And then you could hear Blaise, who has been calling your name for several
moments, and step quietly around Harry who is collecting his scattered
materials. You finish the day as though everything is normal ( As though
you'd never seen a perfect ragged doll in a robe shop and you have never
looked twice at Harry in the hall.) and then a week passes and then months
and no one is the wiser to your revelation.
You graduate as one of the top of your year. Below the mudblood (No amount of shiny awards can disguise the fact she is made of dirty twigs.) but above Potter. Within days or your return to home (A cold glass doll house where the walls have eye's and ears that are turned not only on guests but other family members as well.) you are taken to the Dark Lord whose blood- red eye's feel foul and rotten on your skin. And afterwards (When your immaculate porcelain arms are no longer unblemished.) you take a shower and scrub your skin until it is red and raw (paint cracks and threatens to chip.) and still you can't get that horrible feeling off of you.
You attend your first real Death Eater meeting shortly after. Albus Dumbledor (Not sticks or rags but muggle candy, a jawbreaker, sweet and wonderful on the outside but capable of breaking your teeth.) is puzzled when he receives an anonymous letter. It details all the happenings at the most recent gathering of the Lords minions. He doesn't know whether to trust this information but when the events predicted come true only weeks later and the letters keep coming he begins to act on them. Many lives are saved because of the letters you send him. Severus can only gather so much information now that the Dark Lord knows he is a spy and you have been automatically promoted almost all the way into the Lords inner circle because of your father. (And Daddy is so proud of you that you almost let him take up your strings again. You've always wanted his approval and he most certainly wouldn't approve of your betrayal.)
Dumbledor tries to find out who his new informant is, you know because you can detect the spells he's tried to place on your owls each time they return. You have carefully protected yourself however. You do not wish to go the way of Snape. (rotting, rotting away in dark dungeons bitter and angry and a slave to the candy man. Striving away for atonement for the rest of your unhappy life.) And should your lord win there will be no evidence of your duplicity.
Your information is used wisely however, and slowly the Lords minions are hunted down and captured during raids until only you, the Dark Lord, and a few others are left. You are captured on the next raid. They take you to Azkaban and fill you so full of veritaserum you think you will overflow with it. They interrogate you until your mind feels torn to pieces and never do they find out that you are the one who sends the letters. (They spit in your pretty china face and never ask you if you know who the spy is.) It never occurred to you what would happen at the end of the war when no one knew of your actions. Covering yourself from Voldemorts searching eye's was always so much more important.
Your sentence is passed quickly; you are to be Kissed by one of the Dementors that have defected back to the side of Light. When the day finally comes you have given up screaming that you are the anonymous author. The dementors lips are cold (like death) as they close over yours. (your pretty painted lips crack and break) You are proud in your last moments as a conscience being. You did not wet yourself nor did you cry or struggle, save for one single involuntary convulsion as the dementor rip's your soul from your body.
You think Harry (patched, ragged perfect little doll, it was all for you) might have been impressed by your blasé attitude had he been there to watch, and then you don't think at all. (Tap, tap, tap on your pretty china skull. Hear how that hollow glass rings!)
Harry wins the war several months later and in the aftermath they find the next letter you were to send Dumbledor in your room. The ministry keeps the revelation quiet. It would be shameful for the public to realize what had been done to one of their key allies in the war, but they take your body from Azkaban and move it to a nice room in St. Mungo's, where you will stay for the rest of your life. (Your white china arms would disappear on the sterile white sheets but for the black mark etched into the varnish.)
And one day Harry shows up to visit your unresponsive body. His friends in the ministry spoke to him of your letters. He speaks to you and from his mouth tumble words that might have been forgiveness or love or anger but you are as good as dead.
So you will never know.
------------------
I know I said this would be that last chapter but I need closure so there will be a new chapter coming up at some point. I think I dragged this one on too long. It should have ended right when Draco got the kiss but I couldn't think of a good way to end it there. Oh well.
You graduate as one of the top of your year. Below the mudblood (No amount of shiny awards can disguise the fact she is made of dirty twigs.) but above Potter. Within days or your return to home (A cold glass doll house where the walls have eye's and ears that are turned not only on guests but other family members as well.) you are taken to the Dark Lord whose blood- red eye's feel foul and rotten on your skin. And afterwards (When your immaculate porcelain arms are no longer unblemished.) you take a shower and scrub your skin until it is red and raw (paint cracks and threatens to chip.) and still you can't get that horrible feeling off of you.
You attend your first real Death Eater meeting shortly after. Albus Dumbledor (Not sticks or rags but muggle candy, a jawbreaker, sweet and wonderful on the outside but capable of breaking your teeth.) is puzzled when he receives an anonymous letter. It details all the happenings at the most recent gathering of the Lords minions. He doesn't know whether to trust this information but when the events predicted come true only weeks later and the letters keep coming he begins to act on them. Many lives are saved because of the letters you send him. Severus can only gather so much information now that the Dark Lord knows he is a spy and you have been automatically promoted almost all the way into the Lords inner circle because of your father. (And Daddy is so proud of you that you almost let him take up your strings again. You've always wanted his approval and he most certainly wouldn't approve of your betrayal.)
Dumbledor tries to find out who his new informant is, you know because you can detect the spells he's tried to place on your owls each time they return. You have carefully protected yourself however. You do not wish to go the way of Snape. (rotting, rotting away in dark dungeons bitter and angry and a slave to the candy man. Striving away for atonement for the rest of your unhappy life.) And should your lord win there will be no evidence of your duplicity.
Your information is used wisely however, and slowly the Lords minions are hunted down and captured during raids until only you, the Dark Lord, and a few others are left. You are captured on the next raid. They take you to Azkaban and fill you so full of veritaserum you think you will overflow with it. They interrogate you until your mind feels torn to pieces and never do they find out that you are the one who sends the letters. (They spit in your pretty china face and never ask you if you know who the spy is.) It never occurred to you what would happen at the end of the war when no one knew of your actions. Covering yourself from Voldemorts searching eye's was always so much more important.
Your sentence is passed quickly; you are to be Kissed by one of the Dementors that have defected back to the side of Light. When the day finally comes you have given up screaming that you are the anonymous author. The dementors lips are cold (like death) as they close over yours. (your pretty painted lips crack and break) You are proud in your last moments as a conscience being. You did not wet yourself nor did you cry or struggle, save for one single involuntary convulsion as the dementor rip's your soul from your body.
You think Harry (patched, ragged perfect little doll, it was all for you) might have been impressed by your blasé attitude had he been there to watch, and then you don't think at all. (Tap, tap, tap on your pretty china skull. Hear how that hollow glass rings!)
Harry wins the war several months later and in the aftermath they find the next letter you were to send Dumbledor in your room. The ministry keeps the revelation quiet. It would be shameful for the public to realize what had been done to one of their key allies in the war, but they take your body from Azkaban and move it to a nice room in St. Mungo's, where you will stay for the rest of your life. (Your white china arms would disappear on the sterile white sheets but for the black mark etched into the varnish.)
And one day Harry shows up to visit your unresponsive body. His friends in the ministry spoke to him of your letters. He speaks to you and from his mouth tumble words that might have been forgiveness or love or anger but you are as good as dead.
So you will never know.
------------------
I know I said this would be that last chapter but I need closure so there will be a new chapter coming up at some point. I think I dragged this one on too long. It should have ended right when Draco got the kiss but I couldn't think of a good way to end it there. Oh well.