TW: animal cruelty/violence
Hades was the greek God of the Underworld. He was the son of the Titans Cronus and Rhea, and brother of Zeus, Poseidon, Hera, and Hestia. He was known to be cold and pitiless, supervising the trial and punishment of the wicked after death.
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a m o r a
We walked in silence out into the garden, past the hedges and shrubs, and into the far corner. Lucius was headed right towards the hutch, and my heart gave a small, panicked leap. I never realised he even knew about it.
With measured movements, he opened the gate and carefully picked Spot off the hay. He gave him to Erebus, and then Nutmeg to me. We held them close to our chest, Nutmeg's fur warm in my hands. Erebus was smiling as he scratched Spot on his head.
"Miss Rosier," Lucius turned to me. "I heard you rescued these rabbits from certain death?"
"Yes," I said readily. "Erebus helped to build their hutch."
"Hm. How noble. They must've been terrified, being all alone with no protection." I managed a smile, not quite sure what he was driving at. "They won't have to worry about being eaten now," I said as I brought Nutmeg up to my face, pressing her softness against my nose.
Lucius was silent, letting a moment pass. "Now, I want you to kill them."
I was certain I heard him wrong. "What?"
"Kill them," Lucius said again, his voice void of any emotion. Erebus glanced down at Spot, snuggled up in his arms. "H- how?"
"Oh, whichever way you want."
We could only stare at him. Lucius squinted up at the sky serenely, then back at us, waiting. My tongue could not even lift to ask the questions racing through my mind.
"Do it, or I will kill you both right where you stand."
My palms grew damp, my heart now racing a mile a minute, faster than Nutmeg's. He couldn't possibly be serious. Oh, but he was. Lucius never joked - he did not know how. I looked at Erebus. His eyes were wide with fear. Then, he lifted his wand to Spot, the black tip disappearing into his fur. Spot looked around obliviously, his twitching nose sniffing the clean air.
"Erebus," I whispered. "What are you doing?"
"Avada kedavra, Morie," he said. "It's painless. They won't feel a thing."
"But... but you won't. You can't!" I sputtered, beginning to panic.
His gaze lingered on me for only a second longer before he turned back to Spot and uttered the spell. A bright green light flashed, and there was a loud zap. Immediately, Spot went rigid and dropped onto the grass like a rock, his little white and black body stark against the soil. I stared at it, petrified with shock.
"Your turn, Rosier," he said as they both turned to me. Tears began to prick at my eyes, and I tightened my hold on Nutmeg.
"N- no."
"Go on, Morie," Erebus urged. "It isn't that hard once you've done it. I promise." I recoiled at that. "Are you even hearing yourself, Erebus?" I said, hoarse with disbelief. A dozen emotions flowed in my veins. Anger. Betrayal. Horror. Anxiety.
"They're just rabbits, Morie. They don't have feelings," he protested in earnest. Then, leaning closer to my ear - "would you rather get us both killed?"
Would I? They were just animals, after all. They would not even see what was coming. The Killing Curse was painless. They would be dead in an instant. One second was all it would take me, one tick of a clock's hand.
They were looking at me patiently. I could not breathe. It was as if a great stone had been placed on my chest.
"No," I said once more. Erebus pulled back in disappointment, and Lucius sighed. A long, drawn-out breath. "It looks like we'll have a lot to discuss, Rosier." He stretched an arm towards me. "Alright. Let's put her back."
I clutched at Nutmeg, unwilling to let go. He beckoned with his fingers silently. It's alright. I had chosen to let Nutmeg live, and I would bear the consequences, whatever they were.
Slowly, I placed her carefully back into Lucius hand. He took her from me, then clamping his other on Nutmeg's head, he twisted. Every vessel in my body froze, and my scream echoed around the silence of the garden. Nutmeg's limp body hung from the leathered cage of Lucius' hands.
"Those who are small and weak cannot fight back," said Lucius, his tone hard and unfeeling. "You must understand this now, Amora. Those who do not fight back are the easiest to conquer. That's how you will kill the baby."
My knees crumpled, and I sank onto the ground helplessly. Lucius stalked off, his black cloak brushing me as he passed. Erebus stood behind me for a few moments in uncertainty before he, too, walked away, leaving me staring at the two dead bunnies in soundless grief.
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I dropped to my knees by her bed, almost in sorrowful worship, weeping into the thin sheets as quietly as I could.
The image was burned into my mind - the loud snap, the ugly angle of Nutmeg's broken neck, the feeling of their hardened still-warm flesh in mine as I dug the hole in tears to bury them in. They had been nothing but babies still.
Those who are small and weak cannot fight back. You must understand this now, Amora. Those who do not fight back are the easiest to conquer.
I thought of the time when Angel would give birth. I would be there to coax the child from her, pat it so that it screamed, so I knew it was alive. And then, just as I had brought it into the world, I would take it out, whichever way I wanted. Lucius had said it as though it was a great privilege to choose the method of which to murder.
If I defied him, what then? He would leave me behind in the new world he sought to create. He would give me up to the Ministry officials. I would be trialed. There was no chance I would be allowed back at Hogwarts ever again. My life would disappear, forever. The only way I could ever be a somebody was to follow through with the plan and pray we win.
And how quickly Erebus had turned on his words. He did not mean a single word of anything he had told me at all. He was a liar. He was a monster. And I was stupid enough to fall for it - all of it. His comforting words and golden hair and sky-coloured eyes.
Angel had sat up in surprise. Her arm draped over my silently, but I could not bear to look at her. I was ashamed. Minutes passed, and eventually the sobs wore out my body. She was still looking at me. I was transparent, made of water and air.
"How can I do this?" My voice scratched my throat.
"It's unfair. You're only eighteen," she said, gently. It was not meant to sway me, merely an observation. "Would you like to hear a story?"
I needed something, anything, to distract me, to comfort me. Yes, I said.
"You know the constellation Ophiuchus. You must have seen it a dozen times. It means 'serpent bearer'. Well, Ophiuchus is out there somewhere. Sometimes we can't see it, but it's always there, just like the rest of the constellations."
"So?" I sniffled.
"So, there's a place in the sky for each and every one of us. Sometimes, we become faded when we let people tell us who we are. But remember, Amora." My name sounded like spun sugar on her tongue. "We know ourselves best. We only need to choose to fade in."
She turned her body to face me fully, resting her face on the back of her palm. "You know, years ago, I met a young boy who made all the wrong choices. He didn't know what he had signed up for until it was too late. They made him do awful things, and -"
"Awful things like what?" I interrupted.
"Awful things like murdering Dumbledore. Like bringing Harry to Voldemort."
I knew immediately who she was speaking of. "But he didn't."
"He didn't."
"Because he couldn't bear to. He was good."
"No," she said. "Not because he couldn't bear to. Because he chose to."
Anxiety gripped me again. "I will be punished," I whispered. She reached out to tuck a stray hair from my face, and I stiffened at the sensation. No one had ever done except my mother when I was very young. "Call me naive, but I believe that things work out the way you choose," said Angel. "It's your life, Morie, but who lives it? You, or Lucius?"
"I'm not ready to die for it," my voice trembled.
"Then don't," smiled Angel. "You don't have to. But death isn't so lonely when you've got love with you, don't you think?"
"Erebus doesn't love me. He wouldn't help me."
"There are other people who care for you, Morie."
"Who?" I was quick to challenge. "My deadbeat criminal of a father who literally broke out of jail to commit war crimes?"
Her fingers were cold as they pressed into the flesh of my palm. The sensation was strangely comforting, like a cold towel on a fevered forehead. "We're friends, aren't we?"
I nodded hesitantly.
"Then I love you," she said, with conviction.
The room was still except for a cool breeze that fluttered the curtains. I stared at her. The words had rolled off her tongue so easily, like they were the first words she had ever learnt. They washed over me like the ocean on a summer's day, wrapped me in warmth like a fire's hearth on a cold, January night. Something about the way she said it, so raw, honest, true. It took me nothing to believe her.
She was smiling at me, not in any particular way. Small and soft, like the petals of wildflowers. Her lips were dry, the skin pulling up from the hollows of her cheeks, and her hair was matted, but her eyes glistened with the certainty of the sun.
A captive showing kindness and empathy to the captor. It was unheard of. It took a special power to be kind to the people who were waiting to kill you in a few months, like a farmer fattening his sow before a feast.
But it was the kind of power that could defy Death himself. It was a power I desired, the strength it endowed. No wand or magic could ever recreate it.
Several things clicked inside me all at once. A strange yearning for her freedom. I wanted to be friends with her, proper friends. I wanted to talk with her and spill my soul. I wanted her to be happy with Draco. I wanted her to once more radiate the same passion as when she was telling me about him.
A fierce and sudden determination flared within me. I returned her smile, thanked her, and picked myself off the floor. My face was stiff with dried tears as I walked to the bathroom. The water was cold on my skin. Still in a stupor, my body was compelled forward back to my room.
I would help Angel. She did not need to know this, and perhaps it would not in the bold, dashing way she expected from her Draco. It would be in my own way.
My quill scrawled over the parchment easily, as if in agreement with what I was about to do. I folded the note into an envelope, pressing the seal as lightly as I could into the hot wax, so that it would be thick and secure.
Outside, the gardens looked absolutely beautiful, its green leaves glorying in the Spring afternoon. I whistled a song, a casual tune. Or at least, that was what people would think, or anyone who could be listening. But not me, and not my owl.
It came from behind the roof above my window, landing on the sill without so much as a rustle. It knew not to coo or make any sound, just as I taught it.
"Draco Malfoy," I muttered under my breath, before picking up my whistling tune again. Its talons picked up the parchment, and when I looked at the corner again, it was gone as soundlessly as it came.