Just Friends

empty house

Draco and I stood frozen, staring at each other, but another pound on the door brought us to our senses and we walked over to the door. The death eater snarled and told us to get down into the room where the meetings were held. In an attempt to keep our lives, we went.

"Ah, you two made it," Voldemort greeted as though we had a choice. I was terrified. What if he knew? What if one of his people saw us there and he knew we had the chance to turn Harry in, but didn't?

I tried to clear my thoughts so he couldn't read them, and I was hoping I wasn't too late.

"Sit down, both of you. I have a very noble task for you two. I've picked up that you two are...together, and I figured you'd enjoy a task you could do together. Something a little personal."

What was he talking about? What was so personal he needed Draco and me to do his dirty work?

"I need more followers." Of course he does. "You two must go to this address, and go collect its residents." He pointed his wand at another death eater and they bowed, scurrying over to us and placing a piece of parchment on the table in front of us. Neither of us moved, we just stared at the little piece of paper that held the address of someone whose life was going to end. "Well go on, collect your task," Voldemort hissed, gesturing to the paper. My shaky hand reached out for the paper, picking it up and unfolding it.

I read it.

And I stopped breathing.

Draco looked over my shoulder and inhaled sharply.

Fuck.

"Well you have your task, go. Go on, do it." Voldemort was impatient and he came closer to us, shooing us away. We got up and fled the hall, going back up to Draco's room and shut the door.

"What the fuck are we supposed to do? We can't actually be expected to do it, right?" I was nervous and pacing the floor, my hands in the air.

"Do you value your life?" Draco asked in a serious tone. He was right. We don't have a choice; we never have a choice. I sat down at the edge of his bed and looked around his room. Everything was the same. How was everything the same when our lives were so different? His posters and his pictures still hung the same way as when I first saw them. It felt so wrong, everything felt so wrong.

"I'm sorry, love." He knelt down in front of me and put his hands on my knees. I wanted to cry. My eyes burned but nothing came out, not a single hot, salty tear streamed down my cheek, and for some reason that was worse than an entire stream falling down from my eyes. He picked up my hands and played with my fingers; he was nervous too. "We...we should probably get going." He was quiet; his words barely breaking a whisper and I stood up, holding onto his hand tight.

He apparated us to the address which pained me to even think about. My eyes were glued to the floor and my nerves set in, causing my hands to shake. This couldn't be happening, but it was, it was very much real and it made my stomach hurt. I looked down at the floor and saw the same stones I had seen a hundred times before. I stood at the beginning of the walkway of my childhood, facing the house I practically grew up in. Beside me stood a little sign that stopped right above the fence. The Zabini's it read. My heart ached.

"Draco I can't-"

"I have a plan," he spoke confidently. How could he possibly have the time or headspace to think of a plan?

We hesitantly walked up to the front door and Draco knocked on the door. No answer. We heard movement inside, but no one came to the door. Draco pounded on the door and yelled out. "Zabini I know you're in there, open up!" That caused someone on the other side to unlock the door.