Title: Thirst

Author: The Lurking Writer

World Outline: The year is 2005. The magical wars between the Death Eaters, Dumbledore's Army, and the Ministry of Magic have torn apart the lands. Innocent civilians have been slaughtered, cities have been reduced to nothing but ash, and billions of people have been reduced to a few thousand. The final battle between good and evil is about to commence, the battle for power will be fought on a dying world, and the fate of the Earth rests in the hands of a few armies.

Plot Summary: This story focuses on Blaise Zabini's journey from loyal Death Eater, to friend and follower of the Light. Along the way he discovers a thirst to prove himself worthy of the Magic within him.

Warning: Death and allusions to strong language and imagery.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related items are property of JK Rowling, all concerned publishers around the world, and of Warner Brothers. The only things owned by the author are the plot and any place names, characters or ideas not mentioned in the official Harry Potter books.

Word Count: 3844

Author's Notes: This version of the story was written for a writing contest on the Harry Potter message boards, held by Moirae333 (also an FF.net author). As such, the general "prompt" for this story came from her mind. However, the plot and all events with a few exceptions are property of myself, The Lurking Writer. Noted exceptions are property of Moirae333. Neither Moriae333, nor myself will tolerate copying of any part of this story, including, but not limited to the setting, the world outline mentioned in the summary and the plot.

Be warned – people have found this confusing. Leave me a review and I'll get around to answering any questions you all might have.

Also, please point out any parts that you think could be improved – could be anything, from grammar, word choice, to even mentioning my characterisation. Constructive criticism, when it is done correctly, and in a helpful manner, is always welcome and openly encouraged.

Part One – The End

My lips were cracked and caked with dust, while my throat was parched. The desert was not the most hospitable holiday location. Not that what I was here for could be described as a holiday. More like torture.

My travelling companions were resting under the shade of a torn canvas tent, whilst I stood beside the camp, my eyes squinting against the blinding glare of the summer sun. The high Sahara was nothing compared to the cruel wastelands of Scotland.

How could it have all gone wrong, you ask? All too easily. Not more than two years ago, I had graduated from the most prestigious school of magic the world had ever known. Now, I found myself away from the only place I'd ever truly called home, and I had entered…no, I was coerced into the service of a Dark Lord. I regret my inability to resist, but what was I to do? Me, a lowly second-rate Slytherin wizard, against the mighty Lucius Malfoy - There was no contest.

~*~

"Come boy, we will discuss this away from the school…it is imperative that we talk this through."

The voice of Draco's malevolent father had brought a slither of ice-cold fear into my gut. This man was a powerful, pureblood wizard. He had many, many connections to Death Eaters (supporters of You-Know-Who). Not that I was supposed to have known this. No one should have known this. But, I did, and it was all down to one person. Harry Potter had come back from facing You-Know-Who with the knowledge of his rebirth and of the return of the Death Eaters.

Less than one year later, he had faced his nemesis once more in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. None but those present know of the events in those forsaken rooms. What I do know was that it was confirmed that Malfoy Senior was present, and was remanded into secure custody. I always wondered how that vile snake had slithered his way out of the trap he'd been caught in.

As I walked beside the devil incarnate I noticed how cool the day had become, despite the blazing sunlight that burned my pale skin. A feeling of deep and utter revulsion welled within me, threatening to spill forth from my lips. Though I'd never encountered them personally, having spent most of my life avoiding them, I knew the effects of their presence.

If I could say one thing about the DADA teachers at the school, by far the greatest had been Professor Remus J. Lupin. In our third year he had managed to teach Potter how to produce a fully formed Patronus. The boy had not even been fourteen! If that isn't the mark of a good teacher, then I don't know what is…

As Mr. Malfoy and I walked further along the path that took me away from Hogwarts, the feeling of horror, pain, and deep, deep disillusionment flowed through me. There. I could see one. It's black cloak billowing in the crisp wind. The hood was high over its 'face', hiding it from view. A furtive movement revealed a scaly, skeletal hand that protruded from the darkness.

~*~

Apparently, silence was a virtue. If that were true, then by all rights, I should be the most virtuous person left alive. I'd never spoken a single word to my 'colleagues' since we set out on this god-forsaken mission. Not the brightest thing, you might say, for the team leader to do. I didn't care. My thoughts were elsewhere, and the other Death Eaters were all of sufficient intelligence to muddle along without my educated input. Shame though, that none of them knew how to boil an egg.

I sighed. It was a lone, mournful note that summed up how I was feeling these days.

After twelve cycles of sunrise and sunsets searching for the last stronghold of the Ministry of Magic, everyone could tell what minute of the day it was from my sigh. Steadily the Sun beat down upon the wastelands from high up in its cerulean cradle; the once green, vibrant, living moors that characterized Scotland so well were no more.

I couldn't stand it any longer. I had to move, for fear of my arms dropping off from boredom. Had I stayed but a moment longer, I would have seen and recognised the tiny badge that was half-smothered in the muddy sands. The badge bore the crest of a lion upon a scarlet and golden shield.

~*~

"T-th-that's a-a-a-a D-d-dementor!" I stuttered, the bile rising slowly up my burning throat. I was right you know - despite Malfoy's statement otherwise. Merlin's beard, I wish I hadn't been.

"Where? I do not see it. You must be mistaken boy. That is no foul creature of Azkaban. It is nothing more, or less, than a simple friend of mine."

How could one man's voice cause so much sheer terror inside of me? Not even Vol…You-Know-Who could elicit just such a primal emotion in me. Perhaps it was that I feared not death, but fear itself…I do not know…

~*~

As I stumbled across a strewn wilderness, many thoughts crossed the immeasurable expanse of my consciousness… every now and then they even deigned fascinating enough to bemuse my mind for short periods of time.

'Where on earth am I? Oh god, what have I done? I've gone and wandered off, lost in my bloody thoughts, again. Why does this always happen to me? What's this tree doing out here in the middle of…ah, it's the Whomping Willow! I'm at Hogwarts!'

The last thought was accompanied by a blunt thwack to the side of my head - stupid tree. In a matter of minutes I had utilised my pitiable magical skills to transfigure my walking staff into a shaft of some length, which I then had used to depress the knot on one of the outreaching roots of the foul manifestation.

That hit to the head must have done some damage for I could not surely be seeing this. Before me, striding out from a suspiciously concealed cleft beneath another of the roots was the only wizard You-Know-Who ever feared. My thoughts - and legs - turned to strawberry milkshake.

~*~

Words… Images… Shock… My head hurts… Where am I?

"You can't be serious! Charlie Weasley wouldn't dream of betraying Dumbledore!"

Cruel looking man… Cold eyes… Silver Blonde hair… Foul scent…

"On the contrary, my young apprentice. Weasley has been a traitor to the light for years."

Anger… bewilderment… Nice staff…

"You cannot be serious!"

Pain… Strange man… Spider webs… What's this brown stuff? Soil? Oh god… my head hurts…

~*~

"Ah, I see that hit to the head wasn't too much of a disturbance to your plans for today," said the white haired wizard standing over me. Behind those half-moon, dust covered spectacles shone the most brilliant blue eyes I'd ever seen…okay, so that's a lie, but I was a Slytherin, that should be enough to explain my personality… shouldn't it?

"What…what are you doing here?" I asked, not in the slightest bit scared of the current events. I could have been in Gryffindor, if it weren't for my stupid lust to prove myself as a human, much less a wizard.

"Tending to the Willow, and to your bruised skull, Mr. Zabini," he told me.

I let loose another of my trademark sighs, this one full of frustration and bewilderment at the situation I found myself in.

"I meant, what are you doing here, and alive?"

"The same as any other person opposed to Tom and his plans: I am surviving in the only way I know how."

This statement did confuse me somewhat. I put it down to the concussion I was sure I was beginning to suffer from.

"Well, you sure seem to be doing a better job of it than everyone else is," I coughed. Stupid tree.

"Where are we now though? Last thing I remember we were beside the tree…and I do seem to remember there being a blue sky and a blazing sun…it's funny how much a dingy old light bulb looks almost exactly unlike the sun. What's with all the spider webs? Where are we?" I asked, my gaze reaching into every nook and cranny within my field of vision.

"Do you not know, Mr. Zabini?" said Albus Dumbledore, his long, silvery beard was ragged, streaked with scorch marks, and frazzled with the hot, dry air. Even dishevelled and old looking, Dumbledore still exuded an air of power and commanded respect without asking for it.

Then it hit me... Not as hard as the despicable tree, but still firmly enough to set my mind reeling from the blow. I must actually be somewhere under the tree. Why would one of the most powerful wizards alive be hiding beneath a brainless willow though? And why would there be a light bulb beneath a tree?

What rankled me further, was the fact that I knew no Muggle equipment, except watches, worked in the presence of as much Magic as there was at Hogwarts. It couldn't possibly be a Muggle artefact. All that was left to explain its appearance was the one thing I was a dismal failure at. Magic. Dumbledore must either have been using his famed legilimancy skills, or he had seen the glimmer of dawning recognition in my eyes – for, his twinkled. Somehow, I doubted the latter.

"Quite right Mr. Zabini."

There was that insufferable smile of his. Irritation welled within me, but I valiantly fought it down. What use was being annoyed at the old man? He could have stunned me before I'd even finished thinking about attacking him. Not that I was, of course. Despite his fondness for Mudbloods and Muggles, I'd always respected the man. In that regard, I was far different from my fellow Slytherins.

"Well…no…I don't know where we are and you just stand there, with your "I know everything" smile, and expect me to…" I muttered a curse that would have turned Ron Weasley's ears red. Indeed I chose a good expression…I'd need new robes by the end of the day. From behind Dumbledore strode the most hideously despicable creature (other than Lucius) that I'd ever lain eyes upon.

"Good to see you again Dumbledore, and- Hello…What do we have here then?" Arthur Weasley, his red hair all but a memory, goggled at me, the plugs in his robe pockets making unsightly bulges.

"You disgust me Weasley."

"Now tell me young man, why do you feel that way?"

"Why else do you think, Weasley? Your son, Percy, the self-righteous ba-"

"Mr. Zabini, please, not while the walls are listening," chuckled Dumbledore.

I rounded on the elderly sorcerer. "Excuse me? The walls have ears now do they?"

"Of course they do not, Mr. Zabini, but they are magically inclined, and thus they adore eavesdropping from time to time."

The elder wizard's smile took on a benign look, so much more calming than that small, almost condescending smirk that seemed to give off the impression that he knew everything, wanted you to know this fact, but didn't want to give you any information at all…Damn Muggle-loving, nargle-infested-beard covered…

"As much as I'd love to hear about these so-called magical walls, I'd much rather know where in Merlin's Name I am!" I was becoming agitated…my fists clenched tightly; worn nails digging dangerously deep into my palms…

"I see that you weren't befriended by my son and his friends, while you studied at Hogwarts, then…for if you had been, then you'd most certainly have recognised this room instantly…" Arthur Weasley spoke quietly.

A thought surfaced…not hard to do after that…I couldn't even think of it now without feeling immense hatred for it…Stupid tree!

 "We're not under, but are close to the…that thing near Hogwarts…aren't we?" I asked, my ears pr1cking for any hint of an answer from the two other occupants (that I knew for certain of) of the room.

Dumbledore merely looked upon me, his gaze never wavering, the lines on the visible portion of his face revealing a nonplussed, candy-loving wizard. Weasley gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

"We…we can't be…in the…Shrieking Shack? I mean…where's all the ghosts, all the demons and werewolves and other…things…that are supposed to be here?"

"There was only ever one werewolf here, Mr Zabini…and there were most definitely no ghosts residing here to either Arthur's, or my knowledge."

"You mean to tell me that…oh forget this history lesson, I hated Binns' classes…what do you want with me, and why have you imprisoned me here?"

"What you don't fully appreciate here Blaise, is the precarious position in which you now find yourself. We have a simple saying in Ottery St. Catchpole, 'you've got a Demiguise by its toenail now, but soon you'll find yourself sitting in a Lethifold armchair."

I'd always thought that Dumbledore was confusing…he wasn't a patch on Arthur Weasley's conundrum of a "simple saying."

"You mean to tell me, that somehow I've got hold of the most elusive creature alive, and any second it could turn into one of the most dangerous things I could have near me?" I asked…a strange, dual feeling creeping into my empty, and thus rumbling, gut.

"That is precisely what we're not telling you," Dumbledore said through a mask of cool determination to confuse me.

It would be pointless to tell you what happened next, for I have purposely pushed it to the far reaches of my mind. Suffice it to say, I was told a few things, I answered some questions, and here I find myself back at the camp, only 3 hours after I'd wandered off. Crazy, I know, but time had seemed to slow down considerably while I was with Dumbledore.

Part Two - Rebellion

"Charlie! I need a word with you, now!"

Charlie Weasley, by far the most accomplished of my 'fellow' Death Eaters, came bounding up to me, wand in hand, dragon dung on boots.

"Whatcha' want Blaise? I'm bit busy with Longhorn…she's got scale rot." Charlie's face was a picture of sadness and concern.

"I've had a little chat with our mutual friend…Brian," I whispered, and waited.

Charlie gave a sharp intake of breath and immediately his eyes hardened, whilst the sadness remained evident upon his doleful face.

"I'm sorry about Longhorn, she was a good friend to us, wasn't she…" I tried to console my friend, for now that I'd mentioned our 'friend' it would be impossible for the dragon to survive. Within seconds we'd distanced ourselves from the camp, and, Charlie obviously doing the majority of the work, erected a Privatus charm around ourselves…

Under hushed tones, I explained to Charlie all that I'd learnt whilst in the Shack. He seemed to take it all in his stride, and was about to leave when I caught his arm.

"What did Brian's friend mean, when he told me that saying…about the Demiguise turning into a Lethifold armchair?"

"It means, Blaise, that You-Know-Who's gonna get a lot more than he bargained for when he accepted so many new Death Eaters from Hogwarts."

~*~

Sometime after this 'first' meeting with Charlie, and the unfortunate passing away of Charlie's beloved Longhorn, I had come to realise just what the red-headed dragon lover had meant. Almost all the people I'd known at Hogwarts were secretly planning to band together to overthrow their respective 'team' leaders, You-Know-Who's 12 most trusted henchmen.

Why then, I hear you ask, did he make me a team leader? Simple…I was the 13th to join his ranks after his rebirth and the events within the Department of Mysteries.

~*~

Those thin, red, slit like eyes…the snake like nostrils, flat against his face…his bald scalp revealing a myriad of faint blue veins.

The high-pitched voice threw me for a second, but that cruel calculating gaze of his penetrated through the mist's in my mind and focused me on 'Now.'

"Tell me, why have you been brought before me?" rasped the clearly aged, but no less powerful and malevolent dark wizard.

I could feel someone's thoughts residing beside my own…no…not merely residing…eavesdropping, gently urging…"I…I…To serve you…to bring you the blessing of Immortality, no matter the cost."

"A wise answer, young apprentice."

~*~

As my role as a team leader for a group of relatively young, though nonetheless talented, Death Eaters, it was my duty to ensure the completion of our objectives and to keep all members alive…believe me when I say, it was incredibly difficult to prevent everyone (Charlie included) from wanting to outright string Percy from his toenails and let him hang from a great height. Gawd I'd have loved to hear that son of a plug collector scream his hair white.

~*~

It was an incredible feeling, openly walking around the graveyard that was You-Know-Who's hideout come headquarters, when beneath the surface, there lay a rebel, waiting for the chance to prove itself. I however, am far more levelheaded from that aspect of 'me'.

There was close to over a hundred Death Eaters, all masked and heavily cloaked. At least two thirds of them had been taught Occlumency by Dumbledore himself, and as such were hidden from You-Know-Who's mind probes…

We had been waiting on this moment for many weeks, if not months now…Dumbledore had deemed us all worthy of supporting the Order of the Phoenix, and the remaining Ministry of Magic Aurors in the final battle…

With a simple flick of his wand, the old man had removed the charm he'd placed over the whole of Hogwarts, which had hidden it from all.

As Lucius Malfoy droned on about whatnots and bluebells, I was beginning to feel the tension in my gut once more.

~*~

Part Three - Heroics

The Final Battle had begun, and there I was, stuck in the very epicentre of the worst fighting I'd ever seen in my much too young a life. Death Eaters who'd stayed true to the dark within their souls fought valiantly, but in the end they were being vanquished, one by one by one.

The situation was not entirely one-sided, for, much to my dismay, in one instant a purple haired Auror stood on my left, and in the next she had been thrown backwards a dozen feet, where her crumpled body collided bone-crushingly with the solid oak doors of Hogwarts. Why did He have to bring the Giants into this?

My quick feet led me out from under the shadow of the gruesome beast and led me towards the outskirts of the fighting…and into the fray of a passing group of crazed and intense fighters. One I recognised instantly as Draco Malfoy, the last person I'd convinced to re-join the Light side. Behind him, almost out of harms way, was Narcissa Malfoy, her own pitiful wand was held quivering before her.

The battle was unremitting, and both sides tired. There had appeared to be a mutual agreement to avoid the usage of Unforgiveable Curses…and then I saw the reason why… Draco was fighting against his father… Suddenly, the agreement dissolved, faster than a sugar cube in vinegar.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I was so close to Draco I could see the fear in his eyes, as the deadly green light raced towards him. Once more time itself appeared to alter as I rushed forward to knock Draco to the floor.

As I collided painfully with him, bringing us both crashing jarringly to the floor, the Killing Curse sped past us…unfortunately it hit an unwitting, unknowing target. Narcissa Malfoy was gone before she'd even begun to fall.

"NO!!!"

The red raw scream came hurtling from Lucius' mouth. "Narcissa!!!" He dashed towards her fallen body…only to spin around and utter the Killing Curse once more, causing the unfortunate Roger Davies, who had been about to Stun Lucius, to drop his wand…as well as the rest of him. By this time I'd arisen, wand once more in hand.

"Expelliarmus!" I screamed. The ebony black wand flew towards me, and Draco caught it nimbly.

"Sonorous," I said, whilst aiming my wand at my larynx. With a simple spell, I was now able to have my voice heard without "raising it" so to speak.

With my enhanced voice, I aimed one last spell at Lucius.

"STUPEFY!"

The air vibrated so fast that for an instant a tunnel of distortion appeared, connecting Lucius and my wand. What happened next was far too gruesome to describe, but let me say this: Lucius Malfoy was now in a condition where he was able to scratch his left ear, with his right elbow.

Suddenly silence reigned, bar the clatter of two swords…You-Know-Who and Harry Potter were fighting. It was an artistic masterpiece, the way the swords whirled, and scythed through the air.

You-Know-Who was beginning to get frustrated, for his nostrils flared, his eyes blazed, and his attacks increased. But, no matter how fast he moved, not one blow struck home on Harry. It wasn't a matter of Harry being more agile, or speedy, it was just, wherever You-Know-Who's blade was, Harry wasn't.

In the end, there wasn't much to say about this fight. To say it was the greatest, and most significant swordfight in history would be an injustice to the beauty and magnificence of it. Harry won, of course.

~*~

Part Four – The Light

Many years later, after the events of those forsaken years, I found myself in a large bed, the covers surrounding my frail body. Draco Malfoy, my closest and dearest friend sat nearby, one hand resting upon mine.

"You were once a hero in my eyes, Blaise," said Draco, melancholy.

My last words, as the light faded from my eyes, plunging the world into darkness once more, were reminiscent of the one being I'd considered a personal nemesis of mine,

"You…cost me…my life…Boy…"

~*~

Epilogue

Sometime later, I'd found myself as a wandering soul... suffice it to say, it was a very satisfying experience... but there was something I needed to do... something that on the surface seemed harsh, but was in actual fact charitable for whom it concerned. Along the way however, I came across an opportunity I couldn't pass up now there were no consequences left.

As I sped along my way to reave the soul of another dear friend, Percy Weasley was sent screaming to Hell itself. No matter he wasn't supposed to suffer eternal damnation. It was a fair compromise considering the suffering he put me through... Thank God no one had to put up with his soul-shattering symphony anytime soon. Poor old Satan. I finally reached, reaved and remembered my old friend, Charlie Weasley.

"Blaise... where... where are we?"

"Limbo, Charlie... I've come to take you to see someone..." I replied soundlessly (for after death, what use is sound to those who cannot hear?).

Recognition dawned on Charlie the way a Blast-Ended Skrewt burned the hands of those unfortunate enough to choose the wrong part to grab.

"Y...you mean I'll be able to see Longhorn again?"

"No, I replied. You'll be meeting with Norbert."

~*~ Finis ~*~