Name: majestic_ginny/Nadia
House: Hufflepuff
Title: Amendment
Ratings/Warnings: 1st-2nd year, none
Word Count: 565 on MS Word
Link to Post Containing Poem (include the title if it's a prophecy): Hesitate, by Carole/Equinox Chick
A/N: I realize I've never mentioned it in the drabble, but it's Draco and Astoria.

“Go to Hogsmeade with me.”

You stand in front of me, a lazy smirk playing on your lips, a confident look in your eyes. You’re question sounds more like an order to me. I’m not surprised; you’ve always got what you wanted, when you wanted.

My brows furrow. I’ve heard many rumours about you – some say you’ve joined them. I can see where they get that from; there’s that strange gleam in your eyes that frightens me. There’s darkness behind your cold, grey eyes, a darkness that you aren’t aware of yet. You don’t know what you’re in for, what this darkness would do to you. You’re still too young, brainwashed by a vision that leads to nothing but downfall. I know what it would do to you in the end, what he would make you do. I know. I’ve lost my father to him, after all.

Your smirk gradually fades and a tiny frown appears on your face. You notice my hesitation and take a step forwards, your eyes boring into mine.

“I’m going with someone else,” I lie. “I’m sorry.”

Without a backwards glance, I walk away.

Next year, you change. You turn pale and sickly, and your eyes bear a haunted look that tells me of the millions of deaths you die every day. I see the ghost of the scream on your face - a silent scream you let out as you fight the inner demons inside you. I see the hollow look on your face as you see your perfect world crumbling down around you. I can see it killing you, and it nearly breaks my heart to see in this way.

They say he’s living at your house. I can see that you’ve witnessed many things, things that are enough to make your skin crawl, things that make you want to take back everything wrong that you’ve done.

I can see the regret in your frightened eyes.

You look at me. I know you’re terrified. I want to tell you that it’ll all be okay, that it’ll be over soon.

But I can’t. You’re still one of them.

I tear my eyes away from you and run away.

Two years later, I see you again. Once more, you change. I see a bitter past following you around as you strive to make amends, to make a difference for the bereaved, for those who lost everything. You help others regain what they have lost for your previous actions. You seek to obliterate your past, to liberate yourself from what you once were. Yet that mark remains, for though the wounds heal, the scars remain, forever serving a reminder of your tortured past.

No matter what you do, you can’t get rid of that mark on your forearm.

And yet you try so hard to prove that you’re not one of them.

This time when you catch my eye, I smile. You deserve a chance to live a better life, to forget your past and start anew. You’ve suffered more than you ever should have. You walk over to me, an apple in hand, and I notice a change in your posture – slow and confident, but not as arrogant as before.

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

This time it’s a question. This time, you prove yourself.

This time, I don’t hesitate.

Smiling, I nod my head.