"Sorry," the boy said, slipping into his seat with a single swift movement. I stared at him, he couldn't been much older then I was when I had crossed over. His face was tired though, old and worn. His eyes were dull, and he looked very tired. He had this feeling of depth in him, like he knew something I didn't. I don't think I liked that.
"Apologies are not necessary anymore." I said, stifling a yawn. I didn't have time to listen to him moan excuses. It was late and I needed sleep. Sometimes sleeping is my favorite part of the day. Sometimes I wish I'd just lie down one never ever wake up. But even sleep is filled with nightmares, screams even. I wake up in sweats, and I can feel blood on my hands. I look down at my hands and I don't see anything.
I know it's there. "So what do you have to offer me?"
The boy's face changed completely, "Do I think I'm going to out and tell you that?" His voice was a little stronger, his eyes a little brighter. I could almost read his mind, just from watching the way his eyes searched the room and reacted to the words out of my mouth. I could almost see the serene part of his brain that ignored the outside world, ignored what he was about to do.
My eyes narrowed at his comment, trying to cast a shadow of evil, something I would have never been able to do in my childhood. I had been a shy boy, quiet. I had my close friends, very close friends, but little else. But friends didn't matter to me now, too much time had passed since that shy boy had died. I had buried him in a dark graveyard of my mind, where he occasionally tried to rise again.
I had changed, become totally different, since the scared child's death. I doubt those friends of mine would recognize me now. Not that they'd have a chance. I'd kill them in minutes. I don't need witnesses you know. Witnesses to that weak part of my life.
"You better out and tell me!" I shouted, nostrils flaring. The boy glared at me. He was braver then I thought, I supposed. Afterall, who would of thought of that mousy boy I had once been as evil?
"Or what? You'll kill me? I'm no use to you dead, Mister." He smiled alot like me, slowly at first, then more assured. His eyes glowed the same bit, lightening a shade or two. He was alot like me. That bothered me a little. I didn't need a little version of me running around. One was too much, as is, I suppose.
I growled at the Mister, no one ever called me that noble name. I wasn't mister, I was that nickname. That dreaded nickname that defined me. Names mean so much these days, would I be any less horrible if my name was Bob or Sam? I suppose, in some people's eyes, everything is in a name. Roses can only smell sweet for so long.
"You're right. But why sit around and discuss the matter?" I asked. "If it's money you want..."
"I don't need blood money," He began, I cut him off. He looked funny, his firm jaw opened stubbingly, no sounds escaping his chapped lips.
"Then what?" I asked, patience fading. I knew the unforgivables, and I was ready to use them. I shuddered at my readiness to sin, to do evil. I never used to be like that. It was friends then sent me over the edge, I wanted more, a girl even, and I couldn't have her. So I thought that with evil I could make them like me. I was wrong. I was alwyas the most foolish boy, wasn't I? My eyes glittered.
"I want to explain why I'm here." He said, and I stifled a laugh. "I'm serious." and then as an afterthought, "Well, I'm not Sirius...."
"Right." I said, ignoring him. My face examined his, the pale boyhood fear in his eyes contrasted with smell of sweet confidence running from his pores. Scent, so many scents can say so many things. Sight can see different things for different people. Some people look at me and see hate while others. While others....
"I'm not a traitor." He said, determination written across his horrible face.
"The hell you aren't." I commented, because I knew all about traitors.
"Potter deserves it!" He yelled, passion sweeping through him. "Some friend, egotistical shit."
"What do you mean?" I asked, eyebrow raised.
"He knew I loved her!" He said. "He married her! Just to spite me."
I felt myself becoming defensive, "Just to spite you? Why would he even care about you?" I grinned, knowing the anger this would bring.
"Just to spite me," He continued, "Just the way he went off being head boy with her, just cause he knew I wanted it."
"But he's such a good boy, why would you want to betray him to me?"
"A good boy?" He fumed, feeding my good mood, "Shows what you know."
"Is that your explanation? You're mad at him?"
"Oh no!" The boy said. "He's becoming to powerful, he can't take it anymore." He nodded, trying to assure himself. "He wants this, he just doesn't know it."
"So I should kill him then? As a favor to him?" I asked, mock understanding deep in my voice.
The boy missed my sarcasm, "Yes! You get it now."
"And the girl, her too?"
The boy's face shook, juat as I knew it would. "Yes," He said, his voice distant. "her too."
"And we can't leave that poor child an orphan now can we? He'll have to go too." My sadistic grin was too wide.
"Of course not." He said. I could tell he wasn't listening. "I loved her, I really did."
"Of course you did." I said, trying not to grow impatient. "Now how do I reach them?"
"She's pretty, not your typical blond, you know?" He said, eyes trailing.
"Ronald Weasley! Tell me where they are!"
"Yes yes wormtail, my dear scabbers, I will. You always were a good rat."
I looked at him for a minute, twinkle in my eyes. "You remind me of someone."
"Really?" he said, scribbling down an address and a few key words. "Who?"
I stared at him, trying to fight off a twing of guilt. "Lots of people I suppose, two really. Judas."
He shrugged, "And the other?"
"Me."
A/N, Not what you were expecting huh? Sometimes history repeats itself, huh? Sometimes....
Have a heart, read and review.