My Soul

Twice in my life I have known a pain too great to endure alone. The first was the death of my mother, killed by a trigger-happy idiot. The second was the death of my soul. They took away the only thing that was good in my life. They ripped one half of my being away. They destroyed the only people I ever loved and still they were surprised by my hatred.

I have been responsible for many deaths in my time. I have killed Muggles and Mudbloods. I have murdered those weak enough to support them. I have tried to rid my world of the vermin who have filled it for too long. Those I have killed deserved to die. I believe this with everything I have. I have staked my life on it and would again. My only mistake was in the saviour I chose.

She never spoke against me. The only time she ever broke from my wishes was to warn that worthless French witch. I always knew though that she doubted Him. I always knew that if it were her choice she would have broken from our Lord. She knew him to be unstable, as we all did. She didn't want to trust our future to him, and she was right. I never listened to her voice until it was too late. How ironic, she died because she listened to herself and I live because I finally did the same.

When they captured her, I wanted to rush in and free her. He said this was not "appropriate," that I was getting too "personal." The man who had risked our cause on many occasions because of his grudge against a schoolboy said I was getting too "personal"! Perhaps my judgement was affected; Father always taught me that emotions only harmed us, but it wasn't just me who wanted to rescue her. Pansy was a valuable asset to us. She was talented at charms and curses, she was loyal to the very core of her being, and she believed. Even Vince tried to suggest we should have got her back. His refusal to acknowledge her worth showed me she was right. Lord Voldemort could never save us. He was a waste of time and space.

I'm rotting in this cell now purely because they don't understand. Poor little Gryffindors, everything is black and white to them. No grey patches. No good in some ways and bad in others. No possibility that their views of right and wrong may not be the ones that everyone holds.

I killed the wizarding world's most evil enemy. I destroyed the greatest threat faced by wizards and witches since Grindelwald. I should be a hero, feted in every village, town and city in the known world.

I killed the wizarding world's most brilliant saviour. I destroyed the greatest hope of wizards and witches everywhere since Dumbledore. I should be dead, my soul sucked out by Dementors.

On the night of her death I sat alone in my room. I wanted to scream, to rant and rave. I wanted to cry, sob, weep, and wail. I had no tears for her, just as I had no tears for my mother. My world has no space for love, no space for affection, no space for emotion. Pansy was my conscience, my soul, my heart, my better half. She was the me I should have been. From the moment of our betrothal, we were somehow joined. From the night she held me and wept my tears for me, we were one.

No one holds me now. I have no one who understands this. Vince and Greg are dear friends but they never understood. Blaise is as intelligent as Pansy ever was but lacks any sense of friendship or warmth. I am alone, truly alone.

I dreamt of a world in which I could be free with her. In which our children could live in peace without threats from ignorant Muggles. We would have had all we needed. He destroyed the only chance we had. Our cause became a madman's cause. They saw Him and thought we were all like that. They knew nothing of the weakening of wizarding blood. The loss of values, of magical ability, of an identity. I only realised it when all hope was gone. I only realised it when there was no point left to my campaign. When I didn't care. Without her, what did it matter about the world? I only kept going for the sake of her memory.

I killed them both. Of course I did, what else could I have done? Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter, joined in death they looked like brothers. They both fought for a binary world. They were like the two sides of a coin. It was our last option. Without them, maybe we could create a world with shades of grey. A real world.

I'll be given over to the Dementors eventually. They'll never understand my actions whilst they live in their monochrome worlds. Day by day, they convince themselves that I'm "evil", that my actions in saving them from Him don't make me "good". I'll join her eventually. Maybe where she is there is a world with more than two sides.

The Mudblood and the Weasel visited yesterday. They stared through the bars and begged me to explain myself. They implored me to give them some sort of a sign. They don't care anymore if I prove myself good or evil, as long as I am only one. The guards beg me too, so do the Aurors, the politicians, the newspapermen.

"Give us a sign, any sign."

"Say something, anything!"

I have nothing for them. I will not ease their consciences. I will not end their torment. I have my own struggle and they will have to come to their own decisions. While I lie here, I wait. I wait for a tear, one single tear for the one who was my life.