It may only be the beginning of our story, but already things are not as we
know them, so here our chronicler must explain what has, thus far, been
altered.
Harry James Potter, sixteen years old, repressed anger from his previous year (gained by his upbringing and sexual frustration) has fizzled out into sheer depression. The boy who lived has since been drowning himself in the beds of all the girls of Hogwarts who will have him, and has become skilled in the arts of bedroom pleasure. His friends, Hermione and Ron have been carefully sidestepping each other's beds in embarrassment, and have been attempting to pull aforementioned boy who wishes he hadn't lived, from this slump.
Ginny Weasley has taken advantage of her brother's distraction to have slid amongst a good deal of Gryffindor house, but seeing only her own bedspread, and the pages of one of her dear great aunts' cookbooks. Said books were banned from publishing but still famous among men as horror stories of the purest evil. Not actually dark arts, at least from a woman's point of view, just revenge, or a decent threat.
Draco Malfoy has become a bedroom legend in some circles, and has been feeding Dumbledore any information his father manages to slip him. The poor boy truly spites dear Lucius, but anyone would hold a healthy fear of the madman who controls his inheritance. He holds a deep lust bordering on something bigger for the next character to be mentioned.
Blaise Zambini, a young girl returned from her four years at Durmstrang at the start of the war to sit comfortably again in the Slytherin house. Long strait black hair framing a startlingly pale elfin face and haunting slate blue eyes and a decent-looking body for what can be seen through her robes, it's a wonder even the Slytherins avoid even catching her eye, sans Draco, whom is a good friend to her. Blaise dearest seems to know a great deal about the big picture of life itself, and what's with her weird pets? A raven and a cat, at least one of them always at her side, both sleek and black with emerald eyes to rival the Boy who Lived. She feels mild lust toward Draco but would never see him as more than a confidant.
~*~
Slytherin House has found itself crumbling at its very foundations. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins do not spend their spare time sacrificing cute furry animals to the Dark Lord, in fact only a small percentage are truly Death Eaters, and only slightly larger are from death eater families and very few actually wanted or want to be any of the above. This said, Slytherins feed on bonds of trust and fierce loyalty to friends who help them rise to success. Slytherin House no longer has any trust to feed on.
Any group of people larger than two is suspicious. No one truly knows who is or who wants to be a Deatheater and who is feeding information to Dumbledore. In short, old friends are forced to stay apart for their own safety, but separation strains trust and feeds suspicion and paranoia. The Slytherin King, Draco Malfoy is suddenly the biggest enigma in the place. Not even the Deatheaters know who else is a deatheater, and those who feed information to the light aren't always trusted to know who might be their ally.
Draco Malfoy, who everyone outside Slytherin house KNOWS is a deatheater, is currently wandering the castle of Hogwarts aimlessly, feeling as close to safe as he's ever felt in his life. Not that he'd admit it. His Father, recently escaped for the third time from Azkaban has hardly dared to contact his son in any way, but what little information has reached Draco is all well recorded in Dumbledore's office. Narcissa Malfoy was killed for tipping off Arthur Weasley concerning the safety of Diagon Alley. The result being Diagon Alley suffered a few scratches while Knockturn Alley is in partial ruin.
Draco, thus far, has only saved, about, ten lives so far, and is somewhat contented to be far away from his house and their fear that seems to hang in the air in the same way that bricks don't (without magical assistance). His only Ally was found in Blaise Zambini, who he met only once before Hogwarts, and he doesn't remember it. They had been rather good friends in first year, attracted by each other's sharp wits and sharper tongues. They made an almost frightening team, their only real difference held by Draco having a wide reputation and Blaise keeping a low profile. They had kept in off and on contact after she had been forcibly transferred to Durmstrang. Once she had returned, she had truly shocked him.
Draco paused, hearing footsteps i the corridors not his own. He leaned lazily against a pillar and awaited this other wanderer. He had a few guesses as to whom might be wandering the castle at night, but few of them were pleasant, and to his luck it was among the few. A dark girl, small of frame, almost delicate if not for the air of cold strength she seemed to hold, strolled easily around the corner, into Draco's line of sight. She was long and slender, lithe and easy to the eye if not too shapely save for her endowments. She shook her long black hair from her face like a silk veil, and smirked slightly, her slate blue eyes flickering when they spotted him.
Draco returned her smirk thrice fold and nodded a greeting.
"Blaise, m'dear." Draco purred, she had changed so deeply since first year, from the tiny dark girl with a hair pin trigger and defences greater that the 'Area 51' of the Dept. of Mysteries in the Ministry (not where Harry went).
"Dragon." She acknowledged, shifting a bag she had slung over one shoulder, the other shoulder occupied by a cat.
"Blaise dear, "He began, his eyes playful. "You know for a fact it's far after curfew. I should punish you for being out this late, so very alone."
"I also happen to know even prefects are sent abed at this hour, My Dragon, I do believe even Filch has fallen prey to slumber" She purred knowingly. The black cat, small, sleek and statue-esq seemed amused.
"Fallen prey to slumber, or a young witch who was nearly caught a wandering?" Draco warned.
"I think it best we both keep quiet about such things lest one of us fall prey as well." She teased and began walking again, followed by the silver-haired dragon. Draco smiled faintly; she had changed indeed.
"Blaise, Blaise. You hurt me with such threats!" The tall boy sighed in mock-hurt.
"Draco." She snorted in play. Only outside their house could they be so playful. Only alone could they seem so human. Slytherin had come to a silent agreement, that before the rest of the world they should appear as they always had, keeping what little house pride they had.
"What? Is it so much to play a fool when before the rest of the world I'm The animate ice sculpture?"
"Not always, such, to a good deal of the female population of the school you're a sex god." She teased. Draco looked somewhere between awkward and proud.
"Yes, though the same could be said for Potter" Draco said the name as though its sound had disgusted his very tongue. Blaise sniggered. "Oh, yes, and the rest of them are under fourth year, armed with Old Emily Weasley's cookbooks, or you." He shuddered. "Those accursed cookbooks!"
Blaise laughed. Draco felt a faint fluttering sensation in his stomach at the sound. She very rarely actually laughed, but when she did it was like rose petals in cold flowing water, soft but brings to mind beauty, thorns and blood. He was fond of the sound; it was almost familiar.
"Dragon, you are amusing." She sniggered. Draco decided to make her laugh again, or try. He snorted in mock-anger, and would have moved on, but she had already began sniggering again.
"What?" He frowned slightly, even that damn cat looked amused. "I'm not that funny."
"You actually are." The girl teased. "You're amusing much the way cats are."
"I am not!" Draco had a cat, and knew for a fact they could be quite entertaining, mostly for their dignity, which was usually false.
"Of course not, you have far to much dignity." She teased.
"I'll show you dignity," He purred. Her cat seemed to practically roll its eyes and hop off Blaise's shoulder.
"Really?" Blaise smirked, stopping and turning to him. Her arms crossed over her chest. "Show me dignity, eh? Go ahead." She dared playfully. If Draco hesitated, not even the cat noticed as he pulled the small dark girl against him and brought his lips to hers. The bag she'd carried slid from her shoulder to the floor. The girl managed to uncross her arms and wrap them around his neck as his lips slip across hers. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, upon which it parted with her top lip, allowing him to claim the warm hollow of her mouth. She gave a slight moan, her eyes fluttering hazily as if her mind had caught up suddenly.
Draco's tall, lean muscled form felt all well and good pressed desperately to hers, yet...
Draco growled audibly as she pulled away, this wasn't play, this was more. He could feel it; it felt so right.
"Draco, stop..." She managed in a tone wavering between gasp and command, and he opened his storm-gray eyes, seeing her pale face flushed, those haunting if enchanting eyes glassy, knowing he was in a similar state. "I'm sorry, it's not right." Blaise panted. It took his mind a second to process this as her lips were appearing all the more appetizing.
"Blaise..." He began, looking deep into her eyes as she lowered her arms from his shoulders. "I can see you want this as much as I do, Blaise." He murmured low, moving the hand that had been entangled in her soft hair to cup her face. She gently brushed it away, it felt as though she'd slapped it. "Why?"
"Dragon," she spoke soothingly, he'd never heard that from anyone but his mother. It only stung more.
"How can it not be right? It feels more right than anything I've ever done." He growled.
"It's very close, My Dragon. I'll try to explain it later-"
"Blaise, what if I just happen to need to know now!" She glared suddenly. He released her waist. He hadn't been on the receiving end of her anger in a while.
"Don't do that, Draco." She took a few deep breaths, and closed her eyes, straitening herself. "You sound far too much like your father." Her voice sounded slightly torn in her anger, he sensed a great deal of anger beneath it directed toward Lucius. Her words felt like hard blow to the gut. "I will explain what I can in time. Not now...I...need to recover. I'm sorry." She kissed his cheek and snatched up her bag. He watched her walk away, slipping around the first corner. He heard a soft purr behind him and turned to see the cat, sleek and beautiful like a statue, staring at him with emerald eyes. He bent down on one knee. "Do I love her?" He asked the cat. He didn't know why. The cat shook it's small head and looked to the window. Draco followed the suit. In one moment he realized three things. One, how close her was to Gryffindor tower, two, that the fifth year girls could reach an almost flat area of roof from their window and could sit out on it to stargaze, and three, Ginny Weasley was beautiful.
~*~
Harry Potter was having one of those unusual nights where the anger he'd felt last year wold return full force. He rumbled around an empty classroom after putting a silencing charm on the place he was now decimating as he paced, though in his sudden anger, he'd left the door unlocked.
As he thrashed at everything so as to, hopefully, wear out this rage, preferably leaving living things unharmed, the door suddenly opened. The dark haired boy spun around, brilliant green eyes wild; before they settled onto the young woman who had opened said door. He froze, but for the heaving, rattling breaths he took, the girl seemed as speechless as he. Her eyes were painfully sad, open wide in shock but still seeming the only escape from some pain in their slate blue depths, then she shocked him.
"Are you...are you okay, Harry Potter?" She murmured. Harry felt himself relax a bit, look up, running his fingers through his hair, just before he exploded.
"No I'm not okay!" He found himself growling in a deadly whisper. She closed the door, the room darkening, the only light coming from a single torch. His breathing became even more erratic. "I'm not okay!" He yelled, he was ready to tear everything apart when quite suddenly, she slapped him. He came out of his daze and sat down, or rather, collapsed onto a desk that belonged on the opposite side of the room.
"What was that for" He managed after a long pause. This girl, he decided, was odd. He didn't remember seeing her before and suddenly she shows up looking as sad as he usually feels and slaps him.
"Your stupidity." She shrugged. Harry stared angrily at this strange girl. "Though mostly because you were about to thrash this place more than you already have."
"You know nothing about me." He scoffed.
"I know more than you think." She chided him wisely. "This is ironic, really, as the way I got to know so much about you is what I originally was just off to get rid of before they fell into the wrong hands. These fell through an interdimensional portal someone accidentally created under my bed in Durmstrang a year or so ago." She shrugged a bag from her shoulder, and pulled out five books, Harry's brilliant green eyes widened. He picked up 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' carefully, and flipped through it, feeling the gaze of this girl on him the whole time. His brain swirled sickeningly around this entire idea.
"This JK Rowling person has apparently made quite a lot of money on these books." She said, snapping him out of it. "You can have them, but never let anyone else see them, maybe it's just being in Slytherin, but I'm rather paranoid." She explained.
"You-you're in Slytherin?" He stammered. A Slytherin had asked him if he was okay? A Slytherin had, had such heartbreak in her eyes? A Slytherin had slapped him-okay that last one was believable but still.
"Yes, we were both sorted six years ago, I was the last one, Blaise Zambini, nice to meet you outside of a hardback book." She said in a slightly amused tone.
Harry looked at the books. He would read them, he decided, he had to. Then his brain finally caught something again and sent the information to his mouth in a slightly strangled voice.
"Durmstrang?" He asked. She nodded.
"Indeed. I spent the last few years there, didn't really think much of the books until I'd remembered the Triwizard Tournament, my first year and your exploits, and when I returned here? Quite a reality check I must say to have what you were sure had to be a coincidental rift between dimensions proved to be a document of factual events. Kind of like my name in the first book." She smiled faintly. Surprised as he lightened visibly. She got up. "Well, keep the books, Potter. Thanks for distracting me from my current problem, one of my current problems...most of them actually. Farewell."
"Er...bye?" He managed as she left. The Boy Who Lived blinked a few times as her footsteps slowly faded away. He sat for a long time, staring at these books, realizing how much this Slytherin girl knew about him, but how all of the worst things she could have spread, they all were caged in her mind, in his, and in these books. He got up, cast a repair spell on the room, picked up the books and headed to the common room, and only when he reached his bed, did he think he had passed Draco Malfoy staring out a window.
~*~
You could only see her from this exact angle, from exactly where he was standing in distance from the window. It had disturbed him that he could look at a woman in such awe and, well, lust after his heart had just been torn at. Yet, there was a magnificent specimen of a girl on the roof, knees pulled to her well-developed chest, her throat bared as she stared up at the sky with dewy brow eyes. She was lightly tanned, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the tom of her cheeks.
He found himself ogling this vision and shut his mouth, not even noticing a shell-shocked Harry Potter passing behind him with a stack of books. She had full pink lips, a small nose and those dewy eyes, big and golden brown, like those of a doe, but tinged with something darker he recognized too well. The wind blew her hair back like a soft river of flaming curls and pressed her tattered robe against her frame almost suggestively when he realized it was Weasley's little sister. He spun around, looking for the damn cat so he could curse at it, only to find that Blaise's familiar had left a long time ago.
The silver-haired Dragon let out a strangled growl of outrage and stalked off toward the Dungeons, hoping dearly not to wake up in his own bed.
~*~
Blaise Zambini sat at the window of her room, her private room. She had to have a private room for the same reason she had to return to Hogwarts; she wasn't safe. Her cat slid into the room in an unspecified manner, and shifted into a large black wolf, approaching the girl by the windowsill.
Blaise turned to the wolf whose eyes smirked, and seeing such amusement she narrowed her sad eyes.
"What did you do to Draco?" She murmured.
"I found his mate." He said. She closed her eyes; her familiar whimpering in shared pain and licked her hand. She stroked the creature's head.
"Who was it?"
"As it usually happens in such occurrences, she's your opposite, Ginny Weasley." The wolf answered. She smiled.
"I was just so sure, and then I knew it wasn't right, somehow." She whispered eyes dark. Her companion whined.
"He's at this school." Her familiar reassured. "You've found the right soul once already, and you've found your own soul in another as well."
"What are the odds." She growled softly.
"Blaise, you know about all these things, and they don't. The odds were more against you NOT finding them." Scoffed the wolf.
"I know. "She murmured tiredly, resignedly. "My pain tolerance only goes so high." She rasped, and stood, just before collapsing across her bed. The wolf leapt up and snuggled beside her, she clung to him, whispering "I'll never cry, never again, not because of fate, or my fucking father, or that rat bastard Voldie, or because my damn heart won't just leave so I won't fucking hurt anymore!" Her familiar reassured her with soft purrs as it turned into a cat, that is a cat still around three feet long.
Blaise Zambini slowly returned her breathing to normal, her stubbornness overpowering her pain. She momentarily cursed her knowledge of these reincarnations.
"I suppose I should look for the opposite of Draco Malfoy." She mumbled before falling asleep. Her familiar closed its emerald eyes; unaware that similar eyes were wide and awake as they read 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.
Disclaimer: I do not ow Harry Potter, or Draco, or anything but this fiction's plot line and its description of Blaise Zambini. Do not sue me, for I'M-...hee hee, I dunno.
Harry James Potter, sixteen years old, repressed anger from his previous year (gained by his upbringing and sexual frustration) has fizzled out into sheer depression. The boy who lived has since been drowning himself in the beds of all the girls of Hogwarts who will have him, and has become skilled in the arts of bedroom pleasure. His friends, Hermione and Ron have been carefully sidestepping each other's beds in embarrassment, and have been attempting to pull aforementioned boy who wishes he hadn't lived, from this slump.
Ginny Weasley has taken advantage of her brother's distraction to have slid amongst a good deal of Gryffindor house, but seeing only her own bedspread, and the pages of one of her dear great aunts' cookbooks. Said books were banned from publishing but still famous among men as horror stories of the purest evil. Not actually dark arts, at least from a woman's point of view, just revenge, or a decent threat.
Draco Malfoy has become a bedroom legend in some circles, and has been feeding Dumbledore any information his father manages to slip him. The poor boy truly spites dear Lucius, but anyone would hold a healthy fear of the madman who controls his inheritance. He holds a deep lust bordering on something bigger for the next character to be mentioned.
Blaise Zambini, a young girl returned from her four years at Durmstrang at the start of the war to sit comfortably again in the Slytherin house. Long strait black hair framing a startlingly pale elfin face and haunting slate blue eyes and a decent-looking body for what can be seen through her robes, it's a wonder even the Slytherins avoid even catching her eye, sans Draco, whom is a good friend to her. Blaise dearest seems to know a great deal about the big picture of life itself, and what's with her weird pets? A raven and a cat, at least one of them always at her side, both sleek and black with emerald eyes to rival the Boy who Lived. She feels mild lust toward Draco but would never see him as more than a confidant.
~*~
Slytherin House has found itself crumbling at its very foundations. Contrary to popular belief, Slytherins do not spend their spare time sacrificing cute furry animals to the Dark Lord, in fact only a small percentage are truly Death Eaters, and only slightly larger are from death eater families and very few actually wanted or want to be any of the above. This said, Slytherins feed on bonds of trust and fierce loyalty to friends who help them rise to success. Slytherin House no longer has any trust to feed on.
Any group of people larger than two is suspicious. No one truly knows who is or who wants to be a Deatheater and who is feeding information to Dumbledore. In short, old friends are forced to stay apart for their own safety, but separation strains trust and feeds suspicion and paranoia. The Slytherin King, Draco Malfoy is suddenly the biggest enigma in the place. Not even the Deatheaters know who else is a deatheater, and those who feed information to the light aren't always trusted to know who might be their ally.
Draco Malfoy, who everyone outside Slytherin house KNOWS is a deatheater, is currently wandering the castle of Hogwarts aimlessly, feeling as close to safe as he's ever felt in his life. Not that he'd admit it. His Father, recently escaped for the third time from Azkaban has hardly dared to contact his son in any way, but what little information has reached Draco is all well recorded in Dumbledore's office. Narcissa Malfoy was killed for tipping off Arthur Weasley concerning the safety of Diagon Alley. The result being Diagon Alley suffered a few scratches while Knockturn Alley is in partial ruin.
Draco, thus far, has only saved, about, ten lives so far, and is somewhat contented to be far away from his house and their fear that seems to hang in the air in the same way that bricks don't (without magical assistance). His only Ally was found in Blaise Zambini, who he met only once before Hogwarts, and he doesn't remember it. They had been rather good friends in first year, attracted by each other's sharp wits and sharper tongues. They made an almost frightening team, their only real difference held by Draco having a wide reputation and Blaise keeping a low profile. They had kept in off and on contact after she had been forcibly transferred to Durmstrang. Once she had returned, she had truly shocked him.
Draco paused, hearing footsteps i the corridors not his own. He leaned lazily against a pillar and awaited this other wanderer. He had a few guesses as to whom might be wandering the castle at night, but few of them were pleasant, and to his luck it was among the few. A dark girl, small of frame, almost delicate if not for the air of cold strength she seemed to hold, strolled easily around the corner, into Draco's line of sight. She was long and slender, lithe and easy to the eye if not too shapely save for her endowments. She shook her long black hair from her face like a silk veil, and smirked slightly, her slate blue eyes flickering when they spotted him.
Draco returned her smirk thrice fold and nodded a greeting.
"Blaise, m'dear." Draco purred, she had changed so deeply since first year, from the tiny dark girl with a hair pin trigger and defences greater that the 'Area 51' of the Dept. of Mysteries in the Ministry (not where Harry went).
"Dragon." She acknowledged, shifting a bag she had slung over one shoulder, the other shoulder occupied by a cat.
"Blaise dear, "He began, his eyes playful. "You know for a fact it's far after curfew. I should punish you for being out this late, so very alone."
"I also happen to know even prefects are sent abed at this hour, My Dragon, I do believe even Filch has fallen prey to slumber" She purred knowingly. The black cat, small, sleek and statue-esq seemed amused.
"Fallen prey to slumber, or a young witch who was nearly caught a wandering?" Draco warned.
"I think it best we both keep quiet about such things lest one of us fall prey as well." She teased and began walking again, followed by the silver-haired dragon. Draco smiled faintly; she had changed indeed.
"Blaise, Blaise. You hurt me with such threats!" The tall boy sighed in mock-hurt.
"Draco." She snorted in play. Only outside their house could they be so playful. Only alone could they seem so human. Slytherin had come to a silent agreement, that before the rest of the world they should appear as they always had, keeping what little house pride they had.
"What? Is it so much to play a fool when before the rest of the world I'm The animate ice sculpture?"
"Not always, such, to a good deal of the female population of the school you're a sex god." She teased. Draco looked somewhere between awkward and proud.
"Yes, though the same could be said for Potter" Draco said the name as though its sound had disgusted his very tongue. Blaise sniggered. "Oh, yes, and the rest of them are under fourth year, armed with Old Emily Weasley's cookbooks, or you." He shuddered. "Those accursed cookbooks!"
Blaise laughed. Draco felt a faint fluttering sensation in his stomach at the sound. She very rarely actually laughed, but when she did it was like rose petals in cold flowing water, soft but brings to mind beauty, thorns and blood. He was fond of the sound; it was almost familiar.
"Dragon, you are amusing." She sniggered. Draco decided to make her laugh again, or try. He snorted in mock-anger, and would have moved on, but she had already began sniggering again.
"What?" He frowned slightly, even that damn cat looked amused. "I'm not that funny."
"You actually are." The girl teased. "You're amusing much the way cats are."
"I am not!" Draco had a cat, and knew for a fact they could be quite entertaining, mostly for their dignity, which was usually false.
"Of course not, you have far to much dignity." She teased.
"I'll show you dignity," He purred. Her cat seemed to practically roll its eyes and hop off Blaise's shoulder.
"Really?" Blaise smirked, stopping and turning to him. Her arms crossed over her chest. "Show me dignity, eh? Go ahead." She dared playfully. If Draco hesitated, not even the cat noticed as he pulled the small dark girl against him and brought his lips to hers. The bag she'd carried slid from her shoulder to the floor. The girl managed to uncross her arms and wrap them around his neck as his lips slip across hers. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip, upon which it parted with her top lip, allowing him to claim the warm hollow of her mouth. She gave a slight moan, her eyes fluttering hazily as if her mind had caught up suddenly.
Draco's tall, lean muscled form felt all well and good pressed desperately to hers, yet...
Draco growled audibly as she pulled away, this wasn't play, this was more. He could feel it; it felt so right.
"Draco, stop..." She managed in a tone wavering between gasp and command, and he opened his storm-gray eyes, seeing her pale face flushed, those haunting if enchanting eyes glassy, knowing he was in a similar state. "I'm sorry, it's not right." Blaise panted. It took his mind a second to process this as her lips were appearing all the more appetizing.
"Blaise..." He began, looking deep into her eyes as she lowered her arms from his shoulders. "I can see you want this as much as I do, Blaise." He murmured low, moving the hand that had been entangled in her soft hair to cup her face. She gently brushed it away, it felt as though she'd slapped it. "Why?"
"Dragon," she spoke soothingly, he'd never heard that from anyone but his mother. It only stung more.
"How can it not be right? It feels more right than anything I've ever done." He growled.
"It's very close, My Dragon. I'll try to explain it later-"
"Blaise, what if I just happen to need to know now!" She glared suddenly. He released her waist. He hadn't been on the receiving end of her anger in a while.
"Don't do that, Draco." She took a few deep breaths, and closed her eyes, straitening herself. "You sound far too much like your father." Her voice sounded slightly torn in her anger, he sensed a great deal of anger beneath it directed toward Lucius. Her words felt like hard blow to the gut. "I will explain what I can in time. Not now...I...need to recover. I'm sorry." She kissed his cheek and snatched up her bag. He watched her walk away, slipping around the first corner. He heard a soft purr behind him and turned to see the cat, sleek and beautiful like a statue, staring at him with emerald eyes. He bent down on one knee. "Do I love her?" He asked the cat. He didn't know why. The cat shook it's small head and looked to the window. Draco followed the suit. In one moment he realized three things. One, how close her was to Gryffindor tower, two, that the fifth year girls could reach an almost flat area of roof from their window and could sit out on it to stargaze, and three, Ginny Weasley was beautiful.
~*~
Harry Potter was having one of those unusual nights where the anger he'd felt last year wold return full force. He rumbled around an empty classroom after putting a silencing charm on the place he was now decimating as he paced, though in his sudden anger, he'd left the door unlocked.
As he thrashed at everything so as to, hopefully, wear out this rage, preferably leaving living things unharmed, the door suddenly opened. The dark haired boy spun around, brilliant green eyes wild; before they settled onto the young woman who had opened said door. He froze, but for the heaving, rattling breaths he took, the girl seemed as speechless as he. Her eyes were painfully sad, open wide in shock but still seeming the only escape from some pain in their slate blue depths, then she shocked him.
"Are you...are you okay, Harry Potter?" She murmured. Harry felt himself relax a bit, look up, running his fingers through his hair, just before he exploded.
"No I'm not okay!" He found himself growling in a deadly whisper. She closed the door, the room darkening, the only light coming from a single torch. His breathing became even more erratic. "I'm not okay!" He yelled, he was ready to tear everything apart when quite suddenly, she slapped him. He came out of his daze and sat down, or rather, collapsed onto a desk that belonged on the opposite side of the room.
"What was that for" He managed after a long pause. This girl, he decided, was odd. He didn't remember seeing her before and suddenly she shows up looking as sad as he usually feels and slaps him.
"Your stupidity." She shrugged. Harry stared angrily at this strange girl. "Though mostly because you were about to thrash this place more than you already have."
"You know nothing about me." He scoffed.
"I know more than you think." She chided him wisely. "This is ironic, really, as the way I got to know so much about you is what I originally was just off to get rid of before they fell into the wrong hands. These fell through an interdimensional portal someone accidentally created under my bed in Durmstrang a year or so ago." She shrugged a bag from her shoulder, and pulled out five books, Harry's brilliant green eyes widened. He picked up 'Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire' carefully, and flipped through it, feeling the gaze of this girl on him the whole time. His brain swirled sickeningly around this entire idea.
"This JK Rowling person has apparently made quite a lot of money on these books." She said, snapping him out of it. "You can have them, but never let anyone else see them, maybe it's just being in Slytherin, but I'm rather paranoid." She explained.
"You-you're in Slytherin?" He stammered. A Slytherin had asked him if he was okay? A Slytherin had, had such heartbreak in her eyes? A Slytherin had slapped him-okay that last one was believable but still.
"Yes, we were both sorted six years ago, I was the last one, Blaise Zambini, nice to meet you outside of a hardback book." She said in a slightly amused tone.
Harry looked at the books. He would read them, he decided, he had to. Then his brain finally caught something again and sent the information to his mouth in a slightly strangled voice.
"Durmstrang?" He asked. She nodded.
"Indeed. I spent the last few years there, didn't really think much of the books until I'd remembered the Triwizard Tournament, my first year and your exploits, and when I returned here? Quite a reality check I must say to have what you were sure had to be a coincidental rift between dimensions proved to be a document of factual events. Kind of like my name in the first book." She smiled faintly. Surprised as he lightened visibly. She got up. "Well, keep the books, Potter. Thanks for distracting me from my current problem, one of my current problems...most of them actually. Farewell."
"Er...bye?" He managed as she left. The Boy Who Lived blinked a few times as her footsteps slowly faded away. He sat for a long time, staring at these books, realizing how much this Slytherin girl knew about him, but how all of the worst things she could have spread, they all were caged in her mind, in his, and in these books. He got up, cast a repair spell on the room, picked up the books and headed to the common room, and only when he reached his bed, did he think he had passed Draco Malfoy staring out a window.
~*~
You could only see her from this exact angle, from exactly where he was standing in distance from the window. It had disturbed him that he could look at a woman in such awe and, well, lust after his heart had just been torn at. Yet, there was a magnificent specimen of a girl on the roof, knees pulled to her well-developed chest, her throat bared as she stared up at the sky with dewy brow eyes. She was lightly tanned, with a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the tom of her cheeks.
He found himself ogling this vision and shut his mouth, not even noticing a shell-shocked Harry Potter passing behind him with a stack of books. She had full pink lips, a small nose and those dewy eyes, big and golden brown, like those of a doe, but tinged with something darker he recognized too well. The wind blew her hair back like a soft river of flaming curls and pressed her tattered robe against her frame almost suggestively when he realized it was Weasley's little sister. He spun around, looking for the damn cat so he could curse at it, only to find that Blaise's familiar had left a long time ago.
The silver-haired Dragon let out a strangled growl of outrage and stalked off toward the Dungeons, hoping dearly not to wake up in his own bed.
~*~
Blaise Zambini sat at the window of her room, her private room. She had to have a private room for the same reason she had to return to Hogwarts; she wasn't safe. Her cat slid into the room in an unspecified manner, and shifted into a large black wolf, approaching the girl by the windowsill.
Blaise turned to the wolf whose eyes smirked, and seeing such amusement she narrowed her sad eyes.
"What did you do to Draco?" She murmured.
"I found his mate." He said. She closed her eyes; her familiar whimpering in shared pain and licked her hand. She stroked the creature's head.
"Who was it?"
"As it usually happens in such occurrences, she's your opposite, Ginny Weasley." The wolf answered. She smiled.
"I was just so sure, and then I knew it wasn't right, somehow." She whispered eyes dark. Her companion whined.
"He's at this school." Her familiar reassured. "You've found the right soul once already, and you've found your own soul in another as well."
"What are the odds." She growled softly.
"Blaise, you know about all these things, and they don't. The odds were more against you NOT finding them." Scoffed the wolf.
"I know. "She murmured tiredly, resignedly. "My pain tolerance only goes so high." She rasped, and stood, just before collapsing across her bed. The wolf leapt up and snuggled beside her, she clung to him, whispering "I'll never cry, never again, not because of fate, or my fucking father, or that rat bastard Voldie, or because my damn heart won't just leave so I won't fucking hurt anymore!" Her familiar reassured her with soft purrs as it turned into a cat, that is a cat still around three feet long.
Blaise Zambini slowly returned her breathing to normal, her stubbornness overpowering her pain. She momentarily cursed her knowledge of these reincarnations.
"I suppose I should look for the opposite of Draco Malfoy." She mumbled before falling asleep. Her familiar closed its emerald eyes; unaware that similar eyes were wide and awake as they read 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.
Disclaimer: I do not ow Harry Potter, or Draco, or anything but this fiction's plot line and its description of Blaise Zambini. Do not sue me, for I'M-...hee hee, I dunno.
