DISCLAIMER: I do not own any characters. All J K Rowling's genius work.
This story was inspired by wishimight's Bella/Edward story, Dangerous Affections. Unfortunately, that story was pulled down, but I would still like to thank wishimight for creating such a lovely story, and inspiring my own.
Chapter Eight – Dangerous Jokes
"Draco, what on earth are you doing?" Blaise asked as he entered the basement.
Draco looked up from his work. He had been busy soundproofing the room, and placing a target at one end, and a square table and four chairs at the other end.
"I'm making this The Room," Draco replied, "Capital T and R."
Blaise cocked one eyebrow. "Oh, The Room. And what are you planning for The Room?"
Draco gave him a pained look. "This'll be the target room, and whatever we need to discuss over there." He pointed at the table and chairs.
Blaise's eyebrow rose even higher. "Four chairs?"
Draco sighed, exasperated. "Blaise, how would you feel if all of a sudden someone else tags along to be part of the discussion, or if Snape appears for a report? Unlike you, I would not be bothered to find another chair for him to sit, nor give up my seat for him. It's called futuristic thinking."
"Practical," Blaise added.
"Indeed," Draco smirked.
After another five minutes, while Blaise gazed around the room, and Draco continued tinkering with something or other, Draco looked up from his work, and spoke.
"Blaise, I need to see if this room actually is soundproof, so I need you to shoot at a target while I'm upstairs, and we'll see if I can hear it."
Blaise nodded nonchalantly, grabbed a pair of earmuffs and plastic glasses, and stood in front of a target as Draco took to the stairs two steps at a time, and shut the solid oak door behind him.
Taking a deep breath, Blaise held up his Taurus Millenium Series (which was the gun Blaise had chosen to be with him today) and aimed it at the head of the target.
All of a sudden, the face of Hermione Granger swam unbidden into his mind.
Without conscious thought, he lowered down his gun, and just stared at the face of Hermione Granger, imbedded into the target.
He knew he would have to kill her when he got his chance, but he couldn't find it in himself to destroy such a beautiful face. After all, what had she ever done to them? What had she ever done to him, to Blaise Zabini? What had she done to deserve such a fate?
All she had done was liberate her people from Lord Voldemort. She had freed her people from his tyrannical rule. If anything, he should respect her for that; but no, here he was, being forced to obliterate her.
Suddenly, Blaise Zabini felt a great hate in his heart. He hated himself and the company he worked for. In that one infinitesimal moment of time, his view of the world changed.
He began hating the haters, those who sought to destroy the innocents and the saviours. He began to hate himself, because he was one of them. He couldn't be Hermione's friend, not when he was the killer of so many of her friends, both in their last year of school, and after.
He smirked to himself as he thought up a plan. Being Hermione's friend would be his atonement. Being good to her and her friends would be how he showed he regretted his actions. Hermione would never need to know about what was in the past; after all, the past was past, and things had changed since then.
Blaise Zabini decided to change himself into a better person, even if that meant he had to fight his best friend in the end; the best friend who was walking down the stairs right now.
"Good!" Draco exclaimed, whooping. "I didn't hear a shot."
Blaise smirked. "Because I haven't shot yet."
Draco visibly deflated, then rolled his eyes at his friend. "Great way to ruin my day, Blaise. I'm going back up, so shoot it, or I'll shoot you."
Even though he was just joking, Blaise stiffened, and was grateful when Draco didn't notice and continued on his way, back up the stairs. Shaking his head, trying to clear the image of Hermione's face from his mind, he looked back to the target and raised the Taurus again. Without being distracted he shot the bullet, straight into the middle of the person's head.
Closing his eyes in weariness, Blaise slumped into a seat, holding the Taurus loosely by his side. What was he going to do if Snape decided to pull the trigger, and instructed him and Draco to do the same? Could he do it? Or would he turn the barrel towards his best friend, instead?
To be honest, Blaise didn't even know why they were destroying the Three. For what reason, other than personal animosity and revenge, did Snape want the Three killed? Did he not anticipate the public outrage at this?
"Tell me you shot that," Draco said, interrupting his friend's thoughts.
Blaise opened his eyes to roll them at his friend. "Yes, I shot it. Can't you see it in the target?"
Draco wheeled around and almost ran to the target. There, very visibly, was a hole, smack dab in the middle of the target's head. He exclaimed in glee, punched his fist in the air, congratulated Blaise on such a skilful target, before dancing around the room in a chant that went:
"I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb…"
Blaise rolled his eyes again, although this time he was marginally more happier; he had chosen his path, and he was determined to see it through. He would change his ways, no matter what anyone said about it.
"I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb…"
"Egotistical," Blaise muttered under his breath, as his friend continued to ignore him.
Seriously, where was Draco's sense of humility? Sure, the guy had achieved something worthwhile—for once—but soundproofing a room wasn't too hard, especially seeing as it was the basement.
"I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb…"
"Keep going, Draco, and I'll drop you a bomb," Blaise said, louder than before.
Blaise took off the earmuffs and glasses, before placing the Taurus into his right holster. For reassurance, he let his finger slide across the Glock 23 in his left holster. Then he started up the stairs, wanting nothing more than to be in his room.
"I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb, I'm the bomb…"
"SHUT UP!"
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