Multi fandom imagines

Harry - Harry Potter

A/n: Trigger warning: depression, negative self image

Voldemort. He who shall not be named. There were so many people who were afraid of him, and I, to be totally honest, was one of them. This wasn't because he had hurt someone I care about, but it was because I was forced into working for him. Most of his followers, the death eaters, had been forced into getting dark marks. My parents, had convinced Voldemort, that I wasn't worthy, and he listened. To be honest, I felt like this was just their way of trying to protect me from the pain that it causes.

I was in my sixth year at Hogwarts. Only sixteen years old, and I had already seen such darkness, so many horrible things. One of the worst parts about all of it though, was that I had to lie to my friends, and to my, I don't know what to call him. My crush, I guess. I guess a crush, is the best way to describe Harry. Probably. The fact that I had to lie to him, and Ron, and Hermione, and Fred, and George, and Luna, and, well, all my friends, it sucked.

The fact that I was a Slytherin, already made them have some doubt in me, and the fact that I was hiding something, especially something this big, if they found out, I had no idea how they would react. Actually, I kind of did. I had a feeling that they would probably end up hating me. I mean, I already hate myself, so maybe that wouldn't be that big of a deal.

At this point in time, I was hiding away in the library, as far back as I possibly could. I had been avoiding pretty much everyone. All my friends, as well as Harry. I had been avoiding them for over a week at this point. I was sure that they were probably worried, but, then again, why the hell would they worry about someone like me? After all, I wasn't really worth the stress at all.

I had my face buried in a book, specifically a book about potions. Yes, how very steryotypical Slyhterin. I heard foot steps behind me. I closed the book then jumped up from my seat.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Harry said.

I sighed. "It's fine, Harry. I've just been on edge lately. I have some stuff going on in my life, and it's rather difficult for me to deal with." I said.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it would be a lot easier to handle if you weren't trying to deal with it alone." Harry said.

"It isn't that easy. I wish that I could tell you, and Ron, and everyone what has been going on with me, but if I did, you guys would hate me. You'd never trust me again." I said.

"That sort of makes it hard to trust you anyway." Harry said.

I sighed, and combed my hands through my hair. I sat back down in the chair I was sitting in. "Alright. Great. Bloody fucking fantastic." I said sarcastically.

"Why can't you just tell me what's going on?" Harry asked.

"I'm," I said. I paused, seriously debating whether or not I should actually tell him I was a death eater. If he knew, it could ruin any potential of a realationship that I may or may not actually have with him. If I told him the truth, it could mean that I lose him forever, and I didn't want that. So at this point, I was at an impass. Not tell him, and he doesn't trust me. Tell him, he doesn't trust me, I may lose him forever.

"You're what?" Harry asked.

"Don't hate me. I didn't choose this. I had no choice." I said.

"Y/n, what are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Harry, I'm a death eater." I said. As I said those words, and heart them come out of my mouth, my heart sank in my chest. My stomach felt terrible.

"You work for Voldemort? You betrayed us. How could you? We trusted you." Harry said.

I got up. "I didn't have a choice. I still don't have a choice Harry. You don't understand." I said. Without another word, I walked to the door then left the library.

Two hours later

I was sitting outside on the steps. I had been sitting there for the past couple of hours. Several students had come by and questioned it. They asked what was wrong, but I didn't tell them. I saw Ron and Hermione pass by, but they looked at me with anger and disappointment on their faces, so I figured that Harry had probably told them the truth about me being a death eater.

It wasn't like I had chosen to be what I am. I had no choice in the matter. If it were up to me, I wouldn't be this. I never would have chosen this. I hate myself because of this. I don't want this.

"I hate what I've become. I hate myself. I don't want this. I don't want it. I don't want this. I hate this. I feel trapped and alone. I hate it. I wish there was a way out. I don't know what to do. There is no escape. There is no hope. It hurts, and there isn't a single thing I can do to stop any of this. Maybe I deserve it. I don't deserve to be happy anyways. It's probably best that they don't trust me." I thought.

I turned my head to the side, and noticed that Neville was sitting there next to me. I had no idea how long he had been sitting there.

"How long have you been sitting there?" I asked.

"About fifteen minutes." Neville said.

"Have you talked to Harry?" I asked.

"Yeah. About an hour ago." Neville said.

"Did he tell you about what I told him?" I asked.

"Yeah, he did." Neville said.

"Then, why are you near me? Don't you hate me? Don't you wanna turn, and run the other way? Abandon me like everyone else in the entire fucking world? Not like I have any bloody choice in the matter anyways." I said.