Updated: April 10th 2004
Author's Note: Well, sorry about the long spaces inbetween updates, but busy-ness is reaching an unprecedented level for me right now. Hope you enjoy the chapter and again, thank you very much to my reviewers. (Also, I'm sorry if my spelling is worse than usual, but I'm having trouble getting things spell-checked.)
chapter 40: COMPASSION - binding the trust
"Aahhh," Ron growled before slamming his book shut with a loud bang. "You know, why can't they just have a book that's, like, the textbook on possession or something? Something that will just tell us what we need to know. I'm sick of trying to string together all these tiny bits and pieces."
By this time, it was after eleven o'clock, and Ron didn't think he wanted to see another dusty old book on spirits, or curses, or banshees, or any of that stuff Ever Again. Ron probably would have gotten a stern lecture from Madam Pince on such an outburst in the library, but at about ten o'clock she had come by saying it was time for everyone to be leaving the library. Malfoy had then magically produced a note from Professor Snape, giving them permission to stay longer, so now they had the library all to themselves.
"I know what you mean." Draco leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, making bits of it stick up at funny angles. Any other time, Ron would have laughed at that, but now he was just too tired and thorougly sick of studying. "Well, let's look at what we've got so far. Maybe we can call it a night soon."
Ron nodded and set his books to the side, shuffling through his notes to try to put them in some sort of order. He really wanted to be done with this soon. He'd been getting a strange feeling all night, that was slowly building on him, and now it was to the point that it felt like something was crawling under his skin. He just wanted to go to bed and hope that sleep would make the feeling go away. He felt all jittery and weird.
"Hey, why didn't you mention this one when you wrote it down?" Malfoy was sounding rather snappish, but Ron figured he was simply as tired as Ron himself was. "You wrote right at the top 'How to tell if someone is possessed, and who or what is possessing them.' Isn't that what we've been looking for this whole time?"
Ron leaned over and rested his forehead against his hand, groaning as a dizzy spell passed over him. "Look further down. It also says you have to lock them in a room for two days before you can be sure."
"Oh." Though Ron wasn't looking, he could practically hear Draco's lip curling in annoyance. "Well, that's not very helpful. I don't suppose we could kidnap her for the weekend, then?"
Ron just shook his head. There seemed to be something dark hovering at the edges of his vision and it was making it hard for him to think. Also, he kept thinking that he heard whispering off in one corner of the library. It almost sounded like it was coming from outside the window. Ron shook his head again to try and clear it. It was late and he was probably just hearing the wind.
"Hmmm, well this is choice, just what we're looking for." Ron raised his head to see Draco looking at a page of notes, a sarcastic smile curling at the edges of his mouth. "It says here that people who are possessed, and I quote, 'will often act sort of funny, but in some cases will just act normal.'" Draco quirked an eyebrow and laid the paper to one side. "Fascinating piece of information that."
Ron couldn't help chuckling. "Do you think they count performing strange rites of dark magic as 'acting sort of funny', or does that go into the normal bin for them?"
Draco smirked. "I imagine it depends on whether they were previously in the habit of performing such rites." Draco frowned. "Was she?"
"Was she what?"
"In the habit of performing rites of dark magic."
Ron frowned as well. "How the hell should I know? A body doesn't generally go around broadcasting such things, do they?"
Draco put a hand to his forehead. "No, you're right." He sighed. "Maybe instead of possession, we should be looking up old magic. It might pertain more to what we're dealing with." He put his hands on the table, as though preparing to stand. "What do you say? Do you have it in you for a new round of books."
Ron grit his teeth, but then nodded. As tired and disoriented as he was, he really wanted them to come away from this feeling like they'd learned Something.
Blaise Zabini was only dimly aware of what was going on. His mind had sunk down into the swirling of sensation that Ginny had begun to wash over him. He could scarce move for the overwhelming feeling of a fiery touch moving endlessly and engulfingly over his flesh. Nothing mattered anymore but that feeling.
Ginny smiled as she watched Blaise drown in her caresses. Soon his mind would be so wrapped up in it all, that he would be as weak and defenseless as a newborn kitten. She ran her tongue along Blaise's throat as she relished that thought.
Judging the time to be right, Ginny stood before using her wand to lift Blaise into the patch of starlight coming through the dusty window. The moon was low in the sky and blocked by the walls of the castle, but she could still hear it whispering to her, calling for her to begin. Turning smoothly, she walked over to her robes where they lay piled on the floor and drew her knife from one of the pockets. The dim light barely outlined the contours of Blaise's still, naked form, glinting only off the thin circle of metal around his wrist.
"You don't know how I've waited for this," she whispered lovingly into his ear and lifted the knife, prepared to begin.
"What are you doing here, Weasley? We need to get back to work." Draco put a hand to Ron's shoulder and felt him flinch beneath his touch. He had come back to their table with a new stack of books, only to find that Ron had abandoned his notes and was instead standing in front of the window.
"Can't you hear it?" Ron's voice was so faint Draco could barely make it out.
"What's that?"
"The moon. Don't you hear it. It's singing. I can almost hear the words." Ron put a hand on the glass of the window and leaned forward. "Do you know what it's saying?"
"No, I don't. Now, come on," Draco said sharply, tugging on Ron's sleeve. He was starting to feel more than a little worried. Something strange was going on.
Ron seemed not to hear him and instead of turning, leaned closer to the window, pressing his face against the glass.
"Weasely, come on!" Draco said again loudly, not sure what else to do. "Ron!" he finally shouted, whacking him across the shoulder as he did so. This, at last, brought a reaction, and Ron finally turned his head away from the window, blinking in confusion. "Ron, what's going on? Where were you?" For once in his life, Draco's composure slipped, and he could hear his voice shaking.
"I..." Ron put a hand to his head, still looking dazed. "I don't know. I've been feeling..." Suddenly he blanched, swaying on his feet, and put a hand to the window frame to steady himself. Draco put a hand out, not knowing what to do. As he caught Ron's arm, Ron sank swiftly to the ground, shaking. "I don't... I can't..." Ron was so pale, that in the dim light he looked completely white.
Feeling something wet, Draco looked down at his hand, to see a smudge of blood against his thumb. "Are you bleeding?" Ron seemed to hear him only dimly. Pulling out his wand, Draco pushed back Ron's sleeve and muttered a quick finite incantatem. He held back a gasp when he saw that all of the old scabs on Ron's arm had cracked, and were slowly leaking blood. As he scanned Ron's arm, for the second time that night, the bracelet circling Ron's wrist caught his attention. Something wasn't right about it. It seemed familiar, but even still, the way the moonlight seemed to catch and twist along its edge had a distinctly sinister feel.
Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Draco dropped his wand and grabbed Ron's wrist. He felt Ron tense at this, but before he could do anything Draco quickly grasped the metal loop and tugged it swiftly over Ron's hand, flinging it aside into a corner. A shudder passed through Ron, and Draco looked up to see fear darkening the boy's eyes. Along with the fear, however, came clarity.
"Malfoy? What's going on?" Ron's voice was shaky and hoarse, but no longer held that far away sound from before.
"You were talking about the moon. You said it was singing. And you're bleeding. I..." Draco drew a shaky breath. "I think your sister put that bracelet on you somehow. I think it was doing something to you." He swallowed a knot in his throat.
Ron squeezed his eyes shut. "No. No, I think it's still doing something to me. It feels like there's something trying to get under my skin." He put a hand up to his neck, then brought it forward and looked down at his fingers. They, too, were red. "Why am I bleeding?" he whispered. "I can't be bleeding for her. I can't." Suddenly Ron brought up both hands and started struggling out of his robes. As soon as those were off, he quickly pulled his sweater and shirt over his head as well, leaving him naked from the waist up. "Is it everywhere? Can you see? Am I bleeding everywhere?
Kneeling next to Ron, Draco was shaking, but he raised his wand and cast off the glamour. Ron was right. Everywhere that he had bitten Ron over the past month had opened up and was now slowly leaking blood across Ron's pale skin. Around thirty small wounds, dark red in the moonlight.
Suddenly, Ron reached forward, gripping Draco tightly by the wrists and looking imploringly into his eyes. "You can't let her take it. She's taking it against my will. It isn't hers. I give it to you. Please. Take it before she steals it."
Draco looked back intently into Ron's eyes. He felt like he should feel unsure, or panicked, or Something, but he wasn't. As soon as he had seen the dark blood marring Ron's pale skin, something inside of him had gone still and focused. He didn't feel afraid. Ron was right. The blood didn't belong to Ginny or whatever had control of her. Ron had given it to him, and he would take it. Draco nodded once, before freeing his hands from Ron's panicked grip. He grasped Ron's wrist and slowly lifted Ron's arm to his lips, putting his mouth to the nearest wound.
He didn't suck out the blood like he usually did. In this situation that was hardly necessary, and would probably prove harmful to Ron. Instead, he licked carefully over the wound, taking up all of the blood that had already seeped out. Once done, that wound didn't seem to be bleeding any more and he moved on to the next.
Through the connection of Ron's blood, Draco could feel the panic and revulsion that was wrapping itself around Ron. He was surprised that Ron appeared outwardly as calm as he did, for inside he felt on the verge of sobbing. Small tremors kept passing through him. Concentrating, Draco tried to project a feeling of assurance and calm. It was going to be ok. Usually it was Ron who was supposed to protect Draco, but Draco knew that in this, he could protect Ron. Gradually, the feeling of panic subsided to be replaced by a tentative feeling of trust.
'Sssshhhhhhhhh... trustmetrustmetrustmetrustme...' Draco whispered in his mind.
After going over all of the wounds on Ron's arm, Draco moved without pause up to those older one's covering Ron's upper chest and shoulder. Slowly, Ron's shaking subsided, and Draco could feel that the tension was flowing out of him.
The bite marks were spaced closer together in this area, but Draco worked his way carefully from one to the next, letting his tongue glide gently over Ron's skin and making sure not a drop was left behind. The blood tasted so sweet, so pure, almost wholesome. Ron's flesh was warm beneath Draco's mouth, and tasted soothing and content.
Finally, the only wound left untouched was the one on Ron's neck, at the base of his throat. Blood trailed from it in a line over Ron's collar bone and Draco had to move closer to Ron to gain better access. He started at the base and worked his way up, feeling encased in the warmth that was radiating outward from Ron's skin. It was like following a timeline of Ron's emotion. The drop at the bottom was bitter with fear and disgust, but as Draco followed it up, the bitterness was leached away and replaced with something so sweet, Draco would almost have called it love. Nothing so simple, but such that Draco ached with it, with the trust and the loyalty he could taste in Ron's flesh.
As Draco reached Ron's throat, and licked away the last smudge of blood, he closed eyes, savoring it, before pulling away. That last drop rested on his tongue like warm velvet. Opening his eyes once more, Draco looked into Ron's face to see the red-head looking steadily back at him. His eyes seemed to be unveiled before him, showing such clear depths that Draco caught his breath. For a moment the two stayed still like that, looking silently back at each other. Then, slowly, keeping his eyes on Ron's as long as he could, Draco lowered his head back to Ron's neck. He ran his tongue gently over the now clean wound, feeling Ron shudder beneath him, shaking a bit himself. Carefully, he placed a soft kiss there, then another above it, working his way steadily up Ron's exposed throat to his jaw line.
Draco's breath came only unevenly and Ron's lips were parted, his breathing staggered. They were both trembling. Before he could stop himself, before he had a chance to think better of it, Draco closed his eyes, and took the leap, quickly covering Ron's mouth with his own.
It was like nothing he had ever felt before, something so sweet, and so urgent, and part of him just marveled that Ron was kissing him back. It seemed to go on for an eternity, and Draco was reminded of that warm, red place in his mind he had shared with Ron earlier that day, except here no words existed, words were trivial and unimportant. All that he needed was to feel his mouth moving against Ron's, to taste again the blood that lingered on his lips, and to just be.
Finally their lips drew apart, but still they clung to each other. Unwilling to let go, Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Ron, pressing himself against his bare, smooth skin. It was the strangest thing, but in Ron's arms seemed to be the only place Draco truly felt safe. No matter what else, he knew that they would always trust in each other.
Feeling a shift in the magic, Ginny looked up from her task to stare long and hard into Blaise's vacant, glazed eyes. It felt as though her spell had suddenly lost a dimension, had flattened out into a hard edged shadow of itself. Staring into the space beyond the boy's eyes, she could sense the shift, could watch as the red light of the other was withdrawn. Reaching forward, she brushed her fingers over Blaise's eyes, shutting the lids. She didn't want to see what was no longer there. Oh, well. The Slytherin by himself would be enough. Bringing her brother into it had been too tempting not to try, but, in the end, it would matter little just how much blood was spilled tonight. In the end it would all be hers.
Gazing down at the limp, pale boy beneath her, Ginny revelled in the sight of his blood splashed luridly against his flawless skin. She shuddered as she felt more of the change rippling through her, felt it molding itself into her bones. Its dark, icy fire played itself in exquisite contrast against the hot, sticky blood splashed across her own bare skin. Gripping her knife precisely, she looked down the length of Blaise consideringly. Perhaps a bit more. Yes. She could take a bit more before he needed to be put aside.
Author's Note: Well, sorry about the long spaces inbetween updates, but busy-ness is reaching an unprecedented level for me right now. Hope you enjoy the chapter and again, thank you very much to my reviewers. (Also, I'm sorry if my spelling is worse than usual, but I'm having trouble getting things spell-checked.)
chapter 40: COMPASSION - binding the trust
"Aahhh," Ron growled before slamming his book shut with a loud bang. "You know, why can't they just have a book that's, like, the textbook on possession or something? Something that will just tell us what we need to know. I'm sick of trying to string together all these tiny bits and pieces."
By this time, it was after eleven o'clock, and Ron didn't think he wanted to see another dusty old book on spirits, or curses, or banshees, or any of that stuff Ever Again. Ron probably would have gotten a stern lecture from Madam Pince on such an outburst in the library, but at about ten o'clock she had come by saying it was time for everyone to be leaving the library. Malfoy had then magically produced a note from Professor Snape, giving them permission to stay longer, so now they had the library all to themselves.
"I know what you mean." Draco leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, making bits of it stick up at funny angles. Any other time, Ron would have laughed at that, but now he was just too tired and thorougly sick of studying. "Well, let's look at what we've got so far. Maybe we can call it a night soon."
Ron nodded and set his books to the side, shuffling through his notes to try to put them in some sort of order. He really wanted to be done with this soon. He'd been getting a strange feeling all night, that was slowly building on him, and now it was to the point that it felt like something was crawling under his skin. He just wanted to go to bed and hope that sleep would make the feeling go away. He felt all jittery and weird.
"Hey, why didn't you mention this one when you wrote it down?" Malfoy was sounding rather snappish, but Ron figured he was simply as tired as Ron himself was. "You wrote right at the top 'How to tell if someone is possessed, and who or what is possessing them.' Isn't that what we've been looking for this whole time?"
Ron leaned over and rested his forehead against his hand, groaning as a dizzy spell passed over him. "Look further down. It also says you have to lock them in a room for two days before you can be sure."
"Oh." Though Ron wasn't looking, he could practically hear Draco's lip curling in annoyance. "Well, that's not very helpful. I don't suppose we could kidnap her for the weekend, then?"
Ron just shook his head. There seemed to be something dark hovering at the edges of his vision and it was making it hard for him to think. Also, he kept thinking that he heard whispering off in one corner of the library. It almost sounded like it was coming from outside the window. Ron shook his head again to try and clear it. It was late and he was probably just hearing the wind.
"Hmmm, well this is choice, just what we're looking for." Ron raised his head to see Draco looking at a page of notes, a sarcastic smile curling at the edges of his mouth. "It says here that people who are possessed, and I quote, 'will often act sort of funny, but in some cases will just act normal.'" Draco quirked an eyebrow and laid the paper to one side. "Fascinating piece of information that."
Ron couldn't help chuckling. "Do you think they count performing strange rites of dark magic as 'acting sort of funny', or does that go into the normal bin for them?"
Draco smirked. "I imagine it depends on whether they were previously in the habit of performing such rites." Draco frowned. "Was she?"
"Was she what?"
"In the habit of performing rites of dark magic."
Ron frowned as well. "How the hell should I know? A body doesn't generally go around broadcasting such things, do they?"
Draco put a hand to his forehead. "No, you're right." He sighed. "Maybe instead of possession, we should be looking up old magic. It might pertain more to what we're dealing with." He put his hands on the table, as though preparing to stand. "What do you say? Do you have it in you for a new round of books."
Ron grit his teeth, but then nodded. As tired and disoriented as he was, he really wanted them to come away from this feeling like they'd learned Something.
Blaise Zabini was only dimly aware of what was going on. His mind had sunk down into the swirling of sensation that Ginny had begun to wash over him. He could scarce move for the overwhelming feeling of a fiery touch moving endlessly and engulfingly over his flesh. Nothing mattered anymore but that feeling.
Ginny smiled as she watched Blaise drown in her caresses. Soon his mind would be so wrapped up in it all, that he would be as weak and defenseless as a newborn kitten. She ran her tongue along Blaise's throat as she relished that thought.
Judging the time to be right, Ginny stood before using her wand to lift Blaise into the patch of starlight coming through the dusty window. The moon was low in the sky and blocked by the walls of the castle, but she could still hear it whispering to her, calling for her to begin. Turning smoothly, she walked over to her robes where they lay piled on the floor and drew her knife from one of the pockets. The dim light barely outlined the contours of Blaise's still, naked form, glinting only off the thin circle of metal around his wrist.
"You don't know how I've waited for this," she whispered lovingly into his ear and lifted the knife, prepared to begin.
"What are you doing here, Weasley? We need to get back to work." Draco put a hand to Ron's shoulder and felt him flinch beneath his touch. He had come back to their table with a new stack of books, only to find that Ron had abandoned his notes and was instead standing in front of the window.
"Can't you hear it?" Ron's voice was so faint Draco could barely make it out.
"What's that?"
"The moon. Don't you hear it. It's singing. I can almost hear the words." Ron put a hand on the glass of the window and leaned forward. "Do you know what it's saying?"
"No, I don't. Now, come on," Draco said sharply, tugging on Ron's sleeve. He was starting to feel more than a little worried. Something strange was going on.
Ron seemed not to hear him and instead of turning, leaned closer to the window, pressing his face against the glass.
"Weasely, come on!" Draco said again loudly, not sure what else to do. "Ron!" he finally shouted, whacking him across the shoulder as he did so. This, at last, brought a reaction, and Ron finally turned his head away from the window, blinking in confusion. "Ron, what's going on? Where were you?" For once in his life, Draco's composure slipped, and he could hear his voice shaking.
"I..." Ron put a hand to his head, still looking dazed. "I don't know. I've been feeling..." Suddenly he blanched, swaying on his feet, and put a hand to the window frame to steady himself. Draco put a hand out, not knowing what to do. As he caught Ron's arm, Ron sank swiftly to the ground, shaking. "I don't... I can't..." Ron was so pale, that in the dim light he looked completely white.
Feeling something wet, Draco looked down at his hand, to see a smudge of blood against his thumb. "Are you bleeding?" Ron seemed to hear him only dimly. Pulling out his wand, Draco pushed back Ron's sleeve and muttered a quick finite incantatem. He held back a gasp when he saw that all of the old scabs on Ron's arm had cracked, and were slowly leaking blood. As he scanned Ron's arm, for the second time that night, the bracelet circling Ron's wrist caught his attention. Something wasn't right about it. It seemed familiar, but even still, the way the moonlight seemed to catch and twist along its edge had a distinctly sinister feel.
Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, Draco dropped his wand and grabbed Ron's wrist. He felt Ron tense at this, but before he could do anything Draco quickly grasped the metal loop and tugged it swiftly over Ron's hand, flinging it aside into a corner. A shudder passed through Ron, and Draco looked up to see fear darkening the boy's eyes. Along with the fear, however, came clarity.
"Malfoy? What's going on?" Ron's voice was shaky and hoarse, but no longer held that far away sound from before.
"You were talking about the moon. You said it was singing. And you're bleeding. I..." Draco drew a shaky breath. "I think your sister put that bracelet on you somehow. I think it was doing something to you." He swallowed a knot in his throat.
Ron squeezed his eyes shut. "No. No, I think it's still doing something to me. It feels like there's something trying to get under my skin." He put a hand up to his neck, then brought it forward and looked down at his fingers. They, too, were red. "Why am I bleeding?" he whispered. "I can't be bleeding for her. I can't." Suddenly Ron brought up both hands and started struggling out of his robes. As soon as those were off, he quickly pulled his sweater and shirt over his head as well, leaving him naked from the waist up. "Is it everywhere? Can you see? Am I bleeding everywhere?
Kneeling next to Ron, Draco was shaking, but he raised his wand and cast off the glamour. Ron was right. Everywhere that he had bitten Ron over the past month had opened up and was now slowly leaking blood across Ron's pale skin. Around thirty small wounds, dark red in the moonlight.
Suddenly, Ron reached forward, gripping Draco tightly by the wrists and looking imploringly into his eyes. "You can't let her take it. She's taking it against my will. It isn't hers. I give it to you. Please. Take it before she steals it."
Draco looked back intently into Ron's eyes. He felt like he should feel unsure, or panicked, or Something, but he wasn't. As soon as he had seen the dark blood marring Ron's pale skin, something inside of him had gone still and focused. He didn't feel afraid. Ron was right. The blood didn't belong to Ginny or whatever had control of her. Ron had given it to him, and he would take it. Draco nodded once, before freeing his hands from Ron's panicked grip. He grasped Ron's wrist and slowly lifted Ron's arm to his lips, putting his mouth to the nearest wound.
He didn't suck out the blood like he usually did. In this situation that was hardly necessary, and would probably prove harmful to Ron. Instead, he licked carefully over the wound, taking up all of the blood that had already seeped out. Once done, that wound didn't seem to be bleeding any more and he moved on to the next.
Through the connection of Ron's blood, Draco could feel the panic and revulsion that was wrapping itself around Ron. He was surprised that Ron appeared outwardly as calm as he did, for inside he felt on the verge of sobbing. Small tremors kept passing through him. Concentrating, Draco tried to project a feeling of assurance and calm. It was going to be ok. Usually it was Ron who was supposed to protect Draco, but Draco knew that in this, he could protect Ron. Gradually, the feeling of panic subsided to be replaced by a tentative feeling of trust.
'Sssshhhhhhhhh... trustmetrustmetrustmetrustme...' Draco whispered in his mind.
After going over all of the wounds on Ron's arm, Draco moved without pause up to those older one's covering Ron's upper chest and shoulder. Slowly, Ron's shaking subsided, and Draco could feel that the tension was flowing out of him.
The bite marks were spaced closer together in this area, but Draco worked his way carefully from one to the next, letting his tongue glide gently over Ron's skin and making sure not a drop was left behind. The blood tasted so sweet, so pure, almost wholesome. Ron's flesh was warm beneath Draco's mouth, and tasted soothing and content.
Finally, the only wound left untouched was the one on Ron's neck, at the base of his throat. Blood trailed from it in a line over Ron's collar bone and Draco had to move closer to Ron to gain better access. He started at the base and worked his way up, feeling encased in the warmth that was radiating outward from Ron's skin. It was like following a timeline of Ron's emotion. The drop at the bottom was bitter with fear and disgust, but as Draco followed it up, the bitterness was leached away and replaced with something so sweet, Draco would almost have called it love. Nothing so simple, but such that Draco ached with it, with the trust and the loyalty he could taste in Ron's flesh.
As Draco reached Ron's throat, and licked away the last smudge of blood, he closed eyes, savoring it, before pulling away. That last drop rested on his tongue like warm velvet. Opening his eyes once more, Draco looked into Ron's face to see the red-head looking steadily back at him. His eyes seemed to be unveiled before him, showing such clear depths that Draco caught his breath. For a moment the two stayed still like that, looking silently back at each other. Then, slowly, keeping his eyes on Ron's as long as he could, Draco lowered his head back to Ron's neck. He ran his tongue gently over the now clean wound, feeling Ron shudder beneath him, shaking a bit himself. Carefully, he placed a soft kiss there, then another above it, working his way steadily up Ron's exposed throat to his jaw line.
Draco's breath came only unevenly and Ron's lips were parted, his breathing staggered. They were both trembling. Before he could stop himself, before he had a chance to think better of it, Draco closed his eyes, and took the leap, quickly covering Ron's mouth with his own.
It was like nothing he had ever felt before, something so sweet, and so urgent, and part of him just marveled that Ron was kissing him back. It seemed to go on for an eternity, and Draco was reminded of that warm, red place in his mind he had shared with Ron earlier that day, except here no words existed, words were trivial and unimportant. All that he needed was to feel his mouth moving against Ron's, to taste again the blood that lingered on his lips, and to just be.
Finally their lips drew apart, but still they clung to each other. Unwilling to let go, Draco wrapped his arms tightly around Ron, pressing himself against his bare, smooth skin. It was the strangest thing, but in Ron's arms seemed to be the only place Draco truly felt safe. No matter what else, he knew that they would always trust in each other.
Feeling a shift in the magic, Ginny looked up from her task to stare long and hard into Blaise's vacant, glazed eyes. It felt as though her spell had suddenly lost a dimension, had flattened out into a hard edged shadow of itself. Staring into the space beyond the boy's eyes, she could sense the shift, could watch as the red light of the other was withdrawn. Reaching forward, she brushed her fingers over Blaise's eyes, shutting the lids. She didn't want to see what was no longer there. Oh, well. The Slytherin by himself would be enough. Bringing her brother into it had been too tempting not to try, but, in the end, it would matter little just how much blood was spilled tonight. In the end it would all be hers.
Gazing down at the limp, pale boy beneath her, Ginny revelled in the sight of his blood splashed luridly against his flawless skin. She shuddered as she felt more of the change rippling through her, felt it molding itself into her bones. Its dark, icy fire played itself in exquisite contrast against the hot, sticky blood splashed across her own bare skin. Gripping her knife precisely, she looked down the length of Blaise consideringly. Perhaps a bit more. Yes. She could take a bit more before he needed to be put aside.
