Chapter 7 : Don't trust the Lady!
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A/N:Yes, I must apologize again for updating this late, but trust me, you wouldn't want to go to school these days if you were me. I missed writing this more than anything, trust me my dears! But I hope this chapter will make up for all the time you had to wait. Enjoy and thanks again for all those wonderful reviews. You do know how to inspire me!
The manor was deadly silent. It would be something perfectly normal probably, for any other ordinary house, but something didn’t feel right for him, as he stirred his body in the shadows. He followed the trail of her scent, and then mentally punished himself for doing that: he could never fight her.
He knew his breath smelled of alcohol, he finished half the bottle of good, ol’ Lucius’s wine, and still craved for more. Well, at six feet under, Blaise thought, what he won’t know won’t hurt him. He smiled to himself, and then proceeded to laugh in the empty corridors, scowling at the old portraits, or winking at some of the Ladies in them, until he shook his head, trying to free himself from the quick-coming drunkenness, that will envelop him.
He couldn’t stumble and get lost in the house: he played on its grounds since he was a toddler, marking every wall in his memory, knowing every secret and hidden passage, from the dungeons to the chamber music. He grew up in there, with Draco, and spent so much with his friend that, sometimes, in his childhood, he paused to wonder where his real home was: here, or at the Zabini mansion? And after all this years, he still didn’t have an answer good enough to please him. Nor did he found reasons to stay out of this place: it was a magnet to him.
He still remembered…
He was barely 9 and it was around Christmas. He, Draco, Gregory and Vincent were at the Manor, busying themselves with all kinds of games, and vividly trying to find out what they’ll receive this Christmas by sneaking into the Hall and keeping a close eye on the huge Christmas tree, that enchanted everybody’s eyes with its wonderful, decorated branches. For one reason or another, he got into a fight with Vincent, and left the other boys—walking away at a very fast pace, until he couldn’t remembered where he had left from and where he had arrived: he was lost then and scared beyond his wits: Lucius had always forbidden him to walk in that wing of the house. Trembling and walking on his toes, in what seemed to be the creepiest place he had ever seen, misguided by the floating candles which emitted a beautiful warm light, he stepped further and further into the unknown. And then, turning to left, he spotted a light that came from one room and he easily, with fear in his heart, advanced a few yards, and looked through the entrance door. And she was there…she, the most wonderful woman that the wizarding world has ever known.
The woman was in his thirties then, pale skin and blonde hair enthralling him as he watched her studying herself in the mirror. He had seen her before, of course, but she had had always been just the mother of his childhood friend, showing her face only to great her son, and being always in the company of Lucius, who frightened him terribly at the time. In that night though she wore a dark blue nightgown, that reached her thighs, her blonde hair hanging loose on her shoulders as she just watched herself, analyzing every inch of her face, touching the dark frame of the mirror with dainty figures. There was a sense of desolation in her moves, and he found himself so absorbed in her image, that he forget how to breathe, and never realized how far he was into the room, when Narcissa turned abruptly to him, ready to cover herself and to take care of the intruder.
But, at noticing his freighted figure, she let her gown loose, and looked at him curiously. He couldn’t speak, stunned under her gaze.
“Are you lost?”
Her voice was cold, but politely, and the sound echoed in his head various times.
He barely had the power to nod.
Narcissa hesitated one second, perhaps thinking that he should have never been there in the first place— and perhaps wanting to punish him. He studied her features all the while; a lump in his throat had stopped him from breathing, while the woman debated. He felt like he did a terrible thing and expected the worse punishment ever.
But, after a while, she took his hand, with a vague trace of smile on her light-colored lips.
“Come with me. I’ll take you back to your friends,” she said and ruffled his unruly hair with such tenderness that he felt like inhaling under the touch of a Goddess. He never moved one step, and she eyed him curiously.
“You don’t want to go back there?”
“It’s okay if you want to stay,” she said, and he saw her smile for the first time.”I’m kind of lonely in here anyway, my dear. I could use some company.”
He still didn’t move.
“Are you ok, dear?” she asked as she touched his forehead, in fear that he might be sick.
“Can I really stay?” he dared to ask, his voice strangled.
The woman laughed; the sound of her laughter was mesmerizing.
“Yes, my boy, you can stay for as long as you wish,” she said... perhaps she was aware of the effect she had on him, but then, any man, at any age would have been charmed by this beauty. Seeing that he still wouldn’t move, Narcissa gently guided him to her bed and made him lay down. He was as white as the sheets when Narcissa lay next to him and caught him in his arms, the concern in her eyes evident.
“You poor boy… who scared you so much? You remind me very much of my Draco when he runs from his grandfather. I shall fetch you some medicine. I’m glad that you came to me,” she added, while the boy dared to take her graceful hand in his, and worship it with his thoughts.
She continued to smile that angelic smile of hers, and whispered soothing words to him and rocking him in her arms like a baby, until he fell into a blissful sleep… He fell asleep with the sound of her lullaby.
From that day on, it was she, the only woman that got his fascination, the one he searched into the eyes of any other women, like a child who’s looking for a home. Although, at that young age, he never acknowledged her curves, the flawlessness of her body or the divine scent of hers, it hadn’t taken him many years to become addicted to her.
It was her that he looked for in his visits at the manor, her whom he had been following from the shadows, whom he looked in all the other women and especially her whom he loved and desired when his body performed ”acts of love” on the bodies whose faces he never could remember, in nights that burned his skin. And it was her whom he had lived for…
In his midnight walk, he reached the second floor and took a good amount of air in his lungs, trying to suppress the urge to run to that room he kept turning back to, since a very young age, the room that has been haunting him anywhere he went.
He still caught her unguarded as he watched her from the doorframe.
“Yes, Zabini?” She drawled rather unceremoniously for her, while disposing of her earrings.”I was just going back to sleep, so is there something you need?” she asked in that icy tone of hers, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling dangerously.
Ah, there she goes…
All those years she never lost one little thing about her beauty: she never aged, never lost her grace. She was 43, but looked no older than 30.
“I understand, Cissa,” —she practically glared at him for addressing her in that way, while he casually leaned against the wall— “that this is all hard for you: a bunch of strangers invading your house… I wouldn’t be in a better mood either.”
“Well, if you care that much for my well being, why don’t you go to your home, Zabini.”
“This is my home,” he insisted, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. She must have been really annoyed to speak in such a manner.
“… because here is where you are.”
She stayed quiet for a long time avoiding his intense gaze on her, deliberately brushing her long, perfect silky, blonde hair. He reflexively fidgeted with his fingers, imagining how it would be to let them loose along her strands…
“Braveheart will leave tonight, you know.” He added still watching her beneath his long lashes.” She won’t bother you anymore…”
“She should have never dared to step a foot in this house,” she says icily, but he recognized, hidden behind that flat tone, a loathing and disdain for that woman who simply dared to interrupt her into her own house, after all their history. Nobody forgets the bruises they got from a war, and Narcissa owed Verona’s practically everything. Not that she would have admitted it anyway.
“You hate her, I know. But it’s because of her; you and your son still live in your own house, Cissa.”
She turned to him, a death glare in her eyes, as she drew a deep intake of breath.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about… The things she did to my son…”
“Aw, Drakie-poo knows well how to take care of his backside.” He added a little amused by her almost-horrified expression.”It’s you I’m worrying about.”
Totally unexpected, but oh so enticing, she stood up and walked closer to him, while he did not bother to hide his pleasure at filling his nostrils with her scent.
“Do I look that fragile to you?”
He recognized that voice, he knew her better than anyone. She was dangerous tonight and he liked to be burnt. She wanted to hurt that night, wanted to hurt somebody deep within, so she can liberate all the emotion from what she had been through. And her silk, black gown glowed enthrallingly in the candle light…
He raised his hand, but did not touch her, even though she froze in expectation.
“No, Cissa,” he whispered, bringing his lips close to her ear. “As a matter a fact,” he continued to take one step even closer, making her stand like a stone to defy him, “I believe you could make things your way with just a mere move of your wrist. That wand of yours really knows…” He paused to bring his hot breath on her neck, while she griped her knuckles, “how to bring out your inner, powerful talents.”
She took one step back, but didn’t dare to even blink: this was a game she usually lost. He just laughed, somehow it sounded so desolate that she stopped him.
“What do you take me for, Zabini?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest in a defensive manner.
“My equal, Cissa, nothing more, nothing less… And… while we are on this matter, I dare to say that Draco knows how to stand up to Verona’s pretences. What really bothers you, is that he... well, spent a rather enjoyable night in his bed with Hermione Granger herself.”
Her face was murderous: he had struck home way too deep. But he didn’t want to stop there, so he launched himself further in their game of words.
“You know it was bound to come here one day… You have seen the signs for so long… For us, Cissa, we, the sinners inborn, the war never really ended. We had had our own personal hell to live in, and now all our quiet nightmares are about to come to life. Verona isn’t playing, she never had,” he said with the bitterest tone.” She’ll write her names in those history books that are always kept in the shadowed shelves of old libraries and she’ll make us fight for our lives until the last breath we take. She has us all at her mercy. And from what I heard mercy it’s something she lacks a lot of.”
She closed her eyes for a second, her hands at her sides.
“It’s all her fault,” she concluded, her sapphire eyes sparkling dangerously, for she was now talking about another woman...
“No, it’s not,” he said, carefully choosing his words, but he did made her glare at him.
“Think about it for a minute, Narcissa. While you were here, in this wonderful prison called Malfoy Manor, like a damsel in distress (and I was your prince in shining armor nonetheless), she has been through every misery a human been has ever known… You have never met The Feldons, Narcissa—you have never felt their wrath.
“Oh, and you did, Zabini?”
His eyes were hollow and seemed to see past her. She had to take one step back, at taking in the image of him, that changed who he was to her now. When he spoke again, minutes after, his voice was barely a whisper.
“Never, never, and never underestimate them, Narcissa: they kill you in the most agonizing ways and then show your corpse to the world. I can’t imagine which force held Hermione Granger alive, through all this, everyone of us would have begged for death if we were put in her place.” He clenched his jaw and refused to speak for a few minutes more, while Narcissa watched him, undecided. Then he shook his head.
“You could never understand them, Narcissa… What your son gave to her was a night in heaven after years in hell. And in the next morning he threw her to the sharks? Why? Oh, he did not use her, like she believed, like he made us believe. He just understood that he can’t have her now, that they had walk on shaky grounds… “
Narcissa refused to listen any farther, but he caught her arm:
“You don’t know your son, Narcissa, or you would have understood just how much he needs her. It kills you to realize just how much he cares for her. Because none of the girls in this Earth are good enough to take your son from you.”
She slapped him this time. How dare he? He seemed unaffected, while she paled visibly.
“Oh, Cissa, Cissa…I really don’t believe their... “mutual feelings” are yet that strong, you see. I thought he brought girls before in this house. Or is it that this one holds potential?”
He loved to see how her insides squirmed at hearing his words. He had her where he wanted, or at least that was what he liked to believe.
“Now tell me, Zabini, don’t you have anything else better to do tonight...” she said icily, while turning to her mirror, “let’s say with a girl that holds enough potential?”
“I think I am in the right place for that one,” he answered gruffly, all humor forgotten as she cringed visibly at his words.
“Will that woman come back here again?” she asked, but the only answer she got was his arms around her waist, lifting her up in one swift move. She tried to shake him off, making him sigh.
“She probably won’t.” he whispered, refusing to let her go.” Not after your dear son threw her in the shark’s fangs.” He easily whispers in her ear. She hated him when he did that and she quickly brushed him away. Blaise ignored her uncomfortable position once again, and only felt the shivers on his arms, where he had touched her…
“She deserved it.” She said icily, but he laughed at that.
“Really, Narcissa, not even you believe what you’re saying.”
She just glared him, in the mirror. For a while none of them said anything, until she removed her necklace, shook him off, and turned to speak to him.
“Go home, Zabini. I do believe you have a manor of your own, and I’m really tired for visitors right now.”
“You try to kick me out of your house, Cissa? Not that it would be the first time” he said, trying hard to disguise the disappointment in his voice, while he swiftly walked to one of her bars and poured himself a glass of her favorite liquor: to him it felt like tasting from her own lips.
She watched him and shuddered.
“And if I don’t want to go home, Cissa? What if I want to stay?”
She hated that. She has been through that game before, and she could not stand it. And it was just too much for one day. Draco has gone flying God knows which place, and he probably wouldn’t be home all night, and maybe he’d return drunk out of his wits. She had to stand through all this stupidity of that man, who tried to assault her one way or another. If Lucius would have still been alive he would have hexed him within the next century right now. But then, maybe she didn’t miss her husband this much. She proceeded to step closer and tell the man to just go out, preferably before she took out her beautiful adorned wand and showed him some of her ”talents”.
But when she was just a step from him, he swiftly turned around. The power of his blue eyes knocked down her breath and she found she loved to hate the feeling that it gave her. She tried anything to avoid those eyes on a daily basis, but when he looked at her with those pleading eyes she was simply swept of her feet, and felt the emotions of a naïve teenage girl. And she knew just how flattered he really was by that reaction of hers while she despised his smugness and arrogance.
Right then… she was trapped again. Her eyes even hadn’t held such emotion in their sheer brilliant deep blue for what seemed like forever, while her lips opened to him like the petals of a rose. He averted his gaze from her eyes to her lips in a moment, and Narcissa blamed on herself that she just couldn’t shut her open mouth.
With a loving move, he raised his hand and, easily, slowly, but dangerous touched her jaw. His fingers were unearthly warm and his moves far more sensuous than she would have ever approved. But there he was caressing her jaw, making her unable to suppress feelings that only haunted her in her secret wishes. For God’s sake, she was twice the age of this insufferable boy, that… but she was unable to speak, let alone think, while he leaned even closer and his warm breath bestowed her lips, smelling of fine liquor. She was dizzy like she had been the one drinking it, and a part of her mind screamed at her to get away from him. It was then when she saw Lucius’s face in her mind, and pushed Blaise away with a rude gesture.
“Get out, Zabini! Now!” she said, her cheeks flushed, her voice unsure.
He laughed again, annoying the hell out of her lady mannerisms.
“No, Cissa, not tonight,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes, while his fingers twisted with a crack. “You see, I’m a little bit drunk, and hell of aroused by that silk gown of yours and that leaves so little to imagine…”
“How do you dare?” she poured out in pure indignation, but he caught her arm, unannounced, and brought her frail body to hit his hard chest, while he embraced her forcefully.
There was no pleading in his eyes this time, no asking for permission, just raw passion and some anger. And there was no way he was turning back then. Narcissa meant to speak again, as she squirmed in his arms.
“Are you bloody insane, Zabini.” She drawled unaware of her longing, desperate need to get out as quickly as soon as possible... before her blood got heated. She hadn’t been kissed in years.
He was stronger than she was, much more, and her efforts seemed futile. She felt her world spin around while his lips fell on hers in the sweetest decadence, while she stood still: God’s merciful grace! She shuddered in his arms, from the impact of the softness his lips held; so full and perfect that she felt like she floated somewhere in the air. He wrapped his arms even tighter around her, while he nibbled her bottom, perfect shaped lip.
Desperation and pleasure invaded her body. He was restless and demanding, his body stuck to hers. In his haste and need to have her in his arms, he vaguely thought of what would Draco say if he would have seen his mother caught as this in his arms. Kissing her even more forcefully for a moment, he said to himself than some Cruciatus would do, for all that this woman meant to him.
It was then when she managed to free herself and grab hold of her wand in the same instant, cursing him so badly, he felt himself falling to his knees in front of her.
She breathed heavily, her chest rising and felling, and her moves were little bit chaotic while she circled the room. He clenched his jaw, muttering under his breath. Narcissa was so caught in what she was doing that she didn’t registered that she had locked her room with him inside. But Blaise did notice this and snickered, hardly believing his luck.
Narcissa still wondered in her own room annoyed and acting nothing like herself. He loved to know the impact he had on her.
“You know, Cissa,” he said easily and her eyes met his, as she took a step back, “you have to stop being so bloody nervous, or I’ll have to make you stop again. And I don’t even need a wand for that,” he added quite pleased with himself.” You are one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen and you’ll remain like this until the moment you’ll be six feet under.”
She stops dumbfounded, not understanding how he could have guessed her deepest secrets and fears. For yes, she had been afraid, afraid that she was way too old, and might cause him to feel pity or disgust…
“I’m 43… you are 23. And what are you trying to do, in Merlin’s name?” she whispered with trembling voice.
He rose from his wounded knees and stepped closer to her.
“Yes, Cissa… you are 43, but by no means old. Your face…is flawless and your skin… leaves me breathless every time I touch you… and your mouth…so enticing, must I add,” he said with a childish wink.
“Don’t hold back,” he pleaded again, his fingers on her cleavage. She never noticed the silent laugh in his eyes: no Slytherin ever forgives a wand-attack. Especially one who wanted to make the woman he desires to pitch it at him.
“You want to know why you really fear Granger?” He asked while tenderly brushing a few strands of her hair, making her wide-eyes rounder. “Well, despite the fact that she’s young, intelligent and got to your son? She is your guilt and you fear her…” he whispered in a dangerous tone.
She was wide eyed and shocked. Blaise considered himself privileged to see her in that state, while his hands explored her, his eyes filled up with need. He loved her, adored her, needed her, craved for her…
“Because… we both know it wasn’t Hermione Granger the one who killed your husband.”
She didn’t have time to respond because his lips fell upon hers and sealed them shut for the time being.
But when Blaise’s expert fingers found their way beneath her silk gown, touching her fragile thighs, while his mouth demanded obedience, a sudden noise in the hall startled them. For all Blaise cared, hell could freeze over in the meantime, and he was still not letting her go. Leaning with her bare back against the cold surface of her wall, and exposing her shoulders to his hungry kisses, Narcissa froze.
Hearing his name was the sweetest aphrodisiac. He was maddened with desire for her and, after so long, he could have her. But she tried to push him away again.
“Blaise, I think Draco’s home.”
Blaise’s eyes shot up, alarmed, his fingers grabbing her with more force that necessary. Then was really not the time for interruptions.
“Fuck him,” he whispered and proceeded with his ministrations, with even much fervent desire than before.
But Narcissa had other things on her mind, and once again tilted her head to the side, so to speak:
“Are you mad?” she whispered terrified, still feeling her body burning in all the places he had touched her.
He made her shut up in the only way he knew: making her, her own slave, imprisoning her with desire. It was all her fault that he couldn’t go back and if she hadn’t been denying him for so many years, he’d have some control over his actions, but now, being so close to tasting the forbidden fruit, he decided he wasn’t a saint so he needn’t let her go.
And Narcissa, the ever graceful Lady, fell for the knight who, in concordance with the modern times, left his shining armor home, using his skin instead, to defeat her resistances.
But the ancient times were in the past and, at the present, a very ill-tempered son was finding his way to his mother’s door, unaware this one was experimenting feelings she had not had for years and years, with his very best friend. And if Narcissa could have twisted thoughts, those were, in no way, compared to those of her son’s.
“Blaise,” breathed Narcissa, totally out of her mind, while trying unconsciously to smooth out her night gown. It was only then when she noticed that one of his hands was up her stomach wanting to reach some very dangerous places. She inhaled sharply while he reminded her what exactly his fingers could do.
She was in agony. While experiencing the sweetest pleasure giving in to him completely, she knew that Draco could start a war by himself if he’d ever caught them. But did Blaise understand this? Oh, no, he misinterpreted the gleam on her skin as a perspiration coming from the heat, and not from her terror.
Her son’s footsteps echoed down the hall.
“He’ll kill you, Blaise,” she desperately whispered, looking him straight in the eye.”In the state he is, he’ll kill you in a second. Please, I beg you, stop this.”
Narcissa had chosen the wrong words, because to hear that her beg was for Blaise, made it more hard for a man with many desires to ever handle.
“Then you had just signed my death,” he whispered making her widen her eyes all that much, then he literally drowned in them. His heart beats were so erratic that she could feel his heart pulsing with very much intensity on her skin. And it was agonizingly divine.
“Narcissa, you should know by now…” he whispered between heavy breaths, his hands steadying her, “We’re all tainted. Playing our lives on the last card, putting our masks while we perform the most stained masquerade of all, this is how we all live. There’s none of us left untainted. The war took all our hopes… And if I die now, you know it’ll be with no regret, for your name will be on my lips.”
Draco had his hand on the handle and Narcissa trembled incontrollable in Blaise’s arms. But for him, betrayal felt divine…
He turned around quickly, his spy instincts alarming him to stay vigilant all the time. The corridor was bathed in a drowsy light, and he felt way too tired, when he spotted her long blonde hair appearing across the hall.
A/N:What about a little review to encourage me to update faster?;)
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