Hey guys. Did you miss me? (Fingers crossed that I haven't lost your attention to this story by now). I've actually written this long before, it's just that I kept adding in chapters and new events in between the original timeline that I feel I might have deviated from the original plot. Don't worry, though. I'm trying to get back on track while dealing with the Draco/Blair relationship. Anyway, the next two chapters are gonna be pretty long (yes, that was the long chapters I promised from two or so chapters ago) and I'm really going on empty right now, what with the projects and assignments. My national exam (Chinese) is going to be in three months, and my other national exams -equivalent in six weeks.
I'll try my best, but no promises on the next chapter. I've got it half written out if that's any consolation.
Anyway, I really hate plugging but if you want to read another Pureblood!Blair/Draco fic go to my other fic Jigsaw. I'm really proud of the work, and some might say its a little dark but I don't see it that way at all. In fact, I'm really pretty proud of it so if you want to see my direction as a writer (and to decide if you should continue reading my fics or not) you should probably go read that.
On with the chapter. Read and review.
Post-Hogwarts (The First Two Years)
High off of love, drunk from my hate,
It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate
And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me
Love the Way You Lie – Eminem ft. Rihanna
I. She will break up with Draco Malfoy to work in America as a Defense Attorney.
"I can't believe you're doing this."
"Draco, it's for the best."
"For who?"
"For both of us -" her breath catches at the intensity of those gray eyes of him, so deep and intense it promises her everything in the world and the inevitability of drowning her in their depths. She blinks and looks away. "I can't do this, Draco. You're important to me, but you've become so distant lately. I don't see you around, we haven't even had sex in four months because you're always working till late at night and you're too tired and injured in the morning and I can't deal with you having an affair right now – I too frazzled to even help Chuck Bass devise a take down - especially with my job interview coming up."
Those gray eyes blink. "Job interview?"
"Department of Magical Counsel and Defence of the American Ministry of Magic . And I'm most likely to get the job, seeing that the employees there are able to enjoy their very own vineyard thanks to the generous contributions of my great-grandfather. Well, that and the fact that my father used to run the department." Blair sniffs as she turns her back on him, "And I would've told you much sooner about the job offer but considering the fact that you've been cheating on me-"
Draco looked properly confused. Wondering about how she knew about his oh-so-secret affair, more like.
"What the hell are you talking about, woman?"
"I'm talking about cheating, Draco! An affair. With an inbred Muggle savage, no doubt, judging from the scratch marks and love bites I see all over you-"
"What a load of dung," he interrupts her harshly, grabbing a shoulder and roughly spinning her around to face him.
Her head swings up and matches his ire with her fire."What did you say, Malfoy?"
"I said, that's a load of dung. That's not the real reason you're breaking up with me, you're just using it as an excuse, a cover up; looking for an easy way out to pin the blame on me like you always do so you can assuage whatever's left of your conscience."
"Oh?" Blair lifts a manicured eyebrow, but her voice is slightly shriller than normal and that's the only sign of a verge of lapse of control.
"You're just scared that I'd have convinced you not to go."
The bold declaration hangs in the air between them, and fades into nothing as the silence drowns it out.
Blair turns away so he doesn't see the lone tear trickling down the side of her face. "Believe what you want, Malfoy. Believe that the problem doesn't lie with you going behind my back. But I don't give a care in the world about over-gelled, sneaky, cheating ferrets such as yourself now. I'm going."
She knows she's hit him hard with the ferret comment – something he'd confessed to her as one of the most humiliating moments in his life. Then again, he deserved it – and so much more. Ferret didn't even begin to cover the hurt she feels inside, her heart tearing apart under a perfectly composed exterior. Still, she can't deny the gnawing feeling inside her that wonders if it just might be too late to apologize and take the comment back. But as usual her pride protests, and in the end her tongue is too numb and leaden to shape the words I'm sorry at him.
She turns around sharply, and the hand on her shoulder drops as she walks away.
She pauses at the doorway, hoping for something – anything – for him to deny the affair, but he doesn't say anything.
So Blair keeps walking.
She only lets the tears fall when she's sure he isn't running after her.
II. She will understand she cannot begin to live without Draco Malfoy.
The lighting is romantic, low-lit with magically-sparked candles flickering in the atmosphere charmed to play soothing melodies and a five-course meal gingerly prepared on gold-plated plates. There's only the slightest hint of a shadow as restaurant elves scurry back and forth, snapping their fingers to clear the plates, levitating the next course forward, and collecting the Galleons carelessly flicked over shoulders with every service they perform.
Blair glances around idly, as her finger lazily circles the tip of the glass as it has so many times before. Marcus Beaton is seated opposite her, and truth be told, he was a catch. He was beautiful, no doubt about that, an esteemed Academy graduate, descended from one of the oldest Pureblood lines, and to top it all off was an English Lord-of-something-or-the-other to boot.
Really, he was the perfect, ideal male that Blair had always made it clear she wanted to marry one day.
If only he wasn't so boring.
Still, appearances must be maintained, and so Blair grins a dazzling grin at him as she laughs at something he just said (she's not quite sure on the details, some dry joke about a Hog and a witch in a bar) as she taps the rim of her goblet with a long, manicured nail and wonders if she's finished the next stack of paperwork for the Orson case yet. Really, the case didn't even need to be settled within court - it was that ridiculously simple to solve, but the Orsons were rich and well, who was she to turn away a wanting customer? If only she could find a loop to throw at them so they'd engage her services for longer.
"And Mother said that my business plan does have its merits, after all. I told you she'd finally come around to the long-term benefits this held, but of course. Mother's always been one to see sense, she's rather clever that way you know. Aand when you count into play how the Goblins are likely to see it…."
Blair swishes the elf-made wine in the goblet delicately. Why was she doing this again?
He's a Lord. A Lord.
And why settle for being Queen of the Upper East Side when you could be a Duchess?
"And now that you remind me, Mother also mentioned the cost benefits of adding another sector into the business. It's a tad sketchy at the moment, naturally, but I'm confident that with time this would be a very good deal indeed…"
"Indeed," Blair murmurs, but her gaze is drawn by a sudden moment from behind Marcus's shoulder.
A tall woman stood in robes that Blair couldn't quite make out. Strange – Blair had memorized the entire catalogue of the upper range that Warloca stocked. It was possible, however, that the cloak was of a foreign-brand and was imported – but Blair didn't recognize the fabric as used for high-end design.
What was a witch in old, black dress robes doing in a place like this?
However, try as she might, Blair couldn't summon forth the expected surge of disgust at the plain show of peasantry. Blair was drawn by how breathtaking and utterly imposing the woman looked in those cheap robes. She certainly wasn't the conventional, Serena-esque type of beauty – her features were too handsome for that, and the firelight flickered on gaunt cheekbones to cast a shadow over her heavily lidded eyes. Her thin lips were drawn in a snarl, as she seemed to argue heatedly with her companion, a handsome, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed blond man who looked remarkably like a certain Draco Mal-
Wait.
It was Draco.
What the hell was he doing here? The last time she'd heard about him from Gossip Girl he'd been partying away in Milan with some ridiculously beautiful Veelas in very, very short dress robes. Veelas with blond hair and blue eyes and legs that went on forever that looked suspiciously like somebody she knew - but Blair knew for the fact that the person in question was half in love with a muggleborn that had been in Ravenclaw in their year called Daniel Somethingsomething. (Well, at this point they were fully in love, but it was probably because they'd just recovered from being out of love for the sixth time.)
Blair's gaze flickers to the man opposite her, happily nattering away about his boring life to his Golden Plimplies soup. He hasn't once looked up at her from his meal, and as much as Blair loathes it (normally), she can't help but think Fate was being rather considerate to arrange such a fortuitous meeting just for her to tell Malfoy to stop stalking her.
Blair tries to tear her gaze away from the couple, but it's hard to – her eyes stay glued to the platinum blond hair out of sheer habit, and the table linen is involuntarily fisted as the woman ducks her head just a little closer to Malfoy. Who the hell did she think she was? Whoever this woman was, it didn't matter – she was Blair Waldorf and Draco was hers damn it –
No. Draco wasn't hers any longer.
Even if nothing ever really left a Waldorf's possession, he still wouldn't be hers to lean on, or watch old Muggle reruns with (although he used to think it was positively repulsive to have a shared entertainment with Muggles, he always watched them with her anyway). He still wouldn't be hers to stare at when he was asleep on her bed, or hers to kiss senseless or touch or to dress provocatively to just to tease.
Blair stares at the beautiful (–no, she corrects herself. People like Serena were beautiful, girls like Blair were pretty, women like that two-bit whore in the unassuming Muggle J. cloak were more handsome than anything else–) woman sharing a small conspiratorial smirk with Draco.
She watches the woman - her eyes gleaming almost maniacally and yet somehow hypnotically (the same way Blair's always wished for her eyes to) illuminated in the firelight, her slender neck thrown back in a throaty laugh, and her heart of stone breaks a little bit more. She remembers how Draco was so distracted, his little hushed conversations with people he would never let her know about, and how he'd always flinched away from her gently touching him in the day and yet make love to her so hard in the dark that she'd often wondered if it was because he couldn't stand to look at her –
Draco's been with many women after their break up, but this is the first she's seeing in the flesh abd they actually look like they're having a decent conversation instead of playing Tongue Bludger and she can't help the thought that flits through her mind.
Was this the woman whom he'd fucked around her with?
There's a surge of unbidden emotion, and she feels the magic rise out from nowhere. Her glass shatters, and Marcus breaks off in his monologue to look up startled, as if unaware that he'd been sharing the table with another all the while.
"Blair, darling? Are you all right?"
The privacy that the restaurant has always exuded is shattered now, and the whole restaurant is looking curiously at the Waldorf heir. Blair grits her teeth and looks down, utterly humiliated. She's never had accidental magic – ever. Not even when she was a child – Eleanor had always been proud of her daughter's prodigious control over her magic.
"I'm fine, Marcus." The restaurant has resumed its private conversations, but she still doesn't dare to look over, but she knows the feeling of the weight of his gaze on her back. I'm not hallucinating. Trust Draco to stalk me and screw up my date .For all she knew, he could have cast a spell to shatter the glass.
"You know what, darling? I'm afraid I may have to powder my nose." She kisses him briefly on the cheek, more for Draco's' benefit than for the both of them.
She gets up without waiting for his response and marches past the oblivious people, turning briefly to ensure he's not looking after her. He's already resumed eating his meal. Figures.
That doesn't stop her, though. Blair's on a tirade and be damned if she let her spoiled ex ruin her perfect date (she refuses to think about how confronting her ex about ruining her date seems to be only the highlight of the date)
Ire rises as she sees them about to kiss, their heads together and whispering some lover's secret. Her stomach turns painfully (much like the sensation she gets when she's kneeling in front of a porcelain bowl and thinking how pretty Serena looked in a dress she couldn't fit in). He dared to ruin her date, and then act all chummy with his, as if nothing was wrong? Well, she'd show him what she thought of it.
Blair reaches his table and slams a perfectly manicured hand down, noting with muted glee that the action forced their heads to spring apart.
"You." She seethes.
Draco raises his eyebrows at her. Blair scowls; it hurts to see him looking even better than before. "Nice to see you too, Waldorf," he drawls.
"Cut the gabbling down, Malfoy. Your pretense stinks as bad as your overused cologne – which by the way, is way last season. Not that you'd know anything about it, if you're mismatched socks are anything to go by. I swear you had better fashion sense when we were in Hogwarts wearing a uniform.And I'd like to tell you to stop stalking me. My date – who is a lord, by the way – doesn't really appreciate you looking at his true love in that way."
The woman throws her head back and screeches in laughter, causing a few patrons to look over and Blair's face to flush slightly.
"Draco? Stalking? A chit like you?"
Waldorfs don't lose composure. Waldorf's never lose composure, Blair chants almost maniacally in her head, although she would like nothing more to rip the smug look off both of their faces. She takes a deep breath and draws on the Queen B persona.
"Don't deny it. You're obviously so cut up about the entire break up that you refuse to come to terms with it – which is perfectly normal, I assure you, losing someone like me as a girlfriend would be terribly traumatizing for anyone – and so you have to debase yourself to less than honorary means by skulking in the shadows and observing my dates with other handsome, rich bachelors."
Blair smiles, but it's fake. The words, although delivered with the same poison and ridicule, somehow seems so juvenile in this elegant setting. She's never felt more dress-up in her scarlet Miss Tsurfania dress robes before.
Draco has apparently picked up on it to (damn how he knew her so well), sneering. "You know, it's funny how after you break up with me, you're the one who can't seem to move on. I did." He's interrupted by the woman, who flashes a coy smile of pure sex back at him and purrs a little. Draco smirks at her, the smirk they used to share, and Blair can only watch numbly as Draco turns back to her, eyes dark with derision.
"The world doesn't revolve around you, Blair. You're no longer any concern to me. Grow up."
Grow up.
Blair stares numbly. She's been called a lot of names before – witch manipulative bitch fashion hag ice queen airhead stupid worthless nothing fat – but nothing has ever struck her so deep.
Grow up.
Blair had loved Draco unconditionally for five years and that was all he'd thought of her as? Did they really mean so little? Was the heart dangling from his jacket coat nothing but a worthless trinket, a little trophy meant to mock their relationship?
Try as she might, Blair couldn't stop the wet burn in her eyes.
Once again, she can't deny she's let her fantasy of a white knight pursuing her on an equally handsome steed delude her again. How could she have been so stupid to trust that Draco had cared enough to want her back? She'd heard all about his conquests, his many exploits – did she even know enough about him to be certain that he hadn't been cheating on her this whole time, while laughing at her naivety, robbing her of her virginity…?
"Aw, does the widdle baby want to cwy?" the woman mocked.
Blair stares as she reaches over to run a long finger down Draco's sculpted cheekbone, nibbling on his ear as she sneers up at her. "See, Draco here has me, now. Why would he take you?" She breathes huskily.
She smiles at Draco.
Another smile of pure oestrogen and sex.
Blair turns and walks away from the table. She's speechless, and it takes all of her willpower not to snatch her purse from Marcus's table and Floo home so she can cry the Valgabini out from under her eyes. But people are beginning to stare, and Blair's already tarnished her reputation for the evening. So she slips on a cold façade worthy of the Queen of the Upper Pureblood Society, and goes to the bathroom.
It takes twenty minutes of puking for her to feel skinny again.
Even if a part of her feels hollow inside, she keeps her chin up and the defiant glimmer in her eyes as she saunters past his table. Or at least, the table he used to occupy – he's already left when she returns from the bathroom.
Blair slides back into her seat. "Hi," she says breezily in a manner that Audrey would have been proud of, "Sorry I took so long."
Marcus looks up from tapping a message through with his wand, and his blue eyes crinkle attractively behind his glasses. "It's no matter," he says. "I hardly noticed you were gone anyway."
Blair's glittering smile falters a little, before she leans forward and grasps his face in her hands. "It was sweet of you to wait anyway," Blair coos, more for her benefit than his, as she leans over and kisses him hard.
His kisses are slow and hesitant, almost as if he's confused with the aggressive Blair as compared to the meek, polite witch he's known throughout the course of their dating. He fumbles a bit, but gradually starts to kiss back. But his kisses are too sloppy, too weak for her to feel anything. She needs the feel of her lips to be crushed by kisses, for her whole body to be consumed and held by strong arms, to be passionately yet gently loved at the same time. She needs for his hands to tangle in her perfect locks, so she can snap at him for messing it up after even though she loves him all the more for it.
Marcus doesn't do that for her. He doesn't fill the aching need creeping up from the apex of her thighs to her heart.
Blair can't imagine spending a lifetime with him.
But he's a lord, and she's not heartbroken, and she loves him (really, she does, why else would she have gone out on so many dates with him?). So she grabs his head and twines her fingers around dark locks (she notes absently that they're not the right color) and kisses him so hard their teeth knocks together, and tries her best to ignore the muffled "ow".
She's not trying to prove anything to anyone.
Really.
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