The Facade

Chapter 24

I paced in the snow, the footsteps long marked in the white glittering path, almost showing the dirty ground beneath all those layers of a blankets of white.

Malfoy had not told me any specifics from that sentence yesterday. And he hasn't even woken up yet, I grown tired of waiting inside the living room and came outside pacing back and forth, waiting impatiently for Malfoy to wake up so I could bombard him with questions and demand explanations.

My head had been a hurricane all night, thinking over what could possibly happen if I went to France.

At first, I thought it as a good idea, I would be with important members of the Order, I could gain their trust by fighting in the war alongside them, and then create an 'accident' that would injure one of them, or even Malfoy, and we probably would have to retrieve back to the Order, just the perfect bait for me to catch them.

Then, I recalled one tiny little problem. I couldn't - wouldn't - fight against my own people, it was out of limits, I felt bad enough for having saved Malfoy's life back at Diagon Alley. Not that I had some sort of friendship or anything of some sort with Fenrir, but it still stinged to have done that. I refused to imagine how I would feel like if I harmed any of my own partners, Death Eaters like me, they could even be Blaise or Pansy...

I shock my head, I had come to terms that they were possibly dead, better be prepared for the worst rather than be crushed by it in a feeling of disappointment. It's what I'm always telling myself, over and over again, as if it will do something to ease the pain, or to hide that little flick of hope buried deep down there, but there nonetheless.

I was eager for Malfoy to explain himself better, I clearly fucked up with our argument yesterday, and really bad. If things were already messy, now they just got turned upside down.

Clearly Malfoy couldn't be serious, he must have said that only to scare me. This had been the sentence I've been telling myself for the past hour.

Although I do know Malfoy wouldn't joke about that, he might be reckless and sometimes childish, with all his everyday jokes, but he wouldn't joke about the war, that I knew for sure.

The war took everything from him, and I wasn't talking about the war at France with Switzerland. I was talking about the war that begin three years ago.

The war never ended, not really. Not for me. It only stretched for more years, delaying the inevitable that would soon come to bring our fates.

It has been a war active since the day Voldemort returned, and I had a feeling that it would end soon, I wished I knew which side is the fate going to turn against to.

And it was the same for Malfoy, the war drained most of him, it took so much from him, his mother, his youth, his choices of a life, his heirloom, his reputation, part of that might have been because he chose to do it even aware of the consequences, but the war made him do it nonetheless, and it would take much more from him as so it would take from me.

This war also took many things away from my life. My memories, stained by dark magic and corrupted, doomed to lay in a hollow of nothingness. My feelings, as for I had to empty myself from any feeling that might distract me from my duty. My aspect, my hair drained from color, my eyes changed from shade, my skin paler, as if I had become as cold as ice, and it showed in everything around me.

This war took my parents, despite me being the one who killed them, it was for a purpose for the war.

Means for an end.

As Voldemort always said to me.

It was the only thing I remembered clearly from the day I murdered them. Voldemort's voice speaking these four words clearly in my head every time I recalled that day.