The Dark Mark (The Girl Who Lived part II)

The F Word

Neville's Point of View: "Go away, Neville! You don't need to see this!" Her hand violently shook as she held her wand against her neck. "We both know that I'm not going to do that". I said to her. I held up my hands in the air as a perps often would do when they were surrendering to the cops. But in this case, I wasn't surrendering, nor a perp. I did this to prove to Scarlet that I had no intention of whipping my wand out of my robes and casting the stupefy spell on her before she was able to react, preventing her from doing something drastic. I stepped over the broken pot, the dirt, and the ever so slowly wilting forget-me-nots. As of the moment, they didn't seem the least bit important.

"Put down your wand, Scarlet. We can talk about this and-" She cut me off. "The time for talking is over! I'm already a Death Eater! A monster! There's nothing more than that! And there's only one solution". The way she said these words, pulled at my heart strings. Plucked at them like a harpist would do, to well, a harp. "Do you think this decision only affects you? What about the Weasley's?" I stopped getting close to her. In many ways right now, she was a wild animal. Scared, confused, and you had no idea what she was going to do. Scarlet drove her wand further into her neck. The skin around her wand turned an unhealthy white. "Don't you think I've thought about that? The last thing the Weasley's need is a Death Eater in family. Do you know how upset it made Mrs. Weasley to find that Percy had sided with the Ministry? She cried for days. So what will she think of mine? It's the ultimate betrayal. It's just better this way. If I die, the secret dies with me". "What about Harry?" I asked her. I couldn't stand by and watch her cast the deadliest of the three unforgivable curses on herself. Because in my mind, that was the equivalent of me being on the other end of the one. Me, being the one who actually cast the curse. And that was the most unforgivable thing of all.

As long as I kept stalling, everything would be okay. Maybe she'd forget why she even wanted to commit such an act in the first place. "Harry? He'll be perfectly fine when he realizes that I'm not that fantasy he ever so desires". "But Scarlet, he loves you for you. How can you not know that? If only you could see the way he looks at you". I defended. Though, it didn't seem to make her feel any better. "Me? The me now, isn't what he loves. It's the girl I was that he met in the train compartment before our first year. The girl before everything. If he actually knew what I am, then he'd never feel the same way. He'd be mortified". "Then what are you? Because all I see is a girl who was at the wrong place at the wrong time". Tears stained her face. I wiped them from her puffy eyes. She swatted my hands away and crossed her arms. "What I am...... What I see in the mirror isn't a girl at all, but a doll. A broken one, at that. Who would stand being around a broken doll, much less, love one?"

Scarlet turned, assuming that I had nothing more to say. Some people say that sometimes what people need is time. But the last thing Scarlet needed was time alone. I knew that if I let her go right now, she'd let herself go as soon as she was out of my sight. I squeezed her into a hug. She struggled against me. Her arms flailed around wildly. She kicked, beat, punched, clawed, and whacked me. She did anything she could do to get herself free. "Let me go Neville!" She hoped for a permanent escape that I would never allow her to have. I was sure that I would have bruises tomorrow. But as soon as the thought came into my mind, I threw it into the back of my mind. My pain was the least of my worries. Scarlet's energy didn't last long. Her whacks, punches, and kicks slowed and then eventually came to a stop.

I still held her there despite Scarlet's struggle. I wasn't sure if it was purely the intentions of a friend that wanted to keep my friend alive, or those of someone who was nothing but selfish and didn't want to let her go. But my thoughts showed from my delayed answer to Scarlet's question."I would". I said. "I've already lost my Mum and Dad, even though they're still here. I know it sounds selfish, but I'm not losing you either". I continued. "Neville.."Tears welled up in her eyes. And the tears that once stained her face, soon stained my sweater. I stroked her hair over and over again. It seemed to have a calming affect on her. She sobbed into my sweater as she gripped handfuls of my shirt in her hands. What the bloody 'ell am I supposed to do?" She looked up at me. Her eyes, hopeful, even though she knew the answer.

"I have no idea. But whatever happens, I'll be here". I promised her. We returned to the entrance of the Gryffindoor common room. Scarlet leaned on me the whole way there. She seemed to be feeling like herself again. Sometimes when people bottle up their feelings, they need some sort of release. Normally, it comes out in the form of a meltdown. And this was Scarlet's. We stood in front of the Fat Lady Painting. The painting swung open. Something exited the stairs behind the painting, even though it wasn't visible. "Scarlet!" The hood of the invisibility cloak was lifted off to reveal Harry's head, bobbing in mid-air. "Hi Harry". Scarlet seemed rather unenthusiastic. Though, Harry didn't seem to notice. "I've been looking for you". He said. Scarlet looked at him and then back at me. I nudged her forward. "Go on. I've got some more work to do on the greenhouses". But before she moved to Harry's side, she faced me and pecked my cheek. "You're a wonderful friend, Neville. I don't know what I'd do without you". She said, before joining Harry who covered the both of them in his invisibility cloak. I returned to the shattered pot to begin sweeping up the dirt and broken fragments of clay. The words Scarlet said to me, rung in my ear. The word "friend", especially.

Hate was a strong word. And out of the 26 letters of the alphabet that configures about 1,010,649 words, "friend" was the one that I disliked.... no, hated. I hated the way she said it. The way it rung in my ears. Because even though I know it's ridiculously selfish of me to want this, I want the two of us to be more than friends. But I'll keep these feelings to myself for as long as I need to, so as not to burden Scarlet. And so long as she's perfectly happy, then I'm happy too.