Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
Dedicated to babykelyse for her birthday!
Review responses: Shelby, thanks! windpine, feel free to slap Harry all you want! lol. Nalleen, don't worry, I plan to! tkmoore, as usual, you are a goddess among goddesses! Jan, don't worry about it, and about the break thing, I know. It hasn't happened yet, but I haven't forgotten! Thanks, though, I love your reviews! cloaked, another goddess! I adore you! And don't worry. No one really likes her! angstygoodness, thanks! Anonymous, thanks! SamiJo06, I know, I know, but it had to be done! lol. Pye, another cartoon fanatic! I think I'm in love! :) el chikita joules, yes, yes he is the sexiest person alive, isn't he? platypus21, huge kisses for you! Thanks! Hikari Niwa, thankyouthankyouthankyou! seri-chan, you are very welcome and thank you so very much for voting for me! Alex Vossen, and I love you! Thanks! bridget, thanks! a-sam, that has to have been the best compliment ever! Thanks! Chaney, thanks! I'm glad someone noticed! TarynMalfoy88, thank you a million times over! aoi-yuki-yume, his stupidity hurts my mind too. (sigh) xxbabysparklesxx, he is a bit of an idiot, isn't he? angelfire33, you shall have to pry the secret from my cold, dead fingers, lol! I hope you abandoned the 'drastic measures', as well! Lillian-is-fickle, thank you! Shadow Psi, it's funny how so very many people agree with you! lol. Jaxindi, thanks! Hope this was soon enough! / If I missed anyone, sorry! Now to the fic…
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Hermione had never seen anything like it in her life, and doubted she ever would again. It's definitely not everyday that you see three of your peers decide to fight a demon. Hermione had been terrified from the moment the thing had appeared, and Harry and Ron had dragged her off to the side, underneath the Quidditch stands. There had been no hope of leaving, as the exit had jammed up remarkably fast, and even the Professors and looked grim and scared. Dumbledore's face had been a mask of sorrow and defeat as he'd seen Ginny, Draco and Blaise go out to meet the thing, and Hermione's heart had caught in her throat.
It's strange how time seems to warp during situations like that, turning a minute into hours and hours into seconds. She had watched it all from her hiding place, that wavering factor of time flashing and racing, freezing and creeping. She had seen the three split up, Blaise going into a trance with Virginia guarding him as Draco had lured the demon away. Choking on tears, she had painstakingly waited for the silver Slytherin to meet his death. It's also strange how situations like that make you realize things that you would otherwise never approach, let alone admit to yourself. But as her heart had pounded inside her chest, as her vision had seemed to fog, she had no longer been able to deny it.
Her fellow students' screams, which had intensified beyond belief when the demon had broken through the wards, had finally died off when everyone had seen the demon began to converse with Draco. It had sounded as though they were right next to them, not fifty yards or more away. She watched different degrees of shock cross all of their faces, as he named the demon and spoke to it with familiarity, and then as it had named him Black Healer and spoke of enjoying his and Blaise's blood. But what floored them and had had more screams rising from already-sore throats was Draco exploding into mercurial brilliance, an unearthly figure of liquid silver light outlined in midnight flames.
Flames that had reminded her of Blaise, and the darkness that you see at night in your room as a child, when you're so very, very sure that there's something there, watching you. And then had come the statement that had had the hair on the back of Hermione's neck standing up. Draco's declaration of being First Born, followed by bright flashes from all three of their Marks. Ginny had looked a bit surprised, and the impenetrable mask that she'd had on since starting the circle had melted just a bit, but it was fleeting, and her eyes had once more gone blank. Then the demon had mentioned Draco's lovers, and out of nowhere, he had attacked.
Hermione had watched stupefied as the demon had retreated and sent out a yeti. But Draco had merely taunted it and killed it rather quickly, going so far as to keep the body for the fur. Looking around, she hadn't found her peers' looks of fright and utter terror very comforting, so she had turned back only to see seven werewolves loping towards him and to hear Ginny hiss venomously. Surprised, she had turned to see Ginny beginning to advance, something completely alien filling those charcoal eyes as she had looked at her boyfriend and the werewolves. It had been like the look she sometimes gave Hermione and Harry, but ten times as intense.
Hermione was quite sure that had Ginny ever looked at her like that, she would have then been enjoying her last few breaths of air. The girl had made it five or six feet away before she had turned, her eyes raking over Blaise, and it had seemed that she was torn. The decision had been made for her, though, when another group of werewolves had come running towards her and the Slytherins. At the same time, a blur had shot past Hermione, and she'd spun around to see Harry pelting across the field towards Draco. Only seconds had passed since the first werewolves had even made an appearance, but everything had changed.
Ron had made to run after him, but Hermione had caught his arm, begging him with her eyes not to leave her alone. She'd known that there was nothing the two of them could have done against a demon, and had doubted that even Harry would be much help. Ron had understood immediately, of course, and his face had softened a bit as he'd wrapped her up in a tight hug. She'd heard more people start to scream again, and had pulled away. The same nine, hooded figures that she had seen with Draco, Blaise and Ginny that night in the Ministry had been making their way across the field, gliding with the eerie grace of Dementors.
So it hadn't been too surprising that everyone had thought them a new threat until they had descended upon the wolves in a silent fury, literally ripping them apart within three blinks. There had been a wolf for every one of them, and two had already lay dead at Ginny's feet. The other group of werewolves had been thinned thanks to Draco, and she'd seen him yell at Harry, shoving him until the other boy had run. The wolves had taken off after him, and Draco had followed in a mad chase of amazingly quick death. He'd shifted at the end into an absolutely breathtaking tiger, larger than any she'd ever seen before and whose fur was actually silver, like his hair.
The nine guards had surrounded Ginny, running healing hands over four deep, nasty looking cuts on her upper arm, but her eyes had never left Draco. She'd cursed suddenly, and they'd all turned in time to see Harry jump between an about-to-spring Draco and two snarling wolves. The distraction was nearly fatal. A third wolf, one that she knew wouldn't have gone unnoticed otherwise, had jumped on Draco's back, and it went downhill from there. Hermione had honestly thought him dead when Ginny had sobbed, swaying, and would have fallen had the guards not caught her, her face a deathly white, the rose fading from her lips and eyelids.
A sharp 'CRACK' had had them all turning to the shield that Blaise had been in, and Hermione had nearly fainted, thinking him dead. Because his body had still been just as it was moments before, except there had been another him, a dark, ghostly him that had lifted its hand and slammed it into the shield again, lightning exploding from the contact and making the same loud, cracking noise. Its lips had been moving frantically and Ginny had begun thrashing and mumbling, before another explosion had drawn their attention back to the field. Tiny bits of…something had been raining down around Draco, who had been back on his feet, and Ginny's color had come back as Blaise's transparent image had faded.
The next few minutes had been even more terrifying than the others had been for Hermione, as she had watched a wounded Draco battle the demon before performing a shift she wouldn't have thought possible. She'd watched with bated breath as he'd sunk enormous fangs into the demon, and not a moment afterwards, the shield surrounding Blaise had collapsed. His guards and Ginny had rushed in just as the demon had thrown Draco off and slammed a fist into his head. Ginny had gasped and Blaise's eyes had held a rage that she had never seen the likes of before, not even when Ginny had spotted the werewolves.
He had pushed his guards' hands away, his swords suddenly in his fists, and he and Ginny had shared a brief, meaningful look before both had bolted forward just as the demon had kicked Draco across the field. Short words had been exchanged before the fight had begun again, Blaise and Ginny directly in front of Draco's still, lifeless form. She had heard Blaise say that he still breathed, but she had seen no sign of it. Then Harry had come running up, free from Draco's shield, and had screamed something about subduing him so he wouldn't be in pain. Blaise had spun, blocking a huge ball flames, and had threatened to make children nothing more to him then a distant dream if he did.
He did. Harry had snapped something back and did the spell, but it had gone horribly wrong. It had looked as if an anvil had slammed into the side of the basilisk's head, and she still didn't know how Draco had managed to stay conscious, let alone pull off the move he had seconds later. Twisting up the demon's body and tightening his coils, his fangs had hit their mark again. The sky had screamed and the earth had shaken, and Draco had lifted back up, tossing the demon into the portal Blaise's spell had opened. Blaise and Ginny had been at his side as he had shifted back, falling in a heap of blood-streaked, snowy flesh with his long, frost-coated braid winding behind him.
It had reminded her of the serpent he'd just been at the time, and she had run forward to where Harry was saying something about him losing too much blood. Her limbs had felt heavy as she'd neared him, his and Blaise's guards closing around him as the other Slytherins had also drawn closer. She'd braced herself, as she'd seen the blood on him, but the reality had been quite a bit more brutal. His arm had hung at an awkward angle from his body, the skin of his shoulder shredded, his hip had been an absolute mess, his side had been pouring blood while a growing pool of it had been spreading from underneath him, and the front of his throat had been one huge bruise.
But the worst had been the wound on his head. The right side had been crushed, the damage worse that it had been when he was a basilisk, and she'd felt her stomach churn viciously. Blaise and Ginny had each grabbed one of his hands, and the destruction had seemed to lessen right before their eyes. It didn't heal completely, but the bleeding had stopped and Draco's head had become a normal shape once more. He'd sucked in a breath and was on his feet again before she'd thought possible, after receiving a kiss from each of his lovers, who had both been very near panic moments before. But in the next moments, everything once again changed.
As she stood there, listening to Blaise's cutting words, she grabbed Ron's hand. She couldn't deny the Slytherin's claims, so she said nothing. Time seemed to slow as Blaise blew Harry off, turning on one heel and showing his back, basically saying that he feared nothing from the other. Something in Harry changed then, and in one awful, instantaneous second, he raised his sword as if possessed and brought it swishing down. Draco moved in a flash, suddenly there, and caught the sword. Blaise was already been turning, but Draco's momentum added to that of Harry's swing made him fly over the rim of the portal too fast for even his reflexes.
Ginny screamed, making to leap after him as four of the guards grabbed her arms, and they watched Draco disappear completely. Blaise was frozen, his eyes full of horror, denial, grief…And then they lifted, landing on Harry's stunned form, and that terror-inducing intensity filled them again as a howl was ripped from his throat. The remaining guards did nothing when it appeared that Blaise was about to slaughter the Boy Who Lived, but they did move forward when his mood shifted like the wind and he dove for the portal. They latched onto him, pulling and fighting with everything in them, and it was quite obvious that they had much more than just average human strength. But they were still losing the battle, and Ginny's struggling grew more fierce as she saw that he would break free.
"Release me!" Blaise demanded, tossing one of the guards to the side and trying to shake the other's, his eyes beginning to shift and change. The one who fell jumped back to his feet, his hood opening just enough to let her briefly glimpse glowing, aureate eyes, before he latched back onto his master.
"My lord, please!" One of the guards pleaded, a female that had his left arm and was trying with everything she had to keep her grip.
"Would you leave him there!? Would you leave him in their very den!?" Blaise demanded, throwing another guard from him as his own eyes began to glow. "Release me!"
"We cannot do that, my lord." Yet another answered, and Blaise's eyes went distant, cold.
"Gaitus corgua analie cora!" Blaise hissed in a language Hermione didn't know, and a shiver passed over the guards, even the ones holding Ginny.
They seemed to be fighting something, but it won out in the end and they reluctantly let their hands drop. Blaise and Ginny moved triumphantly forward, and were less than a foot from the rim of the portal when their Marks flashed again. Something flickered over their faces, clouding their eyes, and they grudgingly took a step back. The guards seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, like a breeze rustling leaves. Ginny stumbled backwards and Blaise caught her automatically, his eyes still trained on the portal. Neither did anything for a long, still moment, the only noise being the Slytherins' uneven breathing and the whispers of the other students. Then they both turned on Harry.
"If he dies, you die." They said simply and in unison, before they sprinted to the far wall, scaled it with ease, and dropped off on the other side without a backwards glance. Blaise's swords disappeared from where they still lay upon the grass, along with his and Draco's brooms, and the guards melted away again, sliding into the shadows under the stands and probably scaling the walls themselves. It made her wonder if they had always been there, lurking out of sight and watching over their masters from a distance.
"Oh shit. What have I done?" Harry asked, and Hermione slowly turned her eyes to him. He looked normal again, pale and shocked, yes, but normal, but a tremor still ran down her spine when she remembered the look in his eyes as he'd swung his sword at Blaise's back. He must have seen what she was thinking, as he stiffened and drew back. "You're scared of me? Are you shitting me, 'Mione?" She said nothing, just stared into green eyes that she'd known and loved forever, searching for something that she couldn't name. "Ron?" He asked, turning to his other best friend.
"I…" Ron started, sounding dazed. He looked over at Harry then, and there was a hardness there that she had never seen before. "Why did you do that?" He finally asked, and Harry looked down. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I don't like Zabini, but Harry…His back was turned." He finished, speaking the words as if they meant everything. And in a way, they did. No one spoke, not even the surrounding Slytherins, who were looking quite murderous, as they all waited for his response.
"I know." Harry said brokenly, sinking to the ground, his sword and wand both falling from his hands. "I don't know what made me do it, I was just so…Lord, what a good way to start off a friendship, eh?" Hermione sucked in a breath, as did quite a few others.
"What friendship?" She asked, wondering if Harry had taken a blow to the head that she hadn't noticed.
"I asked Draco to be my friend." He said in a resigned tone, as if nothing mattered anymore. Everyone stayed stock still, barely daring to breathe as he spoke the impossible.
"That doesn't constitute as a friendship, Potter." Melody snapped, her eyes slightly red from crying. Another tear leaked out as they watched, and she kept her head high, as if daring them to mock her grief.
"It does since he said okay!" Harry spat back, the fire returning to his eyes. The Slytherins all backed away a step, as if he'd just said that he'd dug up their Founder's body and preformed lewd acts with it. Pansy recovered first.
"He would never be friends with you!" She said in a low, scathing voice. "And if you even dare to mention some utter nonsense like that in front of Blaise and Virginia when they come back, I swear to fucking Chaos that you'll regret it." She paused, looking condescendingly thoughtful. "Oh, wait, do you know what would be even better? For you to leave entirely. We will keep vigil. There is no need for your kind here."
"He is my friend!" Harry countered, and Pansy's hand shot out, backhanding him across the face and knocking him to the ground. The girl's eyes were sparkling menacingly, and she made to kick him when Crabbe and Goyle moved forward, taking her gently and leading her away a few feet, shielding her from the prying eyes surrounding them.
"Come on, Harry." Hermione said, hesitating only a second or two before grabbing his arm and motioning for Ron to take his sword and wand. "I really think we should leave." He didn't protest as she and Ron led him away, and the other students and Professors began trickling away too, leaving the Slytherins and Snape to themselves.
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Virginia wasn't thinking as she and Blaise crashed through the trees. She simply let herself be led. She wasn't even sure if Blaise had a certain destination in mind, and she didn't really care. She knew tears were still pouring down her cheeks, as she could feel the cold streaks they made as the wind whipped past her face, the trees on rather side of them nothing but a blur. They went deeper and deeper into the forest, the woods thickening and blocking out the stars and moon completely. Blaise finally began to slow and they broke through a line of leafy weeping willows, coming out in a small, secluded clearing.
It felt like passing through a wall of water, and she knew that there were wards around the place. She could see the stars again, and the grass looked almost gray in the weak light. The clearing was surrounded by the thick, ancient trees, and one of the largest willows she'd ever seen stood proudly in the clearing's center, it's long, trailing branches dragging the ground lightly as they swayed in the wind. Blaise moved straight toward the tree, taking her hand in his, something wild and altogether fey dancing in the deep blue depths of his eyes. He parted the center willow's foliage and swept her through with him, the leaves falling shut again behind them.
The grass was different underneath its leaves, spelled, and it was like sitting on one of those muggle marshmallows that Hermione had let her try. She said nothing, as nothing needed to be said just yet, and simply watched him place a hand on the tree, bowing his head. The bark shimmered away under his touch and his hand disappeared inside the new hole, before reappearing with a large bottle. The cap was gone in seconds and the scarlet liquid was pouring down his throat. She looked a bit closer and realized that it was not wine that he was consuming as if it were water, but firewhiskey. Half of the bottle was gone when he finally lowered it, and his eyes were already beginning to glaze.
He handed the bottle to her wordlessly, and she took it, careful not to spill any. Firewhiskey could get anything and anyone drunker than shit. Quickly. That's why it was used sparingly, and usually only on some sort of occasion. If that night didn't qualify, she didn't know what did. Raising the bottle to her lips, she took four or five heavy swallows before lowering it again, the delicious burn snaking through her. She nearly dropped the bottle, however, when she saw him reaching for a second. Most people only needed three or four shots before they were devastatingly smashed, as it was the most potent liquor there was, and he had already downed an entire half of a bottle.
"Is it safe for you to drink more?" She asked lightly, yet seriously, and those indigo eyes met hers again.
"Oui. Mon cadavre brûler il debout vite." Blaise said, moving closer to her and wrapping his arms around her when she fell against him. ((Yes. My body burns it up quickly.))
"Why did He tell us to wait?" She asked quietly after they'd each had quite a few more swigs of the firewhiskey.
"I don't know." Blaise replied, stroking her hair, his voice beginning to slur a bit. "Cocidius had His reasons, I'm sure." There was the faintest trace of bitterness laced in that silky tone, and she pulled away slightly in order to meet his eyes.
"Do you disagree?"
"Yes!" He exclaimed softly. "How could I not?"
"I wouldn't be the one to ask." She answered morosely. "Seeing as I disagree, too."
"He should not be there alone. He should not be there at all."
"I know." She said, her head falling back to his shoulder. His back was against the tree, and she was between his legs, her own back pressed tightly against his chest. It was like an entire other world within the den of whispering leaves. She could feel the alcohol beginning its work, and she took several more swallows, surprised to find that the bottle was almost empty. Had she really drank that much? She looked over at Blaise's, a giggle instead of the gasp she'd intended escaping her throat when she saw that that one was now over halfway empty as well.
"What amuses you, ma cherí?" Gods, she loved that velvety timbre, loved feeling it soak into her mind and into her skin, loved when it mixed with another that she cherished just as highly…
"Nothing." She said, the giggle turning into a sob as she thought of the other half of her heart and soul trapped in some hellish pit.
"Shh, do not cry, ma soleil. He would not wish for your tears. He will come back to us or we shall go find him." Blaise murmured, draining the rest of his bottle and discarding it before running soothing hands over her arms and down her sides, sending shocks throughout her system and drawing an involuntary moan from her throat.
Her mind was swimming and going numb, the alcohol doing its job beautifully, but the worry and pain were still there, mocking her from the background of her thoughts. Blaise's hand came to a stop on her thigh, the other on her hip, and he whispered endearments and nonsense in French as she shook. Drawing herself together, she finished off the bottle and let it fall carelessly to the grass, the sounds of the night soaking into her, more appealing to her at that moment then the sweetest symphony could ever be. A part of her ached, screamed to be filled, and she knew that she wasn't the only one with similar sentiments.
They both needed him, like two addicts needed a fix, even if it was just to gaze upon his silver hair and icy flesh. They needed each other the same, but then they were both there, weren't they? It was the absence of one of them in general, not a certain one, that wrecked havoc on their emotions. They could still feel him, but it was distant, stretching the Marks farther than they wanted to think about. Blaise's hand twitched slightly and she moaned again, pushing back against him. His breath came out in a hiss, his fingers tightening against her skin, and she felt him grow hard against her. She wriggled again, her breathing beginning to hitch as she sought more friction, sought more of him.
"J'ai envie de toi. Fais-moi l'amour." Virginia begged breathlessly, reduced to a trembling mess at his slightest touch once again. In moments like these, the French seemed to spill from her, and she didn't know if it was her urgency or their influence through the Marks, but she didn't care. Because it never failed to make them both insatiable. ((I want you. Make love to me.))
"Avec plaisir." Blaise growled, flipping her around to where she was straddling him. ((With pleasure.))
His lips met hers instantly, electric currents swamping her senses and setting her core on fire. She ground against him, drawing a moan from his throat and biting her own lip hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. His pupils dilated and followed the errant drop as it rolled over her skin, and a feral snarl was her only warning before she found herself on her feet again, her back pressed against the rough bark of the tree and a very welcome mouth devouring hers. He tasted of lemons as he always did, mixed, that night, with the thick liquor, but this kiss was different on both their parts. Their desperation was not of the body but of the soul, as was their need.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as his hands slid underneath her thighs, easily supporting her weight. His erection ground into her once more and her lips left his to draw in a ragged breath. She pushed back, twisting her hips as her hands went to his robes, and they fell to the floor unheeded. His chest was bare and her eyes ran over it eagerly, soaking up beauty that she sometimes felt was almost too perfect to touch, as if she'd mar it somehow. She held no such reservations at the moment, however, and savored the sound of his groan as she drew sharp nails down his skin. She lapped the charged blood from his chest, the taste of him leaking into every pore.
Her own robes were discarded within a moment, in a single, smooth move, and he growled as he saw that she wore nothing underneath them but a matching set of dark, green silk underwear. The cold air hit her skin, bringing rushing images of Draco to her mind's eye, and she caught Blaise's mouth with her own again as she felt the tears once more rising in her throat. His hand fisted in her hair hard enough to sting, and she moaned again, purposely running her tongue over one of his sharp canines and letting the sweet elixir fill their mouths. His hands went to her breasts, the silk falling away at his touch, and the first hard squeeze on her nipple had her gasping and writhing.
"Baise-moi." She gasped out, freeing his straining member and wrapping one fist around it tightly. His beautiful eyes fluttered, and she let her hand heat up as she began moving it up and down his length. ((Fuck me.))
"Être celle quoi vous vouloir, beau? Pour moi à foutre vous jusqu'à ce que vous ne pas savoir crier de nouveau?" He asked huskily, and she was glad that she wasn't standing, for that tone and those elegant, smutty words would have surely made her knees give out. ((Is that what you want, beautiful? For me to fuck you until you can't scream anymore?))
As it was, she merely singed the last strip of silk from her skin with a thought, guiding him to her entrance and once more begging throatily in French when he paused, running that satiny head over her most sensitive places and driving her absolutely insane. He chuckled, a low, vibrating sound that nearly undid her, but she knew that she heard the faintest trace of a sob of his own, and understood that he wished as much as she did that another was with them, matching his movements. But then he was inside her with one quick, rough thrust, and she couldn't think at all anymore as the first scream was ripped from her, him filling her completely, as if she had been molded and made for them in mind.
Every sense, every inch of her body, was enveloped in burning need and electric impulses, and his lips caught hers once more. That kiss was hungry, needy, driven by their spirits while their minds sat back and rode the waves of pleasure sweeping through them. He pulled almost all of the way back out of her and she whimpered, shoving her hips forward and sheathing him inside her once more when he made no move to continue, and that chuckle rolled over her skin again. That was the last of the laughter, though, as all turned into teeth and skin, moans and thrusts, their passion rising with their voices and mingling with the chilled night air.
Their coupling was ecstasy tinged with sorrow, love tinged with loss, and it made it all the more bittersweet and beautiful. He took both of her wrists in one hand, holding them above her head and effectively pinning her to the tree, and the purple was beginning to shine within the irises of his eyes as he drove in and out of her with more force than a normal human could have endured. It was pure rapture for her, however, and she slammed back into him just as hard, her screams growing in intensity as her stomach began to tighten. And when a phantom tongue slid over her clit, sending shocks into her very bones, her control collapsed and the pleasure exploded.
When she could finally open her eyes again, they met Blaise's knowing ones as his pace slowed but continued steadily, and the dark knowledge in them had her muscles tightening around him again almost immediately. Those eyes promised her everything, those eyes held a soul that knew just how to touch her, when and where, and those eyes showed a hunger long from satisfied. A wicked grin stole across his lips, and he tilted his hips, hitting her there and earning another scream for his efforts. That phantom tongue continued its ministrations, but slowly and lazily, quite like the one who controlled it, and she felt herself rising to an even higher peak.
Blaise's lips and hands were everywhere, and she found it momentarily strange to have only two hands on her instead of four. Her eyes lifted to Blaise's and she saw the same thought running behind those cerulean orbs. Kissing him ravenously, their pace picked up once more, and she finally broke her mouth away, baring her neck to his gaze and letting nature and desire do the rest. Oh sweet gods…Those delectable fangs slid into her flesh, hot, sharp pain lancing through her deliciously right before the ambrosial pleasure had her in its grip. She had no idea how long they stayed like that, grinding and dying in bliss, and she couldn't have cared less.
His fangs finally left her as their bodies simultaneously tightened, and the only thing that kept them from their usual heights was the absence of the one that they seemed to crave more than ever. Tears were streaming down both their faces as their bodies shook with a long, continuous orgasm, and they mixed on each other's cheeks as their mouths sought one another out desperately. Their kiss tasted of salt and blood, the tastes intertwining as their souls intertwined, and they both screamed his name at the end, falling bonelessly to the ground and clutching each other tightly as they shook with heart wrenching sobs, wanting only one thing. To be complete again.
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Blaise didn't know how long they lay together upon the soft grass, didn't know how long their souls cried out for one who couldn't answer, and he only vaguely remembered calling in a blanket to cover them when the cold air brought too many memories with it. They held onto each other as if they feared the other would vanish just as Draco had vanished, and neither complained at the choking grips. They had heard nothing from Cocidius since His orders to wait and not kill Potter, and their patience was growing thin as their anger grew thicker. Over and over he saw Draco fall into oblivion within the portal of his making, knocked there by Potter's errant swing.
And in Blaise's mind, the bastard might as well have pushed him in.
"Blaise?" Virginia questioned softly, and he propped himself up on one elbow to better look at her.
"Oui?"
"Are you going to fight Harry anyway?" She asked, her dark eyes narrowed slightly as they scrutinized a leaf to his left, obviously feeling the undercurrent of his thoughts. Lifting one of her corkscrew curls with his free hand, he wrapped it around his finger as he thought his answer through.
"I meant what I said." He finally replied. "If Dray dies, so will he."
"Oh, I know that." She said, lifting her eyes to meet his, and the look of utter depravity in them very nearly had him ravishing her again. "I meant if Draco lives. Which he will." She hesitated, and her voice grew distant and small. "Right?"
"Oui, ma âme." Blaise told her, laying a light kiss upon her brow. "He will be…" Now it was his turn to hesitate. He had promised not to lie to her, and as much as he wanted to finish that sentence with 'fine', he couldn't. Her hand grabbed his, her nails digging into his skin.
"He will be what?"
"He will be alive." Blaise said, squeezing her hand back. "That is all that truly matters."
"Yes." She agreed, imagined horrors racing behind her eyes. Trying to lighten her mood, he remembered an incident that he had always found quite amusing, and one that hadn't ended in any disturbing punishment, which was rare. It was a slight moment in their lives, one without any true bearing or significance, just a childish moment of revenge, and he was pretty sure that that was why he'd thought of it.
"Do you know what Draco did once when we were little?" He asked her, brushing her fiery hair back from her face. Her look turned inquisitive, and he allowed himself a small, if strained, smile.
"What?"
"We were no more than three, I believe, when it happened." He started, his smile becoming a bit more genuine. "He was so angry over something trivial, Lucius had taken his broomstick or some such, and he stormed around the Manor for an entire day, not giving the subject a rest. He was determined to have revenge, and our mothers found it adorable. I don't think they thought that he would really do anything about it, so they humored him. I knew that he would, though, and offered to help him. He actually told me no, that he didn't want me in trouble too when it was over."
"And you listened?" Virginia asked, slightly incredulous. Blaise's eyes sparked, and he ran smoothly calloused fingertips down her cheek.
"He tricked me." He said with a smirk, and her eyes widened, a slight laugh escaping her. "He said he would need me to save him from whatever happened as a result. Another day passed, but he did nothing, nor did he mention it again. Our fathers called us into Lucius's study that night for our lessons, and it all went as well as could be hoped for at first. Then Draco stood and said he wanted to show them something he had learned."
"Oooh, I've heard that before." Virginia said, raising an eyebrow. "And not just from him." She gave him an accusing glance, and his smirk grew wider.
"Yes, well, I had nothing to do with this. They both gave him leave, and he called in a house elf, whispering to it before it disappeared. It came back a moment later with a heavy, crystal tumbler full of green dye, and one of Narcissa's hairpins. He then explained to them, with every ounce of the three years of dignity he had by then acquired, that he could pin the glass to the wall without any magic, using only that hairpin."
"What? How on earth did he manage that?" Virginia asked, genuinely puzzled as she tried to figure out a way that that could work. Blaise snickered.
"Well, he went to the wall and Lucius followed him to make sure that he didn't do a quick charm. My f…Jeran and I stayed on one of the couches, but we could still see as Draco lifted the glass and hairpin, fiddling with them. He dropped the pin, and with the most angelic expression that I've ever seen, sweetly asked Lucius to pick it up for him since he was standing on a chair and would have had to get down. Lucius obliged him, and when he bent down to pick up the pin, Draco dumped the entire tumbler over his head."
"Oh gods, he didn't!" Virginia gasped out after she had stopped laughing, then her eyes widened again. "Wait, didn't you say it was…"
"Full of green dye?" Blaise supplied with a slow, feline grin. "Yes, yes I did."
"And Lucius didn't…"
"Murder something? I'm sure he probably did. And Draco wouldn't have gotten off nearly as easily had he not bolted immediately, the tumbler falling from his hands as he jumped off the chair and hitting Lucius in the head. I barely got away from Jeran to chase after him, and he'd gone straight to our mothers' rooms. They were appalled at first, until Lucius burst in with forest green hair and aqua skin. Then they found it all quite hilarious, as did Severus. Narcissa told him that it was very Slytherin."
"What did Lucius do?" She asked, her tone clearly stating that she was expecting the worst.
"Cher un, look at me." Blaise said, and her eyes turned back to his warily. "He did nothing, love. You seem to be forgetting something fundamental."
"And that would be?"
"We were only three, darling. Our mothers still had all paternal rights. We didn't become our fathers' until our forth birthdays."
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Gods, how she wanted to ask more, to ask what that forth birthday must have been like when their mothers were no longer the safe buffers that they had been. She wanted to ask about the other years afterwards, the years that had made that cold, dark place inside them both so frighteningly real and feral. She wanted to ask exactly what had made them so jaded, so haunted, but she was terrified of what they might tell her. It didn't matter though, her own fear, that is. All that mattered was trying to alleviate even a little bit of that hate off their souls. The darkness would always be there, not that she would change it for the world, but the festering hate was another story.
But how could she help them with that when she hated their fathers herself? She hadn't been afraid of hearing those tales from their lips until two weeks ago. Two weeks ago when she had first woken up screaming, nearly giving the both of them heart attacks, gibbering about dank cells and chains that burned. They had known something was really wrong when she had seen them and screamed louder, her eyes fogged with tears. All she had remembered was seeing their hair and being taken right back into her dream. They had woken her fully and she had broken down, distorted images of them bleeding still spinning through her mind.
It hadn't happened every night since, and she had a strong feeling it was because they were shielding her sleep, but it did occur every few days. And it had stirred a degree of loathing in her that she hadn't thought possible. How any parent could do the things that she had seen was beyond her, but she didn't pity them for it. However horrible, it had made them who they were, and she couldn't imagine a world without them. A different childhood would have been preferable, yes, but they wouldn't have been the same people by a long shot. Looking back up at Blaise, she strengthened her resolve. If they could live it, the least she could do was relive it, however traumatizing it turned out to be for her.
"You will explain my dreams to me later?" She asked, half-question, half-statement. When he didn't answer, she continued. "You can't shield me from everything, you know. Some pain is necessary."
"I know." He said simply, rising to his knees. "Come, ma soleil, let us get dressed." When she just looked at him, he smirked again. "Do you want to go look for our prince or not?" He teased, and she bolted upright. ((my sun))
"Now? Really?" She asked anxiously.
"Yes, now. We shall have to be quick, and silent. The Ezutîël wait in the trees. They know me too well." He said, referring to the nine guards that were almost surely surrounding the clearing. A sudden thought seized her.
"I meant to ask you…what are they?"
"They are many things." Blaise replied, pulling his robes on as she did the same. "If you're asking what they were originally, then the answer is Sidhe." She stared.
"I knew they smelt strange," she said eventually, "but elves?"
"True elves, yes. But that was centuries ago. Now they are…more."
"Centuries ago? How old are they?"
"They remember when the altars ran pure and the gods sung the masses to sleep." He said, standing, and she took his offered hand, rising to her own feet.
"But there were ten before you and Draco forged them together."
"Oui." A brief look of pain flashed across his face, quickly stifled. "Arentuil was killed the night our fathers died." She said nothing, as words would not have helped, and rose up on her toes, planting a firm kiss upon his full lips. "Complete silence now, ma âme. We must shadowmelt. Speak only through the Marks." He said as they crept from underneath the tree, and she nodded her agreement.
They slid from shadow to shadow, virtually invisible, a trick that the two of them had taught her not too long ago, and one that she loved. They passed the wards and took to the trees, Blaise sensing his guards out and leading her around them in the heavy blackness. They made not a sound as they leapt from branch to branch, disturbing nothing so much as a twig, and when they had a close call, they stopped breathing all together. Continuing their forward path, they passed by the last guard stealthily, and were able to move much faster after that. The tree line came into view after a short while, and they slowed, stopping on a thick limb just beyond the Quidditch stands.
'The other Slytherins and Severus do not sleep.' Blaise observed, his eyes focused on nothing as he listened to what the night whispered in his ears.
'I know. How do you want to get past them?'
'Directly. When we reach the stands, conjure a cord like the one Draco used to keep you two together in Reverie and attach it to the stone divider. Put the other end on your ankle. It will lead us back out.'
'Alright. Let's go.' She said, and they hit the grass lightly, sprinting quickly to the wall and climbing it easily, dropping onto the pitch and disappearing once more into the shadows. They went to the nearest divider and Blaise laid a hand upon it, speaking the spell softly and slowly so that she could imitate it, and a purple cord snaked out of the wall and around his ankle. He ran a hand through the cord to confirm that it wouldn't be impeding his movements, and she copied his words, feeling a cuff wrap around her own leg.
'Good work.' He said, inspecting her cord as he had his, and she felt a flash of pride. They had taught her much already, but when she pulled something like that off, she still felt slightly elated. The cords were advanced Dark magick, she knew that much, and it gave her the same thrill as always.
'Now what?'
'We run.' He said, a devilish grin curving his lips.
Their Marks tingled and their grins grew wider. They had His consent, then. Taking off across the field, they streaked straight towards the group of Slytherins just as the Ezutîël appeared over the wall, rushing towards them from all sides. The Slytherins jumped to their feet, trying to form a living barrier around the portal, but she and Blaise didn't slow their progress. It was now or never. They got closer and closer, and when they were less five or six yards from hitting the line of black and green clad bodies dead on, Blaise grabbed her hand and they jumped. They sailed over the Slytherins' heads, just missing one of the guard's outstretched hands, and turned, diving headfirst into the utter blackness that led to their love.
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The first thing that Draco was aware of was that he was falling. Fast. That and there was no light whatsoever, just living, breathing darkness speeding past him on all sides. Internally sighing, he resigned himself to whatever was going to be on the other end, hoping that he'd at least have time to call in his blades. He could smell the demon stench left in the passage or tunnel or whatever it was that he was traveling in, and as time slowly passed he began to sense it waiting at the bottom. It knew he was coming. Great. That was just what he needed. A severely pissed off Deep Lord. So he started to think of a plan, seeing as he doubted that he could pull off another shift so soon after being healed.
But the path veered suddenly, and the demon's shout of fury echoed around him as he was sucked in a different direction. Curious, he wondered what had changed his trajectory, and an image of the Low Lord swirled in his mind. Oh, wouldn't that just be the absolute best, he thought dryly, right before he was spit out and into a brightly lit room. He landed agilely, looking up and immediately becoming suspicious. It was no hellish pit that he was faced with, but an enormous room, done all in white, silver and gold, and it reminded him of a cathedral. Angels and gods alike were painted in moving murals along the walls, which glittered like diamonds.
There weren't any furnishings, or any other decoration at all, but it stilled seemed majestic in a very…white way. Feeling more than a bit blinded and completely out of place, he looked around cautiously, waiting for the venom behind the beauty. Something flickered to his right and a viewing glass appeared, a large, oval sheet of quartz that hovered in midair. Images flashed randomly across the surface, before settling and showing him the Quidditch pitch and the portal he had been knocked into. Two streaks suddenly crossed the field, attached to glowing cords, and he saw his guards appear, trying to stop them. He wanted so badly to stop them himself, but could do nothing as they entered the portal.
"Love drives people to extremes at times, does it not, Draco?" A celestial voice said out of nowhere and everywhere, and he spun, his senses scanning the room. But there was nothing.
"Where are you?" He growled, staying perfectly still.
"Here." The voice intoned vaguely, and he felt his temper fraying.
"Show yourself!" He demanded, calling in his swords.
"You have no need for weapons here, child." The voice tsked motherly. "And you could not look fully upon me and still live." The force of life ran in that smooth tone, and his suspicions on the speaker grew more solid.
"I am not your child."
"Everything is a child of mine." The voice replied, a hint of eternal laughter ringing in the suddenly feminine timbre. There were only two beings that could truthfully claim that statement, and he knew which one it definitely was not, so that left only one choice. "So you recognize me now, do you, dragon?"
"The Lady of the Sun, the Dawn Star, Aurora Incarnate, Mother of all that is White and Good, the Light Personified." He said formally, listing Her titles and trying to figure out what in the fuck She could possibly want with him.
"It gladdens me to see a son of mine still so well versed in the old ways. I take it that you know of my sister then?" The Lady asked, and he refrained himself from rolling his eyes. Of course he did. How could he not? He had worshiped at Her sister's altars his entire life, but never at Hers.
"The Lady of the Moon, Twilight's Pride, Night Incarnate, Mother of all that is Dark and Primordial, the Darkness Personified." He listed dutifully, and that sweet, high laugh echoed through the room once more.
"Wonderful! But you are here for a reason, as I'm sure you've guessed."
"Well, I didn't think you just wanted to chat, at any rate, my lady." He said more sarcastically then he had at first intended, but Her voice alone was grating on his nerves like shards of broken glass.
"I sensed you falling into the demon plane." She said, sunshine and all things pretty and delicate leaking from Her every word. "And then your…lovers." The last was said somewhat disapprovingly, and he felt like screaming. Maybe this was Tartarus. It sure as fuck seemed like it.
"Where are they?" He asked, forgetting her title, but he received no answer. "Where are they?"
"That will be revealed in time, young one." The Lady finally responded, and Draco wondered how She would take it if he began ripping his hair out by the fistfuls.
Gods, what was wrong with him? He could barely stand hearing Her voice, and the thought of Her actually appearing with some sappy, loving smile and yellow daisies crowning Her head made him feel slightly claustrophobic and ill. He didn't know if that's what She would choose to look like or not, but it was the way She'd always been described, and he'd rather not find out at all. Every inch of him simply wanted away from Her beaming cheerfulness and Her pure, bright aura that seemed to permeate the very walls. Breathing shallowly, as Her light seemed suddenly and frighteningly contagious, he resolved that he'd do whatever She wanted as long as She'd let him leave. Soon.
"So what am I here for, my lady?" He asked, and he swore he could taste sun soaked grass on the air around him. It invaded his mouth and throat, and he nicked his tongue, letting his blood drown out the unappealing flavor.
"A choice." She said, and wariness filled him. Choices were typically bad. But this was the Lady of the Light. It couldn't be too horrible.
"And why should you care for any choice that I make, my lady?" He asked, honestly curious. He wasn't one of Her followers, never had been, and She knew that as well as he did. He used Her title out of respect for his god and devotion to the true Lady only.
"Because this one will affect all." She replied, Her voice growing slightly subdued, like a cloud briefly passing over the sun.
"All?" He questioned, the situation quickly taking a turn for the worse. "All of what, my lady? Or should I say whom?"
"Both." The Lady said, Her voice happy and shrill once more. "It shall affect all that lives." Not good. So, so not good, he thought to himself. Because if this was going to be a choice of morals, he would almost certainly fail in Her eyes.
"And why should my choice be help or hindrance to so many, my lady?"
"Because I will it so." She said, the first hint of steel creeping into Her tone. "I have foreseen it. The vision must be recognized and completed."
"Well, since you put it that way, my lady." He said, his voice soft and even, while inside he was anything but calm. A vision. A vision from the Dawn Star. Not good. She was right, though; a vision from either Lady could not be ignored without many…unpleasant mishaps, or so the legends said.
"I knew you would understand!" She said in a tinkling voice that was meant to evoke happy memories of summer picnics and family outings, but he simply didn't possess any, nor did he particularly wish to. Feeling a headache building behind his eyes, he allowed himself an inaudible groan. He needed out. And preferably as far away as he could feasibly get from Her.
"So what does this choice involve, my lady?"
"You are familiar with the Bane of the World, yes?" She asked, and he stiffened. The Bane…Yes, he knew what She spoke of. It was everything evil, not dark, but strictly evil, that plagued their world, the Shadow Realm. It was everything that was foul and twisted and wrong with the earth, everything that was diseased, sick, tainted…
"Yes." He hissed, instantly on the defensive at the mention of that, that…abomination.
"Would you see it destroyed?" She inquired quietly, and he said nothing, not knowing if his answer would seal his choice before he even truly got to make one. She seemed to know what he was thinking, and spoke words of reassurance. "Your response affects nothing, my son." But they didn't reassure him in the slightest. All they did was make him really wish She wouldn't call him that.
"I would." He said after a while. "Depending on the circumstances, my lady." There, She should be able to take the hint, he thought. Maybe She'll give me the ultimatum now.
"All good deeds require sacrifices." She scolded, and he couldn't bite back the snarl in his voice as he replied.
"That's why I don't dabble in good deeds, my lady. If you want sacrifices, get yourself a Gryffindor."
"Do not think I cannot see the hate you hold for it inside you." She whispered, Her voice echoing strangely. "Do not think I am not aware that the Bane is what infected and ruined your father." She might as well have stabbed him. The wound that he'd thought he'd lanced long ago burst open, the rage and betrayal he'd locked and froze inside himself thawing, hitting hard and fast and leaving him breathless. So much for the Light's kindness.
"What do you want?" He screamed, losing all control as something within him snapped.
"Your choice." Chiming bells, that time, but they were simply metal hitting metal inside his pounding head. Damn Her, he thought furiously. Damn Her and Her choices, damn Her and Her sunlit meadows, damn Her and Her false, pitying sweetness!
"Then give me the rest of it!"
"As you wish." She said, and something began forming to his left, opposite the viewing glass.
He turned, almost fearing what he would see, and when the shapes solidified, he realized that he had every reason to fear it. Blaise hung lifelessly from davascian chains, the only metal that could hold their kind, and his body had been ravaged by demon whips, just as it had been so many years ago. Virginia didn't look much better, the same chains pinning her to the wall, and they were both covered in bruises as well as the long, telltale gashes. It seemed that they had not taken a detour in the portal as he had. It was a scene directly from his nightmares, and he could feel his stomach begin to twist and turn violently.
He went to them on shaky feet, falling to his knees beside them and feeling his heart rip open. He could hear their pulses, faint but there, and he reached out, running fingers through Blaise's blood-matted hair. Everything around him faded as he checked their wounds and tried to stop the bleeding. But it wouldn't stop, his magick wasn't working right, and he felt panic start to stir within him. His hands were soon drenched in their blood, and he realized with a sudden start of horror that he couldn't activate his Mark. He spun quickly, too quickly, and reopened the wound on his own side, but he didn't pay it the least bit of attention.
"What is the choice?" He demanded, his voice low and deadly, and a sigh seemed to ripple through the room.
Instead of a verbal answer, the portal once more came to life, and he watched a string of images silently. A child; stolen and murdered in the dead of night. A mother; lost in grief, broken and sobbing. A woman; beaten and raped, left for dead. The same, but a father and a man. An elderly couple walking through the park; robbed and murdered viciously, without any sort of remorse. A road in the middle of a city; lined with bodies in the style of the ancient Romans, crows and ravens eating them as they screamed. The images came faster and faster, shards and bits of evil that had cloaked the centuries, before slowing and coming to a sudden halt. And just as suddenly, he realized what She wanted of him.
"No!" He said, rising to his feet in one quick movement. "You cannot ask this of me!"
"I must." She replied, Her voice tinted with sadness. "Your choice is this, dragon of bad faith. You can take them, try to save them; although after what they've been experiencing for what to them has felt like days, they might not forgive you for bringing them back. But you can take that path if you wish, and let the Bane spread, eat, destroy...Or, you can destroy the Bane and the ever growing sickness, destroy that which stole your fathers from you, and your lovers shall die in peace, remembering nothing of their last hours." The words slammed into his soul, and he took a stumbling step backwards.
"No." He repeated, his voice little more than a whisper, but the Lady took no heed of him.
"Which do you choose?"
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Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review! They are the very air I breathe and my continued inspiration!
Note: Have no fear, the Ladies will be explained farther, I promise! Hope you liked the bit of sorrowsex! lol