Disclaimer: Was anyone else left feeling incomplete by the epilogue of HP7?

Blood Price

Chapter 10: Palisades and Precipices

(A.N.) I'm sooooooo sorry that I've neglected this story. Honestly, I sort of forgot about it. --' Whoops. Then DH reminded me that I had a HP story floating about. Speaking of which... As said in my disclaimer, I felt rather let down by the epilogue of book 7. Was it just me? Let me know your thoughts! But anyways, I'm out of a beta now, so please ignore mistakes when you find them. (I still reccomend Serpent of Slytherin's stories, by the way) Please enjoy the chapter!

I do not want to bloody be here.

Snape had sent me a note demanding my presence, along with a lovely threat of dismemberment if I failed to come. Being fond of my limbs where they were, that being attached, I came, and I just don't want to be here. Whiny? Probably. With good reason? Oh, yes.

I was sick of spying on Samara for the bastard. Frankly, I'd rather do something else besides watch her but, alas, she has been completely unaffected by my attempts to… Well, I'll say one thing for her. She has more willpower than most females who'd crossed my path. Not to mention that the problem of seducing her has become rather complicated. Since Snape was her father and his same sadistic self, it makes reporting to him just a tad awkward. And by a tad, I mean a whole fucking lot.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, acknowledging my presence without looking up from a steaming cauldron, "take a seat. Now."

I sat. My God, this man has me whipped. If I didn't care about my grades and, much more so, my physical wellbeing… But I do. Damn it.

My mental tirade was interrupted by the Potions Master.

"You report, Mr. Malfoy?"

I sighed. "Not much change since my last report, sir." I hate calling him "sir". "She still has frequent nightmares and fainting spells. Still quiet. Although, she has been a bit more social lately, spending a lot of time with Mudblood Granger and that freak, Loony Lovegood. And with the Weasley girl, too." Ever since the first Hogsmeade trip, Samara was usually in the company of at least one of those girls, if not all. I knew for a fact that they were usually study sessions in the library, but it was the most time Samara has spent with anyone willingly since coming here. She was usually dispensing help with homework and, just recently, other had begun to show up for help. Mostly younger students, and from all the different Houses. I told Snape about Samara's tutoring in a little detail as possible. Slimy git.

Snape was silent for a while, and then he nodded to himself. "You may go, Mr. Malfoy. And also, if you receive any communication from your family, I wish to know immediately. Am I understood?" He fixed a creepy, empty stare on me.

Why would he want to know? And why would he bring it up now? Surely he didn't know…

I was going to tell him that it was none of his bloody business, but I wanted to keep my tongue, thanks. So, instead, I replied, "Yes, sir." This being said, I turned and headed for the door. Sweet, glorious escape was within my grasp!

As my hand brushed the door handle, Snape called from behind me, "And Mr. Malfoy? If you so much as touch my daughter in your normal intent, you will be very sorry indeed."

I imagined Samara in my mind's eye and knew that, somehow, it would be worth enduring more of Snape's big nosed and oily attentions if I could wrangle the tiniest display of warmth from her.

Exiting the dungeons, I made my way to the library. Not only was Samara in all likelihood there, I also had an essay for McGonagall due in a couple of days as well. A one and a half foot long essay, at that. Plus some work for Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Some weird woman, Nymphadora Tonks, was teaching this year. I have a feeling she's not a real teacher. I mean, really, her hair is the color of pink bubblegum for Merlin's sake! Though, I have to admit, she must be brave (or possibly extremely daft) to take the cursed teaching position.

The library, when I got there, was surprisingly full. A large group of students sat the long tables, quills working furiously. They looked to be in their third or fourth year. I could recognize some faces from my House, and I also noted robes from the other three Houses as well.

A cluster of even younger students, definitely first years, were gathered around a large round table. Apparently teaching the munchkins wand movements for casting the Levitation Charm, Samara circled the table patiently.

Madame Pince, the librarian, eyed them from her desk, looking as if she was debating between being amused and being disapproving.

Samara reached one tiny boy and took his hand, guiding his movements firmly.

Quietly, I stood half hidden behind the bookcases and watched. After all, watching Samara was my newfound hobby, something I'd become rather accustomed to. As much as I've complained about my assignment, I don't mind it all that much.

She moved swiftly between tables, checking over work and answering questions. It was the most I'd ever heard her say to another living being at any one time. Every once in a while, she pushed a strand of ebon hair absently from her eyes. I was such an innocent gesture but, to me, it was just a little bit seductive.

I found almost everything about Samara seductive.

I've been attracted to girls before, but never like this. Never has my attraction gone this deep or gotten this complicated.

There are times when I would find myself entranced by her. Like she was the very embodiment of some spell, or part Veela. Bust she was neither (to my limited knowledge) and, frankly, no one seemed all that bewitched with her.

No one but me anyways.

Eventually, I approached her, my trademark smirk already stretching my lips. When I was close enough for her to hear me, I cleared my throated to get her attention. Apparently startled, she turned quickly. As her eyes found me, however, she gave me a hard, hostile look and turned away without a word.

Wow. Talk about the cold shoulder.

I'd thought I was making progress, too, damn it.

After I stood around idly for about ten minutes, she finally whirled around to face me gain. "What is it, Malfoy?" she demanded, sounding annoyed.

I smiled lazily just to infuriate her. "Just watching the show. And, I must say, I like what I see. I like it very much."

Samara blushed vividly while I made a show of looking her up and down. Snape's warning be damned. I love it when she blushes.

"You," she hissed, "are the most arrogant, insufferable prick on this planet." She had moved closer to me so that her words couldn't be heard by the other students. When I breathed in, I could smell the faintest hint of jasmine in her hair.

I kept smiling. "You know you love me," I teased, inhaling deeply. Wonderful.

She probably would've hit me if not for the tiny hand that tugged at her sleeve out of nowhere. We both looked down to find a Hufflepuff first year girl holding a book larger than she was. I swear, the little buggers get smaller every year.

"Samara, I don't understand this," the bird-child chirped timidly. She had opened up the book (quite the feat as the volume had to outweigh her by about a few kilos…) and was now pointing to a section of text in the smallest font possible. It had to be for History of Magic. There were no pictures.

With another glare for me, Samara led the girl to one of the emptier tables and began talking quietly. Her expression had softened for the kid. She handled all the midgets the same way: soft voice, slight smile, and easy manner. She could have been a big sister to any one of them.

It got me thinking about things she has said in the Infirmary all those weeks ago and of the things she muttered in her sleep that the girls in her dormitory relayed to me.

"You killed them!"

"Helen…"

I'm beginning to understand her. A cold exterior, but a soft spot for younger kids. Volunteering time in the Hospital Wing and in the library. A definite hate for Death Eaters.

It seemed so clear now, so obvious.

Sympathy and pity welled up, startling me. I'll admit it. I'm a selfish bastard and it's always worked for me, to tell the truth. I don't usually give a bloody fuck about anyone else unless I need something from them. But I just felt bad for Samara because she deserved a bit of sympathy.

She stayed another hour at the library and, when she left, I fell in step beside her. It earned me nothing less than an exasperated glance. For a while, we walked in a somewhat tense silence. Not that I minded, but Samara clearly did. With each step, her left eye began to twitch faster and faster. This was a sign, I'd discovered the hard way, that she was coming very close to hitting me. Hard. Or yelling at me. Loudly.

"Malfoy," she growled out from between clenched teeth.

"Yes, love?" I answered sweetly.

Her eye twitched more violently. It was brilliant.

"Go die."

"If that's all you have to say, I would like to point out that I'm not suicidal, love."

"Then why are you still here?"

Good comeback.

"To enjoy your wonderful company," I replied dryly. Merlin's balls, it was like encountering a brick wall.

We reached the entrance to the Common Room and Samara barked, rather forcefully I might add, at the trick wall "Black Mamba" and marched through the revealed doorway. Ignoring me completely, she went straight down the stairs to her dorm.

Sighing gustily, I caught Pansy's eye and nodded after Samara. Looking irritated, Pansy followed my charge. Pansy and some others were my eyes and ears when Samara went somewhere I couldn't.

That taken care of, I settled myself gracefully into one of the black, high-backed chairs near the fireplace. Goyle, Crabbe, Zambini, and others soon joined me, my own little court. Drinks were passed around and enjoyed to the fullest.

Zambini, a few stolen butterbeers and shots of firewhiskey later, remarked slyly, "New girl playing hard to get?"

I smirked, naturally, and replied, "A little."

"You gonna give up, Draco?" Goyle wondered, swaying drunkenly in his chair. Despite their considerable size, he and Crabbe were terrible lightweights. Crabbe was already passed out on the floor, the git.

"Hardly," I answered, keeping a disgusted grimace from my face as Crabbe snored wetly. "You know I enjoy a challenge."

After that, I skillfully steered the conversation elsewhere. Eventually, everyone staggered unsteadily down the steps for bed, where they would sleep soundly due to borderline alcohol poisoning. Except me, of course. Though I have more sense than to drink myself silly, I have a strong tolerance for liqueur anyway. I'm rarely smashed. Though there was that one time last winter…

Ah, happy memories. Too bad the hangover was a bitch.

I was the only person left in the Common Room by eleven o'clock, waiting. I'd been told in a letter this morning that I'd be receiving a letter around eleven thirty and that I'd better be awake to get it.

Beginning to doze off, I thought at first that I was imagining the pounding footsteps echoing in the silence. But when a wraith-thin figure dress in black darted into the room, I knew I'd heard right. Black hair and pale skin left a fleeting impression that was instantly recognizable.

Samara.

She scrambled at desks, finger searching violently. I stood up cautiously and began to approach her slowly. She grabbed a black tinted vase filled with lilies…

And shattered it by hurling it at the stone floor. She ran her hands through the resulting shards and I saw crimson lines open up along her skin.

Shit.

I ran over and grabbed her around the waist, yanking her away from the sharp glass fragments.

"Let me go!"

"Samara!? Samara, it's me! It's Draco!" She elbowed me in the shoulder. "Ow! Bloody fuck!"

"I have to make it go away! Let go!"

Bullocks.

I grabbed a flailing wrist and spun her around, trapping her front against me. "Samara, it isn't real! It's just a nightmare! Whatever you're seeing isn't real!"

"Make it go away!" she screeched in my face, eyes wild.

Distraction, distraction, distraction… Think of something to distract her!

So, I did the only think I could think of on such short notice.

I kissed her. Thoroughly. She froze under my lips, mouth parting in surprise. I took full advantage, of course, and slipped my tongue between her teeth. Exploring her mouth slowly, I relaxed my grip on her and encircled her anorexic waist with both my hands. It wasn't as if she was struggling anymore.

She pulled back first, but not all that quickly. I noticed the last with contented satisfaction. Her eyes were wide, but not with panic. Astonishment seemed more like it.

"How dare… I…" She couldn't seem to find what she wanted to say.

It was amusing as hell.

"I'm going to bed!" she finally announced, scowling at me and stepping away defiantly.

"Sweet dreams," I wished her, a wicked smile playing across my lips.

She practically ran back to her dormitory.

Rather pleased with myself, I sank back into my vacated chair and stared into the dancing flame in the fireplace. I didn't even notice when the clock hands showed half past eleven.

Tap, tap.

"Hm?" I turned to find a crow, or perhaps it was a raven, perched on a bust of Salazar Slytherin and shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

How did that bird get in here?

Attached to its leg was a small roll of parchment, which I took, deftly avoiding the creature's sharp beak. The black bird flew up towards the ceiling as soon as I relieved it of its burden, dissipating into the shadows above me.

…That's something you don't see every day.

Unrolling the message, I read:

"There is a new student at your school named Samara Shoreglade. Seek her out and help deliver her to the Dark Lord, for He has an interest in her. Send your reply as soon as the girl is in your possession. Do NOT fail.

Aunt Bellatrix"

Oh, fuck.

(A.N.) Next up: Samara's POV and arguements with the Voice. What fun. PLEASE REVIEW!