A.N.: I couldn't help it. I read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Then I had a series of ideas that I had to sort through to determine the course this chapter would take. I have tonnes of homework but couldn't stop writing tonight. I hope it was worth the wait.

Disclaimer: Refer to previous chapter.

Chapter Two

Enamour Me

Red blood, still warm and bubbling, coursed through my fingers as I looked on from a distance horrified. I sensed the trickle of time while the droplets fell to the stone floor. Sensation spread throughout my body with the incredible sense of loss. It crashed home so suddenly with my release from the Imperius curse.

The Dark Lord believed the hate and self-loathing could only emerge in crystallized perfection with the release of my mind. He was right. Yet, he would never be able to harness it as I know he wished.

I had killed him. I had killed my father. The Dark Lord had forced my hand. The hand was still mine. It would always be mine. No matter whether it was lost or wrenched from me, the mind that controlled it was mine. The mind that controlled mine was not.

The truth is irrelevant. I should have been strong enough to resist the pull of his mind. I should have been able to harness my own impulses and the strength in my body. I should have been able to harness it and draw my power away from such a use.

The look on his face.

His enemies had been closing in. The Dark Lord had demanded his blood. My father had never been able to bow to this Lord. He had fought him tooth and nail. I had been unable to. The last person he still looked upon with trust had been used to cause his demise. Curse or no, I betrayed him.

He was my family. I had no siblings. I had no mother. She pledged herself to the Dark Lord from want of a child and killed herself shortly after giving birth to me. She realized her error and sacrificed her life to guard me from him. She couldn't guard my mind. She was much too far away to ever do that.

When the Dark Lord rose and came for me, my father refused. I had loved my father. I may be a Slytherin, but I know love. We're not as cold as most would ask you to believe. I have a greater capacity for love then most I've ever met. I also have a greater capacity for hate.

I've always believed hate stems from love and love from hate. The two opposite ends of the spectrum come together inevitably. I knew love and I knew hate before this moment. I love my father. I hate my father. I killed my father.

It was not the first death stemming from my hands.

I was nine. She was twenty-nine. Fanny was my nanny. My father couldn't always care for me. She did that. I loved her and she betrayed me. I hated her and she consoled me. She raped me of my innocence and gave me my power. She raped me physically. I raped her mentally. She took my body. I took her mind. I drove her to insanity and then slowly watched her die. I drew her lifeblood out. I let her bleed to death from the most sensuous of points. Her lips and her vagina were the source of her pain. When she neared the brink of death, I watched her. When her mind was wrenched away, I was there waiting. She took me. I took her.

I loved. I hated. I delivered her just reward.

The Dark Lord seduced me and took my mind. I fell in love with his power. Now I hate every fibre of his being and essence of his spirit. I will have my vengeance.

People liken the Dark Lord to a serpent. I call him a spider. Spiders sit and watch you. They spin their intricate webs and trap you in them. Yet, they can be beaten. I can crush them. I can and will draw away his prey then wrap him in his own web and steal his life's essence. I will be stronger than him. He has age and cruelty. I have the resilience of youth and the capacity to learn. I can learn anything I choose. I choose to learn how to prey upon my enemies.

I walk through the halls of Hogwarts and no one would suspect the thoughts taking place behind my green eyes. No one would suspect the quiet dark boy of seventeen to harbour such murderous intentions. I put nothing past anyone. These children give people too much credit. That's their fault. I will never be at fault in such a manner again.

I leave the corridors behind for the Great Hall and Slytherin table. I acknowledge my surroundings and the unsettling gaze of a Ravenclaw girl. Her wide eyes intrigue me. I am not the sort to walk in the shadows, yet I can use those shadows to my advantage. I will take any advantage.

I am Blaise Zabini.

I am enamoured by blood and wide eyes.

Moranar