Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round Two

Team: Montrose Magpies

Position: Chaser 3

Lyric Prompt: "Drink the poison lightly

'Cause there are deeper and darker things than you

I know, 'cause I've been there too."

- I'm Not the One, 3oh!3

Other Prompts: Less than perfect, who we were, "Fear is only a verb if you let it be." - I Do, Andrea Gibson

Words: 1,477

The walls, they are cemeteries, scrapyards of memories. In the past times they spoke to me of late night rendezvous, stolen kisses and friendly laughter, all which they had seen in their days as part of this castle, this school. Now they whisper, they cry with the pain and fear and suffering that echoes past them.

A scream punctures the heavy silence, the source a nearby classroom, and I slip into the shadows, moving further away from the noise of agony, a young child's hurt. I should be in there. It is my class, if that foul mockery of education can even be called a lesson.

I ghost down deserted staircases, through a school that has lost its spirit. Oppressed, downtrodden, crushed. Those who choose to fight are quickly taken care of. It is easier to simply do as they wish. Far in the back of my mind, a voice whispers 'if you ever have to choose between what is right and what is easy, remember . . .' but I push the memory away before it can finish. I am not brave. I don't have the courage to do what is right. I'm no Gryffindor.

And I am glad. Under our new regime, Gryffindor suffers the most.

I am not dark, but neither am I light. My family has always been neutral. Once, I thought that meant I was safe. I was wrong. So wrong.

The grey area is just as dangerous. I am still a target. The scars are invisible, but they are there. Lord Voldemort's followers like pain. The other Slytherins like pain too, because it is not directed towards them. They are safe, protected by the wordless vows of allegiance inherited from their parents.

I exit the castle into the wan afternoon light, the autumn breeze bending grass blades like Voldemort felling enemies with green light. That could be me one day, I think, and shiver.

It would be so much easier . . . .

I walk aimlessly, needing to get as far away from the tainted castle as I can. Once pristine, its walls now drip with poison.

No matter how far I walk, I can never get away from myself. What I have done.

I find myself in front of the Forbidden Forest, and in a fit of recklessness, mindlessness, I plunge among the trees.

Fuck werewolves, I think savagely. I no longer care what happens to me. Ripped to pieces, a jet of green, a sword to the heart, what does it matter? We always die in the end either way. There is no difference, no distinction. No one wants to die, but then again, we don't always get what we want, now do we?

I am lost in my tumultuous contemplations. I am tired of trying to be right. It is hard, and my bones are breaking under the strain. Soon, I will fall to their will, and I no longer know if that is such a terrible thing.

"Zabini?" My thoughts are sliced to shreds by a voice. A familiar voice. A surprised voice. A cold, lifeless voice.

I turn from the Slytherin Ice Prince, not wanting to see him.

"I'm talking to you Zabini!" He darts in front of me, blocking my path. Yet despite his words, there is no anger, no aggression. I look at him reluctantly.

Once ivory, his skin is greying, unhealthy. Usually immaculate platinum hair mussed. Dark shadows slumber beneath his eyes.

Grey eyes. Tired eyes. Jaded, haunted, terrified eyes.

Oh, how the perfect Malfoy heir has fallen.

It suddenly strikes me that this is the first time Malfoy and I have had close contact since the previous year's train ride. Despite living in a dorm together, I have not bothered to notice this boy. He had chosen a side, their side, and I had not.

"What are you doing out here?" He asks, dragging a barely passable sneer onto his face. Trying to mask the weariness his eyes betray.

I open my mouth to respond sarcastically, cuttingly, the kind of sharp remark Blaise Zabini is known for, but instead I find myself saying "Is it easier now?"

His features are painted with confusion. "Excuse me?" He blurts out.

"Now you have joined a side? With the dark lord who will surely win this war? Does it make it all go away, the fear and confusion and pain? Do you stop hurting? Will these shadows, these doubts which plague me, will they go away? Tell me, is it freedom?"

I do not know what I am saying, why I am saying this, to Draco Malfoy of all people, but now I have started I cannot stop. It is like I am stuck in the middle of a spiral of insanity, forever spinning around and around, and I can't find the way out and I will drown in this madness.

But here is this light, this boy who might pull me out.

Or he might just push me beneath the waves.

I lurch forward, grabbing his shirt in desperation, and as he stumbles back I see my crazed indigo eyes reflected in his.

But I am too far gone to care. I have to know. "If I join him, your lord, will I be free?" My voice is a shout; I am screaming it to him. I have to know. I have to be free.

He wrenches himself from my grasp, backing away hurriedly. "No, no, no, no, no," he is whispering. Over and over, like it will protect him from this madness that is myself.

"No!" His cry rips the air and he looks startled at his voice. ". . . . . If you join Him . . . You will never be free again."

It is then I realize he is answering my question.

"Don't join. Never. It's a poison that will eat away at you if you surrender and let it past your lips." He looks around in terror, as if he expects someone to be watching. There is something almost pathetic about the action. He turns back to me, eyes wide and possessed by fear. "I had no choice, if I didn't join he said he would hurt them, my family, and I thought it would be safer, better, to just agree and obey. But it isn't, it isn't, you say yes and he marks you and now I've signed my life away in his service. I know what you are feeling, but don't! Please, I beg of you!" His voice is low and feverish. He is desperation personified, face flushed with madness and hair awry.

I look at my hands. They are filthy, stained with innocents. "But. . ." My voice breaks. "I hurt people. I tortured people. First years! I used the cruciatus curse on first years when even Neville Longbottom refused. How can I claim to belong to any kind of justice when I stood back and did as they told me?" My eyes burn and my chest is tight and I don't want to cry, but I can't help it and the tears come anyway. I am wracked with sobs, helpless and small. "I am just like them."

"But you aren't that person! You are not lost. There are worse things waiting out there, and He is one of them!" His voice is rising in pitch. "Remember who you were, Zabini. Who we were. As first years, even younger, as children. This is not you; this is what they have made you. And if you join them, you just as bad as they are. As bad as I am.

"You aren't the only one who has tortured, hurt, maimed the innocent. I have killed."

The wave crashes on the shore, the tide is receding, and I fall to my knees, sink to the ground.

"I can't let another person make the same mistakes I have."

Then Malfoy blinks and seems to return to reality. The reality in which he is always in control, cruel, flawless, and my enemy, the reality in which I am quiet, calm, introverted, and his enemy.

He seems shocked at how much he has said and quickly turns, striding away through the trees.

I know that neither of us will ever speak of this exchange to any other being. We will never reveal the other's moment of weakness, these brief minutes in which we revealed ourselves as human.

I pick myself up slowly, composing myself, cleaning my face of tears. When I look up, Draco Malfoy appears to be gone.

But then, just for a second, his voice carries back on the breeze. "Remember, Blaise, fear is only a verb if you let it be."

And I know, I am no Gryffindor, but I am not afraid anymore. I know what I must do. I know who I must be.

This went in a bit of a different direction to what I originally intended, but it's better this way I think.

This story was to be written using a short lyric as inspiration without putting it in directly, so that's why the lyric prompt is not quoted in the story. Also, I wrote this before I actually listened to the song, so this in no way resembles the entire song; it's just what I thought of after first reading the prompt (Blaise and Draco popped into my head straight away, for some reason). But the song is pretty good, actually :D Sorry if you expected some kind of romance, I have nothing against slash, it just didn't work in this story.

Review if you enjoyed it; I'd love to hear your opinion!