Guilt

"Last room," I said triumphantly, hands on my hips, staring at the stripped down guest room, "Ready to decorate this bitch, Gremlin?"

Gremlin smiled nervously at me. She did that whenever I swore. Even the word 'damn' made her tetchy. I had a feeling she had been sworn at too many times to realise that sometimes swearing doesn't always mean she's done something wrong.

"What were the colours again?" I asked her.

With a snap of her fingers, she made pots of paint in pale green appear, stacked neatly on top of the bare floorboards. I smiled in satisfaction and walked with a purpose towards them, "Lets do this thing!"

We started to work our ways around the wall, turning the sickly yellow paint into green. As we worked, I began my usual routine of teaching Gremlin all the pop songs I knew.

Today was Lady Gaga.

"Ok, now the chorus: 'can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read on my poker face,'" I sang with as much gusto as I could, slapping my brush against the wall in time with the music.

Gremlin obediently repeated the words back to me, in that squeaky voice of hers. She was rather quick at learning songs. We'd already burned through Beyoncé, Rihanna and The Black Eyed Peas. God forbid house elves enjoying anything but housework, but she even seemed to be liking it. I'd often catch her humming the melodies as she cooked.

Three weeks had passed since the first meeting with Draco and we'd managed to get back to that friendship we'd had before. His visits were becoming often now. Unless he was away, he'd pop in for his lunch break or for dinner. He always swore it was just to check up on me, but really I think he just liked my cooking.

I got to know him again, learnt about his life as a wizard. I taught him how my world works –sorry- worked. He was reluctantly fascinated when I taught him about the composition of cells and the theory of evolution. I think he always secretly wanted to know how the muggle world worked.

There were times when he obviously had something on his mind. He would be subdued and would bite my head off if I ever made a cheerful comment. That was ok though, because I would bite his head off right back. It had never gotten so bad that he would threaten his wand at me again. He was very careful about that. He would help me do the dishes with it and even hang the laundry, but never pointed it at me. I got jumpy if he did. I still remembered the way it made my body useless, the way it had tortured countless people amongst that moving crowd. I wasn't going to forget that Draco could be very, very dangerous if things were to go wrong.

Gremlin and I painted for the entire morning before stopping for lunch. Draco had told me the last week he would be gone for a while (I didn't ask him why…the answers were getting scary) and so to not expect him for a while. Gremlin and I had our hot thick mushroom soup in the kitchen; both of us were covered in splotches of paint. We chatted, Gremlin finally getting into the idea of actually having longwinded conversations with me.

After lunch we headed back upstairs, finished of the painting and left it to dry. As it dried, we headed out into the garden and began to weed out the flowerbeds. Any weed I didn't recognise, I would ask Gremlin to remove. I tried once to remove some harmless looking vines. Ended up nearly choking to death as the green creepers wrapped around my throat, until Gremlin came and wrestled them away.

We were working in a clockwise motion, working our way around the circular garden, removing all the weeds we came across and replacing them with carefully placed flowers and shrubs. After another three hours, we went back inside and placed the furniture Gremlin conjured up in the room. We were quite a pair: Gremlin holding the hovering furniture with outstretched arms and me directing her with a pointing finger.

When we were done in the early evening, we stood back and admired our handiwork: brass bed under the window, white cupboards and bedside tables, pale green walls with framed pictures of wild flowers. "Nice job Gremlin. That's the house done!" I said, holding my palm out to her, "High five!"

She already knew what this was and slapped her wizened little hand against mine, "Thank you Miss Lucy. We…we makes a goods team."

I smiled at her, glad she was warming up to me. I lifted my arm and sniffed my armpit, "Ugh! I smell all kinds of nasty. I'm gonna run a bath. You do whatever you want to do."

"Thank you Miss Lucy," Gremlin bowed, shifting to the side to let me out.

I headed for the red bathroom, with its huge brass bath (which I loved) and fluffy bath mats. One long bath later, I was out, dressing myself in my favourite sweats and a concert T-shirt for the Ramones.

"What's for dinner?" I asked Gremlin, as she stirred a pot on the stove.

"Mince, potatoes and carrots, Miss Lucy," she replied, "I hopes you approve."

"Gremlin, you could make mud taste good, so that sounds perfect," I said, "I'll set the table."

We had our meal, the kitchen bright and warm as we chatted together. After we finished and cleaned away the dishes, we settled into the sitting room. The crackling fire and the ticking clock filled the silence as I read Kidnapped in one of the armchairs, Gremlin mending one pair of my jeans on her little stool in front of the fire.

At 11 o'clock I stretched, yawned and dawdled my way upstairs, after saying good night to Gremlin.

That was an average day pretty much for me. Get up, have breakfast, work on the house, lunch, work on the garden, work on the house again, shower, have dinner, read and go to bed. I wondered what I was going to do once the garden no longer needed work. I'm going to have to develop some new hobbies, like…knitting and…origami.

But today was different. Today did not go to plan. Today I got woken up at 3am.

CRASH! BANG! CLATTER!

I jolted out of my sleep, my eyes blearily trying to focus. More loud crashes cut through the still of the night downstairs and I heard Gremlin's shrill voice, "Please stop, you'll wake Miss Lucy!"

I slipped out of bed, grabbing my large warm baggy cardigan along the way. I ran downstairs, and entered the kitchen…to find it a mess. Pots and pans were on the floor, the shelves tipped over, the table on its side, the vase of flowers shattered on the floor, water and glass glittering in the hastily lit candles.

Gremlin was cowering in the corner, her eyes shimmering in terror. All because a man with dark hooded robes and a skull's silver mask over his face was standing in the midst of the chaos, brandishing his wand.

Ice-cold terror drenched me. How did he get in? Draco told me only he knew where this place was and only he knew the passcode for it. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I scooped up one of the iron pans and flourished it at the intruder. "Whoever you are, you better get the hell out of here," I waved the frying pan threateningly, "Just because you're a wizard does not mean I can't hit you hard where it counts."

The man laughed then, low and cruel. He ripped off his mask and Draco's face was revealed. His eyes were bloodshot, shadows under them, face pale and his lips drawn into a cruel sneer. His eyes told differently; some unfathomable pain was drawn there. It was like a black hole: everything good was being sucked in and being crushed. "So much courage. Stupid fucking courage." In his other hand I saw a bottle of firewhiskey, which he now took a swig of, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "You should be running. Run. Run for your fucking life."

I could smell the alcohol from here. I lowered the pan, staring at him warily, "Draco, you're drunk."

"No fucking shit," he growled, lurching forward to snatch at me. I jumped backwards, raising the pan again. He laughed, shaking his head, "You know…I found a whole infestation of your kind today. They were hiding on the Isle of Skye with mudbloods and blood traitors. Fucking hundreds of them." He suddenly jabbed the wand, making the mugs on the hooks above the stove shatter.

I suppressed my flinch, not wanting him to know how scared I was. "There they were, like rats. Hiding in a hole. They stank. They were filthy. And they begged."

He laughed again as he flicked his wand. The pan was wrenched out of my fingers, clanging against the stone floor, "They fucking begged." He lunged towards me, dropping the liquor bottle and slammed me against the back wall, wand pressed against my cheek. I didn't resist him but tried to calm my heart, which felt like it was trying to beat its way out of my ribcage, "There was a girl who looked like you." One long finger traced my cheek, his winter grey eyes burning, "Same hair, same eyes, same lips…"

He traced my mouth, seemingly unaware of my quick terrified pants, "and I sent her off to the camps." He dug the wand to my cheek even harder, making me whimper. "Maybe I should do the same to you. You're supposed to be dirty, just like the rest of them. Why should you be any different? Why?"

His alcohol breath burned my nostrils and my brain was swimming in fear. I had to remain focussed though. Stop myself from thinking about that wand and start thinking about how to stop Draco murdering us all. I licked my lips and said in a trembling but otherwise calm voice, "Draco…calm down. You know you're better than this. How you act now can truly decide who you are."

He laughed hollowly again, "What the fuck that is supposed to mean?"

"It means," I said, trying like hell not to sound scared shitless, "That if you kill me now, here, when no one but Gremlin watching, what does that truly say about yourself? That you enjoy killing people like me? That you are no better than your aunt or your father?"

His eyes glittered, his free hand moving down to my throat. His fingers rippled, as if trying out the thought of strangling me. I kept my cool and remained silent; freaking out was not going to help me.

And then he began to cry. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks and dropped his wand hand from my face, the wand itself clattering to the floor. He dropped his head to my shoulder, tears soaking into my cardigan. He moaned, hands moving to my waist and pulling me closer. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so fucking sorry."

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and allowed him to pull us to the floor. I looked to Gremlin and said, "Why don't you put the kettle on? Clean this place up a bit as well, please. Master Draco is not himself at the minute."

"You're a right ninny, you know that?" I told him. There we were, sitting on the stone paved floor, his head on my shoulder, breath fanning across my chest. I ran my fingers through his white blonde hair, trying to sooth the way his hands were gripping my waist rather tightly. Both of our legs were splayed out in front of us, my bare feet next to his black oxfords.

"They looked at me, oh Merlin, the way they looked at me. Lucy- I- they were your people," his breaths became short and quick again. His arms tightened even further until I couldn't breathe, "They could have been your boss, the man on the back of the 27 bus, your big brother…and I sent them to their suffering and deaths."

Gremlin handed me a mug of steaming tea. I took a sip of it, trying to dissolve the lump in my throat. I then handed it to him, "Get that down your throat. Might let you be able to feel less hammered tomorrow morning."

I felt him shake his head but I admonished him, "I'm not taking no for an answer. It is common knowledge tea makes everything better again."

Trembling fingers took the mug and he sat up to take a sip. Huddled over his mug of tea, he reminded me of a child with a cold. I rubbed his back soothingly as he drank the tea. I stretched towards the box of tissues on the floor, grabbing a couple and passed them to him. "Wipe your eyes now."

He did so, sniffling slightly. Once he had wiped his eyes, I brought another tissue to his nose, "Blow." He didn't protest like I thought he would and obediently cleared his nose into the tissue.

"Now lets get you off to bed. We finished the guest bedroom today, so it's just as well," I carefully stood up, throwing the used tissues into the bin.

Draco remained on the floor, an empty mug of tea sitting next to him. He looked up at me reproachfully, "How can you stand to touch me? To look at me? To h-"

"Oh don't be such a drama queen," I scoffed, getting impatient now, "I don't hate you. I think you're a fucking idiot but I don't hate you. I'm not going to talk about this until your sober. Now, get your arse off the floor and get to bed."

It took him a while, but he eventually stood up, scooping his wand up off the floor as he did so. He left the mask, which he must have dropped on the floor. It stared up at me with a cruel sneer and empty eyes. I averted my gaze from it and focused on the way Draco was beginning to tip over. I was quickly by his side, putting his arm around my shoulders and guiding him to the stairs. "That's it. You'll be in bed in no time," I encouraged him, as we inched our way up the steps.

He muttered something unintelligible but continued to be pulled upstairs.

We made it to the bedroom, I switched on the gas lamps, and Draco collapsed onto his stomach on the white bedspread. He lay in a half-stupor as I undid his shoelaces and pulled his oxfords off his feet. I heaved over onto his back and unbuttoned the heavy black robes so that he was left with a white rolled-up sleeves shirt and slacks. That's when I saw it. The brand etched onto his left forearm was sinister, to say the least. There are three reasons for this. One: it was a fucking brand. Two: it had a skull in it. Three: there was a snake coming out of the mouth of the skull. Told you it was sinister. My skin prickled when I saw it and I stared at it for a few minutes, hands curled in to my chest.

Only Draco groaning loudly distracted me from the brand. I tore my eyes away from it and busied myself tucking Draco in under the sheets. I turned him over on his side, just in case he would vomit in the middle of the night. Couldn't have him choking in his own regurgitated dinner.

His eyes were closed, mouth half open, blonde hair dishevelled, deep even breaths blowing across the pillow. I stroked back his hair and whispered, "You silly handsome idiot."

I tiptoed back to the door and dimmed the gaslights. He hadn't moved, sleeping like a baby. I rolled my eyes and shook my head before closing the door. Indeed. What a silly handsome idiot.

I went back downstairs to help Gremlin, but I found most of it was done. "You ok Gremlin?"

The little elf nodded, "he cames in, shouting and breakings all the china. He remindeds Moppy of his father."

The terror in her voice made my gut twist and I stooped to her level to rub her back, "Its alright. He was just very drunk. He's in bed now, sleeping it off. You need help clearing up?"

"Moppy is fine, Miss Lucy. You go back to bed."

"Alright, see you in the morning," I said. My eyes snagged on the mask on the floor, still doing its sickly grimace at me. With my toe, I shoved the mask across to the corner of the room before treading back upstairs again.

Settling back into bed again I realised that trying to get to sleep was completely pointless. I was wide-awake, my brain already turned on. I sighed, got out of bed again and got dressed in my work jeans and red and white striped ¾ length sleeved shirt for the next day. I went downstairs to settle down in the living room again, picking up the textbook I had been working through. I had gained all of my textbooks from the trunk Draco brought along. Part of me felt compelled to finish off my education for A levels. So until 4 o'clock in the morning to 6, I studied tectonics and human geography. When the sun began to rise, I watched it from the front window. Watching the way the sky turned from inky blackness to pale orange, yellow and pink, I thought about my family.

Where were they now? Were they still alive? If they were, did they think of me as often as I think of them? My eyes blurred and I sent a prayer for them, like I did everyday. Please protect them. Please help them. Please let them know I love them. That I always think of them. Please make them ok. Please, please, please, show them mercy.

"Miss Lucy? Do you want to cook breakfast?" Gremlin said as she entered the living room.

"Yup," I said, wiping my eyes quickly, "I'll just make pancakes today. Sound good?"

"Anything you make is fine with Moppy," she said, dusting down the couches and furniture.

Glad at having something to do, I headed for the kitchen and began to make the pancakes. It was a normal routine: I had my pancakes and made a fresh pot of coffee, knowing Draco would be up anytime soon.

And I was right.

I was sitting at the table, sipping my coffee when he shuffled in, hair dishevelled, eyes blearily staring out and one of his hands clutching what had to be a pounding headache.

"Good morning sunshine," I said chirpily, "Coffee pot is on top of the stove, as is your breakfast."

He glanced at the stove, still trying to get his bearings, "How did I get here? Who put me to bed?"

"You don't remember a lot, do you?" I said, taking another sip of coffee, "You don't remember crashing into the kitchen at 3 o'clock in the morning, brandishing your wand and smashing everything in sight. Nearly scared poor Gremlin to death. Nearly sacred me to death."

His face drained of all blood and he said, "Did I hurt you?"

"Came close to it," I said, trying to act nonchalant.

"Shit," he swore. He treaded towards me, took my chin and inspected me. He fingered the bruise that had formed on my cheek from where his wand tip had been pressed, "Fuck, what did I do?"

"Do it again, I will beat the crap out of you, wizard or not," I said brusquely. I then smiled sweetly at him, "Go get your coffee. You look like shit."

"Right…" he said, his face looking guiltier by the minute.

As I watched him pick up the coffee pot and pour himself a cup, I asked, "So what do you remember?"

"I remember… Blaise telling me it was time for shots." He shook his head as if trying to clear a herd of flies around his head, "after that its just…colour and noises."

"Hmm," I muttered, leaning back on my chair, "do you remember any emotions?" He frowned at me, obviously not following. "For example…guilt? Regret? Anger?"

His grey eyes widened and he nearly dropped his coffee cup, "You…did I talk about a raid?"

"An infestation, actually. Apparently it was pretty bad," I said, surprised at how calm my voice was. My hands trembled around the coffee but otherwise remained still.

He closed his eyes and swore again, "You weren't supposed to know about that."

"I guessed that," I said, "And what's even richer is that you came through here to take out your guilt on me."

There was a thick silence. You could hear a pin drop. Draco leaned heavily on the stove, coffee clutched tightly in his hand. With his free one he rubbed tiredly at his face, before running his fingers through his hair and tugged on the ends, "I…I don't know what to say."

"'Sorry', would be nice," I said, putting down my mug, "Sorry for waking me up. Sorry for smashing the kitchen. Sorry for threatening me. Sorry for lying to me." My voice was in danger of quivering but I kept calm.

"I didn't want you to know, because I thought it would upset you," he said, walking towards me and sitting in the opposite chair. He looked me straight in the eyes, even reached forward to brush my fingers.

I recoiled from him, wrinkling my nose, "yes, it fucking upsets me. What else do you expect me to say: 'well done Draco, you're doing your job to the fucking T. Here's a gold star for your efforts in killing the people I come from.'"

His eyes darkened and he snapped, "I don't like this anymore than you do."

"So why should you lie to me?" I demanded, "Why?"

"Because I knew you would react like this. I knew," he retorted.

I looked away but he grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him, "I have to get up every fucking morning, go to the camps and watch the sorry excuses for human beings die slow and painful deaths. If I try and help them, I join them. If I don't do what I'm told, I join them. If I don't do what is expected of me, I join them. Then I come and see you. Here you are talking about paint colours and weeds and fucking furniture." His fingernails dug into my skin, "You have no idea what its like. So don't lecture me about your fucking morals. I already know about what a shit excuse of a human being I am. I don't need some stupid waitress to remind me."

He released me and we both sat back from each other, him breathing hard. I rubbed my jaw, still aching from his grip. Another long silence before I finally whispered, "I am sorry. Ok? We're both in the wrong."

He seemed to relax, if only a little, "Apology accepted. I'm sorry too, for scaring you like that."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, "You were pretty cut up about it."

He stared at me for a long moment, before saying, "Blaise and I had been planning this for the past month. We scouted the area, planned our mode of attack, decided where we were going to send the Inferiors to. We had it all down to the finest point. I never thought about the people I was looking for, who they were. They weren't people, they were targets."

My throat was thickening but I nodded for him to go on.

"3 days ago we set out, with a few Snatchers for back up. We surrounded the island, and piece by piece we disabled the protective charms that had been placed haphazardly around the island. The inhabitants didn't even know. Yesterday, we finally made our move." He swallowed, eyes flickering around before settling on me again, "They were hiding in the villages, in the basements. A network of them, all interconnected by tunnels that were still in the process of being built. They were therefore easy to trap. They had no where to run."

He clenched his jaw, dropping his head, "I won't go into details. We managed to round them up and send them via mass apparition to the Death Camp in the Grampians. Amongst their number were some major members of the Order of the Phoenix, the only organised group against the Deatheaters. Blaise and I were sent to have a private audience with the Dark Lord himself. He congratulated us, told me I was finally living up the Malfoy name and rewarded us with an elevated Deatheater status. I am now a Warden of Death camp just outside this garden. Before I only provided the land, now I am deemed worthy to run it. Blaise has been given a desk job in the ministry: creating propaganda. Both have higher pay and both of us have a higher status. Blaise took me and a few friends to a uh…gentlemen's club." He shook his head again, "I must have drank too much. That guilt I had been feeling all day must have escalated inside of me. I wanted to apologise to the people I'd put away. But I knew I couldn't. So instead, I must have turned to you. You are the only muggle I know. I saw you and it must made things worse. It all got too much I suppose." He tugged on his hair and looked up, "And the rest as you know is history."

I smiled sadly at him, reached out and touched his hand, "There was nothing you could do."

"That doesn't make it any less…disgusting," he spat out the last word, "I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not badly. Not like this."

"Shhh, I know that. And you know that too," I tried to sooth, taking his large hand fully in my own, "You're not a bad person. A misguided and sometimes foolish person, but not bad, not evil. You are no different from hundred of thousands of people who have voted for governments like this one before."

"You keep on saying that," he said, "but there is no difference. I still sent those people to their deaths."

"And you can't change that," I said, as gently as I could, "You can't undo what you have done."

He closed his eyes and a tear squeezed out from under his lid. I got down on my knees and kneeled between his legs, cupping his face, "But this regret, this guilt, this self-loathing. Its proof that you are not like your comrades. You're different: you've still managed to retain some of your humanity."

He opened his eyes and stared deeply into mine. He stroked back my hair and cupped the back of my skull. "You're beautiful. You know that?" he whispered, one hand tracing the line of my nose, "I'd always been taught that muggles were ugly, disgusting creatures with only primal instincts. But the first day I walked into that café, I saw you. And you proved my stereotype wrong."

Our breaths were mingling, and he was drifting closer. "You were like sunlight. You are like sunlight. Soft and warm and alive."

Lips so close. So close.

I couldn't think. My brain was mush. How many times had I fantasised about this? My crush on him obviously hadn't fully disappeared. He was still sometimes the attractive and charming man I'd served in the café. And he was going to kiss me.

His lips brushed against mine, sending warmth tingling across my body. I eagerly pushed forward, the taste of coffee through my mouth. He moaned softly, fingers tangling through my hair. I never wanted it to end. Ever. I could spend years just kissing him. My beautiful fool.

He suddenly tore away. "I am sorry, that was inappropriate," he stammered, jerking up from his seat, nearly tripping over the table leg, "I've got to go."

"Draco-" I tried helplessly. I scared him away. Stupid Lucy! Should have known he would freak out.

"No! Just…I'll see you in a bit, ok?" swish of his wand and he had summoned his robes. He was out the door before I could say anything else.

I sat there on the floor, staring after him, before putting my head in my hands.

What have I done?

That was intense to write. Any thoughts?

Emily