "You are a murderer, my love. Whatever innocence you pretended to claim, it is gone. You are finally and forever a villain, like me. Do not forget that you are Muggle-born, and that my charity is the only thing keeping you alive. There is no turning back." With that, he stood and walked away, leaving me to drown in my infamy with no one but Death to witness my undoing.
"You did what you had to," said Dumbledore calmly, coldly. His half-moon spectacles glinted in the dull light of the fire as it burned low in the private salon at The Hogshead. It had been six weeks since I'd killed Regulus Black. Six weeks of despair and self-loathing. Forty-two nights of suffering under Tom's triumphant red gaze.
My relationship with Tom was more precarious than ever. Though he hadn't known the extent of my duplicity, he was smart enough to know that my heart was no longer in it, that my role as a Death Eater was no more than a part I was playing. I had done my best to bear up under the weight of Black's murder, tried to put on the haughty smile and fawning gaze I had used for so many years, but no use. I was a shell of my former self.
This was my first meeting with Dumbledore since I'd joined the Order of the Phoenix as a double agent. As usual, I felt like a little girl under his wise and piercing gaze. He stroked his beard thoughtfully as he watched me struggle with my thoughts.
"I know," I said quietly. "I had to do it or he would've known I am no longer loyal. But still... murder..."
"War is an ugly thing, which requires ugly things of all of us," Dumbledore said. "Regulus's actions led to his demise, as I'm sure he understood."
I nodded slowly. I understood, too. My choices, ever since my time at Hogwarts, had all been leading me to this moment, to that murder. I was determined that my future choices would be for good. As though reading my thoughts, Dumbledore said, "You have chosen the light instead of the dark, Ms. Delacroix. There is still time to redeem yourself."
"I hope so," I answered. "If only I could get a grip on Astral Projection. Sir, I've tried and tried, but I just can't seem to do it!"
He nodded. "I didn't expect you to get it right the first try," he said. "As long as our Secret Keeper holds his tongue, you still have time to practice."
"But what is the point of it all? How will Astral Projection help the Potters? How will it save their son?" I asked. Dumbledore considered me for a long moment before nodding, as though deciding inwardly he could trust me.
He leaned forward, peering at me over his spectacles. "The Potters, as you know, are hidden by many enchantments. The only way to gain access to them is to have their whereabouts revealed directly to you by the Secret Keeper."
"Yes, I understand that," I said, rather impatiently. Dumbledore smiled indulgently.
"Well, in the unlikely event that the Secret Keeper betrays the Potters to Lord Voldemort himself, there will be precious little time to warn them. None of us knows where they are, so we wouldn't even have Apparition on our side. But Astral Projection supercedes such limitations. You wouldn't need to know where, you'd only need to know whom."
I was starting to understand. "So, if he knew where they were and went after them, I'd be able to cast my spirit into their presence to warn them."
"Precisely, my dear, precisely!" Dumbledore smiled and lifted his glass of Firewhiskey in salute. "You are their failsafe, Ms. Delacroix. You are the last resort."
That night, Tom returned home very late. I was already in bed, pretending to sleep, when he crept in and lay down beside me. I was startled when his arm slithered around my waist, pulling me close against his body.
"Tom!" I cried, genuinely surprised. We were nose to nose, and I could smell liquor on his breath, which was in and of itself unusual.
"Kiss me, my love," he purred, before pressing his lips roughly against mine. I returned his kiss with trepidation, frightened by this deviation from years of routine.
"Where were you?" I asked when he finally broke our kiss. "It's so late."
Tom chuckled lightly. "I've been celebrating another victory," he said cheerfully.
"Oh really?" I said, reverting as best I could to my old role as his adoring lady. "Do tell."
He propped himself up on his elbow, beaming down at me. "You know for several weeks I've been courting the liaison from MACUSA?" I nodded. It had been a tense few weeks for the Death Eaters, as Tom had worked his charm on Congressman John Proctor V, one of the staunchest representatives from the Magical Congress of the United States of America. What would normally have been quick work (Proctor was already biased against Muggles thanks to his great-great grandfather's hanging in Salem) was made difficult by the highly suspecting, and highly trained secret service that accompanied him.
"Well, Malfoy's detail finally dispatched of the last of the secret service, and I just sent Proctor back to America with a healthy dose of Imperio to keep him happy," said Tom, practically giggling.
"My darling, that's wonderful!" I smiled. "So what next?"
"What's next, love," said Tom, pausing to plant another kiss on my lips, "is my full and total takeover of MACUSA. I've already got Britain under my spell - now to set my sights on America and then, the world!" He broke again into a fit of drunken laughter. I had never once seen Tom so uninhibited. As keen as he was on maintaining control, drunkeness was not part of his repertoire.
I couldn't help but laugh with him. There, behind his giddiness, was the boy I'd fallen in love with - smart and charming and incredibly handsome. Before I knew it, he'd swept me up in another deep kiss, from which we wouldn't emerge for hours.
"Exibit spiritus... Exibit spiritus... Ex-"
"Still no luck?" The drawling voice of Severus Snape broke over my concentration.
"Damn it all, Snape!" I cursed, flinging open my eyes to find him sneering at me from the doorway. I had been at it for hours, hidden away in Tom's study while he was meeting with another American delegation in London.
"Perhaps you're saying the incantation wrong," he suggested with a shrug.
"I am not saying the incantation wrong," I grumbled, picking up the nearest book and flinging it at him. He laughed as the book bounced off his chest and fell to the floor. "Why don't you give it a try, if you're so clever?"
Snape raised his hands in deference. "No, thank you, I'd prefer to keep my spirit tucked safely inside, if you don't mind. Not that it's such a valuable commodity these days."
"Any news from the Order?" I asked, standing up and stretching.
"Travers killed Fenwick and McKinnon, but I'm sure you already know that," Snape said. I nodded, frowning.
"And the Secret Keeper?" I asked. I had no idea who it was, but I dreaded the news of his death.
Snape let out a slow breath. "Still a secret, so we can assume he's safe." We stood for a while in reverent silence, both thinking about the Potter boy, and both silently praying the Secret Keeper would hold fast.
"Anyway, Dumbledore sent me to check on your progress," Snape said, breaking the silence. "What shall I tell him?"
"Tell him the truth," I said darkly. "I'm no closer to success than I was before. Should the Secret Keeper fail, the Potters are doomed."