Chapter 39: What gazes back at us
Darkness encapsulated her. A hiss echoed against clammy stone walls.
Icy, black water closed around her ankles, rising with alarming speed but her legs couldn't move.
The snarling voice was coming closer and closer; telling her to do its dark bidding; the words impossible to turn away from.
Compelling her.
Again. And again.
Kill...
Kill...
KILL!
Ginny woke with a jolt, drenched in sweat. The room she was in was swathed in the night; only a sparse blue streak of moonlight to color her surroundings.
Yet, there was no snarling creature, no black water.
No sinister voice.
She breathed out.
How she had ended up in a bed, she had no idea, yet she felt like she had been drugged and drained and her body slammed into a ramp.
Stumbling out of bed, her whole vision swaying, she vaguely spotted a vanity dresser at the other side of the room and waddled towards it. She blinked blearily into the mirror, her addled brain recognizing the fuzzy visage of her pallor.
Thrusting her hands into the wash tray of cool water to bath her face, her elbow clumsily caught the edge of the large bowl and it tumbled noisily to the floor, water splashing everywhere.
"Ginny?"
She froze and in the mirror, over her shoulder, she saw Blaise come around the corner of the connecting room. He had his wand out and his face cast in shadows, but upon spotting her, he stopped short and lowered his wand.
Before she knew it, he was upon her, grabbing her shoulders as if to assure himself she was really there, eyes skimming over her in clear concern.
"Fuck," he inhaled sharply. "Are you okay?"
She pinched her eyes close, feeling a headache coming on. Did she look anywhere near okay? The fabric on her body had turned cold and sticky from her sweat-soaked body but she shook off the feeling of discomfort, leaning her trembling hands on the dresser behind her, as her senses were slowly coming back to her.
The same could not be said of her memory. She remembered everything up until the séance, then a rush of pain that went through bone and marrow and everything went black.
"What... happened, Blaise?"
His usually smooth exterior had vanished. Instead of immediately answering her, he released his grip on her and instead summoned an Invigoration Draught, wordlessly handing it to her. She blinked but took it gratefully and downed it with no further ado. He watched her with a pinched frown and rubbed a hand against the back of his long neck.
"My mother. She ..." Dread curdled in her stomach at the mention of that woman. Taking a deep breath, Blaise finally met her gaze head-on. "She did something to you during the séance. I don't know what it was but it made you lose consciousness. I brought you here. Fuck– I," the hand moved to the front of his face, wiping across it in frustration and defeat, "I never wanted this to happen. I... should never have brought you here."
The floor swayed under her feet and she clutched the dresser behind her until her knuckles turned white, trying to digest it all as he relayed everything that had happened after she passed out.
A rueful shadow fell over his countenance and he could no longer hold her gaze. "If it makes any difference, her incantation did something to me too. I felt it. Almost like –"
"Like your bones and skin were bled dry?"
His eyes flitted back and took her in in muted shock. "Yes. Exactly."
Feeling her hackles rising, she swallowed the bile in her throat. On top of everything happening around them; now, they had to deal with Blaise's own mum performing weird Dark magic on them as well!
But, whatever sick manipulation schemes his mother had...scheming, Ginny had no intentions of giving the batty woman any more excuses to use her as her own personal voodoo doll again.
Never again.
Blaise quietly observed her and, for a moment, it looked like he was about to say something more; a pressing matter balancing on the tip of his tongue. He then seemed to decide against it, whatever he wanted to say, flattening his full lips into a thin line, forcing away his gaze. Belatedly spotting the wash tray and the water on the floor, he quickly did a subtle sweep with his wand to vanish the mess on the floor.
She expelled a frustrated sigh. Whatever he was holding back; if it was an apology for past or present wrong-doings, she really had no right to demand anything from him beyond their mere impersonal alliance, had she? They were pretending to date; barely even friends to begin with. Yet, they had shared something tonight, on that balcony. Something had happened which could not easily be written off as a circumstance due to an unwritten agreement; an agreement initially entered into unwillingly on both sides.
She had believed he had felt it as well; a shift in the relationship between them.
Hence, being shut out hurt. Maybe it was just her wounded pride. Or, she had come to expect him to put his trust in her as she had in him.
Suddenly, he moved closer again, so close she could see the flecks of the tiger's eye alter and shift within his orbs, seemingly having a change of heart. "I know; whatever happened tonight is inexcusable – and if you want to get away from here as quickly as possible and never –," he faltered for a significant beat, Adam's apple bobbing along his throat, "well, I'd understand if you'd never want to see my face again." He gazed steadily at her. "For whatever it's worth, I just... I want you to know that I had no idea about what she had planned nor had any part in it."
She shot him a plaintive smile. "I know you didn't," she replied softly. "I mean, I believe you did what you could in there. I wouldn't expect or ask for anything else."
For a long minute he did not say anything. Then came his voice, spoken in soft incredulity. "How do you keep doing that?"
Her brow furrowed questioningly. "Do what?"
"How do you forgive so easily?"
Tightening her grip around the edge of the sink behind her, she swallowed, only now feeling cornered. "D-do I?"
He nodded slowly. "You shouldn't... forgive me." He stated it too casually, as if it was an inevitable fact of his existence, not worth arguing with. And still, he seemed incredulous that she chose to do just that. His eyes jumped across her face, unable to settle in one place, as the silence lay heavy and potent around them. Once more, the air seemed to vibrate between them, or, maybe, it had always been there. Waiting.
It dawned on her how quiet their surroundings were. How alone they were.
Heat crept up her cheeks and before she could get a word past her lips, he surprised her yet again:
"About my – mother..." his voice tightened around the word. "Back at school, in the Room of Requirement, I never meant to compare my own experiences to yours, you know. I just wanted you to know. I wanted to – tell you. About... her. And when you told me what happened with the Carrows, I felt I could tell you; that you'd know somehow what I meant."
The breath rushed from her lungs. Oh. Of all the things Blaise could have said, that was the last thing she was expecting.
"You did help. I mean, you shared something as well; something that wasn't easy to share." She exhaled heavily, rubbing her aching head. "I can't imagine the childhood you'd have had to endure under that... woman."
He gave a stilted shrug but she was not fooled by his attempt to appear unaffected by the memory. "Yeah. Well. I had Nonna at least."
She pursed her lips at his deflection and couldn't help but ask. "But, Blaise ... Where was she tonight after your mother appeared? Why did she allow her inside?"
"She did show up," he was quick to challenge but couldn't mask the hesitation in his voice. "After you passed out, she appeared and broke off the séance."
Ginny made a pensive sound in the back of her throat. Why just then? Why not before? "So... you haven't talked to her yet?" She heard him clearing his throat again before he stepped back, putting some distance between them again. It left a cold patch of air in his wake.
"No." His voice came out as a low, dulcet rumble. "Not yet. I was… I was speaking with Draco through the fireplace."
Her eyes widened by this unexpected information, momentarily distracting her from their current topic.
Seeing her bewilderment, Blaise sighed, once more rubbing a hand across his face, his exhaustion becoming clearer by the minute. "Listen, there's something I haven't told you yet – simply because I thought it best to keep it from you until I had more …"
The pause, for some reason, made her skin prickle. "More what?"
"More information," he added with a somber mien, dropping his hand. "I asked Draco to quietly poke around Durmstrang to look for any suspicious links to our dear professor and Dorne and, well, anything that could connect what has been happening around us at school lately. Mind you, that place makes everything look potentially suspicious but something happened around January just when –"
"When we stumbled into Dorne at Hogsmeade," she finished for him. He nodded mutely, taking in her stunned expression. "And what did he tell you?"
"That a kid had mysteriously disappeared for a while during the students' annual shopping at the local village around the same time Dorne appeared in Hogsmeade. Then the student suddenly turned up again, all glassy-eyed. When they got back to the school, his friends noticed that he disappeared once more. When he returned he couldn't remember where he'd been or what he'd been doing."
She quickly picked up the thread he's was going with. "So, he was what? Intoxicated or Imperiused? There's a difference. Or perhaps somebody had his memory erased?"
"One or the other, that's the working theory. An odd figure had been spotted lurking around. Could have been Dorne. Or just about anyone else, I guess. It's not really a foolproof theory." Blaise gave her another considering glance. "By the way, I chose to tell Draco about Theo and the possible drug-ring at school as well. Thought it could be useful to have an extra pair of eyes on the matter."
Ginny lifted an eyebrow. "I hope you know what you're doing. Personally, I don't know Malfoy to be the trustworthy sort of type."
Though one corner of his mouth tipped upwards, his eyes became rueful. "Nah, Draco is alright. He's thinking of becoming an Unspeakable. He knows how to keep the right secrets now."
Surprised by that revelation and unsure what to say to that, she simply nodded. "I see."
Once more he was able to read her inner thoughts more aptly than she was ready to admit, the intensity of his gaze momentarily taking her breath away. "Look, I know," he admitted, brows pinched. "It all looks highly suspicious and I'm not about to let this one with my family slide." Resolve darkened his face. It made her shiver but not in fear for herself. "For whatever it's worth; whether you stay or not, I will make this up to you. I promise." Blaise's dark eyes gleamed steadily, unflinching.
Caught off guard, she stared back at him. "You..." When she finally found her voice, it was barely a croak; ending in a half-hearted protest. "You don't have to do that, for me. I... can fight my own fights."
He stepped closer and she could feel the puffs of his warm breath against her skin as he spoke. "Yeah. I know you can." The words weighed heavily in the air.
They gazed at each other; the moment caught still, hovering like a hummingbird between them, for what seemed an eternity. She wetted her lips and swallowed when his gaze dropped to the movement, golden eyes lit by the blue moonlight of the room. "We sure are a couple of unlucky people."
One corner of her mouth tilted upwards, mirroring the sentiment with a small huff. "Yeah. I guess we are. No rest for the wicked." Blaise gave a half-amused, half-resigned hum of agreement. He suddenly appeared so very tired and it dawned on her: "Have you even slept at all?"
Blaise made a sound Ginny thought was a failed attempt at another laugh, but it sounded like something tired, like a muscle reflex. "I should be asking you that." She could feel Blaise's eyes on her, knew the expression she would find were she to meet them – concern etched deep in his brow, swirling like a tempest in dark eyes – and so she didn't. "You sure you're okay?"
Ginny was sure of no such thing.
"I'm fine, Zabini."
She felt Blaise stiffen at the use of his surname, so with a great effort, she forced himself to meet Blaise's eyes and offered him a wan smile. It felt tight, false, and she knew that Blaise wasn't convinced, his eyes darting between hers to gauge her true feelings.
Was she okay? She felt hollowed out and, at the same time, terrified, still high on adrenaline from tonight's ordeals; and she couldn't honestly tell if she was going to break out crying or laugh hysterically. Maybe both.
She was met by an open, searching look in Blaise's eyes. And there was something else, something she couldn't name, but which resonated with a feeling within herself that she was only just learning to give name to and come to terms with.
She slowly lifted a hand to touch his impossible jawline, something she secretly always wanted to do, timidly caressing the taut skin along his high cheekbone. His now midnight-colored eyes widened and he did a small intake of air.
She took the time to study the similarities between them – beyond the obvious, well-established contrasts. Oddly, the latter did not seem as important as they once had appeared to be.
She watched the unnamed feeling swirl and alter within his gaze and he was so close his warmth infused her tepid body, tipping his head down, a question still roaming in his eyes.
She realized what he was silently asking, awaiting her permission. A tremor ran through her and, with an infinitesimal tilt in her chin, he closed the last couple of inches between them. A muffled sound emerged from the back of her throat at the touch of his breath, his lips against hers, hands coming up to gently frame her face.
The kiss was everything the first one was not.
Beneath the rough swiftness there was a hesitance, and she whimpered into his mouth, feeling his taller, harder body tremble slightly, before ultimately softening, pulling her closer.
Everything fell away, everything that was and everything that would be, and everything became now, the feeling of Blaise there, his arms and his lips and his breath, surrounding her. Time had suddenly no saying in their place.
She choked on a whimper and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He drew back instantly, eyes and hands roaming down her arms and sides, carefully prodding and searching.
"What? What is it? Are you in pain?"
Astonished by his immediate concern, she quickly put his mind at ease. "No- no! I – that wasn't why I – uhm ..." She stopped, cheeks flushing red, and they stared at each other, perhaps only then realizing the irony of the situation.
She pressed her lips together, feeling the sudden rush of endorphins, only to see his mouth quirk ever so slightly at the end and before they knew it, they were both splitting down the middle with laughter, hunching over.
"I- I think that could have gone down better," Blaise chuckled after a while, looking over to Ginny who was leaning with her back against the dresser, still trying to rein in her giggle and catch her breath. She looked back up and met his twinkling gaze and for a moment they just stared at each other in a moment of charged silence, chests heaving, bodies high on pheromones and then, as his eyes drew her in, his hands grasped her face again, this time more insistent, lips against hers, fusing their bodies like he could never get close enough. She gasped at his fervency and pressed as close as she could and met every angling of his head, every movement of his mouth, every stroke of his tongue, with her own.
Time and place ebbed away around her as she merged with what was Blaise, her whole existence zoning in on him, on them.
Through the rushing of blood in her ears, she found herself pressed against his entire length and she could feel the deep rising and fall of his breathing. A rumble vibrated through his chest and into her own, and he closed his eyes, tipping her head down just so that their foreheads touched. His thumb came to rest on the delicate line of her jawbone almost as if in timid awe of getting to touch her in this manner. Exhaling calmly, they let the stillness of the room embrace them; a soft, languid heat sweeping across them from the Mediterranean night air through the open windows. It was a short-lived and illusory shield but, nonetheless, Ginny basked in it; free of the trouble of the world around her, if only but for a brief second. Allowing herself this much... whatever it was. And whatever would happen between them, now or in the future – or if this was it – some part of them had irrevocably become tied to one another.
They stood there in the darkened room, chests heaving. Finally, slowly, as if suddenly uncertain about the other one's reaction, their eyes met, staring at each other with this new revelation mirroring in their eyes.
She swallowed; her throat dry. Yet she could no longer withhold the question that had been occupying her mind for longer than she dared to admit. "What... what does this mean? For us, I mean."
Blaise's brow knitted and he wetted his lips. The motion caught her attention for a spell. "I – I am not sure. What do you want it to be?"
She didn't expect him to parrot the question back like that. Like he was actually interested in her thoughts. And she had thought about it. A lot. Only she had never voiced them out loud, hardly been able to acknowledge her feelings connected to those thoughts. She worried her lip. "I don't know. I don't know what I want it to be." She glanced up and found his eyes trained on her with rapt tension, clinging to her every word; an intensity that frightened her a little bit, but nonetheless spurring her on, the words tumbling from her mouth before she could stop them. "But maybe because of, or in spite of, all that has been happening around us and to us, out of your or my control, I want to choose this. For myself. I know I'm not explaining myself very well, and that I am selfish, but I just know I don't want to pretend anymore. I don't want this to feel the same way as everything has felt since the war. So numb and drained. I don't want to try to return to normalcy and settle for whatever sensible, dutiful and upstanding compromise I find there. I don't want to feel what I am supposed to feel anymore." Her breath hitched and she chanced meeting his eyes head-on. "Do you get what I mean? I don't want to use you anymore, much less you using me," unconsciously she bundled her fists in his shirt front, "and I don't want us to be everyone's apparent playthings anymore! I'm sick and tired of this and of being unable to fight back!"
She pressed her forehead into his chest in anger and frustration, everything building on top of what she had already exposed in front of him. Every last thought and emotion welling up in her chest, threatening to undo her.
"Hey – hey, Ginny..." his voice reached her, hands gently gripping her arms to get her to calm down, drawing her attention back to him. "I know. I know how you feel. I'm sick of this, too. Of being the puppet of some adults' sick mind-games!" he spat his ire into the empty room. Briefly closing his eyes and exhaling roughly, he composed himself and turned back to her. He had still not let go of her, and she appreciated his anchoring touch. "I don't want any more shit to happen to you or any of us. I hate the pretense that everything is fine. It's not. And I ... I don't want you to go. Please stay."
Ginny's chest heaved in relief and she leaned into him. He took her weight easily, arms creating a comfortable barrier around her, and after a beat letting his chin lightly rest on top of her head. It was a tender, contemplative embrace and an unusual feeling; to be able to rely on the physical comfort of each other; to feel the other draw in and expel the same measured breaths, feeling the ribcage rising and falling, listening to the steady heartbeat of the other person. To some extent, it felt the same as being enveloped in the safe embrace of her brothers and yet so, so different. Her skin thrummed with quiet excitement; the thrill of something new and unexplored, her magic steadily entangling with his, the sturdy resonance of all that came before and led to this.
She sighed deeply, tightening her hold and felt him mirror the movement.
"Come on," he eventually spoke against the top of her head. "We better get some sleep. It is already way past midnight and we are both too exhausted to even think."
She hummed as she let herself slowly disentangle from his embrace. Suddenly, she didn't want to let go; her sleep-addled mind instinctively wanting to reach out and hold on with childish need. But she restrained herself.
He bent his head a notch, catching her attention, before drifting down to press a gentle, burning kiss on the side of her head. "Sleep well, Princess."
Her breath caught at the tone in his voice, as if he too was reluctant to pull away even though he eventually did. Catching his eyes, she saw the same need reflected in his.
"Stay," she said softly.
He blinked at her request, but stayed put. "OK. Are you sure?"
She nodded and went to the bed, crawling under the covers. He followed not long after, apparently forgoing his nightclothes, simply toeing off his shoes and remained the perfect gentlemen on top of the covers and on the opposite side of the bed.
Observing him for a quick spell, Ginny reached out to let him know he could get closer. Gingerly, he cleared his throat and moved closer until they lay in a close, but somehow careful embrace. Smiling, she nuzzled closer to his shirt-covered, warm chest, listening to his quick heartbeat, letting their breaths becoming synch.
Whatever awaited them in the morning would wait.