A girl was walking along a slightly-lit dark corridor.
Torches cast a dark, looming shadow behind her as she walked with high confidence. The light shined a sort of slight glow on the girl’s hair, showing a dark honey-brown coat matted with blood and tangles.
Two cuts glimmered dark and menacing, a slash across her cheek along with a deep set one across her upper arm, blood still gushing from it—though the girl continued her strut, as if nothing in the whole world mattered than her goal sat at the moment.
The girl stopped walking, and just as she did so, the torches seemed to suddenly blow out. Darkness. Silence.
“What are you doing?” hissed a voice drowned in an aggravated tone, though slight fear as well emerged from a male’s vocal cords.
Still eclipsed with darkness, the girl smirked and slowly turned around. It seemed the lights went on her every move, flickering on and filling the dark tunnel-like-place with light.
“I could ask you the same question. But, that would be slightly pointless, as I know what you are doing,”
“Trying to make sure you don’t do anything that could wind you up with the Ministry at your throat!”
The owner of the voice happened to be from a boy, around the age of seventeen or eighteen, with dark hair and eyes. He was rather handsome, standing at around five foot seven with an airy mist of slight concern forging around his words.
“Oh, believe me, that line has already passed,” her smirk was growing, quickly on her dirty face.
The boy seemed annoyed, his face quenching in the temptation to curse the girl in front of him. He groaned, closing his eyes as he tried to control the actions he so wanted to do at this point.
“Dear Zabini,” she mused, “You seem frustrated. Why are you here anyway? Don’t you have a little something called school?”
He opened his eyes, wiping his aggravated expression away and attempting at a smirk and a smile at the same time, turning into a lopsided grin.
“One, school isn’t important, besides, Hogwarts isn’t anything to worry about when I have the weight of you on my shoulders. And two, its Blaise, please,”
“Oh so now we’re formal are we?....Blaise,” she added, her smirk dying as she took a deep breath, looking up at him.
“But get to the point,” she stated plainly, her face covered with a serious expression.
“Why are you here?” It was a way to be blunt. Not to mention she had a rather important thing at hand at the moment. She didn’t have time to meddling with….him. He was always into her personal business, making sure, or trying to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble. But that line had far been passed weeks ago, whenever she had made her decision. The decision of a life time.
Blaise seemed to have a hard time finding the right words for it all, struggling slightly with deciding whether he should say this or that. What was he to say? “I came to make sure you wouldn’t get into any trouble?” It was pointless. She was already in enough trouble she couldn't possibly get into anymore.
He finally answered, trying to make his voice sound slightly menacing, though it turned out as more of a slight squeak, “To make sure you don’t pull anymore stunts like that one a few days back!”
She let out a high-pitched chuckle, leaning her still bleeding shoulder on the wall (She winced) of the tunnel that had around the same amount of dirt as her face had.
“Oh that? That was fun. No, Zabini, no, that was nothing compared to what I have in stored for the Prophet later. Nothing compared.” She was shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes glittering dangerously. He had no idea of the whole concept of killing someone. Killing someone you loathe, someone who would want you dead in an instant as well. She wouldn’t say she enjoyed killing, infact, it was not a favor on her to-do-list. But it was something that had to be done. And she had to dowhat had to be done.
“Fun? Fun!” he was now glaring down a few inches at her, sudden anger rising inside of him. How could she just describe killing twenty innocent lives fun? It was cold. And dark. And not a good quality to have in his opinion.
“You think killing twenty people is just fun, Quinn?” he shouted.
The girl now called Quinn rounded on him, her face set with a hardened expression. Quinn. The blasted name her so called mother had dreamed of naming her. And her father….well, she didn’t even want to think about the bastard. But the name itself, being used in her presence, and being used to name her no doubt.
“I told you not to call me that, and I killed them because they would have done the same to me, it’s a fair trade! And I also did it to make people know I'm out there, so they will know I'm ready for anything they throw at me! I’m not afraid of them, unlike you.” It was partially true. He was afraid. Too afraid of the simplest things, like death. It was something she had never feared. Sometimes she was willing to welcome it with open arms.
Quinn bit down on her lip, shifting away from the wall and gripping her upper right arm with her left hand. It was still bleeding harshly, blood running through her fingers as she gripped tighter, biting her lip from the slight pain. Blaise didn’t seem to notice this sudden movement.
“It doesn’t matter whether you’re afraid or not, you’re going to get yourself killed!” his eyes were flaring with a heated sensation, different fields of anger and slight fear etched in his pupils.
“Well if that is the case then so be it!” her face had scrunched up into a smirk again, her voice suddenly wiped clean of all anger but a sinister and sly voice as she added these few more words to her sentence before disapparating out of the dark corridor: “But I highly doubt it.”
A tall, dark building stood in the dead of night. Dark vines shriveled up the dingy walls which were splattered with mud and grime. The wind rustled the small portion of dying grass in a deserted courtyard just outside the tall and menacing structure.
Quinn slid down the wall, her dark eyes gleaming in the night. She crouched low, not making a sound as she began to slowly inch her way to the right—still making no sound whatsoever. Her hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, leaving strands of loose brown locks to frame her face. Her skin was darker than ever, and yet, pale as a ghost. As if someone had instantly splattered one of the said transparent figures with mud and dirt, and for once, it had an effect rather than flying right through the lifeless beings.
A small snap of a twig made her ears stand up straight, almost like in the Muggle cartoon movies when someone would ear a soft sound indeed silence all of a sudden, and their ears snap up like daggers. She bolted around, her eyes flaring and her hand already pulling her silver dagger from her belt. Her other hand, in the mean time, was slowly reaching towards her back pocket.
Another twig snapped behind her, and once again she bolted around, a wooden wand now raised high into the darkness. Her heart was pumping fast, but she had no less confidence in herself than when she had murdered those twenty aurors in the alleyway.
“Lumos,” she mumbled numbly. Her eyes searched all around—to the right, to the left, by her feet, behind her, in front and above. There was nothing there. The building was just the same as ever; vines still crawling down it and murky gunk littering the walls. It was quiet once again. Silence.
She stared around for a moment, before slowly lowering her wand.
“Nox,” she whispered back into the night, instantly breaking the silence. And all too suddenly after she had said that word, a hand reached out from behind her and clasped her tight on the shoulder.
Yes, I know, short chapter. But I found that such a wonderful cliff hanger I had to leave off the chapter there, even though I finished writing that scene for the next chapter ;) And most definatly, the next chapter shall be long ^^;