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Blaise shoved his dark hair out of his eyes in frustration. He sat in his secret hiding spot, a clearing under a willow tree next to the Great Lake. The branches of the tree made it so that he was hidden from an outside view. In the winter Blaise came here to think and in the summer, watch girls play in the lake.
He was a teenager, not a saint.
As a rule, Blaise never brought anyone to his sacred spot. He already shared a room with four other boys, this place was his and his alone. A place made just for him when life got too stressful. Right now, life was at its stress peak.
While everyone else was flirting and dancing around their partners at the Yule ball, Blaise was alone and in the cold. Unlike Vicent and Gregory, it was by design. He warned Draco not to get to close to Pansy. Everything they did now was being carefully followed and written down. Everyone they loved or wanted was someone else that they could use to exploit them.
This was the warning he gave Draco. A warning he disregarded like his foolish father, from what Blaise heard only his mother had the good sense to be frightened. His godfather was rarely wrong about these things, given his seer blood.
Blaise met with his godfather once a month whether or not Hogwarts was in session. Prior to third year, he had to get special permission but after he was able to visit Hogsmeade the two met up in the Hogsmeade for a pint.
Their last meeting this had completely uprooted his entire life. He returned to Hogwarts and began drinking immediately. It was a feat that surprised his friends as he was the only one in their group that practiced the subtle art of sobriety. It took several days to leave his haze of drunkenness and then it was only because Draco threatened to get Professor Snape.
Realizing he needed to speak to someone about what was going on, he approached his godfather’s son, Theo. The two spent an entire afternoon skivving double potions and charms talking about the approaching storm.
The Dark Lord was coming back.
Neither knew when or how, just that it was fast approaching. His godfather’s warning that he would be recruited terrified him to his bones. When Theo agreed with his father Blaise began to panic so badly, that he passed out.
When he awoke, he was staring into Professor Snape’s dark eyes. The concern that was there faded immediately to be replaced by his trademark sneer. After dismissing Theo, Professor Snape brought him to his office.
Expecting to be yelled at, he was in utter shock when his professor made him tea. They spoke briefly about the Dark Lord. Professor Snape showed no surprise at his confession. The only indication that he heard him at all was a silent sigh that the return of the most dangerous wizard alive was not just inevitable but fast approaching.
Snape allowed him to use his private Floo to call his mother that night. He then escorted him to Hogsmeade so the two of them could speak privately.
Elora Zabini was a no-nonsense type of witch. She was as bold as she was beautiful and she never sheltered her son. When they met, the first thing out of her mouth was her wish to have been able to hide him. That statement alone spiked Blaise’s blood pressure high enough to cause a heart attack.
He confronted her with the details his godfather had given him and she didn’t deny any of them, only held him closer. She urged him to stay neutral until she could figure out what to do. She pleaded with him to enjoy the Yule Ball in several days. “Find a pretty witch or wizard to take, mi Tesoro.”
How the bloody hell was he supposed to enjoy a ball when a mass genocidal sociopath was about to be unleashed on the world?
It hadn’t even been two weeks since he learned the news and already the world seemed a bit darker and colder. Potter’s name coming out of the goblet of fire could not have been a coincidence. A Dumbledore must have known something was amock or he wouldn’t have hired Mad-Eye Moody to teach, or keep an eye on the Slytherins.
He knew his mother was already seeking some of her quieter contacts to smuggle the two of them out of the country if need be. Recently, he had heard from several of his cousins in Italy that he and his mother had not spoken to in over a decade.
He knew how to read the signs. His mother’s plan was to run when it got bad.
Was that what he wanted though? To run and hide while his friends from both sides were being slaughtered?
His fingers shook as he cast another warming charm on himself. He’d been trying to get warmer but nothing was helping. He was in his fourth year for fuck's sake! Why was he worried about-
A shuffling noise disturbed his concentration and he looked up. He cast a revelio in front of him, but there was no one there.
That was officially it, he was losing his bloody marbles. Thinking the Dark Lord was going to pop out from the Great Lake.
Frustrated and in need of an escape, he reached into his cloak and using his teeth, tore the cap off of a bottle of firewhiskey that he nicked off of Draco.
He relished in the dark sweet liquid as it burned down his throat. Closing his eyes he hummed to himself as he relished the feeling of his stomach dancing to the flames of the firewhiskey. When the burn finally left his throat and stomach he took another sip.
“You know there’s never a reason to drink alone in Scotland,” said a low voice.
Blaise whirled around looking for the owner of the voice and almost dropped the bottle when he saw a witch in a state of mid undress in back of him. “Er, can I help you?”
“Yeah,” her muffled voice responded as she almost tripped on a pink furry vest that was strewn around her ankles. “You can help me get this ruddy seashell dress off!”
“Umm…”
“I’m wearing a dress slip underneath you git,” when Blaise still made no movement, she sighed in annoyance. “Help. Now.”
Leaving the bottle on the floor, he stumbled up and helped her slip the green dress and a shit ton pink frilly petticoats over her head.
Still holding the dress she bent over and began untying her hideous lime green heels. That wasn’t what held Blaise’s attention though, she was indeed wearing a pink slip. A pink slip that was scooped so low that his ears burned. The dress was short enough that he could see her arse poking through the hem as she leaned over. Black silk. Merlin, help him.
Kicking her shoes off as ungracefully as possible, she pulled out pins in her hair as she straightened her back. Her fiery brown eyes met his shocked ones for several moments. Naturally, he lost focus as his eyes were pulled towards her red hair that cascaded down her back, obscuring her smooth skin from his lecherous view.
Standing in front of him in nothing but pink silk slip and green neck choker, was the youngest and only female Weasley.
“Is there a reason you’re staring at me like a git?”
“Your Weasley,” he sputtered. She raised an eyebrow looking at him like he was speaking another language. “I… umm… you’re fit,” he finished finally.
“I know,” she said simply before shortening her pink coat and turning it into a jacket. Sitting on her mounds of petticoats, she patted next to her for him to sit. Stretching out her hand she introduced herself, “I’m Ginny Weasley and you are?”
Blaise folded his legs under him and kissed her wrist before responding, “Blaise Zabini mademoiselle.”
“So he’s polite and good-looking,” she purred. “Almost makes up for the fact that he stole my tree.”
“I beg your pardon, your tree?”
“Yes, it’s been my quiet place since I… umm found out about it.”
“And where pray tell did you find out about it?”
Ginny looked unnerved as if she was recalling a particularly bad memory, “A book. It told me a lot of things.”
“Any of them good?” he asked with a devilish smirk. He heard of books that Pansy kept in her dorm. There were pictures.
“No,” she said abruptly.
Sensing the witch no longer wanted to talk about the subject, he changed it. “I’m freezing. Any chance you know a better spell than a feet warming one?”
Rolling her eyes, “You mean Incendio ?”
Several minutes later, they were sitting in front of a controlled but roaring fire. “Enjoying the ball I take it?”
She scowled, “Finally managed to get out of that seashell of a dress. My mum simply adored it. Didn’t have the heart to tell her it was hideous. What’s wrong with a long plain black dress I’ll never know.”
“Do you generally like long black things?” he smirked.
Ginny’s eyes grew darker as she leaned over into his lap, the fire casting shadows on her face and highlighting her cheekbones. “It depends, Mister Zabini.”
“On what?” Blaise asked shakily as her body slithered over his.
Ginny smirked devilishly and Blaise felt his entire body shudder. This witch was going to be the death of him, he knew it. “Just how long is it?”
Blaise’s hands were in her hair before he had a chance to think out what he was doing. She arched her back as she straddled his lap, her lips crushing against his as she explored his mouth. He pulled on her hair a bit to guide her head into a position he liked better.
He was rewarded by a breathy moan. He pulled back holding her in place by her hair. “Like when I pull your hair do you?”
She nodded, her cheeks flushed. Her hands that had been opening his shirt while they snogged, was now smoothing across his skin. He shivered as her hands explored his muscles before wrapping around his back and scratching him hard.
She smirked at him and he leaned down and nibbled on her lip. She ground her arse into his trousers. Groaning he took her mouth into his again.
Fuck, he needed this. Fuck she was… she was a firecracker. A lioness.
Damn, Weasley will be pissed if he finds out about this. I mean who would believe that Weaselbee’s sweet and shy little sister was a firecracker?
Weaselbee’s little sister.
Fuck.
She was thirteen. He was going too far too fast. Blaise untangled his hands from her hair and gently pushed her shoulders. Slowly easing her off of his lap, where his evidence of just how much he wanted her was prominently on display.
“What?” Ginny flicked her hair in annoyance. “Did you just remember I’m a blood traitor?”
“No, your hair is kind of a dead giveaway to your familial ties.”
Ginny eased herself back on his lap, her lithe frame creeping up his body. Merlin, she was going to be a terror on the Quidditch pitch. “So, what’s the problem?”
“Nothing… I just-”
“Aren’t blood traitors and half bloods good for shagging and little else? What are you a Slytherin martyr or something?”
Blaise felt his blood boil. Who the fuck was did this redheaded chit think she was? “Who the fuck pissed in your teapot?”
She cast one last savory look at his trousers before rolling her eyes and collapsing next to him. She yanked her pink coat back on before yanking the fallen Firewhiskey bottle from next to him. Eyes challenging him to stop her, she took an extremely unladylike swig. “Neville freaking Longbottom that’s who.”
“The git who can’t figure out which way to point a wand?” Ginny’s eyes sparked dangerously.
Her voice low and almost growling she whispered, “Don’t. ever. make fun. of Neville.” Blaise shivered. He knew a real threat when he heard one. Holding out his hands in surrender, he lowered one asking for the bottle.
Ginny took another swig and then passed him the bottle. He took the bottle from her cold fingers noting the pink glossy lipstick around the rim. Following her lead, he took a drink savoring as the firewhiskey burned his throat.
He took a second drink before passing it to Ginny. She looked surprised as if he was going to baby her and not allow her to drink anymore. He wasn’t her brother. She had enough of those. She snatched the bottle and the took a slower sip this time.
Merlin, what thirteen years old sipped firewhiskey? Even Draco choked when he drank and he was introduced to the drink at the tender age of ten.
The two descended into a comfortable silence as they passed the bottle. Ginny was in deep thought and Blaise wasn’t going to disrupt her. He had his own thoughts to occupy his mind. They were filled with dark images of death and destruction, his godfather’s last words in Hogsmeade echoing through his mind.
“He’s coming, my son. The Dark Lord is rising and he shall save us all.”
Uncle Nott was an extremist that spent way too much time hexing muggles and avoiding the Ministry. He was many things but he certainly wasn’t crazy.
“What has you looking so terrified?” Ginny’s soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
He sighed, “I’m not scared. Just… stressed.”
“It’s okay to be scared you know. I’m terrified for Harry. Someone put his name in that goblet, I don’t care what anyone says.”
She wasn’t wrong. “Know him well, do you?”
“Well, enough. He’s shy and doesn’t enjoy the spotlight, he just wants to be regular. He doesn’t like being ignored. He’s used to it. The family that he grew up with… they aren’t kind to him. He grew up in a…” her eyes shone in the firelight as they filled with unshed tears. “It’s been rough for him. Finding out he’s a wizard was life-changing for him. They starve him over the summers you know. Lock him in his room. My brothers flew there two years ago and rescued him when they locked him in his room and only let him out once a day to use the loo.”
Blaise was shocked into silence. Harry Potter the savior of the Wizarding World was not just abused as a child but continually being abused every summer when he went home?
Several things started to make sense. “Huh, I just realized.”
“What?” Ginny took another swig from the Firewhiskey.
“He never goes home for any of the hols. He never gets packages or letters. I always wondered where Potter grew up. Are they magic folk?”
“No, his mother’s Muggle family and they hate magic as much as Voldemort hates muggles.” Ginny rolled her eyes when Blaise flinched at the Dark Lord’s name. “Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself, you know?”
“You sound like Granger. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard her say that several times.”
“She helps me study sometimes,” she shrugged tossing her red hair over her bare shoulder. “I pick things up from her.”
“Is she the reason your sulking? I heard your brother yelling at her from the Entrance Hall.”
Ginny looked murderous. “Ron’s a jealous git. He wanted to go with Hermione but he was too scared to ask her. I told him that someone else would ask her but he didn’t listen.”
“Is that why you’re hiding in my favorite spot because your brother made your study partner cry?”
“No, I… I went with Neville.” She stopped talking abruptly and began nervously tugging at her hair. Her eyes searched the fire nervously as if it held all the answers in the universe.
“Ginny, your secret is safe with me. I mean who am I going to tell?” Ginny looked at him skeptically. “Come on, what did Longbottom do?” Sighing Ginny took another sip. How was she even sitting upright?
“Neville wouldn’t kiss me. Said it wasn’t right when I was really in love with someone else.” Ginny downed the rest of the bottle. “Someone who will never have me and sees me as his little sister,” she finished miserably.
“Potter?” Blaise asked in surprise. Sure everyone had crushes on Saint Potter, even Pansy, but this wasn’t anyone. It was his best mate’s, little sister. “You realize why that would be catastrophic right? Your brother has a temper the size of rain clouds in London.”
“I couldn’t care less about Ron’s temper. He’s just… he’s Harry. He’s kind and sweet and fiercely loyal to those he loves. He’s not what people make him out to be.”
“Ginny, anyone with eyes can see that Potter is a nice bloke. It’s just…” he’s dangerous little Weasley. He’ll get you killed.
Ginny’s eyes snapped up defensively, “Just what?”
“He’s marked.”
“Marked?”
“His forehead, what do you think that lightning bolt represents?”
“That he killed the greatest wizard of our time. He’s a hero, Blaise.” There was vehemence in her voice when she said killed and Blaise wondered if the Dark Lord killed someone in her immediate family.
“No, Ginny. A baby that managed to rebound the killing curse is not a hero. They’re remarkably lucky. That mark is a warning and a promise. A warning against anyone who tries to rise up against him and take his life before You Know Who fulfills his promise. A promise that he and his followers made to come back and finish the job.”
Ginny had the smarts to stand and stumble backward away from him. “But.. but he’s dead.”
Firewhiskey coursing through his veins, he stood as well. “Is he though? No one found a body and his wards on his personal home are still standing. You know that Aurors still can’t penetrate that fortress? Wards only drop-”
“Once the Wizard is dead,” she finished. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. “What are you telling me, Blaise?”
“I’m not telling you anything, Ginny.”
She tugged on her dress and gathered them into her arms, “Must we do this the Slytherin way?”
Blaise cocked an eyebrow, “Is there any other way?”
Ginny crossed her arms against her chest. The small fiery ginger stood her ground staring at him defiantly. “What are you telling me, Blaise?”
Rather than argue with her he transfigured the empty firewhiskey into a white lily. The flower for mourning. Taking slow steps towards the easily spooked lioness in front of him, he gently placed behind her ear tucking her hair into place.
“Be careful Ginevra Weasley. Dangerous things are coming and Potter is going to be the center of it.”
He turned his back on her and waded through the Willow branches until he left his secret clearing. He looked back and was able to see her small form huddled over the fire, staring at the lily in her hands, fear in her eyes.
If she was smart, she would run. If she was wise, and he knew she was, she would tell someone. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late.