One Day at a Time
Out, out brief candle!
I told Severus about Draco's excursion outside of Hogwarts, but he seemed more focused on the details of what Draco had been attempting to purchase than on the rule-defying aspect of his visit to Knockturn Alley's Dunkel and Finster's. He did not say it explicitly, but it seemed that the incident had some meaning to him. As Tarazet told me, the Potions Master had even gone to my brother to hear first-hand what had happened at the store.
A few weeks later, I was leaving late at night for a Death Eater meeting when I saw Draco once again breaking school rules and, once again, I didn't know his motives. He was alone, and furtively and quickly walking towards Hogsmeade. I frowned, tempted to catch him in his rule-breaking stunt even though I knew that I shouldn't wait any longer before apparting to the meeting. Having to traverse a fair distance before being outside of the apparation-barrier, I was already always the last person to appear, and I didn't want to push my luck with the commander of the regiment. With a resigned sigh, I touched my Dark Mark and reappeared in a darkened alley after a moment of disorientation. It almost seemed as though I was early, because less than half of my regiment was standing there, but the commander quickly informed us otherwise. "Listen up, folks. This isn't our standard type of attack. We're attacking a specific house this time. The Dark Lord normally gives that type of task to higher ranking regiments, but He's entrusted it to us this time. That means we can't screw it up, understand? We're at half strength right now to save man power. There's one of us per one of them, plus me. As far as attacks on specific families go, this should be a piece of cake. It's the standard kill with a clean retreat and the house is in a completely Muggle neighborhood." I felt my stomach twist; I always tried to avoid attacking, killing, individuals if I could, but it didn't seem like this was going to be one of those times I could. The head of our regiment continued, "Our focus is a Mudblood who recently applied for a job at the Ministry. We have to show the world that we're not going to stand for them trying to corrupt the Ministry. Alright, move out."
The four of us quickly strode down the street, not bothering to concealing ourselves; we didn't have to worry about the neighbors calling Aurors, because the Muggles would not recognize our robes as characteristic of Death Eaters. Come to think of it, Muggles probably didn't even know what Death Eaters were. "They don't even have an anti-alohomora charm on their doorknob," the commander incredulously whispered to us as he opened the front door. Their house was rather nice, and the furnishings bespoke of comfort and luxury without extravagance. Instead of the sofa in their living room being turned towards the fireplace, as was standard with wizarding families, it was turned towards a large black box. Muggle culture has the oddest quirks, I thought, regarding the plain black box and wondering what purpose it could possibly serve. We were not interested in Muggle culture, though, most certainly not, and once we had determined there was nobody on the first floor, the four of us quietly climbed the thickly carpeted staircase up to the second story. "Split up," the commander whispered, remaining at the top of the stairs. One of us walked through the first doorway in the hall, and another through the next one, leaving the lit room at the end of the hall to me. My stomach was doing nervous flips as I cautiously stepped down the hall as quietly as possible, my wand out and ready. In the lit study, a woman with long curls was sitting at a mahogany desk, her back foolishly to the door. She was tapping a pencil on the desk, muttering thoughts to herself and pausing to scribble something down every few moments. Adrenaline was frantically coursing through my veins and my heart felt as though it was about to explode from nervousness as I lifted my wand. I could not decide whether it would be fairer to give her a chance to fight back, or to silently kill her with her back turned so she would not even know what was happening. My decision was made for me, though, for when I took another step into the room a floor board creaked.
"Honey, what are you doing up so late? You have that business proposal you have to present in the morning," the woman murmured, and there was something oddly familiar about her voice. I froze, unsure what to do. She had clearly mistaken me for her husband, her husband who would soon be dead if he was not already. "Honey?" she said quizzically at my silence and she made to turn around.
"Accio wand!" I frantically yelled.
She whirled in my direction and a look of unspeakable terror appeared on her face. She could not see behind my mask, but a look of horror had also appeared on my face, and just as she mouthed "No, no, no," I also mouthed that word repeatedly. Her long, thin face, and brilliantly jade colored eyes were familiar, far, far too familiar. I couldn't believe it was her, I simply couldn't. Would the universe be this cruel? I had told Severus a while ago that I did not know if my Muggle-born friend Paige Collins had survived the First War, but the answer cruelly stood in front of me now: she had survived the First War, but she would not survive the Second War.
"Please, have mercy!" Paige pleaded, knowing that there was nothing she could do to defend herself against an armed witch. "If not on me, at least on my step-daughter! You're a human being, you must have a heart. Please, I'm begging you!" she had sunk to her knees and clasped her hands together in a near praying motion, while I stood rooted to the spot, too shocked and horrified to move. "You—you're a woman, do you not have children of your own? Or nephews or nieces, or even the children of friends? Could you imagine killing one of those children, one of those precious angels? Please, have mercy," her voice cracked and her green eyes were filling with tears.
I looked frantically around the room, thoughts tearing through my mind. Was there anything I could do? I could give her back her wand. She could stun me but, no, that wouldn't work: she would be overpowered by the remaining three Death Eaters. The room had a window, I could let her leap from it and flee. No, that wouldn't work: the door to the room was open. The other men in my regiment would hear the commotion and catch us. We could—we could--
"Colburn! What are you doing?" my commander barked and I jumped, startled to find him standing so close to me.
"C-Co-Colburn?" Paige's voice cracked again, only this time with a horrified tone. I did not think it possible, but her eyes opened even wider. She looked directly at my masked face and whispered, "L-Liseli?"
"Why haven't you killed her yet?" my commander snapped, standing by my shoulder.
"I—I— " I frantically searched for some answer, any answer that would allow one or both of us to escape unscathed. Paige's eyes were desperately searching my mask, a glimmer of helpless hope in her eyes.
My mind came up pitifully dry of excuses and the commander barked again, "Kill her now. That's an order, Colburn. Don't forget that defying an order is punished by death."
I turned back towards Paige, Paige my Hogwarts friend, Paige who I had stood next to while waiting to be called up to the Sorting Hat.
Tremors were running through my entire body and my arm was shaking too much to hold my wand still.
Paige who I had shared a boat with when I crossed the lake to Hogwarts for the first time, Paige who had sympathized with my fights with my brothers, having several brothers herself.
My arm still shaking uncontrollably, my heart feeling as though it was about to explode out of my chest from over-exertion, I slowly raised my wand.
Paige who I had studied with, Paige who I had played Quidditch with, Paige who was kneeling on the floor, looking at me with an unbelieving look, pleadingly whispering my name.
I removed my mask, her horrified eyes glued to my face. I wanted her to see the pained look there, the desperate apology written in the anguished creases that screamed I was just following orders, that it was not my fault I valued my life too much to lose it by disobeying orders. A whisper left my lips: "Avada Kedavra,"
Paige the dead Mudblood.
"Don't let me catch you hesitating like that again," the commander turned on his heel and stalked down the hall, where the other two Death Eaters were waiting. I looked at her glassy green eyes, and put my mask back on, numb. The four of us returned outside, where the commander bellowed "MORSMORDRE!" A glittering green skull appeared above the house, last relic of the three departed souls, and the other Death Eaters disapparated. My eyes were glued to the Dark Mark and I was seized by an insane urge to run back into the house, to do something, anything, to remedy what had happened.
It is a known fact that the dead cannot be brought back, though, and instead I apparated back to Hogwarts and numbly trudged toward the Slytherin dungeons. The enclosed confines of my quarters felt like a suffocating prison, and I fled towards the heights and freedom of the Astronomy tower. I hadn't brought a cloak, but I didn't mind; the cold sliced through the numbness and reminded me that I, at least, was still alive. For the most part, though, I did not think or feel. Images flashed before my eyes, unprompted. Paige the eleven-year old. Paige, grief-stricken after her parents were murdered by followers of the Dark Lord. Paige refusing to talk to me once my brothers were arrested for being Death Eaters. I was too absorbed in my memories to realize anything that was going on in the outside world until Severus suddenly appeared and silently took a place next to me. "How'd you know I was here?" I said hollowly.
"I saw you come back from your summons, and I heard your painting slam shut when you left again," he softly explained.
His implicitly supportive presence stabbed through my initial numbness, and it suddenly felt as though an animal was gnawing at my heart, painfully tearing away chunks and allowing emotions to pour out. My throat constricted, and my eyes began to prickle, but I told myself that I would not cry. I don't know how long I quietly stood there, Sev silently by my side, but after a long while I finally stated in strangled voice, "They say the dead find peace." The words reverberated in the still air for many moments, before my constricted vocal chords vibrated again in the form of a question, "What about the living?" Here he silently gazed at me for a long time. I finally turned to him and repeated the question, my voice cracking. "What about the living, Sev?"
He looked away and said in a pained tone, "I don't know. I've—I've asked myself that many times."
After a moment he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, and it all became too much. The dam broke and tears started pouring down my face. Sev placed an arm around my shoulders but, instead of quieting my sobs, that near-invitation for release only intensified them. "She was—she was my friend," I inarticulately bawled, "And I ki—kil—And I—kil—kill—ed her," it took me many attempts to form the words but that didn't matter, because Sev had scooped me up in his arms and now I had a bastion of strength instead of a stone wall to cry against, something warm to cry against in the night's cold air, something that was wonderfully, joyously alive in the evening's barren, desolate landscape. Sobs continued to wrack my body, but now I was tightly, desperately holding onto him, him my friend, him my love. We stood there for a long time, with only the sound of my crying disrupting the still, almost peaceful silence of the nighttime. After a while, though, even that sound slowly faded, until only a few tears were silently carving trails down my already wet face and finally those, too, disappeared. Yet we remained standing there, our arms still wrapped each other even as the night sky slowly started to lighten and bring in the new day. I felt overwhelmed with a sense of love for this man who was infinitely caring and compassionate, even if he did not normally broadcast these traits to the world. I lovingly looked up into his obsidian colored eyes, those endless, serene pools of ebony that sparkled with the light of the rising sun, and wished that I could gaze into them forever.
"We should both try and catch some shut-eye before classes start," Sev quietly broke the early morning silence.
I nodded and tore my eyes away from his, before slowly making the trip back to my quarters in the dungeons.
…
A/N: The title of this chapter is a line from Shakespeare's Macbeth because, as stated in an earlier chapter, Paige is the one who gave that play to Liseli. Anyways, a gigantic thank you to angelofire, grumpirah, tibys, gothicflower, argyle owl, PollyWantCookie and Lightest'Ink for reviewing!