Trails and Triumphs.
Author: Rym Poe
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters etc from the series. No money is being made here and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 1
Blaise Zabini sat up in bed, jolted out of a dreamless sleep by an almost imperceptible noise. Reaching a hand out of the heavy green hangings of her bed that she never drew open, to pick up her gown, Blaise realized what it was: the crackling of a fire. Some one had lit the fire in the Common Room.
She slid out of bed, pulling her black nightgown about her as she did so. The fabric was rich and luxurious, and lightly caressed her skin as she padded across the floor to the seventh-year girls' dorm room door, feet in slippers to guard against the cold stone floor.
She opened the heavy oak door and peered over the small balcony that overlooked the vast Slytherin common room. The firelight played on the silver hair and sharp aristocratic features of the boy she knew would be standing there, parchment in hand, a stately eagle owl on his shoulder; just as he had been last Saturday, and the Saturday before that, and the one before, every Saturday night stretching on back throughout their months and years at Hogwarts, right up to the first Saturday of their first year.
That was when she had first become aware of Draco Malfoy. And he had never left her alone since.
She remembered him as he had been then; small and light, floating, never walking, with an enviable, unconscious grace; his hair always meticulously pushed back and slathered with gel, as if to contain it's beauty; his eyes luminous and receptive, which became flat and cold more often than not, as if to conceal and hold the spirit that lived within. And his innate brilliance that shone through everything that he did. His desire to be the best and his resentment then, of Harry Potter, whom circumstances always favored, who was always at the right place at the right time, always overshadowing Draco. But not that last time. That time had been Draco's day.
His determination, steely cold, that would always serve him to become what he aspired to be, that determination that could never be flogged down. Ever. Blaise knew that it was a blessing that Draco Malfoy did not happen to worship his father, as everyone expected, did not want to be a Death Eater; for had he been so inclined, Draco would not be satisfied with being just evil…he would have to be the MOST evil, the DARKEST Dark Wizard of all time. He would eclipse the Dark Lord and his minions and nothing would be able to save the wizarding world or the Muggle world, or even any world. Not Harry Potter. Not anyone.
Blaise had something to be grateful for then, that Draco had a problem with authority figures and would have never ever joined Voldemort's ranks. It was well known that every wizard in Slytherin house left school evil. It seemed that Draco Malfoy, ex-favorite for the next right-hand-man-of-Voldemort position, would break that tradition. And because of him, her.
Blaise had always watched Draco on these Saturday nights. Tonight, she had missed the ritualistic lighting of the fireplace; the house elf coming up with the bourbon and branch water that had replaced the pineapple juice of the earlier years; the settling down to wait for the eagle owl that would tap on the heavy stained glass window. Draco would then get up from the leather chair near the fireplace that he favored, and would stride over to the curtain-clad windows which reached up into the dark recesses of the vault that was their Common Room. He would lift a corner of the heavy green velvet curtains that even he, with Quidditch and swimming and almost constant flying practice, could not entirely push back, and pop the latch of a small casement set into the immense pattern of stained glass that was the window. And the eagle owl that was now on his shoulder, the same these past seven years, would fly in, wheel around in a tight circle, and alight on his left shoulder. Draco did not wear a leather patch on his shoulder as was the custom when dealing with these owls, and Blaise was sure that the talons scratched his shoulder horribly. But he never showed it, as he never showed any of the other deep hurts that Blaise knew he harbored.
Blaise winced as the owl nibbled on Draco's earlobe. She could see the profile of boy and bird, and the eagle owl looked menacing, its feathers an aggressive brown, its cruel hooked beak on Draco's smooth white flesh. She could see one beady eye, and as she watched, the eye flickered over to look at her, the depths infinitely black, the edges flaring into red in the light of the fire. Involuntarily, Blaise shuddered.
Draco's head snapped up from the letter that he was reading. His eyes raked over the stone balconies that led to the different dorms.
Blaise stood up and started walking down the ornately carved, spiraling stone staircase, before the slate grey slits could spot her crouching like a thief on the balcony.
She could not help feeling guilty, though. She was, after all, a thief. For seven years, she had watched him, observed him, practically lived for the Saturday nights when he would be unguarded and she could know him from her perch above him on the balcony. And she had, in secret, loved him; even as she dated and flirted and led twenty different boys on, she knew that she loved him.
She did not, though, know when her curiosity had turned into love, when she had crossed the gap from wanting to watch him, and know him, to needing the same. She did not know when his pain had become hers, although she had not understood it or when his hatred had enveloped her, although she was not hateful by nature. She did not know when his moments of spontaneity and laughter had become her lifeline and his happiness left her ecstatic.
A/N: Okay, if you think this is weird, so be it….but at least tell me what you think!! It's left off abruptly, I know, but this was supposed to be a one shot ficlet - I wrote this on a binge, slammed into a brick wall and stopped. I'm going to put the rest up v. soon. Please review!! Review!