Low Man Is Due

19/08/08 - Hello my dears! Another update, my I do spoil you! Please read and review.



Chapter eight: Just when all seems fine

And I\'m pain free

You jab another pin

Jab another pin in me



You love me?! So it was love that tortured me? Love that let me feel I was completely alone? Love that let Malfoy abuse me for five hours?



I look at his writing. When did I become so pathetic that those few words make me think of him?



That was all he wrote to me, but me, being me, wrote a ridiculous amount back. I had so much to explain, maybe now I finally could.



Dearest Harry,



I wish I had just told you the truth in that dungeon. Told you that I was on your side, but I couldn’t. But here is the truth, all of it.



You know I have been Dumbledore’s spy for many years now. He has always insisted that nothing was more important than knowing how the Dark Lord thinks if we are to defeat him.



When I heard of the plan to kidnap you and break you, I told him at once and asked him – begged him rather – to allow me to protect you, to betray my position as spy and whisk you away as quickly as possible. I know this sounds like I’m trying to shift the blame away from me, but I am telling you the full truth. And I know it has been a long time coming.



He said that you would survive what might be done.



I don’t think that fool has any idea of the cruelty of Death Eaters.



When he said that, after I had laughed in his face, I asked him if I could tell you I was on your side should I not be able to protect you.



Again, the answer was no. I wonder now how much he already knew of my feelings. I called it an ‘obsession’ in court, and so it was, to a certain extent, an obsession he fuelled by ordering me to ensure that during your nightly wanderings you came to no harm. Hours and hours I watched you, until I knew every move you made, that flick as the invisibility cloak came off; the way it ruffled your hair; how you leaned forward as you tip-toed. Merlin! So many things, and Dumbledore fed my need!



So, when you were captured and given over to my care, I felt sure I could find some way to tell you I was on your side. But you were so hurt already, and I didn’t want to add to the pressure you were under. I have to walk such a fine line. I can play two, three, a dozen roles. But you? Had I told you – either through action or words or Legilimency – I could not be sure that you would not give me away, and the old fool was adamant that my role as spy was still needed.



More though, had I told you, and the Dark Lord invaded your mind, we would both have been tortured. Tortured and killed. If it had been myself alone I would not have cared. What did I have to look forward to? More years caught between two masters? But you? Dumbledore (and I) would not risk you.



I’m sure, if you asked him now, he would say he made a mistake by making me keep silent. Or, perhaps not: after all, many of the Dark Lord’s followers are in Azkaban, and he is on the run, trying to find somewhere safe. Perhaps Dumbledore feels that the end justifies the means. Sadly, he didn’t consider how the ‘means’ would feel about it!



You, dear Harry, during those five hours in Malfoy’s grip. I still shudder to think of it. I was free for some of that time and could return to my room. I could have called for the Order. And yet, I didn’t.

But why? I had so many stupid justifications at the time: it would give me more to report back to Dumbledore with (observing the Dark Lord); Malfoy wouldn’t really hurt you, as he knew you were mine; I would have another opportunity to be with you, and somehow I would make this one good.



Do they sound like good reasons to you? They don’t to me. What was wrong with me that I was swayed by such nonsense? I want to believe that somehow Dumbledore doctored something I drank, or cast a spell. But maybe I am hopeful, foolishly so. Maybe I am discovering another side to myself, a weak side, one that would be swayed by such arrant nonsense.



And so, I let Malfoy do those things to you. Me. I am the one responsible. I could have stopped it, and I didn’t. You could have survived my attentions, but not Malfoy’s. He takes cruelty to new levels. Something which I know Mr Weasley discovered, having been ‘given’ to the fucking blond.



I do not know how much Weasley has told you, but my care of you was truly gentle in comparison. Indeed, I should have been harder on you. I was worried that you would perceive my feelings when we were alone together, as I was much too kind to you. Had the Dark Lord been observing (as he could have done) I am doubtful that I would still be alive.



And you certainly would not be.



When you got back from Malfoy I cared for you. I could touch you with kindness and have no one comment on it – I was merely ensuring my slave did not suffer and could function properly. And it was then that I realised that no matter what Dumbledore wanted, I had to get you out of there. I wanted another time with you, but did not take it. You would not have survived.



As it was you nearly didn’t.



That time you were in a coma. It felt like forever. You were gone from my world and I was the one responsible. I had tried to explain and look at what had happened.



And now I am explaining again! I hope this letter doesn’t take you away.



Control is such a difficult thing. I always thought I was in control, but what took place in that dungeon was beyond my control, and I was not even in control of myself! And you, you found a way to be in control too. I’m glad you did. And I hope you get your life back.



Looking back, I can’t believe the things I did! I have been a master of control for years, and you you were the one to break it. How did such a thing happen? How have I allowed myself to become such a pathetic figure? But can I truly blame you? Was it not my own unsuspected weakness that made me like this? Was it not Dumbledore ensuring I fed my obsession that has left me like this?



I hate what I am now, a lonely man trying to justify the past. Well, no more! This is my last letter to you. I will not justify my wrong-doings. I will not allow my obsession to control me.