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A/N: I was challenged to write a story with the quote "There is magic in the rain"
No Weaknesses
I am Blaise Zabini. I have no weaknesses.
That is a fact. I have no family. I have no friends, only mere associates. If I lost my money I would simply find a way to make more. Posessions can be replaced in time. Alliances can be re-forged. Torture is bearable when one is accustomed to it and my life is not so much that it would be a great loss.
This is one of the reasons I hold so much power. When you take away someones weakness, you are left with only their strengths. In time you can mold them to your desires. Bend them, but not break them. As I do to those I wish to use. As was done to me.
I had a weakness once, a long time ago. Her name was Ginny. The blood-traitor with flame red hair and deep brown eyes.
It was her laugh. I shall not write any such overused cliche such as, she sounded as though angels were singing when she laughed, or that her laughter was like the tinkling of bells, because that is not who I am. Her laugh attracted my attention and held it, and that is all there is to say.
I was in my seventh year and she her sixth. Our was a complicated relationship, but then, which relationship between bitter rivals is not. The notes slipped into bags and stolen moments in the shadows were the hallmarks of our relationship. She was in a long term relationship with Potter and I had my various girlfriends. I always wonder if Potter ever knew where she disappeared to when she was meant to be in his bed. Did he ever discover it was me she came to when she wanted to be ridden hard and fast.
She loved the rain. Even after time dulls my memories I shall always remember that. She said she felt the magic in the rain. Often she would drag me out in the middle of some torrid storm and pull me with her as she danced. She never looked more beautiful to me than she did then, head tilted back, eyes closed, arms outstretched to the sky as though to embrace the enormity of it.
The war had escalated by the end of the year. It was around this time I recieved the Mark. I knew which was the winning side and I had no wish to die. Still, she was on the losing side and this only made our secret trysts more furious and damning each time. What I felt for her was not love, I don't know how to love, but it was as near to that glorified emotion as I will ever feel.
I lost her after my Lord found out of our secret meetings. I was a fool to believe otherwise. I was summoned to him and forced to watch as she was tortured and killed before my eyes. Even as I watched and did nothing she would not curse me. Her fathomless eyes held mine in the moments before she died, in them there was no hate or anger, only pity.
When her lifeless body was being dragged out of the chamber my Lord told me he had done this to ensure I was strong, he needed no weak fools blinded by love or lust as his followers. As though to prove his point I was placed under the cruciatus for some time. He nodded approvingly when I did not cry out and released me to my duties.
He shaped me into what I am today. A cold, feelingless murderer. It was I who served him most faithfully during the war, I who was given power beyond the other wildest dreams. So now I am a powerful figure in the days of the new world, ruled over by my Master. I am given the most important task sto be carried out, I am entrusted with the most precious information. I am Blaise Zabini, right-hand man of Lord Voldemort.
Sometimes though, when the Scottish storms shake the windows of my grand manor I find myself drawn outside. I stand loosely under the dark clouds and raise my arms to the sky, head thrown back, eyes closed, welcoming the touch of the rain.
I am Blaise Zabini. I have no weaknesses
