Destiny's Call

by Athena Linborn

Upon finding out his mate’s identity, partveela Blaise Zabini sets out to court and claim her. Ginny Weasley, however, has other plans, and being mated for life to a man she barely knows or likes, is not one of them!

5. Chapter 5

A/N Thanks go to my patient beta for making this readable. I have read lots of veela ficts so am not sure from which I have taken the idea of marking a mate. If you know which stories use the marking described here, please let me know and I will give all due credit. I apologise now if I have inadvertently used someone else's idea without asking first.

Disclaimer: No recognisable characters are mine, but the plot and all made-up characters are.

Chapter Five

"It sounds absolutely wonderful," Hermione Weasley sighed dreamily, "I really envy you Ginny."

Ginny grinned, shifting position on the floor in front of the fireplace in her hotel sitting room. "Oh it is, I really wish you could come out here, you'd love it!"

"We considered it for our Honeymoon but Italy won out. Now I'm starting to wonder if we made the right choice," Hermione's head smiled ruefully from amongst the green flames. "Ah well, maybe next year. Anyway, enough of that, what are the men out there like? Your dad was saying something about Zabini! Don't tell me he's out there too?"

Ginny grimaced. "Afraid so. It's not too bad though if you know how to avoid him. These last two days, I haven't seen too much of him thank Merlin."

"What do you mean by that? Has he been bothering you?"

"You know what he's like, as the latest bit of skirt on the island, he had to check me out! He hasn't changed. I'm glad to say though that I seem to be sadly lacking and he's losing interest."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought. "Hmm well, he always fancied you at school, probably thought he'd have another go, just for old times sake."

Both women laughed.

"I don't suppose he's changed much, I mean physically?" Hermione asked, interested in spite of herself.

"Hardly at all, well maybe a bit taller and broader. He's as arrogant and up his own arse as ever. It doesn't help that he's the richest person on the Island and women seem to faun over him," Ginny said with disgust.

"He's always been good looking," Hermione agreed with a reminiscent smile. "Have you had many dealings with him?"

"No more than I could help. He's offered to show me round the island but I told him where to shove that idea. I may go clubbing with him though, he seems to know all the hot night spots. I'll go with him and when we get there, ditch him."

"He won't like that," Hermione grinned.

"Oh he won't mind I'm sure. There'll be plenty of women more than willing to stroke his ego in the hopes of a shag and then marriage. The depths to which some women plunge to ensnare a rich man is incredible." Ginny gave a shudder of revulsion.

"That's harsh," Hermione winced. "I wouldn't like to be on your bad side, you can flay with words alone."

"You would to if you saw them. Last week, there was this woman who was refereeing one of the Quidditch matches, who was practically begging for Zabini to shag her then and there. It was sick. I mean, what is he? Yes, he's good looking in a haughty up his own arse kind of way, and he has pots of money, but when it comes down to it, he has the personality of your average slug."

"I wouldn't know, he never deigned to speak to me at school. You sound pretty resentful of him though."

"I'm fed up of the knowing looks thrown my way whenever our paths happen to cross. He lost no time in telling anyone who'd listen, which is the whole island that we went to school together, git! Merlin knows what else he's hinted at to bolster his ego," Ginny complained, glad to be able to vent her feelings on the subject.

"Oh dear, you really don't like him, do you? Poor him, I reckon he's bitten off more than he can chew where you're concerned. Him aside, is there anyone else of interest out there?"

Ginny considered. "No, I don't think so. There're plenty of good looking blokes, but no one sensational."

"Other than Zabini of course," Hermione suggested mildly.

"Zabini? I don't think so."

"Oh come on, don't tell me you don't fancy him at all, even you have to admit he's easy on the eyes," Hermione protested, her expression slightly unfocused.

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise. "Merlin's ears, you fancy him!"

"Of course not, I'm only saying…" Hermione denied swiftly.

"I never knew, you fancy him!" Ginny laughed as Hermione scowled, her cheeks pink.

"All the girls at school fancied him," she retorted defensively. "You're just odd."

"No, I'm the only one who has a head on my shoulders. Honestly Hermione, so what if he's considered good looking! His personality's enough to put anyone off."

Hermione shook her head in incredulity. "It's not his personality that draws people. It's well…I don't know, just some kind of magnetism or whatever…"

Ginny's howl of laughter made Hermione scowl again. "What like a veela you mean?" she sniggered.

"If you're going to be childish, I won't bother," Hermione huffed in annoyance.

"OK, OK, I'll try to control myself, but honestly!"

"Hmph," came the aggrieved response. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was some veela blood in him, it'd account for those looks."

"And the personality?" Ginny suggested innocently. "Do you reckon that he has a strain of err, slug in his make-up?"

"Honestly Ginny!" Then taking a deep breath Hermione asked, "I don't suppose that Brian has contacted you, has he?"

Ginny's brows rose and she frowned at her friend. So this wasn't a social call after all, she had suspected as much. "No. Should he have done?"

"Well, I'm not sure," came the hesitant response.

"Go on, let's hear it," Ginny sighed a feeling of resignation sweeping through her. The laughter of a moment ago was gone to be replaced by a familiar knot of tension which had lodged beneath her ribs.

"Of course it could be nothing, but he's accusing Elizabeth Greengrass of setting him up," the older woman gabbled, clearly nervous.

"How do you mean?"

"It was in the Prophet this morning, how she'd put an enchantment on him. Apparently he and a few friends went out for drinks one night and met her and some of her friends at the Nightshade club. He's accused her of putting something into his drink. No doubt he didn't like the pictures of them splashed all over the Prophet a few days ago."

"Yeah, but how does that concern me?" Ginny asked perplexed.

"Well, according to the article, he wanted to get back with you but he's worried that this debacle maybe have scuppered his chances. If you ask me, he's trying to get the press and public on his side."

Ginny groaned. "That's all I need, the press hounding me."

There was a rustle at the window and she looked up to see a tawny owl flutter through. It circled her, then dropped a letter on to her lap before flying out again.

"What's that?" Hermione asked, eyeing the rolled parchment with interest.

"Dunno," Ginny replied shrugging. Her eyes fell on the crest stamped in to the wax seal and she sighed. "Actually, on closer inspection I do, it's the Zabini coat of arms."

"Really?" Hermione peered at the letter, her worried frown replaced by an expression of curiosity. "Well, go on, open it then."

Ginny pulled at the seal and it gave way. Unrolling the creamy parchment, she saw Blaise's neat writing covering it.

"Well, what does it say?" an impatient Hermione prompted craning her neck to no avail to get a look at the letter.

Ginny read out loud:

'Ginny,

A few of us plan to visit the Fork Tongue Cavern this evening and I hope you can join us.

The Cavern is an excellent club in Barbados and definitely worth a visit. Be ready at 9 as we're meeting in the hotel reception from where we'll travel by portkey to the club.

If I don't hear from you, I'll assume you're coming.

Blaise'

"He doesn't sound too bothered one way or the other if you go or not," Hermione grumbled. "It wouldn't kill him to say that he'd like your company."

"That, my dear sister-in-law," Ginny drawled, "is because he doesn't give a toss one way or the other. There'll probably be a big group of us and he's asking just to be polite."

"Will you go?"

Ginny considered, then nodded.

"I don't see why not, I've nothing else to do."

"Well be careful," Hermione instructed and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Take some sobering potion, and a portkey to get back to the hotel. Some contraceptive potion probably won't go amiss either. "

"Thanks for the advice," Ginny grinned, folding the note and stuffing it into her pocket. "It promises to be a good evening, a shame you can't come along." She glanced at the clock above the fireplace and jumped. "Talking about time, I'd better go. Give my love to everyone."

Their goodbyes said, she watched Hermione's head disappear and the flames die, leaving the grate empty.

XoXoXoZo

A group of around fifteen people were congregated by the reception desk and Ginny hurried across to join them. She was pleased to recognise a few familiar faces; Tom Shelton who had played on her team in the Quidditch match a few days ago, and Cheryl one of the hotel receptionists. Also there, wearing a haughty expression and an outfit that left very little to the imagination, was the unforgettable referee, Melina.

On Seeing Ginny, Cheryl detached herself from the group and came over.

"Wow, you look good," she said appraising Ginny's yellow skirt and strappy top. "Ready to hit the Cavern?"

"You also look nice," Ginny complemented, surveying Cheryl's skin tight trousers and top. "I've never been, is it good?"

"Dunnow, Tom and the others say it is, we can check it out tonight."

"How do we get there?" Ginny enquired as a few more people entered the reception area and came over to them.

"His lordship's providing a portkey," Cheryl told her as Blaise swaggered through the doors carrying a large flat rock. "Merlin he's gorgeous don't you think?"

"If you go for that type," Ginny replied dryly, unmoved by his lithe form clad in leather trousers.

Cheryl opened her mouth to protest but Blaise, with a quick glance round at the group, waved a hand for quiet, silencing her.

"Gather round everyone, and grab the portkey which activates in a minute. We'll end up in a secluded alley behind the club which you can use to apparate home. The portkey will come back at 1 as I've got an early start tomorrow. Let's go."

The group surged forward and Ginny pressed a finger to the rock Blaise held out.

Soon she felt the familiar tug behind her naval as the portkey activated and hoped the ride wasn't too long. A minute or so later, she staggered sideways as they hit a concrete floor.

Straightening her flimsy skirt, she looked around her. They were standing in an alley way behind a large two story building and lighted windows glimmered above them in the semi darkness.

"Come on," called Blaise leading the way out into the street. Ginny and Cheryl followed the chattering group and soon they were being ushered into a dark dimly lighted club. She noticed that they seemed to have queue jumped.

"Let's get rid of our wraps," Cheryl said leading the way down the corridor to a bustling cloakroom. They handed over their gauzy shawls to busy attendants and entered the main part of the club.

It was nothing like Ginny had ever encountered. Dim wall and ceiling lights played over the mass of dancers, casting elongated shadows onto the walls and surrounding fittings. It looked as though the walls were hewn from jagged rocks which reflected the lights above them. A marble bar ran along one wall with at least twelve attendants busily serving customers. Small tables which seemed to be made of stone lined the sides of the huge room and they went across to one of these. A band was visible on a dais at the end of the room, playing modern jazz and Ginny longed to get out on to the floor.

Before she had sat down, there was a tap on her shoulder. An afro-Caribbean man stood behind her smiling and nodding to the filling dance floor and accepting his outstretched hand, they joined the dancing couples. They were soon dancing to the pounding beat which made the floor vibrate and she began to enjoy herself as she was expertly twisted and manoeuvred between the other couples. Soon the dance had ended, and another man had taken the place of the first. She was whirled round the floor by a succession of partners who were intent on enjoying themselves, some from the island and others whom she supposed to be muggles.

Ginny couldn't remember the last time she had felt so carefree and lost track of time. She was determined to enjoy every moment of the evening. This was exactly what she needed to raise her spirits. She couldn't remember going so long without having her feet trodden on and was relishing the sensation of having good dance partners. The song ended and she stepped back only to feel a tap on her shoulder. Tom was grinning at her.

"May I?" he called above the music, and returning his grin, she stepped into his arms.

"This is brilliant," she called in a breathless voice as he twirled her round the floor.

"The Caribbean has the best clubs and dancers in the world," he grinned back, teeth shining in the dim light. "You do realise that you've been dancing for two hours now?"

"I can't have, we only just got here," she protested with a shake of her head.

The song ended, and Tom was elbowed aside by Blaise who placing a hand in the small of her back led her into the next dance, his grip light and impersonal.

"I hope you're enjoying yourself," he called above the thudding beat and she nodded happily.

"It's wonderful, and you're all such good dancers!"

"We aim to please," he quipped as they passed Cheryl dancing with another of their party.

Soon his place was taken by someone else and she began to feel tired and thirsty.

When the next song ended, she excused herself, and feeling in need of a drink, made her way off the floor and over to the bar. Purchasing a large gin and tonic, she made her careful way over to their table. With a greatful sigh, she sat down and took a long drink.

"So, finally run out of partners?" Taunted a malicious voice in her ear and she turned.

Melina was scowling as she took the seat beside Ginny.

"I'm shattered," Ginny smiled, determined not to be unpleasant. "How come you're not dancing?"

This was obviously the wrong thing to ask as Melina's lip curled. "What, with muggles? Hardly!"

"Well, someone from our party then," Ginny suggested, wriggling her toes in their three inch heals to try and relieve the ache in them. The cushioning charm must be wearing off.

"I haven't been asked by anyone in our party," Melina hissed. "You though, seem to be available to all, but then what can one expect from the likes of you?"

A flicker of annoyance went through Ginny but she pushed it away.

"Indeed," she said mildly.

Melina scowled some more, then burst out, "What is there between you and Blaise?"

Ginny watched the dancers gyrating to the beat as she contemplated her answer. Blaise she saw was dancing with a tall blonde muggle woman. No doubt he had asked every woman in their party other than Melina, to dance. She felt slightly sorry for the older woman who was obviously besotted with a man who didn't give a toss about her.

"Absolutely nothing, why?" she replied casually.

"But you want there to be." Melina snarled.

"No thanks," Ginny surveyed her coolly. "I find that arrogance is such a turn off."

"He's not arrogant!"

"As you like. Either way, I don't like him and never will. Now if you'll excuse me…"

She got up and ignoring the invitations to dance by a few men at another table, slipped from the room. She wanted to cool down and the only place to do that was the ladies.

To her relief, the opulent room was empty. She gazed at her flushed face in the mirror and taking another look round, surreptitiously cast a cooling charm on herself. She leaned back in her chair savouring the peace of the quiet room. For a muggle club, this was very good, and nothing like the tightly packed clubs in London which she usually visited. She was amazed to see that well over 2 hours had passed since they had come to the club, no wonder she had felt in need of a drink. Melina's malicious words of a few moments ago played through her mind and she wondered why the other woman was so sure that Blaise wanted her. It was by no means the first time their names had been linked and Ginny was growing weary of the knowing looks cast her way every time Blaise was mentioned in her hearing. The unease she had felt on the day of the quidditch match gripped her again, and not for the first time, she wished that she was in England. There at least she could control her own environment and all that went on in it.

Then there was that wizarding debt she owed Blaise. Again she cursed her own stupidity for not keeping a closer watch on the air currents of the island. She had no doubt that he would use the debt to his own advantage whenever he needed to, probably to make her suffer in the most humiliating way possible. Opening her evening bag, she took a sip of the sobering potion she had bought with her, and getting up, she prepared to leave the cool room for the club. This wasn't the time for introspection and she was determined to enjoy herself tonight.

The corridor was dim and she looked round her in interest, noticing for the first time the sign for the cocktail bar. Curiously she made her way to the bar and found it to be a smaller room with hundreds of brightly coloured bottles ranged on shelves behind the bar. Small groups of people were standing round knocking back noxious looking concoctions and she glanced round for a face she knew.

"Ginny, over here," a giggly Cheryl called, waving at her.

Ginny saw that she and a few others from their party were busy sampling cocktails while perching rather precariously on bar stools.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked going across to them.

"Trying cocktails of course, and seeing who can get smashed first," Cheryl informed her with a grin, as she placed her glass on the table with a hand that was not quite steady.

"How about 'the Spiff'?" Ralph, a dark eyed man around Ginny's own age suggested, waving at the cocktail the barman was mixing.

"What's it made of?" Ginny asked warily, eyeing the dark liquid with interest.

"2 parts vodka, one part gin, and one part pineapple juice," he slurred. "Go on, bet you can't drink it down in one go."

Never one to back away from a challenge she glared back. "Bet I can," she tossed her head, taking the shot glass from the expressionless barman. She gulped the liquid and tried not to choke as it burned its way down her throat.

"I'm impressed," Lenny, another member of their party whom she had met on her first night on the island, conceded. "Say, what happened about your smashed engagement ring?"

"Nothing, we split up," she replied vaguely, studying the list of cocktails with interest.

How about 'Beach Wander'?" she suggested. "It looks interesting.

The others nodded, and each took a glass of the frothing liquid composed of Gin, lime juice, and a dash of whisky.

"Not bad," Lenny said eyeing the two women who were trying not to cough as they swallowed the drink. "Bet you can't manage a glass of neat whisky."

"I don't like the taste of neat whisky," Cheryl complained.

"We'll flavour it with peach juice," Ginny giggled, warmth flooding through her as she nodded at the barman.

After their seventh cocktail Ginny knew she should stop. The sobering potion was good, but not that good. She leaned against the bar, feeling woozy and extremely happy.

"Let's try the 'Booming bomber'." Ralph indicated the brightly coloured liquid being knocked back by another customer.

Ginny and Cheryl choked as they downed the drink and if it weren't for the sobering potion she had taken, Ginny thought she would probably have collapsed then and there. These cocktails were the strongest she had ever tried and she had been to some of the best cocktail bars in Britain.

"I hate to think how much this will all cost," she giggled putting down her glass with an unsteady hand.

"His lordship's picking up the bill of course!" Cheryl told her brightly. "That's why we can get smashed without worrying."

"You know he's such a git," Ginny slurred. "All galleons and no brains!"

"But a rich git," Ralph sniggered, failing to stifle a hiccup.

"And a handsome one," Cheryl sighed. "He hasn't danced with Melina all night, isn't that funny?"

"Why did she come anyway?" Lenny complained. "He told Angus he was through with her."

"Shall we go back to the dance floor?" Ginny asked Cheryl, in a none too clear voice. Talk of Melina and Blaise was making her feel irritable.

"Best take some sobering potion first," Cheryl giggled, fumbling with her bag. "I hope the romantic hour hasn't started yet."

"The what?" Ginny asked fumbling with her own bag with little success.

"It's when they play romantic music," a smirking Ralph told her with a drunken leer. "Time to get really up close to your partner, if you know what I mean." He waggled his hips to illustrate his point.

With difficulty, they each took a gulp of potion. Slowly, the world clarified itself and Ginny stood straighter as the effects of the alcohol were lessoned.

"Right, let's go," she announced leading the way out of the room, her walk steady.

The dance floor was only slightly less packed than before and as she edged round it, she wondered if it had been a good idea to come in here. A breath of fresh air would have been a lot more useful to her befuddled brain. The music was slower than before and by the way couples seemed glued together, she assumed the romantic hour Cheryl had mentioned was well in progress. The whole atmosphere was different, more sultry and languorous and a complete contrast to the beauty music that had been playing when she had danced before. Couples moved languidly around the floor, all wearing dreamy expressions of content.

"Shall we?" said a voice in her ear, and turning she saw Blaise holding out his hand.

She hesitated, torn, but it seemed that everyone else was also dancing. "Go slowly," she advised, stepping into his arms. "I reckon I've had one cocktail too many."

At that point the tempo of the music changed again, becoming even slower and sultry. A blues number she didn't know was being sung and Blaise guided her round the floor, seemingly not noticing her stumbling movements.

She tried to get her feet to obey her brain but recognised dimly that the amount of alcohol pumping through her system wasn't helping. Although the sobering potion had made a good job of clearing most of her senses, her limbs felt slightly numb and it was more difficult to direct her feet. She winced inwardly as she trod heavily on his foot and hoped fervently that he hadn't noticed her less than co-ordinated progress.

"Sorry," she muttered blushing, "I'm not usually so clumsy."

"Think nothing of it," he smiled, tightening his arm round her so as to better guide her. He took his other hand from hers, and brushed back the tendrils of hair which had escaped her bun and were clinging to her neck.

Ginny glanced round and saw Cheryl dancing cheek to cheek with Ralph. Both looked a bit worse for wear and their progress around the floor was erratic to say the least. Clearly they too were feeling the effects of the cocktails they had downed. It was a good job the floor was emptying or they would have stepped on many an unsuspecting foot.

"It's been a good night," Ginny smiled, vaguely aware of Blaise's fingers probing the juncture of her neck and right shoulder.

He didn't answer so she watched Ralph and Cheryl bumble around the floor. As long as Blaise didn't bump her into something, she wasn't worried. She felt her back hit a wall and leaned against it. Clearly, Blaise wasn't as sober as she had first supposed. He leaned on her, body bent so that his head was almost touching her shoulder. Bracing herself against the wall for support, she frowned, taking hold of his waist to steady him.

"Go easy," she said, "I hadn't realised that you were also drunk."

He merely pushed her head to the side exposing the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Lowering his head, his mouth touched the spot and she gave an exasperated sigh, resolutely ignoring the pleasurable sensation that ran up her neck at the contact. Brilliant, this was all she needed, for him to collapse on her. The idiot probably wasn't aware of what he was doing.

It was a good job she thought hazily that she had drunk so much, her numbed senses meant that she couldn't feel the pain of his weight against her – he was a lot bigger and heavier than she.

Ginny glanced over Blaise's shoulder, trying to catch the eye of another of their party to help her prop him up but all seem to be dancing. She paid no attention to Blaise whose concentration was focused on her neck.

Again, he kissed and lick the spot. Then she felt his teeth graze her neck, and winced slightly as he bit down puncturing the skin.

Annoyance masked the odd feeling in her shoulder as though a cold liquid had entered her bloodstream. She put the feeling down to numbness due to his weight. The man was clearly as pissed as a newt and taking his vampiric tendencies out on her. She was tempted to give him a good slap but suspected it would have very little effect other than to make her wrist ache. Instead she pushed against him, and to her surprise, he straightened, looking down at her through glazed eyes.

"You're right, it's a lovely evening," he grinned. "Come on, let's dance some more. Our portkey activates soon."

"Are you ok Zabini?" she asked tentatively, peering into his eyes which now seemed clear and focused.

"Fine, why?" he asked steering her away from the wall and into the throng of dancers.

"What just happened to you? I thought you were drunk."

"Well, we've all had a bit to drink, show me someone who hasn't in this place," he smiled as they passed an entwined couple leaning against a pillar, kissing.

"Yes, but you went all funny, I was practically holding you up."

"Hardly," he drawled, "I'd crush you if I leaned my weight on you."

She shook her head, knowing that it would be pointless carrying on this discussion. He probably wasn't aware of having bitten her either!

"I think I'll go home," she said, stifling a yawn.

"Good, our portkey activates in," he checked his watch, "5 minutes."

"No thanks, I've got a portkey of my own which activates when I touch it," she declined annoyed and yawned again, unable to understand why she felt so tired all of a sudden.

They moved towards the doors and into the corridor where the air was much cooler. Others of their party were following them, most wearing the bemused expressions of people who had consumed more alcohol than a sobering potion could cope with.

"Don't be silly," he said following her out to the cloak rooms. "We'll all be going back now. It doesn't make sense for you to go alone."

She nodded, and couldn't be bothered to argue. Collecting her wrap she came out to see Cheryl leaning heavily against Ralph, and was prepared to bet they'd spend the night together.

"Come on everyone," Blaise said taking Ginny's arm and ushering her out into the cool night air. "We'll go to the alley in which we arrived, it'll provide enough cover."

Ginny stumbled along beside him, the night air not doing anything to dispel both the alcohol induced fog, and the sudden tiredness which was engulfing her.

She grasped the flat rock tightly when Blaise held it out and hoped the ride wouldn't upset an already tenuously balanced stomach.

"I feel sick," one of the other women groaned as the portkey activated and they were sped away.

Soon Ginny's feet hit the floor and if it weren't for Blaise's steadying arm round her waste, her legs would have given way. Blinking, she recognised the dimly lit hotel foyer and was glad to be back. She swiftly detached herself from Blaise and saying a brief goodnight, went upstairs. In her suite, she threw off her clothes and climbed into bed, her exhaustion getting the better of her.

XoXoXoXo

Her hand shook slightly as Ginny again examined the mark on the juncture of her shoulder and neck. Peering into the mirror, she surveyed the darkened skin for what felt like the fiftieth time that day, unease gripping her. It was unlike anything she had ever seen, being comprised of two lines to form an uneven star. Whenever she pressed the spot, goose bumps and a feeling of depression swamped through her and she knew instinctively it was magical in origin.

She paced her room wondering, as she had been all day, what to do. It was possible that it was no more than a love bite but having had more than her fair share of those, she knew it wasn't. For a start, it didn't look or feel like a bruise. Then there was the fact that love bites could be got rid of with a well placed healing charm and so far this mark hadn't responded to any healing, or glamour charms that she knew. It just wouldn't go. In the end she had covered it up with muggle foundation in a desperate attempt to hide it from view but it was still there. She had never heard of any such mark, increasing her apprehension.

She thought back to the events of the night before, but the moment when Blaise had bitten her or whatever he had done, was hazy in her mind. All she could remember was the slight numbness which had succeeded the bite, but she had thought nothing of it. Looking back, she realised that it was probably some substance which had entered her bloodstream resulting in the mark. Whether it was harmful was a question she didn't want to think about but had to. Again she cursed herself for getting so drunk and not paying more attention to what had been going on around her.

There was a hospital on the island that she could ask for advice, but she was loathed to do this. They would want to know exactly how she had got the mark or whatever it was, and she shrank from telling them. Of course she could ignore it, but an overdeveloped horror of strange phenomenon thanks to the events of her first year at Hogwarts wouldn't let her. She could think of only one thing to do and taking a deep breath, she threw a pinch of flu powder into the hearth and thrusting her head into the flames, called, "Green Lawns."

Soon her head stopped spinning and she looked out into what looked like a library. She could make out Persian rugs scattered over a wooden floor and a few deep leather armchairs.

"What is you wanting?" a house elf asked irritably, moving forward into her line of vision. It seemed to be the only being in the room and Ginny sighed.

"Is Blaise home?"

"The master is away on business," came the kurt response.

Ginny swore softly at this news. From the impassive expression on the elf's pinched face, it seemed the house elves were regularly asked this question by love sick females and her annoyance grew. Then she asked, "Fine, how about Adriana? Is she home?"

"Who is you?"

"My name is Ginny Weasley," she gritted out irritably, half wishing she hadn't bothered making the call. It seemed more aggravation than it was worth.

To her surprise, the elf nodded, scrambling up with alacrity. "Finnie is sorry Miss. If Finnie is knowing who you is, I is fetching the mistress straight away," It gabbled, bowing and twisting agitated fingers in the tea-towel it wore. "I isn't being long," and left.

Ginny ignored the elf's change in manner, being too preoccupied with her own thoughts. She waited impatiently wondering what she was going to say to Blaise's mother. She hadn't bargained on not finding him at home and was tempted to end the call before the other woman could appear.

The sound of heels on the polished floor put pay to this idea and Adriana's well shod feet came into sight.

"Ginevra," she beamed, kneeling down before the fireplace and smiling widely. "It is nice to see you."

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Ginny began feeling awkward, "but is Blaise home? I need to ask him something."

Adriana's face fell. "No, I am sorry. He had to go to one of the neighbouring islands on business. He should be home soon though. Maybe I can help?"

"Thanks but no. I just wanted to ask him something but it isn't important," Ginny said hurriedly wishing to get the conversation over with.

"That is a shame, are you sure?"

"Oh yes," Ginny nodded emphatically. "Sorry for disturbing you."

"Not in the least, I was planning to come by the hotel to see you anyway," Adriana smiled. "How about coming to Green Lawns for dinner? Blaise is not home so it will just be us. We can pamper ourselves, without male interference. You can stay the night!"

Smiling politely Ginny shook her head, her mind made up. "It's really nice of you to offer, but I must decline. "

"But I have seen nothing of you these past days. This would be the perfect opportunity to get to know one another better."

"I've work to get through this evening and to be honest I'm still feeling the effects of last night's drinking session," Ginny excused.

"I hear it was a good night out," Adriana commented, eyes glinting. "You must have been tired when you got back."

"I was absolutely shattered and slept for fourteen hours straight." Ginny grimaced. "I don't know what came over me."

"Any other side effects of the evening?" Adriana asked with seemingly casual interest and Ginny started.

Did she know something? It was possible that the question had been posed in all innocence but one evening in the older woman's company had convinced Ginny that all she did had an underlying motive.

Ginny shook her head, adopting a bright smile which belied her inner turmoil. "Oh no, a good hangover potion took care of the rest. I'd better go. Thanks for your time."

"Of course, well if there is anything I can do, you only need ask. I will of course let Blaise know you were looking for him," Adriana replied, not quite managing to hide her curiosity.

Ginny nodded. "Bye then." She pulled her head from the flames and sat back, thinking.

As far as she could see, there was only one option left open to her. She had to find out what the mark on her neck was for her own peace of mind, and suspected that Blaise would not have told her even if he had been home.

The mark was an embarrassment as much as anything else but she had an uneasy feeling it was more than it looked. Maybe a hex that was working its way through her bloodstream? She had often come across people being cursed in creative ways during the war, which taught her that it was best not to take chances and get the matter sorted as soon as possible.

She could go to the hospital on the island which was local and shouldn't take long to reach. But would they know what the mark was? Also, it was a bit too local and she wasn't sure how much she trusted their confidentiality. The last thing she wanted was for Blaise to find out that she had noticed and was worrying about the mark. As far as she knew, the next closest wizarding hospital was on Cuba, the Cuban Care Trust for Magical Folk. Cuba was a much larger island than Ethosa and hopefully it would provide the anonymity she would need to get things checked out discreetly.

She glanced at the clock, it was 5:30. If she hurried, she should be able to see a healer that day. She hesitated, then gathered up all her travel and other documents and stuffed them into a pocket. They may be required in Cuba. She went swiftly downstairs and to the apparating chamber in which she had arrived. Thankfully she met no one. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and disaparated to a location she knew nothing of.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and peered round her. One thing was for sure, she was no-longer on Ethosa. She was standing behind a carved stone statue of a dark skinned man, which stood at one side of a tree-lined square. In the middle of the square, a fountain gurgled, and muggle children played round it. Adults sat chatting on brightly painted benches round the fountain, while shops lined three sides of the square.

Unsure where she was, Ginny started walking towards the nearest shop which seem to sell muggle holiday items, sun glasses, large sun hats and umbrellas. People bustled all around her and she moved along, hoping to see the hospital soon. She knew that she had aparated to the right place so it shouldn't be too far away. A warehouse standing in the corner of the square caught her attention and she threaded her way towards it. The windows were grimy and she noticed that the muggles were barely glancing at it as they hurried past. Knowing she had found the right place, she leaned against the window and as with St Mungos, slid quietly through it, emerging in a large and busy reception area.

People jostled each other in orderly cues, while healers dashed about, administering potions and advice. Ginny could see that most of the witches and wizards around her were holiday-makers in varying states of distress. The room was large and well lit by daylight, and an atmosphere of calm efficiency prevailed.

Swiftly she made her way to the 'tourist enquiries' desk and filled in the form an efficient looking wizard handed her, deliberately not giving her real name. It was best not to take chances after all.

He scanned the form she handed back and nodded.

"Strange mark on your neck? Probably a bite from an unusual creature, nothing to worry about – you're not the first. Sit over there and a healer will call you."

Feeling relieved at his casual attitude, she sat down and picked up a Cuban fashion magazine which she perused whilst watching the activity around her. The Cuban healers she noticed wore bright red robes and were moving up and down the rows of people asking questions and busily taking notes with an unflappable efficiency that was soothing to watch.

"Jane Simmons?" a voice called and she looked up startled. A tall grey-haired healer was looking round, and Ginny hastily jumped up, making her way over to the woman.

"You're Jane Simmons?" the other asked and Ginny nodded. "Follow me then."

Ginny followed the upright healer down a corridor into a small room which held an examination couch, a desk and a small table on which stood several odd looking instruments.

"Please take a seat," the healer said waving Ginny to a chair by her desk. "I'm Liza Harwood, one of the Creature bites specialists. I understand there's a strange mark on your neck. Now have you any idea how you got it?"

Ginny took a deep breath and shook her head. She couldn't tell this woman the truth, she wasn't sure that she believed it herself it was so preposterous. "No, I'm sorry. All I know is that a few days ago I noticed it and it hasn't gone since and I'm starting to worry," she explained, hoping her explanation didn't sound too strange.

Liza viewed her thoughtfully, and then nodded. "Well, if you'd like to get on to the couch I'll take a look."

With a murmured scougrify, Ginny removed the foundation covering the mark, and then lay down on the unyielding couch, her back to the healer.

Liza said nothing as she examined the mark, prodding it with her wand and muttering spells. Then going over to her desk, she picked up a tweezer like instrument and came back to the couch.

"Now, tell me if you feel anything strange when I use this, anything at all," she instructed.

Ginny nodded curiously.

She felt the cold prongs of the instrument touch her neck, and the next moment there was a burning sensation on her shoulder and she winced.

"It's ok, Liza said removing the instrument, and making rapid notes on a clipboard hovering by her elbow. "I think that's told us what we needed to know."

Rubbing her shoulder, Ginny sat up. Liza had moved back to the desk where she was still writing. "Alright now?" she enquired, putting her quill down and surveying Ginny thoughtfully.

"Yes, but what was that thing?" Ginny asked resuming her seat by the desk.

There was a pause. Then Liza sighed. "It was a type of venom detector. They're not usually that good but in certain cases, they are invaluable."

"So you know what that mark on my neck is?" Ginny asked, feeling her heart speed up. Now maybe she would get some answers at last.

"Yes. Before I tell you however, I would like to know, if you feel you could tell me, who bit you and when?" the healer asked in a composed voice.

Ginny's mouth fell open and she swiftly shut it. "I well…I'd rather not go into that," she stammered taken aback and feeling the colour rushing to her cheeks.

"As you wish," Liza said her expression gentle. "Well, what I have to say may shock you but you've got to know."

Ginny nodded uneasily. So she had been right, it was some nasty hex that Zabini, damn him, had put on her. "It's not poison is it?" she burst out anxiously and Liza shook her head.

"No, I'm 100percent sure it isn't." She glanced down at her notes and looked up at Ginny. "What do you know about veela, Ms Simmons?"

Surprised, Ginny frowned. "The usual, they're creatures which are very rare. There aren't many full blooded veela left now. They've all married humans and the blood has been diluted out. Some families still have veela blood in them, like my sister-in-laws family for example but these are also rare. People from such families tend to be very good looking and attract the opposite sex like bees to a honey pot." She snorted in disgust at the thought.

"Indeed you're right on all counts," Liza confirmed soberly. "Anything else?"

"That's it really. It's stuff that's passed down in legend mostly." Ginny wondered what this had to do with her, but good manners held her tongue.

"I'm guessing that you're a pureblood?" Liza asked and Ginny nodded.

"Well as there's already veela blood in your family, you probably also know that one characteristic that's been passed down the generations and isn't well known at all is that male veelas and their descendents, have only one mate. One person they're destined to be with no matter what. Basically, they're sanity depends on finding and being with their mate and Merlin help anyone who harms her. If a veela or part-veela has a mate who is already married, the marriage has to be dissolved so the mate can be claimed. This is international law."

Ginny rolled her eyes irritably wishing the healer would get to the point. "Yes I know that, but it's so rare now days."

"Not as rare as you may think," Liza contradicted. "The thing is that when a veela or someone with Veela blood finds his mate, he marks her and that's where you come in."

"Excuse me?" Ginny asked her throat suddenly very dry.

"That mark on your shoulder is no ordinary mark. It's the first of the marks a veela or part-veela gives his mate," the healer informed her matter of factly.

Ginny found her leg and gave it a good pinch. The resulting pain assured her that she was awake and definitely not dreaming.

"I beg your pardon?" she said faintly, thinking she couldn't have heard right.

Liza's expression was sympathetic as she looked into Ginny's white face. "It's true, that mark is a veela mark, there's no doubt about that. I've seen a fair few in my time. To make sure, I put a bit of another male's
DNA on your skin and it pained you, a classic sign."

"But it can't be," Ginny denied faintly. "He'd never, not to me. Hell, he doesn't even like me! I didn't even know that he had veela blood…."

"Most mates don't," Liza agreed. "Look, it's not all bad, he whoever he is, will cherish you above all others, your word is his command, surely that's a good thing?" She gave a cheerful smile which had no effect on Ginny.

"No, it isn't," Ginny snapped. "I want nothing to do with him, never did."

"But my dear, it's not your decision to make. This is something which is determined at birth, neither of you have any say in it. I know it's hard, but the quicker you accept, the better it will be for both of you."

Ginny looked at the healer for a long moment, her mind whirling. Clearly there had been some mistake somewhere along the line, but arguing with Liza about the mark was proving fruitless. The main thing was that it wasn't poisonous or carrying a dangerous curse. She decided that her best bet was to get out of here and have a good think in peace.

"So, what now?" she asked, ignoring Liza's words and adopting a neutral expression which belied her real thoughts.

Liza's expression sobered immediately and she sighed. "I'm not sure. See the thing is that it's different for each family, a closely guarded secret you might say. "

Ginny shook her head, her exasperation getting the better of her. "Look, I'll say it again, there's been a mistake, it happens to the best of us. As long as the mark isn't dangerous, I'm happy."

"Ms Simmons, there is no mistake. I have been a healer for over fifty years and have seen a number of marks such as yours. I've studied them in some depth. Please believe me that the mark you carry is the first of the mating marks. Your best course of action is to accept it."

"And if I don't want to accept it?" Ginny asked defiantly, her eyes flashing. "He can't make me after all."

"My dear, you don't have a choice," the healer said patiently. "You are his means of survival so to speak. Without you, his life will be a half life, and eventually he'll commit suicide."

"But he may have bitten me by accident," Ginny argued, jumping up and striding about the small room. "I mean there were lots of us at that nightclub, what's to say he didn't get the wrong woman? Merlin knows he was pissed enough. He practically leaned his whole weight on me when he…" she jabbed at her shoulder.

"His pheromones will have told him exactly which witch to mark. It takes a lot of concentration to deliver that mark, getting the right woman would have been the first thing he will have checked. I suspect that he was stone cold sober. He couldn't have done it otherwise." Liza's expression was still gentle. "The best thing you can do is to talk to this young man and get him to explain everything to you. Only then can you make any sense of it."

Ginny made a sound of disgust. "No thanks, I'd rather eat a piranha than spend time with that idiot!"

"You may not get any choice in the matter," Liza said shortly, getting up and opening the door of the consulting room. "The best of luck to you." She didn't think she could say anything else at this stage to change the girl's attitude.

Ginny said nothing as she reapplied the foundation to the mark to cover it up. She just wanted to get out of there and be alone!

Liza watched Ginny's angry form march across the reception area and frowned. The girl hadn't a clue what she was dealing with and judging by her reaction just now, didn't want to know. Liza hoped that she would accept her fate quickly, both for her sake and that of the young man who had given her the mark. She knew only to well that there were only five families within a thousand mile radius with veela blood. Of these, only two had young men who had not found their mates, Robert Walters and Blaise Zabini. Both were good-looking, wealthy and eminently suitable, a good catch for any girl. She didn't relish the little redhead's chances of avoiding whichever of the two it was, but suspected that it would be a long and tortuous road ahead for her and the one who had given her that mark. Maybe she would speak to her husband to find out more. After all, She had been in the same position as the girl fifty-three years ago.