Dire circumstances
This is a companion fic to Drastic measures and Excessive situations. There will be four fics in total and each fic follows one of the four wizards, Draco Malfoy, Theo Nott, Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini.
This is a darker take on this little AU I've created. The Draco/Hermione was very stripper-smutty, the Theo/Neville was on the fluffy-smutty side. I have no plans of expanding this AU other than four fics.
Warnings: M-rating for a reason, language and some smut later.
Trigger warning! For violence, mentions and flashes of non-con (you have been warned).
This is Blaise's story and it's fully written. I will update it every Sunday for the coming weeks.
This is my very first foray into a fic with both angsty and darker themes, so please let me know what you think!
I own nothing but the plot unfortunately. All hail the mighty J.K.
HBSJ
Part 1
She was huddled alone in her old room, hugging her knees tightly to her body as the sobs wracked through her battered and bruised body. Her mum was shouting that dinner was ready and a few of her brothers were coming too so they could leave together for the ball, but she just couldn't get up and she wasn't even sure if she wanted to get up.
It just hurt so bad.
However good she'd been treated at first, it always spiralled out of control somehow. Maybe she really was a harpy? She'd been told that many many times. A lot of people had also called her a gold-digger and a two-galleon whore. But she wasn't. She'd just made mistakes.
A lot of mistakes.
She could hear knocking on the door and George's voice filtered through her quiet sobs. "Gin? Mum says dinners ready before we go to Hermione's party, are you coming?" He sounded like he wasn't focusing on getting her to dinner. He was probably thinking about inventing yet another thing for the shop.
She gulped as quietly as she could, trying desperately to pull herself together and succeeding somewhat. "Uhm, yeah, just give me a sec, I'll be right down." Her voice almost broke on the last word but she kept it at bay.
"Alright then, see you in a bit." His footsteps receded down the stairs and she slowly got up.
Wiping her eyes furiously, she walked to her mirror. She looked like a punching bag with runny makeup. There were vicious bite-marks on her shoulders, nail-scrapes down her chest, red bruises on her stomach and back that hadn't even turned blue yet, intermingled with the older blue and yellow bruises. Marcus had always been very diligent about avoiding her face and just attacked her body that much more ferociously.
She sighed and reached for her wand, starting the very familiar process of glamouring all of the marks on her. At least she could still do that. She needed to be able to cast the glamour.
Her family wasn't to know. They could never know any of it.
Blaise Zabini was starting to get bored. Even of women.
And he never thought that would ever happen to him.
Go fucking figure.
He sat in the corner of a completely full ballroom, not giving a shite about anything but the firewhiskey in his hand. It was getting late but the party was still in full swing. He was extremely well-dressed. As he always was at formal functions.
It was so fucking boring.
Out on the dancefloor he could see Potter snogging some random witch, Draco and Granger were dancing and had eyes for none but each other and Theo had already left with his Gryffindor after their dramatic kidnapping scene.
Who the hell knew Theo was that fucking desirable? He chuckled to himself.
He reluctantly had to admit that they made a striking couple, Theo and his new beau. He wondered who would be the 'man' and the 'woman' in the relationship. Wasn't that how gay couples worked?
He made a mental note to ask Theo about it and put up a shield charm at the same time. He didn't want to risk any damage to his privates in case Theo took it as an insult. Hmm, maybe he just shouldn't ask.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see an ethereal blonde dancing with herself. He cocked his head as he wondered what the hell the woman was doing. She looked like she was floating happily in circles without a care in the world. She looked distinctly odd and he thought he might recognize her from school. Taking another gulp of his drink, he shrugged to himself.
Who really gave a flying fuck anyway?
He sighed and began running through one of the upcoming deals he was working on in his mind.
They were acquiring a warehouse full of muggle technology from a bankrupt muggle company. He'd heard a rumour that they were working on some new cutting edge technology there and he and Draco had decided they wanted their equipment and more specifically, their research.
He grabbed the experimental reading glasses in his pocket, choosing to test them out tonight to amuse himself. He fucking needed something to pull him out of this depressing stupor.
It was one of the latest developments at Malfoy Enterprises. Glasses that would cancel out any and all magical glamours. They were planning to market them towards St. Mungo's and other magical hospitals around the world to ensure that their patients weren't covering up parts of their illnesses such as rashes and other strange conditions visible to the eyes. It was an ingenious idea and they'd practically gilded their researcher in galleons when he'd succeeded with his invention.
Donning the glasses, he looked around, chuckling every now and then at the very interesting things the glasses revealed.
They showed mainly women who had used glamours but he was surprised to spot a couple of men unveiled as well. Slimming glamours were obviously the all the rage for the men and for women it was mostly about covering scars, dark rims under the eyes and in one case, a woman glamouring a large nasty rash on her back exposed by her dress.
After watching the crowd for a while, he spied a strikingly beautiful flame-haired woman wearing a floor length shimmering golden dress through the throng of dancing and laughing people. She had a rather austere expression and gave only tight smiles to her elderly dancing companion.
He almost choked on his firewhiskey.
Her hair was up and the dress covered next to nothing of her upper body, so he was treated to a complete view of her injuries as she moved around the dancefloor.
Because there were a lot of injuries.
He just stared blankly at her, completely dumbfound for what was probably the very first time in his life.
Her body was so battered.
Red, blue, purple, black and yellow marks were covering her back and shoulders. He could even see a couple of rather fresh human-looking bite marks on one of her shoulders and something that looked like vicious nail-scrapes down her chest.
He pulled the glasses down to check if his eyes or the glasses were failing him, using Granger as a benchmark. He knew she didn't wear glamours if she could possibly avoid them. The glasses worked perfectly. He checked another few people over and still, they worked.
He turned back to look at the battered beauty. Because that was what she was.
Battered, bruised and obviously very tired.
He peered more closely at her. She was hiding it well. Her glamours were very good and he wondered briefly just how many times she'd had to cast them in recent years. Only the occasional wince as she was twirled on the dancefloor gave her true pain away.
It didn't look like she was attached to anyone though. Other than the Weasleys of course, because there was absolutely no doubt in his mind who she was.
That was the youngest Weasley, Potter's ex-girlfriend Ginevra Weasley, also known as Ginny. She was hailed as a heroine and a tough fighter of the Second Wizarding War. She was a pureblood through and through and star chaser on the Holyhead Harpies quidditch team.
To him she didn't look like that, even when he removed the glasses. She just looked defeated. His interest was piqued, what on earth could possibly break a woman like that?
She excused herself from the man she was dancing with. She didn't know him well and he'd trodden on her feet during the dance more than once. She'd only accepted to dance with him because he knew her dad from the ministry.
She went out into the garden, she needed some fresh air.
She hated this part. She hated putting on the front, the façade that she wore so often. It was exhausting.
How was she able to pick those men? To pick the worst of the worst? They all gave her the perfect start to a relationship.
They wined and dined her. Took her on elaborate elegant dates and whispered soft lovely or sexy words in her ears. Then the control began. And her inevitable rebellion.
Initially she'd think they liked her feistiness but no, they just wanted to subdue her. They tried to keep her under lock and key and she didn't want that, yet she always stayed too long. She always tried to be their version of the perfect pureblood girlfriend.
It didn't work.
None of what she ever did worked.
They all promised her the world but only if she looked at it from afar, from the inside of a locked gilded cage.
She shivered and hugged herself. A memory from the day before flashed before her eyes and she winced, trying desperately to rid herself of it. That didn't work either.
She was assaulted by the memory and she clutched herself tightly, her fingernails digging into her sides from the strain.
He was above her and he reeked of liquor and sweat.
She was stuck underneath him, her hands tied in magical ropes above her head and it wasn't fun anymore. It wasn't sexy anymore and she just wanted to leave. She tried to buck him off with her legs but that only made him even rougher as chuckled evilly and spread her legs to force himself on her in a filthy flat in an abandoned village.
He'd beaten her black and blue when she didn't act exactly as he'd wanted and now she screamed and cried as he bit deeply into her shoulders again and again, talking about how he was marking her as one of his many filthy conquests and that no one would ever want her now.
She belonged to him and he could do with her as he damned well pleased.
She shook her head, trying to dispel his evil grin as he'd abused her for hours on end like his own personal ragdoll. Every single minute seemed burned into her skin and retinas and she hated it. She'd never pegged herself as someone weak but having been used and abused by so many men had her question herself.
Her experience with Marcus had been the very worst though. She'd never been raped and beaten like that before. She felt filthy and disgusting. Worth nothing.
Less than nothing.
Maybe she just wasn't brave anymore? Maybe she just wasn't a Gryffindor anymore? Maybe she needed someone strong? Someone who could save her? But the question was, save her from what? She scoffed inwardly. Probably from herself. She was the one who continually ignored all of the warning emanating signs those guys.
A glass filled with amber liquor appeared in front of her. She started when she realised that a rather large man was holding the glass out to her.
"Greetings Little Red." A dark cultivated voice left his sculpted full lips. He smiled that calculating smile that she recognized well from many of the men she'd dated.
It obviously betrayed his impeccable pureblood upbringing. Something that most of the men she'd dated had accused her of lacking. Somehow, she'd always managed to put her foot in her mouth.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Zabini."
He was still holding out the drink to her while he took a swig of his own and shrugged. "I didn't poison it, you know."
She rolled her eyes and took the glass from him, sniffing it surreptitiously. She didn't trust him as far as she could throw him and judging from his sheer size, that wouldn't be very far.
Beside her, the attractive but massive man chuckled at her antics. "I'm not dangerous. I don't bite, unless you ask me to of course."
She flinched visibly at his attempt at a joke and gave him a grimace. "I won't ask, you can bet that smug smile of yours on that."
She took a moment to take him in. He had grown since their mutual school days. He was tall, maybe six-two but he had mostly grown in pure muscle as far as she could tell.
His tailored tux clearly showed muscled thighs coming up to narrow hips. His upper body angled out, shaping his upper body into a vee that ended at his wide shoulders. His thighs were the sizes of tree trunks and she wondered how nice his arse would look. His skin was olive-toned belying his Italian heritage and his eyes were a mesmerizing hazelnut brown flecked with dark green specks. Her eyes widened at him.
"Hmm…" He seemed to ponder her words with unprecedented seriousness before a grin broke out on his face and he moved a bit closer to her. "What if I beg you to ask?" His voice and face was showing serious mischievousness.
She shrugged as lady-like as she could manage. "Don't you worry your little head about that. It won't happen."
He staggered back. "Oh!" He cried loudly and put a hand dramatically on his heart. "You wound me, my beautiful lady!" He grinned at her obviously annoyed expression. She blinked. By gods that man was handsome when he looked like that.
She shook her head. She wasn't going to do it again.
He was probably as much of a scumbag as all of the previous men she'd been with. He certainly fit the general mould of her exes: Handsome, fit, rich and Slytherin. Maybe she should try to break the mould and not date another Slytherin, no matter how tempting.
His joking however, was not something she was used to.
She hadn't joked about with anyone besides her family and the few friends she had left since Harry.
All of the other men had been deadly serious about everything in life and they hadn't responded well to any of her attempts at jokes. In fact, she'd been thoroughly put down the last time she attempted anything of the sort around Marcus. Literally.
She had only dated one Gryffindor: Harry, and one Ravenclaw: Terry Boot. The list of Slytherins was long though: She'd started with Adrian Pucey.
He was a couple of years older than her and he'd cornered her after quidditch practice one day and propositioned her. It had taken a couple of tries for him but eventually she'd given in.
He was a major shareholder in the Holyhead Harpies and he lured her with promises of first team trials. It worked only because she'd really wanted her career off the ground and she and Harry had been in a rocky place.
He was her first Slytherin and she'd paid dearly for her choice. She had lost Harry as more than a boyfriend.
She'd hurt him deeply, she knew that and their friendship had been sketchy at best ever since.
In fact, most of her former friends had turned their backs on her. Only Neville, Luna and Hermione were her true friends. The ones she could tell anything and they would always be there for her but even then, she didn't tell them everything.
She didn't tell them how she was usually treated in those 'dreamy' relationships when the honeymoon-stage was well and truly over about a month into the relationship. That was the way she usually described her men in the beginning to whomever asked because it always seemed that way.
Unfortunately they never stayed 'dreamy'. Her bruised body was evidence of that. Thank Merlin for her perfected glamour charms.
She scoffed. "Your dramatics are seriously overrated Zabini."
He smirked and she couldn't understand why. "My dramatics are absolutely and especially awesome, thank you very much Little Red."
She rolled her eyes at him, he really was very a dramatic man. "Why are you calling me that?"
His smirk widened into a smile that almost took her breath away. He was a gorgeous man. Much more handsome than Marcus, Adrian and even Harry. He cocked his head. "Would you rather I address you as Ginny?"
She frowned and wrinkled her nose at him. "Dear Merlin no, that would just be too weird. Why are you out here talking to me anyway? Haven't you heard enough scary stories about me from Harry?"
He came closer, close enough that she could feel his body heat cascading over her bare flesh, almost like an embrace. "I am intrigued by scary stories." His eyes had a wickedly handsome spark of something in them and it unsettled her.
She realized a moment later that it gave her hope.
She couldn't dare to hope for anything. She was now perpetually ruined for all men in the future. Marcus had seen to that. "I'm not intriguing by any means Zabini." Her voice was flat, resigned to her fate.
He started circling her, caressing her skin here and there with light touches. It made her feel precious in a way that she didn't know if she deserved. "Au contraire. I find you endlessly intriguing. How can such a strong woman, a champion quidditch player, a war heroine think so little of herself? You are an enigma Little Red and I dearly love a good puzzle." His voice was a dark timbre, silky smooth and dangerous for her. She shouldn't hope for anything.
She would do her best to rebuff him. To get him to leave her alone. She crossed her arms at her chest and frowned at him. "I am not your plaything to study Zabini."
That smirk was still there, playing around those kissable lips. "How about coffee perhaps?"
She rolled her eyes. "No."
"Well, in that case-" He trailed off and she both hoped that he would back off and regretted her own success at the same time. "-I will be at Caffé Concerto just across from Harrods in Knightsbridge from two to three thirty tomorrow, as I am pretty much every Sunday. Feel free to join me for a coffee and a delicious piece of cake."
She blinked. A muggle coffee shop in a muggle part of London? No ordinary pureblood would ever go there.
He leaned in in one fluid motion and gave her a lingering kiss on her cheek.
He whispered politely with an undercurrent she couldn't quite place, "Please join me." before he left abruptly, leaving her with her heart racing and her mind completely in tangles.