Run || Harry Potter FF

xi || empathy

George was damaged and that was obvious as I left him still in his room where he stayed--all alone. I felt so bad but at the same time, I didn't know what I could do to make it better. And that hurt. I didn't like to see suffering. I was too empathetic.

But I tried my best to put it out of my mind--though that gunshot still rang in my ears--and went in search of Draco. I hadn't seen him since we got here and I wanted to see how he was adjusting. I owed him that.

I went up the stairs after I searched the rooms on the third floor. I had no idea how many floors there were but I hoped there weren't many more. Luckily, there were only four. The fourth floor held only two doors. One with a note on the door that read: Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black. I took my chances and turned the knob.

Inside was dark--so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. Assuming it was empty, I started to back out. "Layla?" I heard from the darkness.

I squinted. "Draco?"

With no warning, the lanterns in the room lit up and the pitch black room became dimly lit, casting a warm glow throughout. I blinked a few times, taken aback yet again by the magic world. "Do you normally sit in dark rooms all alone?" I asked.

The room was bathed in emerald and silver. Snakes and some sort of crest adorned the walls, along with dozens of yellow newspaper clippings. "I'm just tired. I've been on the run for almost six months. Get's a little taxing..."

I moved closer to the bed he was laying on just as he sat up. "Didn't you hear all the commotion going on downstairs?"

"I may have heard something... What happened?"

I sat down on the edge of the bed. "George fired my gun. I only let him see it for a second but... I'm not really sure what happened. There are all of these packages lying on the floor in his room and when I asked him about them, he acted stand-off-ish, and then he shot at them..."

"Fred and George ran a joke shop before everything got bad. Those were probably left over products or something..."

My heart sank. "Wow..." I didn't know what else to say. I couldn't imagine what he was going through, locking himself up in the room he shared with his brother, leaving all of their products laying around to remind him of what he lost.

"So," I began, changing the subject, "one of the girls told me that... Well, they told me that you used to be a Death Eater..." Despite the uncomfortable subject, I kept my eyes on Draco. I wanted to see his reaction.

He broke our eye contact and looked down at his hands, blush creeping across his pallid cheeks. "Well, yes. I used to be one." He lifted up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a very ominous but fading mark. It was a skull with a snake coming out of it's mouth and tangling around it. "This is what he brands his followers with. It's been fading ever since the Battle but it still hasn't gone away completely. I used to think about cutting it out of my skin when I was on the run...but then, what would I have to remind me what I'm running from?"

"Or what you're fighting for," I said.

He smiled briefly. "Or that. Though it doesn't look like anyone is coming up with a plan..."

"Well, what do you think we should do? You're kind of like, the insider, I suppose. I mean, you know more about the Death Eaters than anyone else..."

He was quiet for a few moments. "I think that first, it's important to know what he's capable of," he shifted on the bed and pointed to the collection of news articles. I squinted to read the headlines.

'You-Know-Who Kills Muggle Family, You-Know-Who Nearly Obliterates Bones Family, You-Know-Who Suspected To Be Behind Invasion of Britain, Dorcas Meadowes Murderered By You-Know-Who, Death Eaters Kill Prewett Family'. It went on and on. 

"Why are these in here?" I whispered, my heart in my throat. It was hard to understand the extent of Voldemort's power before, but now I was staring it in the face. And I was scared.

"Regulus Black was a Death Eater. This is his room..."

"How did you know that? Does everyone know?"

"Well," he began, flitting his grey eyes back to mine. "The entire Black family supported You-Know-Who. Except Sirius. Everyone knew that. And technically Regulus was my cousin..."

"Oh."

"In fact, I don't think there has ever been a member of my family who didn't support You-Know-Who. I mean, that haven't been disowned already." He looked down again. "But they're all gone now."

Without thinking, my hand rested on his. "I'm really sorry, Draco," I said.

His gaze slowly lifted until it was on mine once more. "Why are you sorry? You're not the one who killed them."

I didn't know what to say, but I held his eyes. I searched for the right words--something that would make him hurt less, something that would take his pain away but nothing came. The only thought my mind could absorb was the electricity coursing through my veins, coming straight from the hand that held his.

The door opened abruptly and Draco and I jumped, our hands flying in the opposite directions. George was standing in the door way, his eyes where our hands used to be. He narrowed them then, but still said, "Meeting downstairs. Sounds like they've come up with something." And then he turned on his heels and left without a second glance.

For some reason--one that I couldn't possibly fathom--I felt guilty. "Right. Guess we should probably go downstairs," Draco said, getting up abruptly and walking out without looking back at me. 

I sat on the bed for a few moments, completely and utterly confused by my own thoughts and feelings. But then I remembered what George said: Sounds like they've come up with something. And that was enough to get me off of my position on the bed and moving. I couldn't be distracted with other people's problems right now. I had to get my parents back and that was, and would always be, the most important thing.