Chapter 12
Electric

Blaise Zabini looked to the door in confusion. One moment he'd been standing there, next to the jar, confident in Hermione's ability to hex the spiders, the next second he'd heard her voice, and that of Draco Malfoy, simultaneously shouting incantations. Blaise looked towards the latter, "Draco, what the bloody hell were you thinking?" he moved towards him, gesturing him quickly inside before slamming the portrait hole closed.

Draco Malfoy, looking particularly dumbfounded at his friend's lack of appreciation for the saving of his life, did not respond. "I'll ask again," Blaise started, "what the fuck? You just come rushing in here like it's the second coming of Grindewald and start throwing curses around?"

"She was going to..." Draco managed to stammer, torn quite effectively between anger and utter confusion.

It clicked then, for Blaise, "She wasn't trying to hex me, you twit." Draco looked to be at a loss, "The spiders, mate. The spiders." It took Draco a moment to realize his tragic error. He looked to Granger, still lying unmoving on the ground.

"Why would she do it in front of you? Use the Crutacious curse, I mean..."

Zabini looked at him in a way that implied his belief in Draco's incompetence, "Did you really think that goody-goody Granger would Crucio anyone? Like, a person? She would never endanger her future as a Hogwarts student. And really, Malfoy did you even stop and consider the out-of-place jar of spiders? It is your common room, after all."

"Sorry, Zabini." Draco snapped back, "It wasn't like the other potential situations were particularly plausible, either. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that you were fucking her and teaching her. I knew you could ruin people, but you certainly corrupted her right quick."

Blaise lifted Hermione off the ground, carrying her towards her room, "I'm not corru- teaching her anything. I'm just helping her vent her frustrations, alright?" He asked, irritated.

Draco followed him, "Oh bollocks, Zabini. You don't help anyone with anything unless you benefit directly. So, what? She's blackmailing you? Found out about that Firewhiskey cache, did she? What, she sleeping with you if you teach her the Dark Arts? Did you make a deal like that? Bloody hell, that's it. Isn't it?" Draco looked as if he'd struck gold, Zabini, however, looked as if he were about to use every poor word in his vocabulary to give Malfoy a piece of his mind. Blaise gave Draco a particularly icy look before trying the portrait to Hermione's room. It, naturally, refused to allow him entrance, despite Hermione's obviously fragile state.

"Fine, fine, you frigid bitch!" He yelled, quite unnecessarily, at the flustered woman in the portrait.

He whirled around and walked back towards the center of the common room, he spoke in a seething tone in the general direction of Draco, "We are not sleeping together." He heard Draco start, but cut him off quickly, "And she is not blackmailing me, Malfoy."

He spun, again, and Malfoy watched as Granger's hair swished with the motion. Blaise jerked his head in towards Draco's room.

Draco looked mildly surprised, and then appropriately disgusted, "No! I will not allow it. Absolutely not. You cannot put her in there. Are you bloody well insane? Could you imagine what people would say? A Mudblood," he said the word with as much disdain as he could muster, "in my room. Merlin, never."

"Oh, Malfoy, shut up, would you? I can't very well leave her out here, what if one of her friends comes knocking, how are you going to explain her Stupefied state?"

"I thought she wasn't friends with Potty and the Weasels anymore?" Draco looked baffled.

"She does have other acquaintances, you realize? Listen, Malfoy. If you find any Mudbloody essence in your room I will scour it myself, alright?"

"I suppose. But if I find that my room has no been returned to its previous state of pre-Mudblood cleanliness, so help you Mer-..."

Blaise just walked away.

He emerged a quarter of an hour later looking slightly less harassed. Draco was sitting in a chair glaring at the fire, an displeased expression on his face.

"The Mudblood nice any comfortable in my bed, I'm sure?"

"Oh, sod it. You're the one who Stupefied her." Blaise replied without so much as a glance in Draco's direction as he walked towards the door. He pushed open the portrait hole, intent on going back to his room but found it shut again of its own accord. He looked towards Malfoy, who'd drawn his wand, and had, evidently, something to say before he allowed Blaise to leave.

"We both know damn well that you've got an ulterior motive for helping the Mudblood with her torturing skills, seeing as you're not sleeping with her. And honestly, if you don't then you're bloody stupid and don't deserve to serve the Dark Lord."

Blaise was taken aback, his facial expression reflected his feelings that Malfoy's remarks were uncalled for. "Potter and Weasley have been less than accommodating these few weeks. She's angry. Far be it from me to take advantage of that, Prince Malfoy."

"This little spat with Potty isn't going to change anything in the world of the Golden Trio, or the Dark Lord."

Blaise's gaze remained fixed on the fire, "The Order of the Phoenix is responsible for the death of her parents. And Potter knew."

Malfoy didn't waver in the slightest, "The Dark Lord is responsible for the death of her parents. You know that as well as I do, Zabini."

He shook his head, "It was too easy, Draco. Your father told you, I'm sure of it. They just waltzed right in. No aurors. No defense spells of any kind."

"It doesn't change that Granger won't bow to the dark. Never. I don't care what Potter knew and what he didn't, Zabini. Granger will only use what you taught her against us. She will never trust us."

Blaise was quick to respond, "She will never trust them." He walked towards the fire, "Not again."

"You're wrong." Draco looked up at him, "She doesn't have it."

"If we can get her. If we can get her - which means not shutting her out, Malfoy - then we can utilize her." Blaise's eyes looked to be aflame, his posture reflecting a quiet confidence in what he was saying.

"The Dark Lord would never-" Draco began angrily.

"The Dark Lord," Blaise countered, "knows of her. And what she can do. Don't be so quick to dismiss her because of her bloodline, he won't be."

Draco just glared, resentful of a fact that he knew could turn out to be quite true. Blaise made his way to the door, and Draco made no moves to stop him this time. Blaise turned to face him once more before departing, "She's a powerful weapon, and you know it."

Blaise Zabini returned to his common room quite unsure of what tomorrow would bring, surely Draco would not be pleased with his little speech, or the ideas presented within it. He had to admit however that the idea of Hermione Granger fighting against the people she had once risked her life for was a beautiful and poetic instance, one he hoped to witness in the future. It appeared, however, as though much of this task would fall to Draco's manners. Surely if he so desired Draco could terrorize Granger to the point of breaking, which would devastate any plans Blaise had hoped to set into motion. But, if Draco could realize the potential for one Hermione Granger in the ranks of the Dark Lord, then Blaise knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Malfoy would do whatever possible to make such a reality...and ensure that he received credit for it.

Draco sat in that chair in the common room for close to two hours before he even considered moving. The thought of Granger helping the Dark Lord would have seemed absurd more than a year ago, but the wizarding world was not nearly what it was a year ago. The Dark Lord had lost a great many in the recent battles with Dumbledore and the aurors.

The bottle of Firewhiskey he'd summoned an hour before was near empty and he took a swig before throwing it angrily at the fire. It shattered against the brick and seemed to leave a resolute calm in the air around him. He felt better, though the Firewhiskey in his veins might've had something to do with that. The whole situation seemed surreal, perhaps he had fallen asleep in front on the fire after drinking too much, and he'd imagined the whole scenario with Granger and Zabini. He hoped that was it. His hope, however, was shattered by a high-pitched scream from the direction of his room. Granger was awake.

"Oh, bloody hell."

At first Draco thought it would've taken him a fortnight to explain to her why she was lying in his bed, of all places. But after half an hour Granger had calmed down suitably, and he explained to her - from the other side of the room - that there had been a misunderstanding. And that he'd hexed her, thinking that she was trying to curse Zabini.

She responded weakly, "You dolt." Before dropping her head back to the pillow, evidently still unable to maintain her strength and usual vigor. Draco coughed pointedly, "If you wouldn't mind, Granger, I'd just love to have my room back."

She glared at him, before standing quickly and adjusting herself. Looking up, she remarked sarcastically, "Mudbloody sheets and all?"

Without a further glance, she tightened her robes around her and made her way out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

The air seemed to crackle around Draco as he watched her leave in such sudden anger, he brushed the ominous feeling aside before starting on the seemingly endless list of things that now needed cleaning, "Stupid mudblood bitch."

A note from the dark side: I must apologize sincerely for the lateness of this chapter. It appears as though my life has caught up with me, in the worst of ways. And, unfortunately, I am all out of the Elixir of Life, to allude to Potterverse. I struggled for a great deal of time with this chapter, and how to write it, but I hope, dear readers, if you are there, that it is to your satisfaction - and relatively errorless, seeing as my Microsoft Word crapped out on me between the last chapter and now.
I do intend, I'll have you know, to respond to my reviews, and hopefully, post another chapter while my life resettles itself these next two weeks, just in time for the hectic holidays, perhaps I will find solice in writing, as I found that I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter far more than ever before - big changes create exceptional appreciation, I suppose. I also, however, much catch up on the writings of my fellows, who have, I noted, updated since I was last here. Lastly, thank you to anyone who's sticking with this through my irregular updates, and to anyone reading now. Thank you, thank you.

Happy Holidays,
Nicole