Disclaimer: Me own Harry Potter? Pft! Yeah right! I'd rather own Draco
Malfoy.
A/N: Hey all. Not many people reviewed the last chapter : which is a bit of a kick in the guts, but I think that the later chapters will be more promising, 'specially after the ending I have planned . . . . Mwahahahaha! Lol, sorry, *ahem*, thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read Sweet November so far, u guys rock!! And for all you who haven't, u ARE EVIL!!! Lol, not really, cough*evil*cough.
Oh Yesh - I spell and say it like that, don't worry - if you want to be put on the updates list, for updates on the chapters and special inside info for the sequel . . . hmmmm, yesh, okay for the sequel, then please email me at Bluecolouredroses@yahoo.com Thank you!
I wanna dedicate this to Missa - u seriously rock girl! Because she was there with me all the way through this, and I don't think I could carry on with out you luv! - and to my new lil' friend, who I can't name as she's only tiny baby and I'm shielding her from the world, but alas, she isn't mine.
AND A BIG BIG BIG sorry for not updating sooner, but as u SHOULD of read, I had exams, ( which suck ass. However, I've finished them now, I got shitty marks, and . life goes on! Once again - I'M SORRY!!!! I'm a bad person ( I know O_O . I'm gonna keep up with my updates as much as I can now, I have the urge for some action and adventure, lol.
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Chapter 12: Of seduction and stupidity
*~*
11th November 2006
*~*~*~*~*~*
Take a walk outside your mind
Tell me how it feels to be
The one who turns the knife inside of me
Take a look and you will find there's nothing there girl
Yeah I swear, I'm telling you girl yeah 'cause
There's a hole in my soul that's been killing me forever
It's a place where a garden never grows
There's a hole in my soul, yeah I should have known better
'Cause your love's like a thorn without a rose
Aerosmith - Hole in My Soul
*~*~*~*~*~*
She sat there, staring blankly into the fire, the flickering flames making her eyes change from a deep brown to peaceful sea green in the dancing light. Every now and then she'd absentmindedly scratch the shiny black tattoo just above her wrist. It was still itchy, creating a nice pink-red swelling on her tanned flesh, leaving a red border around the mark.
However, her mind was elsewhere right now, her thoughts resting on the blonde she'd just come back from spying on . . . Haunted . . . That's how he'd looked, standing there in the mild night air, the soft wind blowing lightly, playing with his locks. And that look - She knew that look; it was the look she often spotted on her own downcast face from time to time, when she found her eyes lingered on the mirror for too long. That look of misery a person wore unconsciously in times of crisis.
The bronzed blonde blinked slowly and a solitary tear escaped her dancing eyes, the salty droplet cascading slowly down her face, as if reminding her of how she came to be there - all alone, with no one to comfort her
She couldn't believe he didn't recognise her, she was sure that he would . . . I mean, a lady as - 'worldly' as her wouldn't be forgotten in a hurry, but it seemed as though Draco Malfoy had seen more then one blonde In his life - but still how could he have forgotten 'her'.
'Of course he has! Look at him Layla, he's gorgeous, I mean, he's not going to stay lonely is he?' she scolded herself silently. At this, Layla rolled her eyes to the heavens. Yes, he wasn't going to stay lonely forever and it seemed, that Draco's new squeeze, was not just the desire of 'his' affections alone . . . on no, how could she forget that conversation about the redhead, the one that'd caused her to flee her homeland and land her that mind-numbing job in Gringotts.
'Stupid redheaded nymph' she huffed to herself, remembering the astonishing beauty that'd sat there before her 5 days ago. How could he resist such a goddess? Even Layla Nox, beauty extraordinaire, was stunned by her elfin features - the fiery red curls, huge doe like eyes surrounded by exotic lashes, curves that'd make any man groan in want, and any woman grimace in envy. Yes . . . indeed she could see how he could like her . . . how BOTH of them could like her . . . she was a rare prize to any man, but to the man whom she loved . . . that was the last straw . . ..
Abruptly her thoughts were on another . . . but not the redhead temptress, or gorgeous blonde . . . her thoughts were on the 3rd wheel of the tricycle, Blaise Zabini - the man she loved and wanted beyond anything in the world....
A asinine smile crept onto her face as she remembered the ebony haired prince, his piercing hawk-like golden eyes, his debonair smile - there was no doubt about it, Blaise Zabini was probably the tastiest piece of crumpet on the face of the earth! - In her eyes anyway. Suddenly, she felt her tongue slide out of her mouth and moisten her lips as she remembered the taste of his full rosy lips, the touch of his tongue....
Layla Nox cherished Blaise Zabini, more then life itself . . . too bad he felt completely the opposite.
Another salty tear washed down her face as that redheaded goddess popped back into view. She hated her so much, beyond loathing, beyond anything . . . she'd stolen Blaises heart, and by the looks of things, she still had it. The infamous Ginny Weasley - casting herself off as Ginny Bloom, no doubt Draco's idea - so she'd met her at last . . . but there was something wrong with that picture, very wrong indeed . . . if the conversation she'd over heard 2 years ago was anything to go by, then Blaise would be sitting across from the redhead not Draco . . . yes, something was definitely wrong there.
She remembered the last time she'd been within touching range of the Zabini, remembering how she'd almost succeeded in seducing him - nearly . . ..
#~#
Malfoy Manor, 13th October 2004, 12.46 pm
It was dark and cold outside, the autumn rain falling heavily beyond the window, thick droplets of water splattering against the strong glass. However, inside, the atmosphere was even colder and darker then the rising storm raging in the world. The presence of 50 or so more deatheaters was enough to choke the life out of any location, making the dwelling staggering and unpleasant. The evil that was present within the manor was incredible.
It was another deatheater meeting - but with a difference . . . this time, as a deatheater, you weren't allowed to leave the manor. At all. None of the deatheaters - apart from their leader's son - were allowed to leave the large house to go about their business; everyone was confined to Malfoy Manor until it was deemed 'safe' to return to the wizarding world.
Inside, away from the cruel weather, a fireplace was roaring in one of the upper rooms, filling the large room with a small ball of light. This was one of the more secluded rooms, the type that no one knew about - unless you actually owned the house, but in this case, the person who was sitting in the room, did not own the house yet he still knew about the solitary place. Half of his faultless aristocratic face was shaded in the darkness whilst the other half was illuminated by the dancing orange flames; his head was bowed in remembrance, and his unique eyes were glazed over, showing that the ebony haired man was deep in thought.
He'd often heard the expression 'penny for your thoughts' by the muggle born kids, when their friend had wondered off into their own private world. He was thinking about that very expression right now, and how his thoughts - in his eyes - were worth more then that, for his mind . . . yet again, was on the owner of his heart and his confider of thought, Ginny Weasley. For months and months he'd thought of nothing but the elfin redhead.
She'd invaded his thoughts, her presence always there at the front of his mind. No matter how hard he tried, Blaise couldn't tear himself away from his obsession with her. He needed her - wanted her, and he had decided . . . that he'd do anything to get her.
The youngest Zabini was so caught up in his obsession with the redhead nymph, that he did not notice the large door creak open and a tall hooded figure, that silhouetted pleasant curves from under the expensive fabric, floated over to where he was sitting and stared intently at him, feline hazel coloured eyes travelling up and down his body appreciatively. He was stirred from his stupor, by the placing of a gentle feminine hand on his upper thigh, which at this very moment was stroking his leg suggestively.
A small giggle sounded from under the hood, making the cloak quiver slightly with each titter. There was no doubt in his mind who was hiding under the hood, she came to him every time he was there, and since Blaise had been here for 3 days now, she'd followed him around non stop like some little lost sheep. Although it was her job to 'entertain' all the deatheaters in the monstrous manor, this particular 'entertainer' seemed to be saving herself for him - and only for him it seemed.
Rolling his eyes resignedly, Blaise let out a heavy sigh as two slender hands grasped the hood and slowly slid it downwards, revealing soft layered blonde hair and hazel coloured eyes, set in a tanned oval face that he supposed made her more 'appealing' to the eye. Her slender hands moved downwards to unclasp the expensive shroud, and with a simple flick of the clasp, the cloak slithered off her shoulders and into a messy pile behind her, and in doing so, revealing a tight strapless dress that clung so tightly to her tanned flesh, that the skimpy outfit just covered her voluptuous chest. However, the bottom of the dress was much more shocking then the top. The satin fabric was slowly creeping up her thighs, and if you were to glance downwards, you would just catch a glimpse of lacy black fabric covering her modesty.
Another touch to his thigh caused him to cough awkwardly and snap him from his scrutiny. "Hello - again - Layla, what can I, err, do for you?" He asked mild ignorance, pretending not to notice her subtle hand travelling higher and higher up his leg.
"Blaise . . . you know what I want." She purred her hand stopping on his belt. "You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" she added openly, bringing up her other dainty hand and rubbing his chest lightly with her manicured nails.
"Layla, listen - " Blaise started, glancing down at the light hand on his chest in mild disgust, "I'm not in the - err - mood . . . right now, can't we finish this, um another time?" he added hopefully, trying the slither away from her impending closeness but was inclined to remain where he was, as Layla pushed him rather roughly back into the sofa.
The blonde hooded her eyes in a sinful way, and gave a small pout as she came closer to him, her heart racing wildly. "Finish? Blaise, we haven't even begun," she purred, grasping the silver buckle at his waist roughly and giving it a giant tug. At this, Blaise gave a small gasp of shock, and though he hated to admit it, lust.
Layla bit her lip impishly and worked the leather belt with both hands, whilst she bought Blaises attention to her face, which was getting closer and closer to his own. Finally she had Blaise where she wanted him, and now she had him, she wasn't going to let him get away that easily. Bringing her lips slowly down onto his, Layla began working her own 'magic' on the Zabini, sucking and biting his lower lip, sending shockwaves of pleasure down her spine as well as his, making her fantasies a reality.
Blaise could only watch helplessly as his instincts took over, turning his mind to a pasty mush. She was disappearing, the image of the beautiful redhead, her face was fading away and another was returning in its place. As much as he hated to admit it - he liked what Layla was doing to him, she'd sought him, lusted after him and had done so for ages, and just this once, he would accept her. Stifling a groan as the blonde nipped the soft flesh below his ear; Blaise allowed his body to take over and became shortly aware that his hands had wandered to her waist and right now, they were pulling her towards him and with some impatience, placing her in his lap. He didn't care that he was betraying his heart; he just wanted one moment of passion - just one.
Layla couldn't believe he wanted her too. She thought that conquering Blaise Zabini would be the hardest challenge in the world, but now he was trapped, the youngest Zabini was bending to her every whim. White-hot pleasure was piercing her body at his strong, eager touches, the way his hands wondered all over her, searching for something that he could never find. Tonight, she would make him forget anything and everything. Tonight, he would be hers, all hers.
A small gasp escaped the blondes plumped lips as she felt his excitement against her, her body responded immediately by arching into him, getting as close as she could to his heat. God she'd never felt this way with anybody! Everyone up to this moment had been second best in her eyes. This, this moment of pleasure that was happening right now, was definitely worth the wait.
Blaise could wait no longer; he needed some release, to vent his emotions. Letting his body guide him, his large hands wandered up her top to her chest, kneading and rubbing the supple breast beneath the silky fabric. But as quick as the intense heat was rising around them, the aristocratic, drawling voice belonging to an intruder of privacy brought them back down to earth even quicker, bursting the fragile bubble of passion.
"Well, Well Blaise! This 'is' a surprise . . .."
Layla growled vociferously in aggravation at the interruption, causing the man beneath her to come to his sanity and fling her forcefully to the side, making the blonde land with a flump on the large cushions behind her. She couldn't believe this was happening! She'd just lost her chance. Eyes full of hurt, and heart aching Layla recovered promptly from his abrupt dismissal and stared at the Zabini enquiringly, studying his facial features and asking in silent question if there were any regrets.
Then again, if the ruthless look on the Zabini's face was anything to go by, then he regretted ever being born. He was glaring at the Blonde 'entertainer' with such loathing, such hate, than the devil himself would tremble in fear. Layla couldn't have mistaken the mystification; anger, regret and astonishment swimming across his face, the way he was looking at her right now said it all. He hated her. He hated what he'd just done, and he'd never permit himself to do that again. Ever.
Blaise, unable to comprehend what had just happened between the hooker and himself, drew his attention away from her to the person that'd just waltzed into the room. Blonde hair. Silver eyes. Famous smirk. Draco Malfoy, and right now, he had a grin on his face that just screamed advantage. Oh how he'd love this. He'd just caught his 'best friend' with his trousers, almost down, and with a hooker no less. Oh the shame, the embarrassment. Imagine catching him in this sorry state when he was thought to be fawning over that Weasley girl.
Draco chuckled deeply at the look of pure venom in his friend's eye; apparently he was thinking the same thing as him. This, obviously, needed a little justification.
"Layla, get out of here now. Blaise and I need to have a little . . . chat. Go bother someone else for a while; perhaps you can finish what you started later?" Draco drawled in his most malevolent voice; his last statement causing the ebony haired man growl in anger and leap up from the sofa, which, unfortunately, caused his unbuckled trousers to slip down to his knees.
"Haha! Oh Blaise! You most definitely HAVE been caught with your trousers down!" Jested Draco, snickering in aristocratic mirth that was born into most of the over privileged. This witty remark caused Blaise to yank his trousers up instantaneously and fumble idiotically over the buckle and zips, his fingers slipping self-consciously and his face turning the same redness of a ripened tomato.
Rolling his eyes, Draco returned his attention to the other occupant of the room, who was gawping at Blaise, hazel eyes full of unmistakable hurt and anxiety. A feline smile morphed onto his pale face as he watched the call girl swipe away the forming tears and fasten her cloak around her with shaky hands.
"Oh Layla, Layla. Been rejected again have we? You stupid whore, when are you going to realise that this prat -" he nodded his head towards the seething Blaise, "doesn't want you! He doesn't want any of you! Now - " With three swift steps, Draco was next to the Blonde girl, and by the time she knew what was happening had pulled her half way towards the exit and was currently opening the door to discharge her. "why don't you go and find another dog to satisfy your needs you little bitch, and don't come back here again - you whores know better then to wander from the chambers, be a good little hound and - " with another rough yank, and a well aimed hurl, Layla Nox went flying through the door and a little way along the corridor; her cloak and skirt riding up her bottom as her arse slid along the marble floor. "stay the hell out!"
Layla choked heavily in disbelief, alarm and a mouth full of tears as she saw another flash of angry grey eyes before the oak doors slammed shut, the thunderous crash echoing along the deserted corridor. She couldn't believe that -that spoilt brat! How dare he treat her like a common -.
'But that's what you are Layla, a common whore whose had more rides than the village bicycle.' Interrupted a wise, calm voice - the voice of reason was back yet again. 'You're a creature of the underworld, to be bartered and tossed around to those who it pleases. Creatures of the underworld, Layla, can't afford to fall in love.'
With a huge sob and a nasty lurch within the depths of her stomach, Layla slid herself over to the wall and let the tears fall, the sadness and grief flowing out of her. Those long legs could no longer take her weight, and in her anguish she drooped against the wall, her head resting limply on the hard wooden panels that covered the barriers within the house.
Meanwhile, within the dark room from which the blonde had just been ejected, the 2 males were sizing each other up, Draco from across the other side of the room whilst examining the portraits on the wall with much disinterest, and Blaise from his position on the couch, where he watched through steely eyes the blondes every move.
"So . . ." The Malfoy boomed throughout the quiet room, piercing the tense atmosphere, "I see you're finally moving on from that Weasley girl, bout time too . . . she's well beyond 'your' reach." He added; his eyes flashing dangerously as he surveyed his 'friend' - who at this very moment, was swelling up with unseen fury for the Malfoy.
"You'd better keep away from that particular subject Malfoy, other wise I'll separate you from your breath . . . what do you want with me? Either spill it or leave." Blaise hissed through gritted teeth, his ears turning crimson. This comeback was just the invitation Draco wanted to push the subject - and the Zabini's dying patience - even further.
"What if I don't have anything to tell you? What's wrong with coming to see my best friend in the whole wide world?" Draco drawled slowly, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"You, Draco Malfoy, ceased to be known as that to me, when you stabbed me in my back." Blaise ridiculed through snarled lips. He knew what Draco was doing to his mind, and what he detested about it overall, was that it was succeeding - to his advantage no less.
At this spiteful response, Draco smirked wickedly, his grey eyes dancing with mirth. So Blaise was still living in the past, 'so like him' Draco observed, 'can never forgive and forget.' Sniggering slightly, the lofty blonde made his way towards Blaise and sat down vigilantly on the coffee table across from Blaise, now they were eye to eye - gold locking with silver. Surprisingly Blaise stood his ground as the Dracos silver eyes burned with unseen fire, the fire that on many occasion, had sent cowardly deatheaters scampering away to pursue their subject another time.
"So, you want to go back there do you Zabini, back to the past where you seem to spend most of your days, fawning over something - over a certain someone that you've never ever had. Did you even hold her in your arms? Did you even kiss her and send her into ecstasy? Did she ever murmur your name in the heat of passion? Well Blaise? ... Did she?"
Aggravated, dumbfounded and envious, Blaise gawped at Draco, his mouth dropping as the words washed over him like a tidal wave. As bleak recollection and total absentness consumed him, his eyes dropped from the Blonde for an instant, answering the question Draco already knew the reply to.
Draco smiled smugly, his suspicions confirmed, and with this established information in tow, he continued his spite. "I thought so . . . or more like my dear friend, I knew so. Such a temptress she was, a fiery spirit much too spicy for you Blaise. Why on earth would she want someone like you . . . when she had someone like me . . .."?
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK! YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU SON OF A BITCH!" shouted the enraged Zabini, as he sprung to his feet surprising himself as well as catching the blonde off guard; his holly wand pointed straight at Draco's throat. "Ginny Weasley would never find the time of day for someone like - like you. Ginny cares for me, and I care for her, more intensely and truly then you ever could you great shite! I love her okay! And nothing you say, or anyone says, can change that! Now what happened between that - that whore, and me, has nothing what so ever to do with you! Now get out and LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T CARE WHAT STUPID ORDERS YOU MIGHT HAVE FOR ME, OR IF YOUR, BLOODY FATHER WANTS HIS BOOTS LICKING! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AND THAT BLONDE WHORE AGAIN . . . because - " Blaise resumed in his normal voice, as the livid shouting was making his own head throb in intense pain. "I hate this life . . . this stupid, pointless fucking life and everything about it. What the fuck is the point in being a deatheater anyway? Our "Dark lord" isn't returning in a hurry, and the reign of darkness is over . . .."
Blaise's glowing, anger filled eyes softened for the briefest of moments, as he gazed helplessly into those piercing, surprised sliver eyes for his childhood friend; the wand that was raised in his right hand drooping ever so slightly. "But as for Ginny, she's . . . she's the only thing that's making me live Draco . . . without her . . . I'm dead, and there's no point to my existence. Just remembering her, thinking about her sweet face . . . it gets me through each day . . . and although I'm living in a memory, I'm hoping, praying, that our paths will cross once more . . . and then we will be together . . . I know it . . . she's my whole world Draco - my life . . . and without life . . . I'm done with - my love for her, my obsession for her . . . is as simple and as complicated as that."
That was the moment. That's when Draco knew, and understood, the true meaning of devotion and existence. Blaise loved Ginny Weasley more then life, and without life and the things you love, then death is the only option. For tortured souls who prey on the helpless - as the deatheaters did - then a light in the darkness: living within in a memory - something to hope for and believe in . . . was the only option for happiness. Ginny Weasley, the girl that he, Draco, tainted long ago in the heat of the moment, the girl that he'd bullied and tormented eternally year after year, was Blaises light in the darkness . . . and unknown to all . . . his too.
He understood now . . . yet he hated it at the same time. However, it was the answer to his silent question. He knew it. Nevertheless, . . . he couldn't, not a Malfoy, strong and proud - natural born leaders and rulers of the land. Not a tainted servant of the dark, his purpose to serve, instead of to conquer and over power the weak as the past generations did - not Draco Malfoy . . . he couldn't feel, let alone express l - l - well he couldn't feel 'that' . . . it was impossible . . ..
Right?
Yet he remembered so clearly, as though it'd happened mere moments ago. The kisses he planted all over her, because he wanted too - out of want and not spite, as was often his nature.
The haunting moment of pure passion that resurfaced, when his mind strayed out of bounds into the recesses of the past.
The surge of anger he felt, when he heard the ebony haired eagle mention her beauty her grace - just the mere mention of her name from his lips, caused a chain reaction of anger to wash over him.
The whisper of a thrill . . . the feel of her body . . . the heat of the moment . . . it sent him into overdrive to even recall such a memory.
The intense need to touch her again . . . the image resurfacing from the recess of his mind, to haunt and taunt him. Last of all, the petty contrast of the redhead against others; comparing women to her looks and 'talent', most of the time he did it unconsciously, but there were odd moments . . . where he would catch himself off guard.
What did it all mean? Could he be . . . feeling something? It sure seemed that way from the way he was reacting - every mention or remembrance of the redheaded sprite sent a shockwave through his body, electrifying him. He knew that it was not lust . . . or mere chance . . . so could it be -?
"Draco! Master Draco sir! You is wanted! You is wanted downstairs at once!" cried a shrill voice to his left, somewhere in the region below his belt. It was his father's house elf, terry, and just like his father, Terry the house elf was stuck up, stubborn and seemed to have a superiority complex. It was perhaps convenient, that the supercilious elf appeared at that time, because if his mind had wondered over that word - that word that paupers to princes used at their leisure - a word so universal, yet rich with sentiment - scared him senseless . . . he was afraid of that word, because it held so much meaning, so much depth, that its meaning still managed to confuse him, and lure him into a sense of apprehension.
Meanwhile, across from the tall and opinionated blonde, Blaise, who was still holding the wand but more limply now, pocketed the holly baton and swept from the room; his black cloak billowing out behind him as his pace quickened towards the exit of the tension filled room. Draco watched his fellow deatheater sigh heavily, and shake his head briefly, before storming down the corridor, presumably towards the room that held the other deatheaters.
What had just happened? Really happened?
For the first time in what seemed years, he and Blaise had actually withstood each other for more then 5 minutes - even though they'd argued; normally their conversations revolved around taunts regarding the past, or if orders were being given. Yet another thing he'd just realised was, - Blaise had just told him the truth . . . the whole truth, which seemed to have liberated an immense weight from a top his chest. Nevertheless, Blaise's modest speech of realism had also made him recognize something else . . . something that'd been trying him for some time now. Yes . . . indeed.
"Master Draco! Please to be coming downstairs! Your father is wai - "
"YES I heard you the FIRST time!" Draco snapped, interrupting the pompous elf, making the russet-eyed creature glare stubbornly at him, before disappearing with a loud crack, reminiscent to that of a whip.
Draco sighed resignedly as he swept towards the doorway, wondering what his father wanted 'this' time. Pausing at the doorway to the darkroom, lit only by the fire that was crackling merrily away, Draco tried once more to comprehend what'd just happened between his childhood friend and himself. Although they detested each other, for a moment there, the barriers were dropped between enemy lines and a bomb of thought was dropped before the blonde, and it was only a matter of time, before that bomb exploded in on his thoughts completely.
'Oh Draco, don't think about this now, you'd better go see what you're father wants before he disowns you for disobedience.' His mind hissed quietly to him, before the memory of the conversation was forced to the back of his mind, out of sight and forgotten for a while.
Yet down the murky passage, secluded behind a locked door, was a blonde with tears streaming down her face out of distress - the conversation she'd just overheard whilst slumped against the wall in her humiliation, buzzing in her ears . . . those words, hurtful words of sincerity sounding within her head over and over again, unable to dislodge them from her mind.
She'd lost her chance . . . she'd lost her pride . . . and, she had lost her love.
#~#
The fire was just glowing dimly within the rustic grate . . . her puffy hazel eyes were still watching - probing for an answer. What she sought, more then anything, was to hold him in her arms . . . to feel and savour him again . . . Still, he would never take her back - unless . . . .
It came to her - just like that. So simple yet so - so brilliant! She thought it over . . . going over and over it in her mind . . . that should work, it was destined to work, at least it would be a start . . . hopefully the start of something new.
'Yes . . . YES!' Layla cried to herself, launching off the small sofa in one huge bound and grabbing the nearest pot of Communi-powder, she flung half its contents impatiently into the dying flames, suddenly making them spring back to life. Immediately the roaring orange flames turned crimson red, and without a moments hesitation she cried his name into the fire, waiting for his response - if he would respond to her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Blaise . . . Blaise, where are you?" whispered a tentative voice into the eerie darkness of the seemingly vacant room. The room in question was Blaises room; however, Angelus had been hesitant and a tad apprehensive about wondering into the large bedroom, in case his alienated cousin was lurking in the corner; wand raised and red eyes gleaming.
Somehow, he didn't like the idea of that.
Nevertheless, how could he, Blaise, do it . . . give up a unique part of himself for a woman - and for a woman who didn't even love him! Then again . . . we all do crazy things when we're in love - it's just human nature, it's just how we are.
"Blaise . . .." Angelus hissed into the dark, a bite of impatience in his voice. This was getting ridiculous. He'd been searching the manor high and low for what seemed like hours, ever since Blaise - or, what ever had taken over his cousin's body - threw him against the wall. A small twinge ached his back as he remembered the encounter. Never before had Blaise done such a thing to him, of course they'd tussled in the past, but back crunching each other against the wall? Nope.
Sighing resignedly, Angelus turned to leave the room . . . but as he did so, as small movement in the window seat caused him to pause in his action and squint into the eerie darkness.
"Blaise?" hissed the fearful deatheater quietly, "Is - is that you?" He solicited wearily, squinting enquiringly at the form. Gathering his courage, and screwing up his fear, Angelus took a couple of tentative steps towards a dark figure hunched in the window seat. There was no mistaking the stooped body, indeed it was Blaise, but was it safe to approach him? Their last encounter was fresh in his mind, and he was in no hurry to repeat the experience.
Reaching for his wand in order to illuminate the room, a shaky voice sounded throughout the ghostly shadows. "Don - don't cousin, I - I want to be I- in the dark- darkness . . .." stuttered Blaise, his back to the other Zabini. "How - how long have I - I been - . . . how did I - I get he - here?" he asked, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably with each breath as if each breath was a great effort.
"You - you don't remember?" Angelus asked incredulously, taking two more steps forward. "Don't you remember anything?" he whispered curiously, taking an apprehensive seat across from Blaise, trying to glimpse his cousin's hidden face.
Blaise shifted uncomfortably under his cousin's gaze, trying harder to sink back into the shadow of the booth. Apparently he wanted something about his face to remain hidden, and Angelus had a strange inkling, from the way his cousin was . . . well, the way he was behaving, suggested that he was crying - something he hadn't done in front of him for a long, long time.
"Blaise . . . what've you done?" breathed Angelus despairingly, scooting closer along the cushion, "Why did you do it Blaise? Lower yourself into such a sorry state. Look at what she's reduced you to." He sighed, kicking off his black boots and placing his legs on the cushion, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I - I love her Ang, I love her so much that it hurts . . . it hurts." Came Blaises soft whisper, "It hurts me, because she doesn't understand - . . . she doesn't want my love, she wants that - that blonde git instead, the bloody Hogwarts heartbreaker." Sniffled Blaise as the soft light of the moon lit his eyes for a moment before they sunk back into darkness. That's when Angelus realised; it wasn't the crying he was trying to hide, but his eyes.
"Blaise, look at me . . ." whispered Ang dexterously, squinting at Blaises sinister face. "What've you - " but before angelus could finish, Blaise sighed resignedly and leant forward into the moonlight, making his worried cousin gasp in mild fear and sorrow. Instead of the beautiful gold colour that normally swam within his eyes, making them shine like the sun, a searing crimson red shone there instead, making his eyes shine like rubies in the bleary light.
Recovering himself quickly, and rearranging his stunned face to that of concern, Angelus bowed his head sadly; those red eyes reminding him of their horrible situation, yet as he did so, noticed that the soft olive coloured skin covering Blaises knuckles was scratched and bruised and in some places, blistered. Just seeing the cuts created an uncontrollable surge of anger to well up deep inside him - anger not for his cousin, but for the evil force that'd done this to him.
He reached out for the wounded hands in front of him, and being careful not to harm Blaise in anyway, began inspecting the cuts with an expression of resentment and hatred on his face, yet using soft, caring touches on the injured skin. Blaise did not attempt to stop him, and he too inspected the cuts through puffer fish eyes.
Then Angelus soon realised something, something that just this minute had popped back into his mind - why wasn't Blaise trying to stop him, or punch him or bad mouth him in any way? Ever since his soul had been taken from him, Blaise had been as vindictive and sly as Voldemort himself, so why the sudden change of heart?
"Blaise . . . what's the matter you're . . . different somehow, what did he do to you?"
This question was answered almost immediately though, when Blaise unexpectedly clenched his hands into wobbly fists and as though some unseen force was restraining him, he curled his fists into his hunched body out of his cousin's reach. His eyes twitched violently as they formed uneven slits, which were half crying half glaring at Angelus, his mouth too was following the same action . . ..
"Blaise?" asked Ang uncertainly as the quivering racking Blaises body grew worse and worse with each second. "Blaise what -?"
"NOOOOO!" Blaise cried all of a sudden as his body trembled so violently that he fell from the booth to the floor with a heavy smack. "NO, NO LEAVE ME!! I WONT LET YOU DO THIS TO ME!" he shrieked to the dark room as he writhed and flailed on the wooden floor, his eyes tightly shut.
"BLAISE! Blaise don't worry I'm here . . . I'm here Blaise . . ." Angelus exclaimed mournfully, stooping down next to his cousin and gathering him into his arms despite his wild thrashing. He could feel it . . . the evil reasserting itself - or was it? It seemed that way . . . the evil sensation was subsiding ever so slightly before coming back to him in full force. It was as though a giant battle was being fought in his mind between good and evil, and now the score was even on both sides.
Then . . . at that same instant . . . there was nothing. No thrashing, no wailing. Just silence. He felt Blaises body relax faintly and his head flop unenthusiastically onto Angelus' shoulder as exhaustion took over; his breathing coming out in short shattered gasps. Then unexpectedly, Blaise spoke to the darkness, but not in the cold harsh voice as would be expected after such an ordeal, but his own trembling one.
"Ang . . . don't let them take me . . . please, tell them to leave me alone . . . I didn't want this . . ." he sobbed wretchedly, his weight sagging with every sob as he relaxed into the comforting embrace of his cousin. Angelus glanced down at the man in his tired arms, thinking forlornly how the mighty had fallen. That is where the Zabini cousins sat for a while, one comforting the other in his disturbing time of need, one crying sorrowfully but from more then one place.
Unexpectedly, a blaring light sprung up from behind the anguished twosome, interrupting the stillness of the room, and through the dark, a teary yet pregnant voice sounded throughout the scope. "Blaise? Blaise are you here? Where are you?" hissed the scratchy voice, an impatient sigh following her noisy squawking. Both the Zabini's stiffened as they recognised the voice - how could they forget. From where they were positioned now, behind the large black leather sofa, Layla wouldn't be able to see them. All they had to do was stay put until she'd gone - if she ever did.
"What the hell does *she* want?" hissed Angelus darkly, more to himself then to Blaise as the impatient voice continued to wash over them, stabbing the enigmatic darkness.
"Get - get rid of her please Ang . . ." sniffed Blaise quietly, "Please?" he shot over his shoulder as Blaise crawled furtively over from his position behind the sofa to his bed and lay down resignedly beside it on the cold floor, knowing that he'd be well out of her vision.
Taking a deep breath, and dusting himself off slightly, Angelus checked that Blaise was well hidden then stood up, taking the floating head of Layla Nox by surprise as the seemingly vacant room was occupied after all. For a moment, they stared at each other, Angelus' golden eyes flashing dangerously as her hazel eyes glistened curiously.
"Oh, its 'you' again. What do you want this time?" drawled Angelus languidly, as he walked around the sofa and took a seat on the plump black cushions.
"I - I wanted to speak to Blaise . . . is he back yet?" the blonde asked nervously, somewhat frightened at the prospect of seeing the youngest Zabini again - which was brainless really, as it was her that wanted to see 'him'.
Angelus glowered deeply. "Yes, he came back yesterday . . . but he's not here right now. I think - " he paused, hoping that his expression read that of confusion. "He went to one of the pubs off Diagon Alley for a celebration drink he should be back tomorrow. Call then . . . if you think he'll talk to you." He added snidely, remembering Layla and Blaises last . . . *encounter*.
Laylas nerve-writhing stomach seemed to drop out at the reply, now it felt as though she had no stomach at all. Disappointment consuming her, Layla sighed jadedly - before thinking of a quick recovery.
"Oh well . . . I guess I'll have to tell him about a particularly atrocious and aristocratic blonde that strolled into Gringotts the other day. I'll call back later - "
"Wait, wait, wait . . ." squawked Angelus, jumping to his feet as Laylas head made to leave the fireplace, "what blonde? What do you mean?" he asked curiously, glaring uncertainly at the fair-haired woman, whose Hazel eyes were dancing with malevolence. Down beside the bed, Blaise waited stone like as he listened to every word that was said, as well as toying with the idea of presenting himself to the intolerable woman.
Layla tried not to beam too haughtily at the sudden attention. "I mean the arrogant blonde who your cousin hates more then anything else in this beautiful world, the son of our leader . . . Draco Malfoy."
Angelus widened his eyes for the briefest of moments at the information. This was it! This is what they'd been waiting for! If Layla gave them the information about Malfoy, then he and Blaise would be rewarded for their services - but something told the ebony haired man, that Layla wouldn't simply "Give" the information away . . . otherwise she wouldn't be flooing to enlighten them about this.
Raising an eyebrow, Angelus moved to the high-backed chair next to the fire and leaned forward - not wanting to miss a word. "You've seen him then, Draco Malfoy - are you sure it was him?" he asked inquisitively, just in case these tidings was too good to be true. Layla nodded silently, her eyes never leaving his. "What was he doing in Gringotts - was he alone?" he asked suddenly, remembering Ginny was where ever he was right now.
"Well in answer to your first question, he wanted access to his account . . . he said something about needing to access it out here as they had problems doing so in England, then he with drew quite a lot of money before leaving." Layla replied simply, as a hand popped into view to swipe away a few loose tendrils. "As for your second question, he was alone at the time, but not when I saw him later on that day . . ." Over by the bed Blaise tensed up and sat as still as he could, not wanting to miss any of the words that were to follow Laylas last statement.
"Well, where did you see him later that day?" whispered Angelus, not blinking not moving and not even breathing.
Layla smirked widely; glad to see he was hanging on her every word. "Well . . ." she paused frowning as though deep in thought, however the answer was on the tip of her tongue. "When Draco left Gringotts, he left his apparation permit behind on the counter - I only just noticed when it fell off the pile of paper work he was filling in, but anyway, after half an hour he didn't come back for it so I thought I'd better go look for him, as I was curious as to what he was doing here, so I wondered around the village all day looking for him. The sun was particularly hot that day, so I couldn't search all day other wise I would of fainted for the heat. After 5 o'clock it was safe to venture outside again, but most of the street was empty and most of the stalls and shops had closed for the day, so I decided to look in the places that were popular at night - mostly the local bars and restaurants, and although I searched all day and I still couldn't find him . . . until I saw the lights leading up to Haruni's Place."
She took in a lungful of air before continuing, as well as noticing how calm and motionless the room was. "So I went in and had a little poke around, and that . . . is when I saw them, sitting there all puppy dog eyes - "
"Layla, who was he with . . ." interrupted Angelus, his eyes watering from his absent blinking and the crimson light of the red fire.
" . . . Ginny Weasley." Whispered the blonde woman, a feline smile snaking its way onto her face.
"WHAT!" shouted a voice somewhere behind the sofa, making both Layla and Angelus jump and gasp in astonishment, "What did you just say?" Blaise hissed frantically as he stormed over to the fireplace and stood face to face with the floating head of Layla Nox, his eyes flashing in rage.
"Well, well . . . hello again Blaise, you look dreadful . . ." she added as she glimpsed his dust covered black cloak and drawn features. She let out a minute gasp as she stared into his scarlet coloured eyes, which were presently blazing with hate and unmistakable ferocity.
"Don't be cute Layla, what did you just say?" Blaise snarled furiously, his eyes glimmering precariously. Angelus, seeing how livid his cousin was becoming, slowly and stealthily backed away to the sofa once more, keeping his mouth shut and remaining as calm as possible.
The blonde smirked sinfully. "I said Blaise, that Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy were together, at the restaurant . . . bloody love sick fools." She added bitterly spiting the Zabini even more . . . Obviously it was the wrong thing to say as Blaise suddenly erupted into a harsh yell, his anger flowing from him and smashing every rare picture and pretty ornament in the room. Angelus watched despairingly as the picture frames fell from the mantle piece and onto the floor, each one landing with a terrible smash.
"I'LL KILL HIM!" bellowed Blaise, "I'LL KILL THE BLONDE BASTARD!" he ranted, his fists clenched hard at his sides. He turned back to Layla, a strangely patient look on his face as he stared at her. "Layla, where are you - where are they?" he asked calmly, his eyes glaring down at her within unseen fire.
"I think Blaise, that you and I should have another little chat where we can arrange the plan." Purred Layla sinfully, as a serene smirk worked its way onto her face making her look even wickeder. Blaise sneered slightly before catching her meaning and, making his face rather impassive indeed. If he were going to kill Draco, then he'd have to cooperate with the woman he detested, as much as he hated to even comprehend it.
Sighing furiously, Blaise swept around to face his cousin. "Well, Ang, what do you think?" he asked in a tetchy tone, although his voice hinted a bite of impatience and hate. What other option did they have? If they were to complete their mission successfully, then they need to formulate a plan - and as much as he dreaded to even think, involve Layla in it too.
"Do we have any other alternatives?" he asked somewhat rhetorically, as he gave a deep sigh before joining his cousin by the fire. "It's all we've got Blaise." He muttered quietly, loud enough for his cousin to hear, not troubling to keep his voice composed.
Worn-out, irritated and overcome with envy Blaise gave a jaded heave, and still unable to believe he was about to make a plan with the . . . to put it bluntly, whore of his nightmares, bowed his head before gazing into those Hazel eyes once more.
"Okay Layla, okay . . ." he breathed slowly, "but I want to play by my rules and here's what's going to happen . . . Angelus and I will go to Lucius, and notify him that we know of Draco's whereabouts. You, on the other hand, will spy on him until we floo you and inform you what will ensue next. Then, a group of my finest handpicked deatheaters and I will join you and . . . take care of Draco - but Ginny must remain unharmed . . . we have big plans for her. In return for your help, I will give you something you've always wanted . . . me."
Both Angelus and Layla gasped loudly at his sudden statement, and Blaise watched as Laylas aberrant face broke into an enormous grin of excitement - how *could* she refuse!
"Do - do you mean it Blaise?" she asked in breathless anticipation, her face flushing crimson at the image that'd just entered her head. "Me and you - "
"Yes Layla. All you have to do is tell me where they are." Blaise drawled in a silky soft voice, tempting the blonde with the hook and bait that was he. He knew she wouldn't refuse, she'd have to be stupid to do so, but he couldn't help smiling to himself - he had her wrapped around his little finger.
"Okay Blaise, I'll do it . . ..", she gabbled stupidly, her face breaking into a huge grin. "I'll do it." She repeated more to herself then the Zabini cousins, who were watching her with disgusted expressions.
"Good, now where are you?" he demanded, waiting on baited breath.
"Spain. We're in Spain. The village is called Faros, that's where Gringotts is - and that is where I last saw them." Layla gushed happily, her hazel eyes dancing merrily in the firelight.
Blaise grinned toothily at her response . . . although the smile did not reach his infuriated eyes. "Excellent Layla . . . Now, leave us - we have matters to discuss involving the plan." Drawled Blaise pompously, nodding his head slightly, "We'll be in touch."
"Great, Great. Bye, bye Blaise." Layla simpered in a sickly sweet voice that almost made him wretch in disgust. Not waiting for his fare well, the head of Layla Nox disappeared from the fireplace, as did the crimson firestorm surrounding her tanned face. As the flames flickered to their normal state, Angelus turned to his cousin an expression of utter shock and anger on his face. How could Blaise do such a risky and foolish thing?!
"B - "
"Before you start on me dear cousin, I think I should probably tell you that the plan you have just heard is a load of utter bollocks." Blaise drawled lazily, a steely glint in his eyes. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to involve that whore in our plans? I think not Angelus. You see, what I just told that dumb blonde was a load of rubbish - we're not going to Lucius, OR flooing her back." Blaise said, smiling broadly and taking a seat on the sofa once more.
"But what about - "
"You see," Blaise continued, ignoring Angelus. "Draco may act stupid but that is one thing he is not. He's smart, very smart, and if Layla does spy on him then Draco'll figure out where he'd seen her before and if he sees her, kill her right there on the spot. Then hey presto, Layla Nox is history."
"Now all we have to do is to get to Spain, but won't that take at least 3 days more or less?" Angelus asked unenthusiastically, joining his cousin on the black leather sofa. "If Draco captures or kills Layla and learns about the plan, then they could be off and gone forever. We'll need to move fast and stealthily if we're to have a chance of capturing Ginny and killing Draco."
"Don't worry Angelus . . . we'll find a way to get there quickly, but first, I think we need to pay a little social call to Malfoy Manor - we need to have a little discussion with Lucius after all." Blaise drawled malevolently, rising from the leather sofa and storming from the room in a blurry of black, disappearing into the darkness as silently and gracefully as a bat.
However, Angelus did not follow his cousin from the room. Instead, he rose from the sofa and walked over to one of the fallen pictures that lay smashed upon the wooden floor. Sighing sadly, he picked the broken frame up and examined the picture that lay within the mount. His mouth gave a small jerk as he examined the picture, remembering the past when everything was as it should be . . ..
It was a sunny day, but the light hadn't scorched the film. Sat on a log in front of the huge gardens outside were Angelus and Blaise; Angelus smiling widely as he wrestled with Blaises knees, and Blaise giggling madly as his cousin tortured him. That day. That beautiful day was like no other, and now, he doubted another day would be that great.
"Oh Blaise," he sighed wearily, "I miss you buddy."
Giving the picture another sad smile, Angelus Zabini placed the broken frame back where it belonged on the mantle, before walking slowly from the room that held so many memories.
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Hey there, everyone. I know that chapter wasn't much of an improvement ( but the next chapter is just raunchiness . . . and horror, lol. Chapter 13 should be up soon as it is already half done on yellow parchment with my luxury eagle quill ..... okay; okay it's on lined paper with a black biro - satisfied?
Oh yesh! If you have any suggestions for a song that I could use at the start of any chapters or . . . for something else I've got hidden up my sleeve? Then that'd be great! Thank you sooooooooooooooo much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - you are all excellent!
R&R! catch ya laterz!
Blue
xXx
A/N: Hey all. Not many people reviewed the last chapter : which is a bit of a kick in the guts, but I think that the later chapters will be more promising, 'specially after the ending I have planned . . . . Mwahahahaha! Lol, sorry, *ahem*, thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read Sweet November so far, u guys rock!! And for all you who haven't, u ARE EVIL!!! Lol, not really, cough*evil*cough.
Oh Yesh - I spell and say it like that, don't worry - if you want to be put on the updates list, for updates on the chapters and special inside info for the sequel . . . hmmmm, yesh, okay for the sequel, then please email me at Bluecolouredroses@yahoo.com Thank you!
I wanna dedicate this to Missa - u seriously rock girl! Because she was there with me all the way through this, and I don't think I could carry on with out you luv! - and to my new lil' friend, who I can't name as she's only tiny baby and I'm shielding her from the world, but alas, she isn't mine.
AND A BIG BIG BIG sorry for not updating sooner, but as u SHOULD of read, I had exams, ( which suck ass. However, I've finished them now, I got shitty marks, and . life goes on! Once again - I'M SORRY!!!! I'm a bad person ( I know O_O . I'm gonna keep up with my updates as much as I can now, I have the urge for some action and adventure, lol.
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Chapter 12: Of seduction and stupidity
*~*
11th November 2006
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Take a walk outside your mind
Tell me how it feels to be
The one who turns the knife inside of me
Take a look and you will find there's nothing there girl
Yeah I swear, I'm telling you girl yeah 'cause
There's a hole in my soul that's been killing me forever
It's a place where a garden never grows
There's a hole in my soul, yeah I should have known better
'Cause your love's like a thorn without a rose
Aerosmith - Hole in My Soul
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She sat there, staring blankly into the fire, the flickering flames making her eyes change from a deep brown to peaceful sea green in the dancing light. Every now and then she'd absentmindedly scratch the shiny black tattoo just above her wrist. It was still itchy, creating a nice pink-red swelling on her tanned flesh, leaving a red border around the mark.
However, her mind was elsewhere right now, her thoughts resting on the blonde she'd just come back from spying on . . . Haunted . . . That's how he'd looked, standing there in the mild night air, the soft wind blowing lightly, playing with his locks. And that look - She knew that look; it was the look she often spotted on her own downcast face from time to time, when she found her eyes lingered on the mirror for too long. That look of misery a person wore unconsciously in times of crisis.
The bronzed blonde blinked slowly and a solitary tear escaped her dancing eyes, the salty droplet cascading slowly down her face, as if reminding her of how she came to be there - all alone, with no one to comfort her
She couldn't believe he didn't recognise her, she was sure that he would . . . I mean, a lady as - 'worldly' as her wouldn't be forgotten in a hurry, but it seemed as though Draco Malfoy had seen more then one blonde In his life - but still how could he have forgotten 'her'.
'Of course he has! Look at him Layla, he's gorgeous, I mean, he's not going to stay lonely is he?' she scolded herself silently. At this, Layla rolled her eyes to the heavens. Yes, he wasn't going to stay lonely forever and it seemed, that Draco's new squeeze, was not just the desire of 'his' affections alone . . . on no, how could she forget that conversation about the redhead, the one that'd caused her to flee her homeland and land her that mind-numbing job in Gringotts.
'Stupid redheaded nymph' she huffed to herself, remembering the astonishing beauty that'd sat there before her 5 days ago. How could he resist such a goddess? Even Layla Nox, beauty extraordinaire, was stunned by her elfin features - the fiery red curls, huge doe like eyes surrounded by exotic lashes, curves that'd make any man groan in want, and any woman grimace in envy. Yes . . . indeed she could see how he could like her . . . how BOTH of them could like her . . . she was a rare prize to any man, but to the man whom she loved . . . that was the last straw . . ..
Abruptly her thoughts were on another . . . but not the redhead temptress, or gorgeous blonde . . . her thoughts were on the 3rd wheel of the tricycle, Blaise Zabini - the man she loved and wanted beyond anything in the world....
A asinine smile crept onto her face as she remembered the ebony haired prince, his piercing hawk-like golden eyes, his debonair smile - there was no doubt about it, Blaise Zabini was probably the tastiest piece of crumpet on the face of the earth! - In her eyes anyway. Suddenly, she felt her tongue slide out of her mouth and moisten her lips as she remembered the taste of his full rosy lips, the touch of his tongue....
Layla Nox cherished Blaise Zabini, more then life itself . . . too bad he felt completely the opposite.
Another salty tear washed down her face as that redheaded goddess popped back into view. She hated her so much, beyond loathing, beyond anything . . . she'd stolen Blaises heart, and by the looks of things, she still had it. The infamous Ginny Weasley - casting herself off as Ginny Bloom, no doubt Draco's idea - so she'd met her at last . . . but there was something wrong with that picture, very wrong indeed . . . if the conversation she'd over heard 2 years ago was anything to go by, then Blaise would be sitting across from the redhead not Draco . . . yes, something was definitely wrong there.
She remembered the last time she'd been within touching range of the Zabini, remembering how she'd almost succeeded in seducing him - nearly . . ..
#~#
Malfoy Manor, 13th October 2004, 12.46 pm
It was dark and cold outside, the autumn rain falling heavily beyond the window, thick droplets of water splattering against the strong glass. However, inside, the atmosphere was even colder and darker then the rising storm raging in the world. The presence of 50 or so more deatheaters was enough to choke the life out of any location, making the dwelling staggering and unpleasant. The evil that was present within the manor was incredible.
It was another deatheater meeting - but with a difference . . . this time, as a deatheater, you weren't allowed to leave the manor. At all. None of the deatheaters - apart from their leader's son - were allowed to leave the large house to go about their business; everyone was confined to Malfoy Manor until it was deemed 'safe' to return to the wizarding world.
Inside, away from the cruel weather, a fireplace was roaring in one of the upper rooms, filling the large room with a small ball of light. This was one of the more secluded rooms, the type that no one knew about - unless you actually owned the house, but in this case, the person who was sitting in the room, did not own the house yet he still knew about the solitary place. Half of his faultless aristocratic face was shaded in the darkness whilst the other half was illuminated by the dancing orange flames; his head was bowed in remembrance, and his unique eyes were glazed over, showing that the ebony haired man was deep in thought.
He'd often heard the expression 'penny for your thoughts' by the muggle born kids, when their friend had wondered off into their own private world. He was thinking about that very expression right now, and how his thoughts - in his eyes - were worth more then that, for his mind . . . yet again, was on the owner of his heart and his confider of thought, Ginny Weasley. For months and months he'd thought of nothing but the elfin redhead.
She'd invaded his thoughts, her presence always there at the front of his mind. No matter how hard he tried, Blaise couldn't tear himself away from his obsession with her. He needed her - wanted her, and he had decided . . . that he'd do anything to get her.
The youngest Zabini was so caught up in his obsession with the redhead nymph, that he did not notice the large door creak open and a tall hooded figure, that silhouetted pleasant curves from under the expensive fabric, floated over to where he was sitting and stared intently at him, feline hazel coloured eyes travelling up and down his body appreciatively. He was stirred from his stupor, by the placing of a gentle feminine hand on his upper thigh, which at this very moment was stroking his leg suggestively.
A small giggle sounded from under the hood, making the cloak quiver slightly with each titter. There was no doubt in his mind who was hiding under the hood, she came to him every time he was there, and since Blaise had been here for 3 days now, she'd followed him around non stop like some little lost sheep. Although it was her job to 'entertain' all the deatheaters in the monstrous manor, this particular 'entertainer' seemed to be saving herself for him - and only for him it seemed.
Rolling his eyes resignedly, Blaise let out a heavy sigh as two slender hands grasped the hood and slowly slid it downwards, revealing soft layered blonde hair and hazel coloured eyes, set in a tanned oval face that he supposed made her more 'appealing' to the eye. Her slender hands moved downwards to unclasp the expensive shroud, and with a simple flick of the clasp, the cloak slithered off her shoulders and into a messy pile behind her, and in doing so, revealing a tight strapless dress that clung so tightly to her tanned flesh, that the skimpy outfit just covered her voluptuous chest. However, the bottom of the dress was much more shocking then the top. The satin fabric was slowly creeping up her thighs, and if you were to glance downwards, you would just catch a glimpse of lacy black fabric covering her modesty.
Another touch to his thigh caused him to cough awkwardly and snap him from his scrutiny. "Hello - again - Layla, what can I, err, do for you?" He asked mild ignorance, pretending not to notice her subtle hand travelling higher and higher up his leg.
"Blaise . . . you know what I want." She purred her hand stopping on his belt. "You've been avoiding me, haven't you?" she added openly, bringing up her other dainty hand and rubbing his chest lightly with her manicured nails.
"Layla, listen - " Blaise started, glancing down at the light hand on his chest in mild disgust, "I'm not in the - err - mood . . . right now, can't we finish this, um another time?" he added hopefully, trying the slither away from her impending closeness but was inclined to remain where he was, as Layla pushed him rather roughly back into the sofa.
The blonde hooded her eyes in a sinful way, and gave a small pout as she came closer to him, her heart racing wildly. "Finish? Blaise, we haven't even begun," she purred, grasping the silver buckle at his waist roughly and giving it a giant tug. At this, Blaise gave a small gasp of shock, and though he hated to admit it, lust.
Layla bit her lip impishly and worked the leather belt with both hands, whilst she bought Blaises attention to her face, which was getting closer and closer to his own. Finally she had Blaise where she wanted him, and now she had him, she wasn't going to let him get away that easily. Bringing her lips slowly down onto his, Layla began working her own 'magic' on the Zabini, sucking and biting his lower lip, sending shockwaves of pleasure down her spine as well as his, making her fantasies a reality.
Blaise could only watch helplessly as his instincts took over, turning his mind to a pasty mush. She was disappearing, the image of the beautiful redhead, her face was fading away and another was returning in its place. As much as he hated to admit it - he liked what Layla was doing to him, she'd sought him, lusted after him and had done so for ages, and just this once, he would accept her. Stifling a groan as the blonde nipped the soft flesh below his ear; Blaise allowed his body to take over and became shortly aware that his hands had wandered to her waist and right now, they were pulling her towards him and with some impatience, placing her in his lap. He didn't care that he was betraying his heart; he just wanted one moment of passion - just one.
Layla couldn't believe he wanted her too. She thought that conquering Blaise Zabini would be the hardest challenge in the world, but now he was trapped, the youngest Zabini was bending to her every whim. White-hot pleasure was piercing her body at his strong, eager touches, the way his hands wondered all over her, searching for something that he could never find. Tonight, she would make him forget anything and everything. Tonight, he would be hers, all hers.
A small gasp escaped the blondes plumped lips as she felt his excitement against her, her body responded immediately by arching into him, getting as close as she could to his heat. God she'd never felt this way with anybody! Everyone up to this moment had been second best in her eyes. This, this moment of pleasure that was happening right now, was definitely worth the wait.
Blaise could wait no longer; he needed some release, to vent his emotions. Letting his body guide him, his large hands wandered up her top to her chest, kneading and rubbing the supple breast beneath the silky fabric. But as quick as the intense heat was rising around them, the aristocratic, drawling voice belonging to an intruder of privacy brought them back down to earth even quicker, bursting the fragile bubble of passion.
"Well, Well Blaise! This 'is' a surprise . . .."
Layla growled vociferously in aggravation at the interruption, causing the man beneath her to come to his sanity and fling her forcefully to the side, making the blonde land with a flump on the large cushions behind her. She couldn't believe this was happening! She'd just lost her chance. Eyes full of hurt, and heart aching Layla recovered promptly from his abrupt dismissal and stared at the Zabini enquiringly, studying his facial features and asking in silent question if there were any regrets.
Then again, if the ruthless look on the Zabini's face was anything to go by, then he regretted ever being born. He was glaring at the Blonde 'entertainer' with such loathing, such hate, than the devil himself would tremble in fear. Layla couldn't have mistaken the mystification; anger, regret and astonishment swimming across his face, the way he was looking at her right now said it all. He hated her. He hated what he'd just done, and he'd never permit himself to do that again. Ever.
Blaise, unable to comprehend what had just happened between the hooker and himself, drew his attention away from her to the person that'd just waltzed into the room. Blonde hair. Silver eyes. Famous smirk. Draco Malfoy, and right now, he had a grin on his face that just screamed advantage. Oh how he'd love this. He'd just caught his 'best friend' with his trousers, almost down, and with a hooker no less. Oh the shame, the embarrassment. Imagine catching him in this sorry state when he was thought to be fawning over that Weasley girl.
Draco chuckled deeply at the look of pure venom in his friend's eye; apparently he was thinking the same thing as him. This, obviously, needed a little justification.
"Layla, get out of here now. Blaise and I need to have a little . . . chat. Go bother someone else for a while; perhaps you can finish what you started later?" Draco drawled in his most malevolent voice; his last statement causing the ebony haired man growl in anger and leap up from the sofa, which, unfortunately, caused his unbuckled trousers to slip down to his knees.
"Haha! Oh Blaise! You most definitely HAVE been caught with your trousers down!" Jested Draco, snickering in aristocratic mirth that was born into most of the over privileged. This witty remark caused Blaise to yank his trousers up instantaneously and fumble idiotically over the buckle and zips, his fingers slipping self-consciously and his face turning the same redness of a ripened tomato.
Rolling his eyes, Draco returned his attention to the other occupant of the room, who was gawping at Blaise, hazel eyes full of unmistakable hurt and anxiety. A feline smile morphed onto his pale face as he watched the call girl swipe away the forming tears and fasten her cloak around her with shaky hands.
"Oh Layla, Layla. Been rejected again have we? You stupid whore, when are you going to realise that this prat -" he nodded his head towards the seething Blaise, "doesn't want you! He doesn't want any of you! Now - " With three swift steps, Draco was next to the Blonde girl, and by the time she knew what was happening had pulled her half way towards the exit and was currently opening the door to discharge her. "why don't you go and find another dog to satisfy your needs you little bitch, and don't come back here again - you whores know better then to wander from the chambers, be a good little hound and - " with another rough yank, and a well aimed hurl, Layla Nox went flying through the door and a little way along the corridor; her cloak and skirt riding up her bottom as her arse slid along the marble floor. "stay the hell out!"
Layla choked heavily in disbelief, alarm and a mouth full of tears as she saw another flash of angry grey eyes before the oak doors slammed shut, the thunderous crash echoing along the deserted corridor. She couldn't believe that -that spoilt brat! How dare he treat her like a common -.
'But that's what you are Layla, a common whore whose had more rides than the village bicycle.' Interrupted a wise, calm voice - the voice of reason was back yet again. 'You're a creature of the underworld, to be bartered and tossed around to those who it pleases. Creatures of the underworld, Layla, can't afford to fall in love.'
With a huge sob and a nasty lurch within the depths of her stomach, Layla slid herself over to the wall and let the tears fall, the sadness and grief flowing out of her. Those long legs could no longer take her weight, and in her anguish she drooped against the wall, her head resting limply on the hard wooden panels that covered the barriers within the house.
Meanwhile, within the dark room from which the blonde had just been ejected, the 2 males were sizing each other up, Draco from across the other side of the room whilst examining the portraits on the wall with much disinterest, and Blaise from his position on the couch, where he watched through steely eyes the blondes every move.
"So . . ." The Malfoy boomed throughout the quiet room, piercing the tense atmosphere, "I see you're finally moving on from that Weasley girl, bout time too . . . she's well beyond 'your' reach." He added; his eyes flashing dangerously as he surveyed his 'friend' - who at this very moment, was swelling up with unseen fury for the Malfoy.
"You'd better keep away from that particular subject Malfoy, other wise I'll separate you from your breath . . . what do you want with me? Either spill it or leave." Blaise hissed through gritted teeth, his ears turning crimson. This comeback was just the invitation Draco wanted to push the subject - and the Zabini's dying patience - even further.
"What if I don't have anything to tell you? What's wrong with coming to see my best friend in the whole wide world?" Draco drawled slowly, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"You, Draco Malfoy, ceased to be known as that to me, when you stabbed me in my back." Blaise ridiculed through snarled lips. He knew what Draco was doing to his mind, and what he detested about it overall, was that it was succeeding - to his advantage no less.
At this spiteful response, Draco smirked wickedly, his grey eyes dancing with mirth. So Blaise was still living in the past, 'so like him' Draco observed, 'can never forgive and forget.' Sniggering slightly, the lofty blonde made his way towards Blaise and sat down vigilantly on the coffee table across from Blaise, now they were eye to eye - gold locking with silver. Surprisingly Blaise stood his ground as the Dracos silver eyes burned with unseen fire, the fire that on many occasion, had sent cowardly deatheaters scampering away to pursue their subject another time.
"So, you want to go back there do you Zabini, back to the past where you seem to spend most of your days, fawning over something - over a certain someone that you've never ever had. Did you even hold her in your arms? Did you even kiss her and send her into ecstasy? Did she ever murmur your name in the heat of passion? Well Blaise? ... Did she?"
Aggravated, dumbfounded and envious, Blaise gawped at Draco, his mouth dropping as the words washed over him like a tidal wave. As bleak recollection and total absentness consumed him, his eyes dropped from the Blonde for an instant, answering the question Draco already knew the reply to.
Draco smiled smugly, his suspicions confirmed, and with this established information in tow, he continued his spite. "I thought so . . . or more like my dear friend, I knew so. Such a temptress she was, a fiery spirit much too spicy for you Blaise. Why on earth would she want someone like you . . . when she had someone like me . . .."?
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK! YOU TAKE THAT BACK YOU SON OF A BITCH!" shouted the enraged Zabini, as he sprung to his feet surprising himself as well as catching the blonde off guard; his holly wand pointed straight at Draco's throat. "Ginny Weasley would never find the time of day for someone like - like you. Ginny cares for me, and I care for her, more intensely and truly then you ever could you great shite! I love her okay! And nothing you say, or anyone says, can change that! Now what happened between that - that whore, and me, has nothing what so ever to do with you! Now get out and LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T CARE WHAT STUPID ORDERS YOU MIGHT HAVE FOR ME, OR IF YOUR, BLOODY FATHER WANTS HIS BOOTS LICKING! I DON'T WANT TO SEE YOU AND THAT BLONDE WHORE AGAIN . . . because - " Blaise resumed in his normal voice, as the livid shouting was making his own head throb in intense pain. "I hate this life . . . this stupid, pointless fucking life and everything about it. What the fuck is the point in being a deatheater anyway? Our "Dark lord" isn't returning in a hurry, and the reign of darkness is over . . .."
Blaise's glowing, anger filled eyes softened for the briefest of moments, as he gazed helplessly into those piercing, surprised sliver eyes for his childhood friend; the wand that was raised in his right hand drooping ever so slightly. "But as for Ginny, she's . . . she's the only thing that's making me live Draco . . . without her . . . I'm dead, and there's no point to my existence. Just remembering her, thinking about her sweet face . . . it gets me through each day . . . and although I'm living in a memory, I'm hoping, praying, that our paths will cross once more . . . and then we will be together . . . I know it . . . she's my whole world Draco - my life . . . and without life . . . I'm done with - my love for her, my obsession for her . . . is as simple and as complicated as that."
That was the moment. That's when Draco knew, and understood, the true meaning of devotion and existence. Blaise loved Ginny Weasley more then life, and without life and the things you love, then death is the only option. For tortured souls who prey on the helpless - as the deatheaters did - then a light in the darkness: living within in a memory - something to hope for and believe in . . . was the only option for happiness. Ginny Weasley, the girl that he, Draco, tainted long ago in the heat of the moment, the girl that he'd bullied and tormented eternally year after year, was Blaises light in the darkness . . . and unknown to all . . . his too.
He understood now . . . yet he hated it at the same time. However, it was the answer to his silent question. He knew it. Nevertheless, . . . he couldn't, not a Malfoy, strong and proud - natural born leaders and rulers of the land. Not a tainted servant of the dark, his purpose to serve, instead of to conquer and over power the weak as the past generations did - not Draco Malfoy . . . he couldn't feel, let alone express l - l - well he couldn't feel 'that' . . . it was impossible . . ..
Right?
Yet he remembered so clearly, as though it'd happened mere moments ago. The kisses he planted all over her, because he wanted too - out of want and not spite, as was often his nature.
The haunting moment of pure passion that resurfaced, when his mind strayed out of bounds into the recesses of the past.
The surge of anger he felt, when he heard the ebony haired eagle mention her beauty her grace - just the mere mention of her name from his lips, caused a chain reaction of anger to wash over him.
The whisper of a thrill . . . the feel of her body . . . the heat of the moment . . . it sent him into overdrive to even recall such a memory.
The intense need to touch her again . . . the image resurfacing from the recess of his mind, to haunt and taunt him. Last of all, the petty contrast of the redhead against others; comparing women to her looks and 'talent', most of the time he did it unconsciously, but there were odd moments . . . where he would catch himself off guard.
What did it all mean? Could he be . . . feeling something? It sure seemed that way from the way he was reacting - every mention or remembrance of the redheaded sprite sent a shockwave through his body, electrifying him. He knew that it was not lust . . . or mere chance . . . so could it be -?
"Draco! Master Draco sir! You is wanted! You is wanted downstairs at once!" cried a shrill voice to his left, somewhere in the region below his belt. It was his father's house elf, terry, and just like his father, Terry the house elf was stuck up, stubborn and seemed to have a superiority complex. It was perhaps convenient, that the supercilious elf appeared at that time, because if his mind had wondered over that word - that word that paupers to princes used at their leisure - a word so universal, yet rich with sentiment - scared him senseless . . . he was afraid of that word, because it held so much meaning, so much depth, that its meaning still managed to confuse him, and lure him into a sense of apprehension.
Meanwhile, across from the tall and opinionated blonde, Blaise, who was still holding the wand but more limply now, pocketed the holly baton and swept from the room; his black cloak billowing out behind him as his pace quickened towards the exit of the tension filled room. Draco watched his fellow deatheater sigh heavily, and shake his head briefly, before storming down the corridor, presumably towards the room that held the other deatheaters.
What had just happened? Really happened?
For the first time in what seemed years, he and Blaise had actually withstood each other for more then 5 minutes - even though they'd argued; normally their conversations revolved around taunts regarding the past, or if orders were being given. Yet another thing he'd just realised was, - Blaise had just told him the truth . . . the whole truth, which seemed to have liberated an immense weight from a top his chest. Nevertheless, Blaise's modest speech of realism had also made him recognize something else . . . something that'd been trying him for some time now. Yes . . . indeed.
"Master Draco! Please to be coming downstairs! Your father is wai - "
"YES I heard you the FIRST time!" Draco snapped, interrupting the pompous elf, making the russet-eyed creature glare stubbornly at him, before disappearing with a loud crack, reminiscent to that of a whip.
Draco sighed resignedly as he swept towards the doorway, wondering what his father wanted 'this' time. Pausing at the doorway to the darkroom, lit only by the fire that was crackling merrily away, Draco tried once more to comprehend what'd just happened between his childhood friend and himself. Although they detested each other, for a moment there, the barriers were dropped between enemy lines and a bomb of thought was dropped before the blonde, and it was only a matter of time, before that bomb exploded in on his thoughts completely.
'Oh Draco, don't think about this now, you'd better go see what you're father wants before he disowns you for disobedience.' His mind hissed quietly to him, before the memory of the conversation was forced to the back of his mind, out of sight and forgotten for a while.
Yet down the murky passage, secluded behind a locked door, was a blonde with tears streaming down her face out of distress - the conversation she'd just overheard whilst slumped against the wall in her humiliation, buzzing in her ears . . . those words, hurtful words of sincerity sounding within her head over and over again, unable to dislodge them from her mind.
She'd lost her chance . . . she'd lost her pride . . . and, she had lost her love.
#~#
The fire was just glowing dimly within the rustic grate . . . her puffy hazel eyes were still watching - probing for an answer. What she sought, more then anything, was to hold him in her arms . . . to feel and savour him again . . . Still, he would never take her back - unless . . . .
It came to her - just like that. So simple yet so - so brilliant! She thought it over . . . going over and over it in her mind . . . that should work, it was destined to work, at least it would be a start . . . hopefully the start of something new.
'Yes . . . YES!' Layla cried to herself, launching off the small sofa in one huge bound and grabbing the nearest pot of Communi-powder, she flung half its contents impatiently into the dying flames, suddenly making them spring back to life. Immediately the roaring orange flames turned crimson red, and without a moments hesitation she cried his name into the fire, waiting for his response - if he would respond to her.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Blaise . . . Blaise, where are you?" whispered a tentative voice into the eerie darkness of the seemingly vacant room. The room in question was Blaises room; however, Angelus had been hesitant and a tad apprehensive about wondering into the large bedroom, in case his alienated cousin was lurking in the corner; wand raised and red eyes gleaming.
Somehow, he didn't like the idea of that.
Nevertheless, how could he, Blaise, do it . . . give up a unique part of himself for a woman - and for a woman who didn't even love him! Then again . . . we all do crazy things when we're in love - it's just human nature, it's just how we are.
"Blaise . . .." Angelus hissed into the dark, a bite of impatience in his voice. This was getting ridiculous. He'd been searching the manor high and low for what seemed like hours, ever since Blaise - or, what ever had taken over his cousin's body - threw him against the wall. A small twinge ached his back as he remembered the encounter. Never before had Blaise done such a thing to him, of course they'd tussled in the past, but back crunching each other against the wall? Nope.
Sighing resignedly, Angelus turned to leave the room . . . but as he did so, as small movement in the window seat caused him to pause in his action and squint into the eerie darkness.
"Blaise?" hissed the fearful deatheater quietly, "Is - is that you?" He solicited wearily, squinting enquiringly at the form. Gathering his courage, and screwing up his fear, Angelus took a couple of tentative steps towards a dark figure hunched in the window seat. There was no mistaking the stooped body, indeed it was Blaise, but was it safe to approach him? Their last encounter was fresh in his mind, and he was in no hurry to repeat the experience.
Reaching for his wand in order to illuminate the room, a shaky voice sounded throughout the ghostly shadows. "Don - don't cousin, I - I want to be I- in the dark- darkness . . .." stuttered Blaise, his back to the other Zabini. "How - how long have I - I been - . . . how did I - I get he - here?" he asked, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably with each breath as if each breath was a great effort.
"You - you don't remember?" Angelus asked incredulously, taking two more steps forward. "Don't you remember anything?" he whispered curiously, taking an apprehensive seat across from Blaise, trying to glimpse his cousin's hidden face.
Blaise shifted uncomfortably under his cousin's gaze, trying harder to sink back into the shadow of the booth. Apparently he wanted something about his face to remain hidden, and Angelus had a strange inkling, from the way his cousin was . . . well, the way he was behaving, suggested that he was crying - something he hadn't done in front of him for a long, long time.
"Blaise . . . what've you done?" breathed Angelus despairingly, scooting closer along the cushion, "Why did you do it Blaise? Lower yourself into such a sorry state. Look at what she's reduced you to." He sighed, kicking off his black boots and placing his legs on the cushion, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I - I love her Ang, I love her so much that it hurts . . . it hurts." Came Blaises soft whisper, "It hurts me, because she doesn't understand - . . . she doesn't want my love, she wants that - that blonde git instead, the bloody Hogwarts heartbreaker." Sniffled Blaise as the soft light of the moon lit his eyes for a moment before they sunk back into darkness. That's when Angelus realised; it wasn't the crying he was trying to hide, but his eyes.
"Blaise, look at me . . ." whispered Ang dexterously, squinting at Blaises sinister face. "What've you - " but before angelus could finish, Blaise sighed resignedly and leant forward into the moonlight, making his worried cousin gasp in mild fear and sorrow. Instead of the beautiful gold colour that normally swam within his eyes, making them shine like the sun, a searing crimson red shone there instead, making his eyes shine like rubies in the bleary light.
Recovering himself quickly, and rearranging his stunned face to that of concern, Angelus bowed his head sadly; those red eyes reminding him of their horrible situation, yet as he did so, noticed that the soft olive coloured skin covering Blaises knuckles was scratched and bruised and in some places, blistered. Just seeing the cuts created an uncontrollable surge of anger to well up deep inside him - anger not for his cousin, but for the evil force that'd done this to him.
He reached out for the wounded hands in front of him, and being careful not to harm Blaise in anyway, began inspecting the cuts with an expression of resentment and hatred on his face, yet using soft, caring touches on the injured skin. Blaise did not attempt to stop him, and he too inspected the cuts through puffer fish eyes.
Then Angelus soon realised something, something that just this minute had popped back into his mind - why wasn't Blaise trying to stop him, or punch him or bad mouth him in any way? Ever since his soul had been taken from him, Blaise had been as vindictive and sly as Voldemort himself, so why the sudden change of heart?
"Blaise . . . what's the matter you're . . . different somehow, what did he do to you?"
This question was answered almost immediately though, when Blaise unexpectedly clenched his hands into wobbly fists and as though some unseen force was restraining him, he curled his fists into his hunched body out of his cousin's reach. His eyes twitched violently as they formed uneven slits, which were half crying half glaring at Angelus, his mouth too was following the same action . . ..
"Blaise?" asked Ang uncertainly as the quivering racking Blaises body grew worse and worse with each second. "Blaise what -?"
"NOOOOO!" Blaise cried all of a sudden as his body trembled so violently that he fell from the booth to the floor with a heavy smack. "NO, NO LEAVE ME!! I WONT LET YOU DO THIS TO ME!" he shrieked to the dark room as he writhed and flailed on the wooden floor, his eyes tightly shut.
"BLAISE! Blaise don't worry I'm here . . . I'm here Blaise . . ." Angelus exclaimed mournfully, stooping down next to his cousin and gathering him into his arms despite his wild thrashing. He could feel it . . . the evil reasserting itself - or was it? It seemed that way . . . the evil sensation was subsiding ever so slightly before coming back to him in full force. It was as though a giant battle was being fought in his mind between good and evil, and now the score was even on both sides.
Then . . . at that same instant . . . there was nothing. No thrashing, no wailing. Just silence. He felt Blaises body relax faintly and his head flop unenthusiastically onto Angelus' shoulder as exhaustion took over; his breathing coming out in short shattered gasps. Then unexpectedly, Blaise spoke to the darkness, but not in the cold harsh voice as would be expected after such an ordeal, but his own trembling one.
"Ang . . . don't let them take me . . . please, tell them to leave me alone . . . I didn't want this . . ." he sobbed wretchedly, his weight sagging with every sob as he relaxed into the comforting embrace of his cousin. Angelus glanced down at the man in his tired arms, thinking forlornly how the mighty had fallen. That is where the Zabini cousins sat for a while, one comforting the other in his disturbing time of need, one crying sorrowfully but from more then one place.
Unexpectedly, a blaring light sprung up from behind the anguished twosome, interrupting the stillness of the room, and through the dark, a teary yet pregnant voice sounded throughout the scope. "Blaise? Blaise are you here? Where are you?" hissed the scratchy voice, an impatient sigh following her noisy squawking. Both the Zabini's stiffened as they recognised the voice - how could they forget. From where they were positioned now, behind the large black leather sofa, Layla wouldn't be able to see them. All they had to do was stay put until she'd gone - if she ever did.
"What the hell does *she* want?" hissed Angelus darkly, more to himself then to Blaise as the impatient voice continued to wash over them, stabbing the enigmatic darkness.
"Get - get rid of her please Ang . . ." sniffed Blaise quietly, "Please?" he shot over his shoulder as Blaise crawled furtively over from his position behind the sofa to his bed and lay down resignedly beside it on the cold floor, knowing that he'd be well out of her vision.
Taking a deep breath, and dusting himself off slightly, Angelus checked that Blaise was well hidden then stood up, taking the floating head of Layla Nox by surprise as the seemingly vacant room was occupied after all. For a moment, they stared at each other, Angelus' golden eyes flashing dangerously as her hazel eyes glistened curiously.
"Oh, its 'you' again. What do you want this time?" drawled Angelus languidly, as he walked around the sofa and took a seat on the plump black cushions.
"I - I wanted to speak to Blaise . . . is he back yet?" the blonde asked nervously, somewhat frightened at the prospect of seeing the youngest Zabini again - which was brainless really, as it was her that wanted to see 'him'.
Angelus glowered deeply. "Yes, he came back yesterday . . . but he's not here right now. I think - " he paused, hoping that his expression read that of confusion. "He went to one of the pubs off Diagon Alley for a celebration drink he should be back tomorrow. Call then . . . if you think he'll talk to you." He added snidely, remembering Layla and Blaises last . . . *encounter*.
Laylas nerve-writhing stomach seemed to drop out at the reply, now it felt as though she had no stomach at all. Disappointment consuming her, Layla sighed jadedly - before thinking of a quick recovery.
"Oh well . . . I guess I'll have to tell him about a particularly atrocious and aristocratic blonde that strolled into Gringotts the other day. I'll call back later - "
"Wait, wait, wait . . ." squawked Angelus, jumping to his feet as Laylas head made to leave the fireplace, "what blonde? What do you mean?" he asked curiously, glaring uncertainly at the fair-haired woman, whose Hazel eyes were dancing with malevolence. Down beside the bed, Blaise waited stone like as he listened to every word that was said, as well as toying with the idea of presenting himself to the intolerable woman.
Layla tried not to beam too haughtily at the sudden attention. "I mean the arrogant blonde who your cousin hates more then anything else in this beautiful world, the son of our leader . . . Draco Malfoy."
Angelus widened his eyes for the briefest of moments at the information. This was it! This is what they'd been waiting for! If Layla gave them the information about Malfoy, then he and Blaise would be rewarded for their services - but something told the ebony haired man, that Layla wouldn't simply "Give" the information away . . . otherwise she wouldn't be flooing to enlighten them about this.
Raising an eyebrow, Angelus moved to the high-backed chair next to the fire and leaned forward - not wanting to miss a word. "You've seen him then, Draco Malfoy - are you sure it was him?" he asked inquisitively, just in case these tidings was too good to be true. Layla nodded silently, her eyes never leaving his. "What was he doing in Gringotts - was he alone?" he asked suddenly, remembering Ginny was where ever he was right now.
"Well in answer to your first question, he wanted access to his account . . . he said something about needing to access it out here as they had problems doing so in England, then he with drew quite a lot of money before leaving." Layla replied simply, as a hand popped into view to swipe away a few loose tendrils. "As for your second question, he was alone at the time, but not when I saw him later on that day . . ." Over by the bed Blaise tensed up and sat as still as he could, not wanting to miss any of the words that were to follow Laylas last statement.
"Well, where did you see him later that day?" whispered Angelus, not blinking not moving and not even breathing.
Layla smirked widely; glad to see he was hanging on her every word. "Well . . ." she paused frowning as though deep in thought, however the answer was on the tip of her tongue. "When Draco left Gringotts, he left his apparation permit behind on the counter - I only just noticed when it fell off the pile of paper work he was filling in, but anyway, after half an hour he didn't come back for it so I thought I'd better go look for him, as I was curious as to what he was doing here, so I wondered around the village all day looking for him. The sun was particularly hot that day, so I couldn't search all day other wise I would of fainted for the heat. After 5 o'clock it was safe to venture outside again, but most of the street was empty and most of the stalls and shops had closed for the day, so I decided to look in the places that were popular at night - mostly the local bars and restaurants, and although I searched all day and I still couldn't find him . . . until I saw the lights leading up to Haruni's Place."
She took in a lungful of air before continuing, as well as noticing how calm and motionless the room was. "So I went in and had a little poke around, and that . . . is when I saw them, sitting there all puppy dog eyes - "
"Layla, who was he with . . ." interrupted Angelus, his eyes watering from his absent blinking and the crimson light of the red fire.
" . . . Ginny Weasley." Whispered the blonde woman, a feline smile snaking its way onto her face.
"WHAT!" shouted a voice somewhere behind the sofa, making both Layla and Angelus jump and gasp in astonishment, "What did you just say?" Blaise hissed frantically as he stormed over to the fireplace and stood face to face with the floating head of Layla Nox, his eyes flashing in rage.
"Well, well . . . hello again Blaise, you look dreadful . . ." she added as she glimpsed his dust covered black cloak and drawn features. She let out a minute gasp as she stared into his scarlet coloured eyes, which were presently blazing with hate and unmistakable ferocity.
"Don't be cute Layla, what did you just say?" Blaise snarled furiously, his eyes glimmering precariously. Angelus, seeing how livid his cousin was becoming, slowly and stealthily backed away to the sofa once more, keeping his mouth shut and remaining as calm as possible.
The blonde smirked sinfully. "I said Blaise, that Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy were together, at the restaurant . . . bloody love sick fools." She added bitterly spiting the Zabini even more . . . Obviously it was the wrong thing to say as Blaise suddenly erupted into a harsh yell, his anger flowing from him and smashing every rare picture and pretty ornament in the room. Angelus watched despairingly as the picture frames fell from the mantle piece and onto the floor, each one landing with a terrible smash.
"I'LL KILL HIM!" bellowed Blaise, "I'LL KILL THE BLONDE BASTARD!" he ranted, his fists clenched hard at his sides. He turned back to Layla, a strangely patient look on his face as he stared at her. "Layla, where are you - where are they?" he asked calmly, his eyes glaring down at her within unseen fire.
"I think Blaise, that you and I should have another little chat where we can arrange the plan." Purred Layla sinfully, as a serene smirk worked its way onto her face making her look even wickeder. Blaise sneered slightly before catching her meaning and, making his face rather impassive indeed. If he were going to kill Draco, then he'd have to cooperate with the woman he detested, as much as he hated to even comprehend it.
Sighing furiously, Blaise swept around to face his cousin. "Well, Ang, what do you think?" he asked in a tetchy tone, although his voice hinted a bite of impatience and hate. What other option did they have? If they were to complete their mission successfully, then they need to formulate a plan - and as much as he dreaded to even think, involve Layla in it too.
"Do we have any other alternatives?" he asked somewhat rhetorically, as he gave a deep sigh before joining his cousin by the fire. "It's all we've got Blaise." He muttered quietly, loud enough for his cousin to hear, not troubling to keep his voice composed.
Worn-out, irritated and overcome with envy Blaise gave a jaded heave, and still unable to believe he was about to make a plan with the . . . to put it bluntly, whore of his nightmares, bowed his head before gazing into those Hazel eyes once more.
"Okay Layla, okay . . ." he breathed slowly, "but I want to play by my rules and here's what's going to happen . . . Angelus and I will go to Lucius, and notify him that we know of Draco's whereabouts. You, on the other hand, will spy on him until we floo you and inform you what will ensue next. Then, a group of my finest handpicked deatheaters and I will join you and . . . take care of Draco - but Ginny must remain unharmed . . . we have big plans for her. In return for your help, I will give you something you've always wanted . . . me."
Both Angelus and Layla gasped loudly at his sudden statement, and Blaise watched as Laylas aberrant face broke into an enormous grin of excitement - how *could* she refuse!
"Do - do you mean it Blaise?" she asked in breathless anticipation, her face flushing crimson at the image that'd just entered her head. "Me and you - "
"Yes Layla. All you have to do is tell me where they are." Blaise drawled in a silky soft voice, tempting the blonde with the hook and bait that was he. He knew she wouldn't refuse, she'd have to be stupid to do so, but he couldn't help smiling to himself - he had her wrapped around his little finger.
"Okay Blaise, I'll do it . . ..", she gabbled stupidly, her face breaking into a huge grin. "I'll do it." She repeated more to herself then the Zabini cousins, who were watching her with disgusted expressions.
"Good, now where are you?" he demanded, waiting on baited breath.
"Spain. We're in Spain. The village is called Faros, that's where Gringotts is - and that is where I last saw them." Layla gushed happily, her hazel eyes dancing merrily in the firelight.
Blaise grinned toothily at her response . . . although the smile did not reach his infuriated eyes. "Excellent Layla . . . Now, leave us - we have matters to discuss involving the plan." Drawled Blaise pompously, nodding his head slightly, "We'll be in touch."
"Great, Great. Bye, bye Blaise." Layla simpered in a sickly sweet voice that almost made him wretch in disgust. Not waiting for his fare well, the head of Layla Nox disappeared from the fireplace, as did the crimson firestorm surrounding her tanned face. As the flames flickered to their normal state, Angelus turned to his cousin an expression of utter shock and anger on his face. How could Blaise do such a risky and foolish thing?!
"B - "
"Before you start on me dear cousin, I think I should probably tell you that the plan you have just heard is a load of utter bollocks." Blaise drawled lazily, a steely glint in his eyes. "Do you think I'd be stupid enough to involve that whore in our plans? I think not Angelus. You see, what I just told that dumb blonde was a load of rubbish - we're not going to Lucius, OR flooing her back." Blaise said, smiling broadly and taking a seat on the sofa once more.
"But what about - "
"You see," Blaise continued, ignoring Angelus. "Draco may act stupid but that is one thing he is not. He's smart, very smart, and if Layla does spy on him then Draco'll figure out where he'd seen her before and if he sees her, kill her right there on the spot. Then hey presto, Layla Nox is history."
"Now all we have to do is to get to Spain, but won't that take at least 3 days more or less?" Angelus asked unenthusiastically, joining his cousin on the black leather sofa. "If Draco captures or kills Layla and learns about the plan, then they could be off and gone forever. We'll need to move fast and stealthily if we're to have a chance of capturing Ginny and killing Draco."
"Don't worry Angelus . . . we'll find a way to get there quickly, but first, I think we need to pay a little social call to Malfoy Manor - we need to have a little discussion with Lucius after all." Blaise drawled malevolently, rising from the leather sofa and storming from the room in a blurry of black, disappearing into the darkness as silently and gracefully as a bat.
However, Angelus did not follow his cousin from the room. Instead, he rose from the sofa and walked over to one of the fallen pictures that lay smashed upon the wooden floor. Sighing sadly, he picked the broken frame up and examined the picture that lay within the mount. His mouth gave a small jerk as he examined the picture, remembering the past when everything was as it should be . . ..
It was a sunny day, but the light hadn't scorched the film. Sat on a log in front of the huge gardens outside were Angelus and Blaise; Angelus smiling widely as he wrestled with Blaises knees, and Blaise giggling madly as his cousin tortured him. That day. That beautiful day was like no other, and now, he doubted another day would be that great.
"Oh Blaise," he sighed wearily, "I miss you buddy."
Giving the picture another sad smile, Angelus Zabini placed the broken frame back where it belonged on the mantle, before walking slowly from the room that held so many memories.
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Hey there, everyone. I know that chapter wasn't much of an improvement ( but the next chapter is just raunchiness . . . and horror, lol. Chapter 13 should be up soon as it is already half done on yellow parchment with my luxury eagle quill ..... okay; okay it's on lined paper with a black biro - satisfied?
Oh yesh! If you have any suggestions for a song that I could use at the start of any chapters or . . . for something else I've got hidden up my sleeve? Then that'd be great! Thank you sooooooooooooooo much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter - you are all excellent!
R&R! catch ya laterz!
Blue
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