CHAPTER 10

I've been locked in my little room for four days now. At least, I think it's been that long. Snape has made no attempt to force me come out, which makes my misery a bit easier, but he has put the Anti-Disapparation Jinx back over his house. I guess he's afraid I'll try escaping or something, and honestly, I don't really blame him for fearing it. The only reason I even know the jinx is on the house again is because I did try to Apparate away at least six sleeps ago. Where would I go? Unclear currently. The thought of leaving sounded like a good idea, but after attempting and failing, I realized with a sudden jolt that being around anyone so soon after learning the timeline of my fate would not actually be something to enjoy. Having to explain aloud what the issue is would have broken me. At least here, everyone in the house knows exactly what the problem is.

Snape and I no longer interact at all. After the first bowl of soup he brought me, we came to a silent agreement. He knocks on the door, places the food on the floor, and leaves quickly enough so we need not speak. And I have to say that I am most grateful for this. I can't look anyone in the eye right now, not with the knowledge of what is coming.

Today, though, he breaks our silent agreement. Rather than leaving after knocking on the door, he slowly pushes it open. "You can't let yourself waste away," he says quietly. As if he can even imagine what I'm going through right now. I say nothing, simply choosing to watch him instead. His jaw clenches, and he stands completely still, not moving at all, except for the fingers of his right hand which anxiously tap against his thigh. "Shall I send you to the Burrow? Or to the Tonkses? You can't wither away in here. You are not allowed to give up."

"Not today," I whisper. It's the first words I have spoken in four days, and my throat is reluctant to allow any sound to escape.

"So you can speak." I tighten my grip on the blankets and close my eyes. Snape sets a meager breakfast of toast and eggs on the small nightstand beside my bed. "You have until the end of the week to leave this room before I force you out." Then he walks out of the room and closes the door.

I have three days to pull myself together.

Perhaps it's for the best. Had Snape not given me a deadline, I'm sure I would have been content to lie here until my death. If only I were allowed such an escape from Voldemort.

It's nearly time for me to admit all of my lies to Fred, I suppose. Now that I know when Voldemort plans to force me to fulfill my duty, keeping it from Fred much longer feels like a complete betrayal.

I haven't seen him in days, not since I met Bill and Fleur, and it's better that he learns the truth from me rather than from anyone else. With a frustrated groan, I sit up in the bed. According to Alphard's pocket watch, it's nearly nine 'o' clock. Fred will be working now. Perhaps I should wait to tell him.

No, Charlotte, I scold myself, you cannot put this off any longer.

I force myself to roll out of the bed, then go to the bathroom to freshen up before I go to see Fred—showing up reeking of four days' worth of self-pity is too embarrassing.

When I finally descend the steps, my uneaten breakfast in hand, I find Snape sitting in his armchair, of course, and watching the stairs as if he knew I would be coming down them. "It's good to see you're living," he says.

"Well, I did speak to you less than an hour ago." I look away from him. "I . . . I need you . . . to lift the Anti-Disapparation Jinx."

"What for?" he asks.

"I need—Fred—I have to tell him."

"And you expect me to trust that you will return?"

"I returned after meeting Bill Weasley and his fiancée. And that was a much more enjoyable time than what I have to do today."

He looks like he's about to refuse to let me go, but then he gives me a slight nod. "You may go later," he says. "You haven't been practicing Occlumency as you should be, and with the new information you have just learned, wouldn't you agree that it has just become more important?"

I nod reluctantly. At least I won't be interrupting Fred at work today. I can go after the shop is closed.

"But you must eat first."

I sit down on the sofa and manage to only choke down a few bites. I look up and ask quietly, "Will Harry be able to stop Vol—" His look stops me from saying Voldemort's name. "Will Harry be able to stop the Dark Lord by this time next year?"

"I would hope not."

"You can drop the whole Death Eater façade, Professor. I know you're a part of the Order of the Phoenix. It's just us right now."

Snape grimaces at me. "How many times must I tell you that I am not a part of that?"

"I'm going to learn the truth when I join the Order in a few months anyway. So you might as well go ahead and admit it."

"What do you mean you're going to join the Order? Under whose authority?"

"When I turn seventeen, I'll join. I'll be of age. Dumbledore started the Order, yeah? I have friends in it. I'm sure I'll be able to join. So go ahead and answer my question. Will Harry be able to stop the Dark Lord?"

Snape doesn't answer.

"Fine." I look him in the eye. "Why did you let me see the memory of you taking the Unbreakable Vow?"

"Like I said before, I did not 'let' you see anything."

"Sticking to that lie, I see." His irritated expression stops me from saying anymore because I can't risk him preventing me from going to see Fred. "What's left for me to learn in Occlumency? I know how to keep you out of my mind now."

"Just a few more key lessons."

"And then we're done?" I ask, slightly excited at the idea of being able to finish this.

"We will continue to work on it. It is essential that you completely master the art of Occlumency."

That excitement was short-lived. I really hoped I could claim to be a master of Occlumency after that and be done with it. I've only worked so hard so I can stop the lessons. Now he tells me that I must continue either way. I sigh. So close . . . so very close. I set aside my plate, most of the food still on it, and stand. "I believe I'm done eating."

He nods, and we go down to the basement where Snape waves his wand and makes his potion things disappear before going to the far side of the room, as usual.

"Think of a time in your life that could have gone differently," Snape says. "I want you to take that memory and create different outcomes. I should be unable to determine which is real and which are not. You must be able to alter your memories at will without a skilled Legilimens detecting that you have done so."

"And I must be able to do that to hide all truth from the Dark Lord?"

"Precisely. Ready?" I take a second to decide which memory to show him—I know exactly which one it will be, the one that eats me with the most guilt. If I can persuade someone—can deceive someone—into believing that what I did was not quite as terrible as it was, perhaps I can convince myself of that as well. And if I can convince myself that my actions weren't quite so reprehensible, perhaps the guilt will be assuaged and I can go face Fred with one less weight around my neck. I take a moment to determine how to change the memory, then nod at him to get started. "Legilimens!"

I'm sitting in a Muggle home. I'm twelve years old. There is a large Christmas tree, decorated in blue and white ornaments, lit up by the window, and I am on the floor in front of it, the light reflecting in my eyes. I'm smiling at it, not bothered in the slightest that none of those fabulously wrapped gifts belong to me. "What are you doing?" an angry man's voice breaks through my happiness. I look over and see him holding a knife in one hand and a phone in the other.

"Please," I say. "I'm sorry! It's just . . . the tree . . . it's so beautiful . . ."

He grunts at me and presses a button on the phone. "I'm calling the police," he says cruelly.

"Don't," I plead. He continues calling, and I am left with no other choice. I whip out my wand, ignoring his laughter when he sees it, and shout, "Stupefy!" The spell blasts the man into the wall and renders him unconscious. A woman comes running, screaming her husband's name, crying slurs at me. She thinks me a demon of some sort. A young child stands at the top of the steps, wailing. My eyes widen. I cast a memory charm and run from the house.

I show Snape the same memory three more times, but I change it slightly each time.

In the next one, I Apparate away as soon as the man sees me and threatens to call the police.

In the third one, I silence the man, cast a memory charm, and run from the house.

In the last one I show Snape, the man comes out, threatening to call the police. I Stun him, and he falls down, his head smashing against the hearth. Blood starts pooling around his head, and his wife, now in the room, starts screaming. I panic and blast the woman with a spell that sends her flying backward with great force. There comes a bone-chilling crack, and she falls lifeless. The child shrieks in pain as he falls to the floor, and I know that I can't leave him as an orphan like I am. Without thinking, I cast the Killing Curse.

Then I look at Snape.

His face is dark. "You killed those innocent people." He sounds utterly disgusted. My mouth drops. He points his wand at me. "You don't know what those people could have meant to someone!"

Any hope of fooling myself vanishes, and the weight around my neck grows heavier. "Don't act so high and mighty! I panicked! I was twelve! You're a Death Eater, don't act like you've never killed an innocent person and regretted it!"

A silent spell throws me into the wall.

I whip out my wand and fire the Impediment Jinx at him. He deflects it. I throw up my shield. "I was twelve! I didn't know what I was doing! Have I killed people? Yes. But you can't hold them against me! I'm beyond that now!" Why did I have to show him that memory? I should have waited until I was more skilled at altering my memories.

Snape lowers his wand, a deep sorrow in his eyes. "They did nothing to you."

"I realize that," I say, lowering my shield. "And I visit their graves every year, put flowers on their graves every year, and beg for their forgiveness every bloody year." Tears prick the back of my eyes. "But they can never give it to me, because I killed them. I took their lives. I did that, and there is nothing that can ever be done to change that." I drop my wand to the floor where it clatters. "So punish me however you see fit." I open my arms and close my eyes, ready to accept whatever he casts at me and maybe even escape my fate through this.

But the attack never comes. Slowly, I crack my eyes at him until opening them completely. He's watching me intently but doesn't speak.

"How did you know?" I ask him as I drop my hands back to my side.

"Too much detail," he replies shortly. "Again. Legilimens."

Fred and I stand in the hallways of Hogwarts. I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him. He doesn't pull away. Draco rams into the two of us, separating us.

I change the details. Fred and I stand in the hallways of Hogwarts. I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him. He doesn't pull away. Draco throws the Impediment Jinx at us, separating us.

I change them one more time. Fred and I stand in the hallways of Hogwarts. I throw my hands around his neck and kiss him. He doesn't pull away. Draco runs towards us, punches Fred in the face, and pulls me away from Fred to ram me into the wall.

"The real one?" I ask Snape.

He watches me for a moment. "Draco used the Impediment Jinx," Snape finally says after a few moments of silence.

"Why do you say that?"

"I personally don't see any son of Lucius Malfoy using any kind of physical attack."

I laugh. "That's a good point, actually, but you're wrong. He rammed into us."

"Well done, Rodgers," he congratulates me. "Well done, indeed. Keep the details to a minimum. At least until you learn to control them astutely enough that there is no question of their legitimacy. Longer memories than that will be more difficult to manipulate, but short scenes should be easy. That you showed me only you, Mr. Weasley, and Malfoy was also beneficial. Background details, while they will assist in creating believability, are more difficult to fabricate. To truly deceive a master Legilimens, you will need the entire scene to be fleshed out and believable."

Biting my lip, I debate asking Professor Snape a question that I consider important. I decide . . . why not? When have I ever held my tongue around him? "Professor," I say. He looks at me expectantly. "I need to ask something, but don't interrupt until I'm done, please." He nods suspiciously. "You took the Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa to protect Draco. You never told her that you wouldn't hinder him. If you could find a way to postpone . . . just—just until after Christmas, so I can have more time—you know, before. . ."

"I can make no such promises." I nod, having expected this answer anyway.

We continue working on Occlumency for the next few hours. I don't manage to fool him again—apparently, I only fooled him before because he didn't believe Draco capable of a physical attack—and by the time I'm done, I'm even less mentally prepared to speak with Fred than I was before. Seeing as there is no other choice but to tell him, I push down the desire to keep hiding.

I do, however, postpone it just a short while longer by going back upstairs and showering.

When I enter the living room again, I say, "I think it's time I spoke with Fred."

He waves his wand. "The jinx has been lifted."

"Thank you, Professor."

I Disapparate.

I'm standing outside Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, which is now closed for the day, the twins rushing about doing whatever it is that they do when the shop is closed. I want to step inside, but I'm too busy trying to figure out how to tell Fred the truth. All I see are the bad situations, such as, "Hey, Fred, how's it going? Really? That's great. Now listen, Voldemort has been at Malfoy Manor since the beginning of the holidays." But it'd probably be best to lead with my duty. Or would it be best to lead details of my past that he does not know, like I did with his mother? But after that, how would I follow up? Should I go straight into my duty, or should I ease him into it?

Perhaps it'll come to me when I start talking. With that small glimmer of hope, I muster up my courage, swallow down my nausea, and knock on the door. "We're closed!" George's voice rings through the air. I knock again. "Come back tomorrow!" I knock again. The door flings open. When George sees me, the scowl on his face turns into a broad smile. "Oh, hi, Charlotte! There's a kid that tries getting in every day after we close. I thought you were him. I'll go get Fred. Come in." I enter the shop and follow George as he heads toward Fred. "Look who's here!"

Fred turns around and smiles when he meets my eyes. "Charlotte! Where've you been? I haven't heard from you in days! I thought I'd have to raid Malfoy Manor and rescue you!" He rushes forward and tightly wraps his arms around me. I savor his embrace while I can, just in case he cannot forgive me for lying to him.

"He's even been trying to have me help him come up with a scheme to do it!"

"Of course, George had no qualms about the thought of helping me."

I smile weakly at him. "I've been holed up pretty nicely, haven't I?"

Fred's happiness fades a bit. "What's wrong?"

I say, in a very airy voice so I won't cry, "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

He glances at George, who nods and walks off. "Yeah, come on." He takes me by the hand and leads me through the shop and up to the flat he shares with his brother. Silently, we go to his bedroom, and he closes the door. "What's happened?"

He deserves to know the truth, he deserves to know the truth, he deserves to know the truth. But no matter how many times I repeat that to myself, I cannot get the words to come out of my mouth. I don't want to ruin what I have with Fred, and I fear my duty will do just that. I take a shaky breath. "I've been on lockdown at the manor," I begin with another lie. I am a disgrace. "Bellatrix and I—we had a fight." At least that is true. "We . . . we don't see eye-to-eye about some things I will be forced to do."

He takes my hand in his. "What will you be forced to do?"

I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

I can't do this. "It's set in stone now—I had a meeting with Voldemort, who's been staying at the manor."

"What?" he whisper-shouts. "You can't stay there anymore! You're coming to live with me and George, or mum, or Tonks, or someone in the Order. But you're not staying there. Not with—you can't live there—I thought it was unsafe before but with him—he's unpredictable, what if—no, no, you can't live there, not with You-Know-Who!" He jumps to his feet. "Come on, we're going to speak with—" I pull him back down, and he looks at me with such confusion that I desperately want to tell him everything. But I can't. "What's—"

"I can't live anywhere Voldemort would not approve of, but where I'm living is hardly the problem right now." I pull his hand onto my lap and hold it tightly. "I've been chosen, Fred, and there's nothing I can do about it. He confirmed it in our meeting. Until that moment, I had been holding onto a hope that I would escape it." I absentmindedly rub his hand. "I . . ." I can't do this. "He's decided that I am to take the Dark Mark next July. And if I don't . . . he's threatened to hurt those I care about. I will be forced to carry out his orders, regardless if I want to." So, I mean, it's only a half-lie, but I hate myself for lying to him. And yet I can't tell him the truth.

"Charlotte," he says with a comforting smile, "you'll still be you. It's not like you're choosing to do what he wants you to. He's forcing you to." I can't even look him in the eye. I am an awful person. With his free hand, he touches my cheek and turns my face back to his. "I don't care what You-Know-Who makes you do. You're still just Charlotte to me. Well, Charlotte-Rodgers-slash-Aurelia-Lestrange. But what matters is that you're you." Then he leans down and covers my lips with his, and I want to throw myself off a building.

I am an awful person.

We break apart, and Fred simply holds me close to him. But I can't enjoy being with him right now because of the lies I have been spewing for the past few months, so, naturally, I tell another lie. "I have to be back at the manor soon."

Fred stands up with me. "And you're sure you're safe—well, not safe, because you can't really be safe at the manor anymore—you're sure you're all right going back with You-Know-Who there?"

"Well, I don't really have much of a choice, but will it make you feel better if I say I'm fine with it?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'd rather you tell me the truth if you're scared."

I swallow. "Well, I am a bit scared, but if he wants me to serve him, I have to be alive."

"Good point."

"But I really should be going."

He takes me hand for a moment. "I love you, Charlotte. You know that, don't you?"

"I had my suspicions." I hate myself. "And for the record, I love you too." Do you though? How could you lie to him like this if you loved him?

He kisses me once more before I leave.

But I don't go back to the manor. Or even to Spinner's End. I Apparate to Zoe's flat in Hogsmeade. If I can't tell Fred the truth, I can tell her—that way I don't feel like a complete liar. If I can just tell the truth to one person who means a lot to me, perhaps I will be able to forgive myself.

Only, Zoe isn't in here. Boxes still fill every corner of her flat, as if she's been far too busy to clean it all away. I'm about to Apparate away, slightly disappointed that I didn't get to talk to anyone about my issues but almost relieved that I won't have to speak of it, when I hear a pop! behind me. "Merlin, God, what the hell?" Zoe's voice exclaims, a brown bag falling from her hands and landing on the floor.

I turn and smile apologetically. "I'm so sorry." My voice is weak. "I just . . . needed to talk."

"Something you couldn't tell the Gryffindor?"

"Yeah . . ."

How dare I tell Zoe the truth and not Fred?

I'm an awful person.