Green

Decisions, Decisions

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She gazed at the vial.

Its contents were swirling like a trapped wind, innocently desperate to unleash its force on the intended object. The green light emitted from the container causing an odd reflection to dance on the wooden table where it rested. The room was only semi-lit by candlelight. How fortunate, she thought, that tonight she would not be disturbed.

She moved her fingers lightly across the desk surface, feeling the grooves and slight crevasses in the dark wood. She had been here many times, but the memories of such a place did not cause happiness, only a strange longing for a simpler time.

She lowered her eyes to observe the meaningless graffiti carved in front of her. Here was the place where she had first learned of the many properties of substances, about the elements of nature that when properly combined could unleash a power, or a mess. Sometimes both, she suddenly realised.

Lily rose from her seat to observe the familiar room. The walls still smelt of those fumes, and they were damp with the moisture on the air. Different fungi grew in light clumps towards the ceiling. The weak light of the candle cast long shadows on the floor. She could see the different types of cauldrons, jars and chairs silhouetted in the dark corners.

She swung round. She had felt it on her back, the vial on the desk. She noticed for the first time that a condensation had formed on the glass.

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He was hidden, safe behind his mask. The Dark Lord paced up and down, and on hearing his words Severus relaxed slightly. Tonight it seemed, was not to be a night of pointless destruction.

The chilling voice echoed around the cavern, and the torch flames flickered with fright. On apparating, Severus had counted the number of masked followers - Death Eaters, as they were called. Today there were five less than the usual number, though the exact number of Death Eaters was unknown to anyone but the Dark Lord himself. Severus had tried to observe habits and mannerisms associated with each, but the heavy black cloaks disguised any movement particular to one person and the thick masks muffled any distinction of voice.

The green torches lit the masks, and they glowed white. The darkness below presented the idea that these beings in fact had no lower body. This was an illusion, and anyone who had suffered at their hands could vouch for that.

"If any of you," the Dark Lord screeched, "are under the assumption that tonight's mission shall prove fruitless, then I suggest a personal appointment with me, and I will give you some advice that may, shall we say, stir you?"

There was once more a collective shudder within the group, as anyone who openly opposed the Dark Lord's plans would surely be tortured into madness, as was common practice, or receive a far worse seal of fate than could possibly be imagined. He had many weapons, each more terrible than the last.

One by one, each chosen Death Eater disapparated to arrive at their destination, and they knew that this mission would succeed - at any cost.

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Lily was seated again. Her elbows were on the desk, her chin placed in her hands. The sealed vial still stared back at her.

She looked around the classroom again. Did she ever imagine, three years ago, even, that the situation with Voldemort could get even worse? She had sat here then, in this very seat. She remembered the chatter, the laughter sometimes, and the mixed feeling she had had about several of her classmates. It was a school still, the students in their dormitories asleep, she presumed. This castle was the safest place in the world.

She remembered the handsome boy who sat next to her, how he smiled at her, how he made her laugh. How his attentions towards her had made the other girls jealous, and the notes she sometimes received, on scraps of parchment, written in his scrawl.

James still made her smile - she was smiling now, just thinking about him.

She wondered how he would feel if he knew she was doing this. It was for the best, she kept telling herself. She looked down at her midriff. She had suspected it for some time, but only recently had gained confirmation with a spell.

Suddenly, her head was filled with sounds and images that tore at her heart. She knew all about the faith of those behind him, the terror of those before him, and the dense bravery of those against him. The radio told the world daily of his plans, his ideas, and the mass following he had gained worldwide in the past nine years. She remembered when he gained power, in her first year, and how his ideas made no sense to her.

Voldemort's theory, and her insides churned with terror and fear as she thought of it, was that the Wizarding World's woes lay solely with the "impure" people, those who had the cheek to call themselves wizards and witches. Those with veins that flowed with dirt rather than blood, these were to be eradicated. These were weak links, he had said. If their world was to prosper, these blemishes must be dealt with, so as to erase any suggestion of failure.

So her woes, according to the masses, lay in her veins and not in her magical ability. The sheer injustices brought on by these words infuriated her. Not surprising was the important support Voldemort had gained. These attitudes had always been flowing in undercurrents in society. She knew of some families who married their own cousins so as not to "infect" their bloodline.

She felt immediately nauseous and knew that this time, it had nothing to do with pregnancy.

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The flock of black robes arrived silently outside the house. There was no flapping of cloaks in the still night air, and the group made its way swiftly across the wet grass. Ivy covered the stone walls of the house, and Severus glanced at his colleagues. Together they made five.

The house seemed to stiffen as they approached. Any security spell had been broken. They knew this was certain, for the Dark Lord had seen to it. An inside job, apparently. The tallest Death Eater slammed violently on the door with his fist. He shouted words of sarcastic warning to the inhabitants. The door shook, but the house remained still. For one second, Severus was sure he had glimpsed several strands of silvery blond hair on this man's head, but he was distracted. The door had flown open, only to display a pitch dark hallway.

The group before him plunged into the interior, emitting terrible war cries as they did so. Their cries reached a pitch, and Severus ran after, his wand raised high above his head, hoping that he had left any hindering human feeling outside in the grass.

He ran down the hallway, following the fast flowing cloaks of the others. They turned into a second darkened room, a kitchen it seemed. This too appeared empty.

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Dumbledore had protected her for seven years from the harsh realities of purism. But the time came when he could protect her no more, when the brutality and muggle-hating brought about such sorrow in her own life.

Life.

She turned her attention once more to the vial. It glowed again, tempting her to open it and pour its contents down her throat. The cork stopper had swollen in the liquid. Lily squirmed slightly. It would only work if she took it now; another day and it would prove ineffective. She shuddered at the thought of going back to that shop. She wondered what he had thought, when he saw what she was buying.

She had to do it now.

She took the vial in her left hand, and placed her right on the cork to unscrew it.

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Severus paused. He had heard a scream. A victorious cry came from the adjoining room.

He heard a lot of violent movement, and ran to the source of the commotion.

He arrived in the kitchen, to discover a bitter battle - the Prewett brothers were not going to go without a fight. Light flashed over his head, and feeling secure in his mask and cloak, he joined in.

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She looked down at the vial in her hands. It was close to her chin now. She could see the vapours rising from the potion surface.

She hadn't expected this to happen to her for a long time. Silly thought really, but somehow introducing new life to such a world seemed so inappropriate that the thought that it should happen simply never crossed her mind. She had thought so much of death and so little of birth.

She was not drinking the liquid for her own sake. The idea of forcing a new person into a world of terror and injustice did not seem right. This ... child, the child of a pureblood and a muggle-born would not be tolerated by Voldemort's regime. The thought of losing someone dear to her again haunted her. Her own mother and father only stared back at her through memories - and Petunia would have nothing to do with her. James was the only family she had. But then this happened...

She had never believed that she would be one to do this.

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Gideon and Fabian were excellent fighters - Severus had to admit - but far too noble. They never would strike a turned back, and they were both dead within an hour of the Death Eaters' arrival. The bodies were strewn across the kitchen floor, side by side. Severus could feel their deaths seeping into the foundations of the house. Only the cackles of his comrades could be heard. He followed their loud mirth. He wondered what could possibly be funny at this time.

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Voldemort would have her killed. She knew that. She had escaped his clutches too many times to remain insignificant to him. She was scum to this world.

Lily hated it. She hated the pointless, terrible murders, the statistics that seemed to pile up every morning. She hated the blood, the threats, and the limits provided by her parentage. She hated the way some wizards looked at her, as though they could control her by a flick of their wands.

She loved James. She loved those moments spent with him where nothing would go wrong. She loved the people who had been taken from her.

Anger flared in her chest. Voldemort wanted this. To eradicate her non-pure race forever. The vial fell back onto the desk, lying sideways, rolling slightly, the liquid still bubbling. She was his enemy - and so was this child.

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Severus moved silently across the hall. The laughter was coming from the room straight ahead. The door was ajar, and as he approached the Death Eaters' laughter grew louder. He pushed the door and stepped inside.

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She put her hands to her stomach. Nothing seemed to be happening there. Her hands were trembling slightly. She wondered how much time had passed. At first the solution seemed so logical, so right. There were many ways to be right.

What about all those people he had killed? All those innocent victims, all those children...

Would she be like such a villain?

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He saw the other Death Eaters, huddled together. Snape was beside them in seconds. He followed their jeers to the victim before them.

He may have been five years old. Moonlight poured in through the window causing the blood in his hair to glisten. He was crouched against the bedroom wall, his hands blocking his ears, his face screwed up and tears wetting his cheeks. Under the guffaws of the Death Eaters, Severus could hear the child crying quietly. The child's legs were shaking, one foot bent at an odd angle.

The tallest Death Eater spoke.

"Well. Shall we roast you then?"

"Yes, what way would you like to end?" another comrade quipped.

"How about green light, just like your daddy, hmm?"

The Death Eaters moved closer, each with their wand held above the young boy, each ready to fling pain on him for their own enjoyment. Severus couldn't breathe.

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Lily felt that the vial had wronged her. It was not the perfect solution she had imagined it to be. She glared at it like a petulant child who had not gotten her way.

She must be brave.

She could not do this. It would be blatant acceptance of his regime.

Her thoughts sped unwillingly to the things she had seen - smashed skulls, dislocated limbs, grotesque transfigurations, invisible methods of torture, those empty, controlled eyes, willing to die for something they didn't even know. Entire families were evaporated.

Her head was in her hands.

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His ears burned with the aching screams. The Dark Lord would know, and he would be pleased. His bitterness towards himself and others peaked. His terror at the unspeakable things being done to this boy was enough to make him kill himself for his lack of prevention. It seemed to go on for years.

"Go on then, it's your turn."

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How could she do this? The question tore at her mind. The reasons resurfaced, but they were weak. She was not.

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He couldn't. He turned and fled to the hall.

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She was not weak. She could do this. She would. She grabbed the vial in her hand, the cool moisture soaking her palm.

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He retched. He retched and retched. The dizziness was overpowering. His eyes could only be drawn towards the growing puddle on the carpet, soaking his hands in yellow chunks, turning into a green mess when there was nothing left in him to rid himself of.

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She raised the vial. She flung it against the wall.

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He let his head fall into it. The warmth surrounded his head, taking the dizziness to new levels.

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The vial shattered. Shards of glass flew to the ground.

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The stench. That stench would remind him forever of this night. The chunks in his hair, how heavy his head felt...

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It streamed down the wall. The innocent looking mixture formed a puddle on the floor.

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He felt footsteps beside him. The vomit was all over the inside of his mask. It was wet against his cheek. His eyes were watering.

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It had happened so slowly. It seemed as though she could have reached out to catch it. The little broken pieces of glass were soaked through.

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He was being helped up. He barely had time to register that it was the tallest Death Eater when he was hit, suddenly, across the face. He was in the carpet mess again.

"You're a new one. You still know what awaits you for disobeying orders. We'll make sure that next time, you get the first turn."

Severus felt the speaker's feet move past his head. Seconds later, he felt his other colleagues sweep past him, and he knew that he had been made an example of.

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Lily felt slightly faint. There was no going back. The thought terrified her, but she felt a sudden rush of adrenaline at what she had just done, and a vague excitement at what lay ahead of her. She cleaned up the mess in an instant and, wiping a single tear from her cheek, opened the door and left the potions classroom.

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Severus could taste the shame in his mouth. He reached inside his mask to wipe it, but his efforts were in vain. In another few minutes he realised that the house would not be left alone. He rose from his death-like position and disapparated.