Chapter Fifteen: Dark Prince
It was unnerving. She was sitting there, a feral smile on her face, perched in her chair with her rear to one side so she could languish against the other, her legs crossed at the knee, one elbow propped onto the arm rest, extending the hand that her head was tilted against, the other arm demurely laid across her lap, the hand of which was resting on her knee. She looked like a cat that had cornered its evening meal, and was fully intent on a long session of torture before the fatal blow fell.
In short, Morgan Sinistra sat like a queen… the high backed upholstered chair was her throne, and she presided over Hermione like the plebian muggle-born she was.
Hermione, for her part, could not force herself to care. The only thing she could dimly process was the fact that she was in shock. She looked around the room, vaguely taking the finery of it, with its elaborative wall paper, columns of decorative texts stacked neatly on book shelves lining the walls, and Morgan sitting with her chair to the back of a roaring fire, which was all that lit the room, beneath an intricately carved mantle.
Hermione had never been in the side room that led off of the Great Hall. She had been made aware of its existence when Harry walked into it after his name had been called in fourth year for the Tri-wizard tournament, but had never been given occasion to visit it. She would've greatly enjoyed the opportunity, had she not been traumatized minutes ago.
She could only stare around dimly, as Morgan watched her as though she were the most fascinating thing she'd ever seen, her eyes eventually coming to rest on her hands, which, moments ago, had glowed with the fulfillment of her first life debt.
She had saved Draco Malfoy.
She continued to stare at her hand in disbelieve.
Blaise had been about to burn Malfoy to death. To kill him.
Hermione had seen war and death. It was not foreign to her, and the idea of killing was not so onerous that she would avoid it at the cost of her own life. However bad the war affected her, however, she always felt that she could come home to Hogwarts, and be safe.
Death had always been something Hermione associated with being out there. Out there, that's where it was unsafe, where the death eaters lurked, the dark lord plotted and the war would come to a head. Hogwarts was always the place they could still pretend they were children, and ignore the burden that was theirs to bear.
Was this real? And if so, when did it become real? When did Hogwarts join the venues of battle? Was there no sanctuary to be had from fighting anymore?
"Did you willingly join Harry Potter's side?" Morgan's words cut into her daze.
"Of course." She whispered, not able to convey the indignity that such an obvious question should normally evoke.
"Though you knew you were committing yourself to fighting for Dumbledore?" She raised a perfectly sculpted eye brow.
Hermione chose not to respond, knowing where this questioning was leading.
"Death is the only thing in this world we can be sure of, Hermione. And only when we consign ourselves to that fate, accept it, can we over come the despair of an indifferent world."
"Now I see where Blaise gets his existentialism from." Hermione replied dully.
Morgan smiled.
"Would you kill to defend what you love?"
"They were just words."
"Oh, and what was the cold war fought over?"
Hermione gapped at her.
"Go on and say it! The war was a war of ideas. Communism and Democracy are ideas formed by words. Humanity fought for those idealistic words, because each side believed in them. How many people died for those ideas, Hermione? How many people would've died if the war had involved the nuclear weapons both sides possessed?
"How can you say that words do not matter, when you are currently committed to this war of ideas, yourself. Purebloods and Mudbloods. You have taken Potter as a friend, and fought along side him for your life. You, perhaps without your realization, have allocated your life's breath for Potter's cause, which in and of itself, it's a battle of words. Of ideas. Of beliefs.
"Good. Evil. Right. Wrong. Truth. Freedom. Justice. These are just words, but they have power so long as people believe in them. And people will fight for what they believe in. Often times they proclaim legends using the very same words, and are fighting simply over the meaning." She snorted. "The great schism that split Christendom and incited former brothers in one faith to battle one another began with one simple word."
"Penitence." Hermione whispered. With the digestion of the Morgan's speech, her world crashing down around her. Morgan was completely right. It was foolish to believe that people could let go of conflicts made by words. Words had caused more war and murder than any other impetus.
Morgan smiled at her again.
"Familiar with Erasmus are you? I must admit, you're more impressive than I had originally anticipated. And I certainly like you more than I ought, given your background."
Hermione felt like she should be angry at the slight about her heritage, but found she couldn't; she was just too shocked.
"My son has good taste." Morgan said at last, her smile becoming feral again.
Hermione was gob smacked.
Blaise. He'd stormed out of the great hall, and out the front doors without a backwards glance, right after Morgan had introduced herself. Hermione vaguely remembered Narcissa and Pansy crying with relief, sobbing all over the crumpled and burnt blond. Morgan steered Hermione into this side room, sat her down on the opposite couch, and ordered tea.
She had no idea where Blaise was, or what he was doing, or what was going to happen. Distantly, she remembered the lack of life-debt between them, and now more than ever, wanted to know the truth. Although she had no idea how she would react if…
After all, he was almost a murderer.
But then, Harry had sworn himself to killing Voldemort. And hadn't Harry went to kill Bellatrix Lestrange to avenge Sirius? However, she didn't fear Harry like she now feared Blaise.
Perhaps that was because Harry never exuded that breath-crushing aura of power; his eyes never blazed red when angry; he didn't have a history of dark arts spanning back to childhood. Fires didn't suddenly die as ice cold hatred spread through the room with his mood. With Harry, his emotions were always transparent.
"I don't get him." She whispered at last.
Morgan laughed. "Maybe I spoke too soon, then." She said with mirth. Hermione just stared at her numbly, unable to believe this woman could laugh when her son had almost killed for her moments ago.
"It's obvious, though he tries desperately to hide it. It's been the same problem since childhood for him, and I think that's what drew him to you initially." Morgan sighed, and looked out at the window, which now framed the falling snow.
"Passion." Morgan said at last, and turned her attention back to the bewildered girl. "Blaise always cared far too much for his friends, for his religion, for his family, and in his beliefs. And he was open about it or at least he used to be, when he was younger. He was open about how much he loved everyone, and how much he loved God." Morgan snorted derisively.
"Someone betrayed him." Hermione remembered he'd mentioned this. Even if Malfoy was the one who started it, they both agreed it had happened. Did that mean they were both betrayed?
"Everyone betrayed him, in his mind at least. Even me." Morgan corrected. "And it broke his heart. From then on, he tried to change it. Tried to make himself as a statue, impervious to the tempest. Rather boring, really: hiding great passion behind a mask of apathy. How very cliché."
Hermione frowned. That was rather harsh in her opinion.
"But he can't change himself. He's still as passionate as he ever was and you know…" Morgan trailed off as she smiled at Hermione again, but this time it was much more warm. "How you acted back there, it reminded me of him when he was younger. How passionate you were, and so open with your feelings. I suppose, he misses it… misses the innocence of it. Exposing your feelings like that implies an automatic trust, which only comes with the naiveté that no one will turn on you with what you have revealed."
"Why are you telling me this." Hermione asked quietly.
"Why indeed." Morgan busied herself with a cup of tea from a tray a house elf brought in. She made a cup for Hermione as well, but the other did not partake. "Perhaps because I know my son more than he'd like to admit, and I know that he would want you to understand, so that you wouldn't be afraid of him."
"Forgive me if I can't help but be a little freaked out right now." Hermione spat, her shock quickly becoming anger.
"And how is it for Harry Potter? Does everyone treat him normally knowing he fought the Dark Lord?"
Again, Hermione didn't answer, knowing a set up when she saw one. Of course no one treated him normally; he was the boy who wouldn't die.
"It's the same for Blaise, only in reverse. They 're beyond scared; they hate him." Morgan said.
"Who?" Hermione asked.
"Don't be stupid and pretend you haven't noticed how people treat my son." Hermione slowly nodded in acknowledgement. "The ones who grew up with him and who've seen him upset like this before are especially bad. He's been isolated this entire time because neither he nor his housemates have shown any inclination to - "
The door burst open behind Hermione's back. She heard it bang against the opposite book shelf, and jumped. But she didn't need to turn around to know who it was, because the fire rose up in a roar just then, filling the entire room with burning hot anger.
Morgan hadn't budged. She stood in her seat like a queen, and surveyed the new comer with only mild interest.
"I can't leave you alone for five minutes!" Hissed Blaise, slamming the door shut behind him. He came round the couch so Hermione could see him, but he didn't look at her. "What have you been telling her?"
Hermione could see that his irises were still red, though his skin had stopped exuding the faint red glow that reminded Hermione of the amulet stored underneath her shirt. His fists trembled slightly in his anger, and possibly from the cold. He'd been out in the snow in nothing but his uniform, and his reddened nose, and white dust in his hair attested to it.
"Spare us the histrionics Angelo." Morgan drawled.
The fire roared up again, threatening to set fire to the immaculate mantle that framed it, and the finely upholstered throne Morgan sat on.
"Do control yourself, before your burn down the whole castle with that temper." He opened his mouth to speak but she cut across him with a voice that was just as frightening as Blaise's displays of wandless magic. "Sit down!" she spat, in a tone only a mother could master.
Blaise reluctantly flopped down on the opposite end of the couch Hermione occupied.
"Carus, one of your seals has been broken. That hasn't happened since..well.. six and a half years ago. You aren't used to having to deal with it consciously, and so you're naturally over emotional. Taking this into account, you must make a more pronounced effort to control your emotions. If you don't, I doubt the castle will survive much longer. Dark lord be damned!"
Hermione didn't dare look at him directly, but could see from her peripheral vision, that he was still very agitated.
"Now," Morgan said, her stern expression twisting in to a large smile, "You needn't worry about what I've been telling Hermione. I was simply trying to make her understand - "
"Dumbledore made me swear never to talk about it. It was a condition of letting me come here." Blaise butted in, his voice filled with irritation the like of which Hermione had never heard from his mouth. He always seemed so cool and calm before, but now she knew that it was all just an act.
Morgan's smile was becoming disturbing. Her eyes were locked on her son, her expression becoming dewy.
"How cute." Morgan said at last.
Blaise stood up angrily and walked over to the window.
"It's just… I've never seen you with someone you fancy." Morgan explained, in a poor attempt to lessen her son's anger.
"I don't know why you're here." Blaise began, his voice more tight, but better controlled. "But if that's the reason, I'm sorry to disappoint you. It's all fake. We're just pretending to date so we don't get in trouble."
The smile was wiped from Morgan's face. She turned in her seat to look at her son better.
With his back turned away from them both, Blaise stood very close to the window near the corner, so that his breath misted the glass. The sky was white from the falling snow, which seemed to carry its own light, casting Blaise in a moon-like glow from Hermione's vantage point. It vaguely reminded her of when she'd seen him in the hospital wing that night he'd come to help her.
"You really must think terribly of me. You think I'm going to rub it in your face or - " Morgan began.
"No." He cut her off, never turning to either of them. "I know you're going to rub it in my face. How I said I'd never get involved with anyone or ever get married. I meant it, and I haven't. It's just because Snape almost caught us when we went after the empathy spell."
Morgan's eyes widened and she stood up, immediately alert with interest.
"Did you get it?" she breathed.
He made an impatient noise, and closed his eyes in irritation.
"You did." Morgan's sinister smirk was back.
"I knew you had a reason for coming." He muttered darkly.
She responded by drawing and releasing a huge and theatrical breath.
"Can't I ever do right by you? Is it so hard to believe that I came here to see you get an award like any normal parent would?"
"Yes." He responded without preamble.
She sighed, and frowned.
"I'm really a terrible mother, aren't I?" she asked, and approached her son's side.
Hermione couldn't help but be taken aback once again by their similar faces.
"You really want me to believe you came here just for that. When Ursula's been taking every opportunity to tell me what a bad boy I'm being. I've no doubt she's been writing to you about all this." Blaise said.
Morgan smiled. "She's just worried about you. But yes, you are correct, she has been owling me with reports of your new social life."
"Snape knows I know, and now he's cross with her. It seems she's coping with it by trying to 'ruin' my 'relationship' the same as I've done with hers." He said. That made his mother laugh.
"I will not deny that I was curious, when you've never even looked at a pretty girl, much less actually dated one." Morgan said and laughed again. "She was starting to worry you were, shall we say… of a different sort."
Blaise snorted.
"That's right. I'm in love with Malfoy." He sneered sarcastically. Hermione gapped at their backs.
"Believe it or not!" Morgan began, laughter in her voice. "That was one of the theories."
Hermione knew he was rolling his eyes.
"I don't want to be with anyone. I just want to be left alone. Why is that so hard for everyone to understand?" said Blaise, quietly.
"Because it isn't true; even you haven't been able to push everyone away." Morgan countered.
Blaise sighed. "Listen, we needed the empathy magic for the synergy potion. And why are we making the synergy potion? So we can go back to the Slytherin dorms, and I can go back to being alone. That's why I'm doing all of this. It's just bad luck that we almost got caught and have to keep up this façade." Said Blaise.
"What potion did you use to interrogate Snape?" Morgan asked.
"Dormis Veritas." Blaise replied.
"So what went wrong?"
"He woke up." Blaise said tightly.
"He couldn't have." Morgan said, her brows furrowing.
"He did." Blaise replied shortly.
"Well then someone didn't add enough wormwood. My own son making a potion improperly! You are the shame of the family."
Blaise snorted. "Malfoy added the wormwood, then again, he was distracted 'cause Hermione cut her finger." Blaise said, his London accent becoming heavier with irritation. Morgan raised an eyebrow.
"Ah-ha, now things make sense to me. Somethings never change; you boys have never stopped competing." Blaise had nothing to say in response to that.
There was a protracted pause as they stared out, watching the snow fall.
Hermione was quite sure they had forgotten she was there, which was fine with her. She was just considering sneaking out when Morgan said: "You got it?" in an overly casual voice.
"Yes." Blaise responded shortly. There was another long pause.
"Well, are you going to give it to me?" she asked. Blaise gave a fake little laugh.
"And we're back to normality. Glad to see you've stopped trying to play the dutiful mother. No, I'm not giving it to you." She looked mutinous. "Not until I'm out of school. I'm already on probation as it is, and I'm not going to put any more suspicion on me than necessary. Snape knows someone broke into his rooms, he's probably figured out which potion he was slipped. All we need is for you to come out with some new potion that involves magical empathy, a guild kept trade secret, and the whole thing comes together. You can wait."
Morgan pouted, but she knew he wouldn't budge.
"If that's all, you can go home." He said, and rested his forehead against the cold glass pane.
Morgan looked at her son rather sadly.
"It wasn't my intention to ruin your award and to have you fight." She said. He didn't respond. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I know you hate fighting. I know you hate using your gifts. But didn't I try to convince Narcissa to let it go?" Silence.
"Gifts." He said in disgust, at last. "I'm so sick of everything. I'm sick of this stupid blood feud. I'm sick of this stupid school. I'm sick of being me. I… I just want to be normal."
Morgan put an arm around her son's shoulders.
"But that can't happen. So I'd rather be alone. I just want to get away from everyone and never be seen again." His voice was almost a whisper.
Hermione had never heard anyone quite so hopeless. Again, the pity she felt for him overrode her feelings of fear.
"Blaise." Morgan said, turning him away from the window to face her, while petting his hair in a soothing way. "My Angelo… My Dark Prince."
Blaise couldn't suppress a smile when she said that, and she smiled back at him.
"Please don't be angry with me." Morgan said. "You're all I have. You're the only person in the world whose stayed with me through everything."
"I'm not mad at you." He muttered, now feeling ashamed of his outburst.
"Yes you are. And I'll not pretend you aren't with in your rights. Being a teenager and all." He gave a wry smile again. "But I do hate to see you so full of despair, and I am still your mother, even if I haven't been the best one in the world." He didn't reply, but he kept his eyes on the ground as she continued to stroke his hair and pat his back comfortingly. "I know you were going to stay at Hogwarts over the break to finish that project with the Malfoy boy, but why don't you come home this year instead. Why don't we spend this holiday together?"
He turned away and- after hesitating as he deliberated- nodded mutely.
"Well then, you best get packed." Blaise nodded again, but didn't move. He seemed reluctant to leave the room.
Morgan looked from him to Hermione who was still sitting on the couch quietly, and she smiled.
"Well…" Morgan began, but the opening door interrupted her sentence. "Ursula!"
"Morgan…. I'm sorry I didn't greet you properly when you came in… everything happened so fast." Professor Sinistra said as she shut the door and walked over to Blaise's mother.
As Professor Sinistra leaned in to hug and kiss Morgan on both cheeks, Hermione noticed the unmistakable similarity in their looks. She remembered they had the same last name. They had to be sisters, and that made Professor Sinistra Blaise's aunt. Suddenly, everything made sense. Of course Blaise was protective over his aunt!
Hermione's heart lightened a little bit as she watched the Sinistra sisters embracing, and exchanging light chatter. She felt a little easier having figured out some of the mysteries of the dark boy she'd come to know this past month.
"Well, you'll both be happy to know that Professor Dumbledore agrees with me that Blaise was provoked, and fully with in his rights to propose a dual of honor. That Narcissa Black was completely out of line!" Ursula was saying to the two of them.
Blaise had resumed staring out of the window, and did not turn and acknowledge his aunt, nor the news she had brought.
"Go on dear, he's in a bit of a snit." Morgan said, when Ursula paused and waited for Blaise to respond.
"Yes… So, there will be no punishment for either of you. He's disappointed the situation happened, of course, but was very pleased with Blaise's show of restraint." Professor Sinistra finished, and to Hermione's great surprise, the astronomy teacher turned and beamed at her. "I must admit, I had my fare share of misgivings, but in the end I was completely wrong. Far from making him lose his temper…"
Blaise turned and walked out of the room before Professor Sinistra could finish.
The door slammed shut behind him, making the fire flicker for the last time.
"Really!" Ursula snapped, indignant. "He's been like that for ages now! What is the problem?" And to Hermione's horror, Professor Sinistra directed the question towards her.
"Umm… I don't know." She lied. Professor Sinistra looked highly doubtful, but she simply sighed and sat down in one of the high backed chairs heavily.
Morgan patted her hand.
"It's just our luck with men. The Sinistra's must have some kind of curse when it comes to men." Ursula continued, veering irrevocably off the subject.
"It's the Greek temperament." Morgan said sagely.
"Greek?" Hermione asked. The Sinistra sisters raised their eye brows.
"Surely you know we're all Greek: myself, my sister, Professor Snape, and, of course, Blaise. Blaise must've mentioned it to you." Morgan said, giving Hermione a strange look. Hermione shook her head in the negative, and silence reigned.
"I was wondering." Hermione asked, as the question she'd been contemplating since Morgan first introduced herself simmered to the top of her thoughts. "Is it typical for witches not to change their name?"
Ursula's face became tight with worry behind Morgan's back.
"It's just…" Hermione felt the need to justify herself incase she'd asked something terribly rude. "Your name… and Professor Sinistra just said 'Narcissa Black.' So I wondered."
Morgan made a brave attempt at smiling, and said: "Narcissa and Ursula went to school together, so Ursula is simply accustomed to using that name. As for myself, I took back my maiden name, after Blaise's father and myself finalized our divorce."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A little later, Hermione found herself standing in the hall in front of the great hall. She'd said her goodnights, and left the Sinistra sisters to chat. Morgan had seemed reluctant to let Hermione go, and asked if Hermione would visit over the summer holiday. Hermione agreed, while silently thinking she'd never step foot into that woman's presence again if she could help it, and left.
She was standing in the entrance hall, looking at the large gaping hole to the left of the door in the wall. The hole was near the staff table, and gave a view all the way across the hall where the door to the side room that held the Sinistra sisters stood. She was just staring at it, trying to process or feel through the nagging feeling of persistent shock.
She continued to stare at the decimated wall, and wondered what that spell would have done to Malfoy if it had actually hit him. Would he be like this wall? Nothing more than a pile of dust?
A strange and uncomfortable feeling rose up … a vague, panicky feeling. She wondered where Malfoy was, and if he was ok. She remembered he was able to stand on his own after the fight had ended, but his robes had been burned and some of his hair had melted. He was probably in the hospital wing.
She cringed with guilt, and continued to feel worse the longer she thought about him. It was partially her fault the fight had happened. If they hadn't saved her, there wouldn't be any awards given, and neither Morgan nor Mrs. Malfoy would've come to the school. The fight never would've taken place. She briefly wished she had her time turner back, but the damage was done.
Her feet turned automatically, and started to walk. It was a strange sensation that accompanied her: wanting to see him, to make sure he was alright, while simultaneously never wanting to look at him again. She sighed, wanting now more than ever, to just disappear and avoid dealing with everything.
She stopped abruptly in front of the doors to the hospital wing, pausing in indecision. What if he was angry with her for causing or stopping the fight? What if he didn't want to see her? What if Mrs. Malfoy was in there? What would she say to the girl who'd helped put her husband in jail?
Angry voices cut off her musings. The voices were muffled beyond the ability to make out what they were saying, but she thought she could at least recognize it was Harry who was speaking. Curiosity getting the better of her yet again, she quietly pushed open the door to the wing.
"Just answer the question, Malfoy." Harry hissed. He sounded extremely angry.
Hermione padded in, taking great care in making sure the door made no noise as it shut, and that her heels did not click against the stone floor.
The voices were coming from behind a set of privacy screens towards the back of the ward. She couldn't see any of them, nor could they see her as she approached.
"We have a right to know." Ron was saying. "Is he going to hurt Hermione?"
"Why don't you two just leave him alone, he obviously doesn't want to-" Pansy could be heard saying.
"She's our best friend, we're just doing for her what you would be doing for Parkinson." Harry said reasonably. "Is Zabini dangerous?"
"Obviously!" Pansy spat back.
"Is he a danger to Hermione?" Ron clarified, annoyed.
"Please Malfoy." Harry pleaded, his voice was full of genuine concern, and Hermione could feel heart constricting with joy that her friends cared about her so much. Still, they could've been a bit smarter about their method of protection, and stayed close to her right after the incident, instead of leaving her alone with Blaise and his capricious mother.
Malfoy's voice finally responded, cutting off her thoughts.
"I can't answer that question Potter." He sounded tired, and slightly forlorn. "If you had asked me seven years ago if Blaise Zabini would hurt anyone, I would've told you: 'He couldn't hurt a fly.'" He paused and Hermione inched forward. "I don't know who he is anymore. That's why I can't answer your question," Malfoy finished.
"Well, I can." A cold, hissing, female voice said at once. Narcissa Malfoy was clearly pissed. "That child is evil." She breathed, her words heavy with emotion. "A killer, plain and simple. He proved it to everyone ages ago! Nothing good has ever come from him or any of his cursed ilk. The whole lot of them should be put down!" Hermione couldn't see Mrs. Malfoy, but she imagined her lip was curled as it had been at the Quidditch World Cup.
Hermione inched forward to see if she could get a better look without being seen. Quietly she moved until she could see through the narrow gap where the two curtains met. Draco was sitting sideways on the bed, his back to Hermione and the door. His legs were hanging off the right side. She noticed that his shirt was off, and he appeared to have some purple goo appended to various spots on his left arm. There was also a shiny pinkish spot of… something… on his back, although she couldn't quite make out what it was.
Mrs. Malfoy and Pansy were standing to the right of the bed, facing Draco, but with their faces currently turned towards Harry and Ron, who were standing at the end of the bed.
Just as expected, Mrs. Malfoy's face was full of disdain and her lip was curled. "Especially…" She continued heatedly, her eyes fixed on her son. "That woman!"
"Ms. Granger?" The unexpected hiss of Severus Snape made Hermione jump. She wheeled around to find Professors Snape and Madame Pomfrey walking into the ward from the door she'd just come in from. Madame Pomfrey and Professor Snape were both carrying trays with various bottles on them, presumably to finish patching Draco up.
Turning back around slowly, she saw Ron and Harry had moved from behind the curtain where they had been standing to look down the ward. She waved to them sheepishly, realizing she'd been caught eavesdropping. She stepped forward reluctantly until she was at the foot of the bed, next to Harry and Ron, and in full view of everyone behind the curtain.
Malfoy's eyes widened as they caught sight of her and he quickly twisted him self on the bed to face her, pressing his back against the pillows and bedpost. His lips immediately formed a disdainful sneer. He was angry with her; that was obvious.
"I just… I just wanted to see if you were alright." Hermione studdered quietly, her eyes plastered to her shoes. She shot him small glances to gage his anger and could see his face contorting further at this pronouncement. She also noticed that the left side of his body seemed to have incurred some rather nasty burns and that he was missing several locks of hair where it had melted due to the intense heat of Blaise's spell.
She tried to imagine what kind of heat it must take to melt someone's hair, clothes, and burn someone's skin through a defensive shield, and found that line of thought being cut off by the numbness that a situation as real as this always produced. She knew that Malfoy had almost died, but at the same time, it was so unreal to her.
"Get lost." Malfoy hissed.
"Oi." Ron protested.
"Mr. Weasley, kindly get out. Take Potter and Granger with you." Snape commanded with a sneer as he approached the bed.
Harry's eyes darted from Malfoy to Snape and then back to Malfoy.
"I want my question answered first." Harry said in a low and dangerous voice. Hermione could tell that no one in the room was angrier than Harry, who was visibly struggling with himself not to hex the woman who had ordered Krecher to lie to him, and sealed his godfather's fate.
Pansy's irritated huff brought Hermione's attention away from her frustrated best friend. "What do you think Potter? Zabini could've fried her when she got in the way, but he didn't."
Hermione's brows knitted. They were talking about Blaise like he had no empathy. Couldn't they all see how depressed he was?
"That's true." Ron admitted. "Any one who interferes with a Dual of Honor or a blood feud can be dealt with by the combatants, legally." He added as an after thought.
"So that means he cares enough not to hurt you physically." Harry muttered to himself darkly, looking at the opposite wall while wearing a pensive expression.
"In public, at least." Ron added, just as dark.
"I believe I instructed the three of you to LEAVE!" Snape snapped at them harshly. He set down the tray he was carrying and pointed to the door.
"Of course, Sir." Harry spat back, and, with one last glare at Mrs. Malfoy, he turned to leave, Ron following.
"I'm sorry." Hermione mumbled to the floor, and made to leave as well.
"Wait." Narcissa Malfoy's voice was quietly disdainful, but made Hermione pause all the same.
"Mrs. Malfoy?" Hermione asked slowly, dreading the tirade that was sure to come. The blond woman's lips tightened as she looked at Hermione. Hermione felt the heat of anger and disdain filling her. How dare this woman look down on her after she'd helped murder her own cousin and contributed to nearly getting Hermione and her friends killed.
"Th-Thank you.. For protecting my son." Narcissa said quietly, making Hermione deflate.
Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. Draco was the one that had protected her, and she was merely returning the favor and fulfilling her lifedebt. Common human decency demanded that she step in, even with out the presence of the lifedebt, but she somehow felt that Mrs. Malfoy would not understand an abstract ideal like morality. After all, you've got to have a warped sense of right and wrong to marry a slave to a megalomaniac and try to get a bunch of teenagers, who are the same age as your son, killed.
Deciding politeness was best, Hermione said: "It was your son who protected…"
"Shove off Granger." Draco interrupted in a harsh voice.
"Now, now, Draco…" Narcissa said in a sympathetic voice.
"I…" Hermione began, annoyed that Draco was dismissing her and deciding it was time for some pay back. "I also. thought you ought to know…" She looked up at Draco, whose face was still angry, but now curious as well. "Blaise is going home with his mum." Draco's eyes widened.
"What!" Pansy snapped. "He can't!"
"He is." Hermione replied shortly.
"Severus, is this true?" Narcissa asked. Snape's lip curled and he nodded. "Well, that will put my heart to rest, as you insist on staying here for the holiday." Her voice held genuine relief.
"What's the point of staying if he's not here!" Pansy huffed.
"And what is so important about that boy's presence, might I ask?" Narcissa turned a cold and calculating look upon Pansy. The redhead blushed and looked at Draco.
"Pansy is having trouble in transfiguration and Zabini and I both agreed to help her, but I'm not as good at explaining things as he is." Draco lied quickly.
"I didn't know you were friends with that boy." Narcissa continued suspiciously.
"I'm not… but he agreed to help so that in exchange for which… I would set him up with Gr--Hermione." Hermione's jaw dropped. "Typical Slytherin: he got what he wanted already so he's not going to come through with his end." Pansy continued easily, her face betraying none of the signs of lying.
"Set… up?" Narcissa gaped. "On a date?"
"Oh, and since when are you close enough to Ms. Granger to… set her up?" Snape snapped in a silky voice. His overly large nostrils were dilating as though he could smell the lie.
"All I needed to do was tell her that poor Zabini had no friends because no one would give him a chance, but he really, really fancied her and owned a lot of books, and Granger was all over him." Pansy lied smoothly. Hermione made a noise like an angry cat. Draco's face twisted in disgust.
"Ms. Parkinson, I do believe you and Ms. Granger should leave so that I can see to my patient." Madame Pomfrey said, in hopes that she could waylay the tantrum that Hermione seemed on the verge of throwing.
"Right!" Pansy agreed, a little too quickly. "Feel better Draco, we'll see you tomorrow." She said swiftly, while bending and pecking him on the cheek. She turned on her heel, marched up to Hermione, grabbed the still shocked Gryffindor, and pulled her from the ward.
"That.. That boy is seeing … Potter's little friend?" Narcissa gasped, after the doors to the wing had slammed shut behind the two girls. Narcissa turned her incredulous question on Snape, who regarded her with a warning expression in response. Narcissa's eyes flicked towards Madame Pomfrey, who was busy applying purple goo to the remainder of Draco's burns, before falling into a silent contemplation.
Why had word not reached her yet? And more importantly, what would happen when He found out about the amorous attention the boy was paying towards Potter's mudblood. The only thing Narcissa Malfoy knew was that she had no desire to be the one to tell the Dark Lord. He would not be pleased.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"What the hell was all that about!" Hermione hissed, wrenching her wrist away from the smaller girl's grip.
"I had to cover somehow! I'm not allowed to be friends with Zabini, not that I'd want to or anything. My parents would skin me!" Pansy snapped back.
There were so many things that went through Hermione's mind at that moment. There were so many things she'd like to respond with. Anger was boiling inside her, mixed with indignation, fear and the merest flavor of despair.
First she was told to stay out a ridiculous fight because she "wouldn't understand." Then that woman sits her down and, with a few questions, disassembles her entire argument, making her feel like an idiot; then Professor Sinistra finally admits that it might not be such a bad thing to let a muggleborn date her nephew, as though it were an atrocity to begin with. After that, there was Mrs. Malfoy, looking at her like scum; Draco, telling her to kiss off like she hadn't just saved his life; and Pansy, telling a ridiculous lie of manipulating Hermione into dating Blaise, which everyone in the room seemed to automatically accept, just like they automatically accepted the inferiority of muggleborns.
Hermione thought of all of these things, and idea of snapping Pansy's head off was very appealing to her at the moment. Instead, she mastered the impulse to curse the small redhead, and instead turned on her heel and stormed off for some much needed contemplation time.
Pansy stared after the muggleborn as she tore down the hallway and out of view.
"Mental." She muttered, and followed at a slower pace.
By the time Hermione was back in the Gryffindor common room, her brain had already started to work on processing the day's events. The common room was alight with chatter about the fight they had seen. Her fellow Gryffindors were talking about it as though it had been some kind of spectacular show. The Slytherins were perfectly stoic, however, and looked as though they had lost one of their number in earnest. Talk fell silent as people noticed her arrival. Harry and Ron stood up and made their way over to her.
"What did she want?" Harry asked quietly. He said "she" like it was a dirty word.
"Just to thank me." Hermione replied, the tiredness in her voice surprised her.
"Mrs. Malfoy thanked you!" Ron gasped. Hermione nodded in reply.
"That's not all." She said, wondering if it was even important. "She knows." Harry understood what Hermione meant. He had been afraid of that.
"Listen Hermione…" Harry began, and just like he had understood, she too knew what he was about to say.
"He's gone isn't he?" She interrupted. Harry looked at Ron uneasily, before returning his gaze to Hermione and nodding. She sighed. "What? Did he say something?"
"No. He wouldn't speak to anyone. He just grabbed his stuff and left without a word. But." Harry paused. "Before he left he went up the girls' staircase."
"He couldn't have, it's charmed against letting boys in." Hermione said.
"He did." Ron said. His brows were creased with worry. "Listen Hermione…" He repeated, but plowed on before she could interrupt. "We just want you to be safe, maybe it's not a good idea to, you know, keep on with Zabini."
The common room was silent as everyone listened in.
"I'll be careful Ron, but I really don't think you have anything to worry about."
Ron looked at Harry for support. But Harry, having learned his lesson from watching Ron's and Hermione's fight over her date for the yule ball in fourth year, was not at all keen on discussing her relationship with a certain Slytherin, no matter how much he distrusted the man. Therefore, he shrugged and looked away. Ron sighed, and looked around for Ginny to support his argument.
"I'm tired, so I'm going to bed." Hermione said, before her friends could team up against her. What did it matter anyway? She wouldn't be seeing him for an entire month, and it wasn't like her relationship with Blaise was real. Right now, she just wanted to be alone.
She didn't wait for a response, but stepped around her friends and made her way, wearily up the girls' stair case. She immediately sensed something off in the room, when she entered. The fire was out and the place had a cold and un-lived in feeling to it. Hermione pointed her wand at the fire and it sprang up, giving light to the room, and casting a glow on to her own bed. As she approached, she noticed a package lay on her pillow.
Hermione stopped and stared. The package was a deep emerald box, the lid held on by white twine wound round it. A bit of folded parchment had been placed under one of the cords that held the lid on. Hermione knew, looking at it, that it was not an early Christmas present. She sat down on her bed, picked up the box and set it on her lap. She plucked at the note and opened it with apprehensive, trembling fingers.
The note was short and to the point:
"If you do not want to wait till I return, add the entire vial. It will strengthen your magic. The two of you should be enough to do it.
I'm sorry,
BZ"
There was a dot of ink before the line that read "I'm sorry." Hermione could tell he paused for a moment, quill poised, about to write something else, but decided against it, and finished the letter with his regrets. She wondered what it was he didn't say.
Hermione's brow furrowed in thought. She slowly undid the twine and pulled off the lid. There, in a cylindrical bottle, was at least two liters of dragon's blood. She gasped and quickly closed the lid. She was not supposed to be in possession of the substance in school.
She laughed a little then, as her nerves calmed down where they had been jittering. What had she been expecting? Declarations of love? A gift of roses?
Blaise was not her boyfriend, nor was he even fond of her. What he happened to be, was a depressed and lonely boy, conflicted by the identity he had grown into, and the one he attempted to project. Behind that cold mask of apathy, was a tumult of despair and passion that leaked out in the odd hot/cold flashes she'd come to associate with his moods. But what did that really tell her about him? Nothing.
Had she been growing fond of him, when she didn't even know who he was? The thought was laughable. Who was he? Did anyone know him? Really know him?
His mother claimed to understand him "better than he thought" she did. She had said he did not enjoy violence, and judging by the reflection of his grief stricken face against the window pane, that appeared to be true. His mother had said he was gifted, and that was, of course, obvious. She'd seen Harry use wandless magic on occasion, but Blaise's display was like nothing she'd ever seen before. Gifted seemed to be an understatement. His mother had also called him a number of names. "Carus" meaning dearest in Latin, "Angelo" meaning angel in Greek, and the final name, the one that made him smile: "Dark Prince."
Hermione had always associated the title of "prince" with Malfoy. His fair hair, gray eyes, and superior demeanor made him look the part of a prince. That, and he walked around like he owned Hogwarts and commanded the Slytherins like they were his faithful subjects. Despite his horrid personality; however, Hermione had never seen him as "dark." Maybe because he had always been just a bully to her: cruel but mostly harmless.
Blaise, with his deep bronze skin, dark brown hair, fiery red eyes, sarcastic comments, and deep despair looked the epitome of dark. Darkness seemed to follow him like a storm cloud, and exemplify his very being.
Hermione stared down at the box as she contemplated the two boys; one to whom she still owed a lifedebt and the other to whom she owed her life but without the magical contract. She wondered what it all meant and thought briefly of looking at the books she'd brought to her dorm on magical contracts for the purpose of sorting it out all before facing the fatigue only a day like this could cause.
Hermione put the box down on the floor and curled up on her bed. She fell into a restless sleep that was punctuated by dreams that only a lifedebt could cause.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
A/N: Sorry for the wait. Hope it was worth it. Firstly, I want to send out a HUGE thank you to my new beta: Sunny- You are the absolute best!
Now my story will be perfect, muwhohahaha!
291, you guys rock! Thank you to: Sony, Ash, Laundry Detergent, Onigiri momoko, the coldness of love, anigen, redangel, blaiselover, chaste-aeon, alex, aurora borealis1, kiss of cuteness, jinet, true2u, Iraine, Kimberley, maile, Vanessa, rorry, fardeep, rainmusic, Dagon ng Likha, Tary chang, moth, honNeko, something corporate, tigerfire silverblade, willowfairy, beach-babi, brennaM, Ryua Malfoy, Vashka, smogluver, angelic night goddess, redangel, athenethegrey, duckwucky, islandmochagurl, kayti, kissmyass, lonleyngel, amborsiaflame, lady-sanctuary, im loving blaise, dreaming one, rainecrazy, anna, InfinityEstel, Ashley, RebelRikki, curlyqntx, quirkgrrl, raz, kate-felton, swtndreamypnay, biggerstaffstalker, death is here, keirablond, tokyogurl1, Jexi, buck-a-beak, duj, ehlonna, nightxxxshade, spazmaniandevil, daddygirl, karri, tabii, softball rocks, awesomediva999, vla1diva, ali-lou, ammiva, surrounded by idiots, Incarnation, passivegray, FlamingAmulet, unspottedgiraggee, cutencrazy, lavender-dream, flamingamulet, harryslover, dizzydragon, kricket x0, laxgoalie, princessugar: Thanks so much to all of you. I'd love to write you all personal responses, but I can't and still post this chapter tonight. I really do appreciate each and every review.
You'll be happy to know the next chapter is already with my wonderful beta: sunny.
Some responses to questions/comments I saw more than once:
Pairing:
Draco/Hermione. However, there will be some Blaise/Hermione leading up to the end.
Hermione crying/ acting girly:
Yeah, I know. It annoys me too. Actually, it annoyed me so much that I went back and corrected some of the chapters with her crying and made her more angry. The only excuse I have is: teenagers are melodramatic.
Singing in the common room: Yes, I know it seems odd- this is how I think about it. There is no radio or CD's at Hogwarts, however, how many high school students do you know that listen to music all the time? Harry in particular is in need of a distraction from the gaping void Sirius left. I have all the Gryffindors sing to avoid the silence- because in silence we are given to contemplation.
Dialog squared: Some have said my characters talk too much. Sorry, I cannot, nor will I do anything about that. That's the way I write. I'm not a writer who carries on for the romance, I carry on for the message. Dialog is where my message comes through.
Harry as a punk: It's not that harry chooses to be a punk, it's that he looks like a punk because of Dudley's overly large and highly worn out clothes. The only punky thing he does is listen to alternative music- which I will not change. He needs some angst after everything.
Lifedebts clarified: Ok, I think I made it clear in this chapter when Hermione writes to her parents. Hermione still owes Draco a lifedebt from the second time he helped save her life. She doesn't owe Blaise and she doesn't know why.
Dreaming: Hermione HAS been dreaming of Draco this whole time, I just haven't mentioned it. You'll see some more of that in the next chapter.
Avoiding clichés:
I can't stand it when Draco is typified as some kind of sex god. Just seeing the phrase "sex god" makes me want to vomit. I wish ff dot net had a feature to delete stories that the public deems intolerable- those are the stories I would delete. Listen people, How many sixteen year old boys do YOU know who screw everything in site. I don't know where you grew up, but out of the people I went to high school with only 10 or so were sexually active. Furthermore, horny and stupid as I was at age sixteen, I'd NEVER just fall at some guy's feet no matter how hot he was. Hell, even when I went to college I was surrounded by virgins- all my friends were virgins- it really isn't unheard of. I myself, waited till marriage AND so did my husband. He was 24 ladies- it can happen.
Add to that the fact that JK does not describe Draco in the most flattering terms- and I do not perceive him to be extraordinarily attractive in the cannon.
Finally, I'd like to point out: If you DO write a story containing the phrase "sex god" than you are most likely in the aforementioned horny, sixteen, and virginal category. My advice to you is this: Don't attempt to write sex scenes, it's painful obvious you've never had sex. Sorry to disappoint, but it's really not worth all the attention and glamour you are ascribing to it. If you do use the phrase "sex god" and are not in that category, than you are most likely substituting sex and sex scenes in place of, or to disguise from the complete lack of, any kind of substantial plot. You have nothing original to say, so you talk about sex. Well, it's been done, redone, shot, stoned, drowned, drawn and quartered, dismembered and beating with its severed limbs. Let. It. Go.
If you've been offended by this rant, then all I have to say is: I laughed as I wrote it.
Some questions I can't/won't answer at this point:
What's up with Blaise's powers?
What happened when Blaise was 10?
Who loves who?
Why is narcissa bitter towards morgan?
Please keep up with the reviews.