The Mark of a Death Eater

Harmonia Nectere Passus

Over the next few days, my worry took it's toll on me. Depression hung over me more than it usually did. It felt like I had my own personal Dementor hanging over me, sucking out my happiness as I went along my daily tasks.
I lost focus with regards to my lessons, to such an extent that Professor Slughorn called me in late to ask what was wrong with me.

I began being able to relate to the story of Tom Riddle. I hadn't been reading it much before, but it had a great effect on me when I began again. His notebook/diary was full of bitterness and anger, but on most days, I understood what he felt like. I felt that he was at least a bit better off than I was. He had a circle of admirers, people who actually cared for him.

The only close ones I had weren't on good terms with me. Daphne wouldn't talk to me, apart from a few harsh questions or instructions. She still hurt from my not contacting her over Christmas, and of course, Pansy Parkinson didn't help matters. She had befriended Daphne, if only for the reason of stealing another piece of happiness from my life.
Professor Snape was ignoring me; no doubt the outcome of the unhelpful Occlumency lessons.
And of course, Draco and I were complete strangers.

I never ate, never slept. Worry lines crossed my face. I forgot how my face looked in the mirror without my forehead creased. Dark shadows hung under my eyes. I forgot to brush my hair a few times in a week. I looked like a mourner. It was no wonder everyone avoided me.
I would.

The end of the school year was drawing closer and Malfoy and I had been warned on hurrying our mission. We had a deadline, the death eaters would be arriving through the Cabinet on a certain date, and I wasn't sure if we would have the Cabinet fixed in time. This was partly Mr Borgin's fault, as he was supposed to be giving us the final spell to activate the cabinet. But since he had to do the same for the death eaters on the other end, I had no doubt that they were pressurizing him enough to be quick.
Of course, Malfoy had been mending the cabinet without me, and since I didn't talk to him, I didn't know how far it was fixed. Still, I did know the basic plan, as I did from the beginning. I didn't like it, but of course I hadn't a choice.
Death Eaters in Hogwarts... The sentence didn't seem to make sense even to my ears.

One day at lunch, Malfoy cornered me in an empty classroom; where I sat lately to avoid people. I didn't want to speak to him. I spent hours laying in bed at night, blaming him for all that had happened to me. But as soon as I did this, I immediately started hating myself. I hated myself for caring about all these people. I was no longer the girl who was quiet, uncaring and mysterious, but I was now the one who wore her heart far too openly. All my problems had begun when I'd started caring about people, and now I was paying the price. It was my emotions that got me into everything. So more than I hated anyone, I hated myself, with every fibre of my being.

Malfoy stood next to where I sat on a chair, my cheek resting on the tabletop, carelessly shooting pink sparks from the end of my wand.
"I don't want to talk to you," I said warily.
"I wasn't going to ask you to," he answered in the same tone. "I thought you would like to know, the cabinet is finished."
I stopped shooting the sparks but didn't look up at him. I feared that if I did, I would either completely lose it out of anger, or apologize, and I wanted to do neither.
"Finished?" I asked.
"Almost. Small items have been working. I've been communicating with Mr Borgin."

Unspoken, his words implied what I was angry about. That he had been working alone to fix the cabinet behind my back. Although he had made an effort lately to include me into all the discussions I still begrudged him.

I heard the sound of parchment and felt something tickle my hair.
"That's the last spell. That's the final word. If we do this, the cabinet is activated. We can get help from the outside."

I raised my head to see a piece of parchment with a single spell written on it, and nothing more. I fingered it gently.
"This is from Mr Borgin?" I asked.
"Yes."
I glanced at Draco. If possible, he looked worse than me. He looked like a man who knew his sentence was death and knew he had no other option. I glanced back down as I felt hurt churning behind my ribs.

"Right. Well, if you come to the room tonight, we can finish it."
I felt a shiver pass through me, and suppressed anything I wanted to cry out.
"Emma," he said softly. His voice had changed, making me want to look up, but I restrained myself. "Emma, we can finally finish this."
My heart beat furiously in my chest; whether out of fear or suppressed emotion for Draco, or relief, I didn't know. I couldn't look at him, however. He cared less about me than he did about his ego. He wasn't allowed to be forgiven so easily. So I took the paper with the spell on it and left the room, my eyes on the ground.

For the first time in months, I walked over to my old comfort spot.
I hesitated only for a second before I pushed the door open and entered.

The class was completely clean. I had no doubt that it had been that way long before, but the bad memory of the day I received my death sentence made me avoid it.
I pulled the cupboard open and sunk into the hard crate. The small window let only a pale stream of light filter through, but it was enough.

I unfolded the piece of parchment and stared at the words that would end it all.

Harmonia Nectere Passus