SOULLESS ° BLAISE ZABINI

now.3

BLAISE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE when Draco Malfoy wrote to the death eaters. It was late, and the common room was empty. Blaise was sat on the elegant green chair, his eyes closed and his head leant back against it. It was almost pitch black, and nothing of him could be seen, but for the glint of his eyes when he opened them.

But they were closed, so he only heard Draco Malfoy when the boy nervously crept downstairs. Blaise went completely still, his breathing low and shallow. Inside him, the darkness pushed its way forwards, intrigued by this strange boy who claimed to be evil, but was only filled with a grey haze speckled with white.

From the sounds of it, the boy drew out some parchment and began to write on it, the nib of his quill scratching quietly. Blaise slowly - oh so slowly - tilted his head towards the noise.

And then something happened to him that had never happened before.

The darkness seemed to expand, pushing out from him and into the air, shrouding him in a cloak of midnight and evil. Tendrils of it crept towards Malfoy, whose white-blonde head did not move but for its slight adjustments as he began a new line. Shocked, Blaise tried to reign it in, but the darkness took advantage of his panic, and shoved away his control. Now the humming thing that lived in his soul spread through his veins, taking control of his limbs and forcing his tired body to stand. Blaise's consciousness returned to him, him without the haze of blackness that tainted his emotions. So preoccupied with its new control, the blackness had relinquished its poison from his feelings and thoughts.

Despite the fact that his body was not his own, Blaise relished in this new found freedom - the light that splintered through everything he thought. The goodness that he felt in his own heart.

But then he realised what he had to do.

He had to let it go. Let go of that kindness, and pull the darkness back into him, where he could control it, or at least dampen it.

His boy made no sound as he walked towards Malfoy and looked over his shoulder. It was as if he didn't exist. As if he was invisible.

Malfoy wrote with a frenzy, his lips moving with the words he wrote. Blaise - or rather the darkness - caught a glimpse of the word 'Umbridge' and 'The Ministry'. Greedily, the darkness looked up to who the letter was addressed to.

Lestrange. Greyback. Malfoy. Death Eaters. Blaise - the one who did care, the one who could think clearly - felt fear claw up in him. Usually this news was non feeling, but now - Merlin... He tried to reach out and tear the paper from Malfoy's hands, but the darkness was enjoying this.  It wouldn't let him.

It was time to pull it back into him. He retreated inside his own mind, trying to grab hold of the slippery strings that were spread through his blood. They slipped from his grasp, annoyed and angry. Something slammed into his consciousness like a fist.

Blaise helplessly tried to grab them again, but they were too strong. Is this it? Is this the part where I lose my soul? But then an idea sprang to mind, a bright and fleeting notion that gave him a small morsel of hope.

He could lure the darkness to him.

He spiralled down, crashing into the light part of his soul. The first emotion that hit him was horror. The last time he had looked, down by the lake, it had felt like a small room, slowly crumbling. Now it seemed the size of wardrobe - such a huge decrease for only a day. Was this happening so fast because his time was near? Or was it because the darkness had taken over him that had caused such a huge change? It made sense, made sense that having the darkness take control of him would destroy so much. He could not let this happen again.

He stared into the swirling abyss of darkness, begging for something to come looking for him.

For a moment he thought it wouldn't care. But he was wrong. The darkness still thought he was a threat, and it didn't want to lose him. It dragged him from his sanctuary, each thread taking hold of him, but as it did, Blaise pulled himself back into control, jerking forwards and crashing into Malfoy.

"What the -" Malfoy spun, his eyes wide and horrified. Blaise felt that familiar haze drop over his feelings again. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Zabini?" he hissed, fear tainting his voice as he tried to hide the letter. Blaise tried - merlin, he tried - to feel something, anything -  

Disinterest. Nothing but nothing. He didn't care.

"I don't care what you do with your time, Malfoy," he drawled, sinking back into his chair. "I would check if there was anyone watching, next time, though. You wouldn't want such precious information to...slip." He smirked, but it was a façade. A mask to wind up Malfoy for the darkness' amusement. It did not matter to him.

"You read my letter," Malfoy whispered. He made a lunge for his wand, but Blaise caught him with a stare, his black eyes boring into the boy. Malfoy whimpered, closing his eyes against whatever awful fear he felt.

"Maybe I'll refrain from telling," Blaise mused, brushing past him. "But I would advise...leaving me be, Malfoy." He stared into the boy's wide grey eyes. "Yes?"

"Yes," came the strangled whisper.

"Good," Blaise said, his lips curving into a sinister smile. He stalked from the room, heading towards the dormitory. Inside him, the darkness writhed in delight at the anguish it had caused, squeezing against Blaise's heart. It made Blaise pause, a flicker of guilt beating in his chest, as he let everything sink in.

Behind him, Malfoy began to sob.