SOULLESS ° BLAISE ZABINI

now.7

"BLAISE?" HE LOOKED UP, HIS eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. It was early in the morning, a weekend, and the sun was spooling over the horizon and into the sparkling waters of the lake, that glittered like obsidian. Really, he should be making progress with his homework, not venturing out here, but he had promised. As foolish as it seemed, he couldn't bear to see that look of accusation in her eyes again.

Asherah's big green eyes met his, and sympathy in their depths. "Blaise, its OK," she whispered, pulling herself out of the water and on to the beach. A small shiver travelled the length of her long, lithe body. "You were going to tell me something, remember?" She reached out a hand, then paused and withdrew it again. How did people act above the water? In the lake, embraces were common place, a way of communication, feelings inexpressible through words alone. But here? She though it better to not risk her precarious friendship with the human boy.

"Yes," Blaise murmured. "But I don't know how."

For a fleeting, foolish and utterly stupid moment, Asherah imagined he might confess undying love for her, and she sighed. Then she came to her senses and pinched herself, muttering incoherently. She barely knew the boy! And besides, he probably had some girl up at the castle. A human girl, with two smooth legs and dainty toes, not a long, slimy tail.

"Just tell me," she breathed, staring at him. "You can trust me, I promise." She almost lost herself in the glittering black depths of his eyes, but caught herself in time.

"How do you do that?" Blaise demanded suddenly. He stood up, brushing the sand from his clothes, and began to pace, his brow furrowed.

"Do - do what?"

"That! Look in to my eyes! And not - not - flinch!" He stopped, and glared at her. Fear rose in her throat, but she didn't look away.

"I..." She trailed off. "Why wouldn't I be able to?"

"Because -" He bit back his words, and shook his head. "Because - because I have no soul!" The last of his words were a shout. An accusation, and that pent up anger that was coiled inside him like a whip lashed out.

Asherah stared.

"Yes, you do." She wouldn't believe that a boy as kind as him didn't have a soul.

"A tiny, crumbling, dying one!" he snapped, his eyes flashing. "Because my mother put a dementor inside me when I was born. And its still there. It - it controls me." His voice broke, and he stared limply at the ground. "When I look at people, they see their worst memories again. They always flinch when I look at them. They are afraid of me."

Asherah blinked.

"I know of dementors," she said slowly. "They guard the wizard prison, am I right? Hooded, dark figures -"

"Yes!" Blaise yelled. "I know what they are!"

"Then what is one doing inside you?"

"Because when I was born, I was dying. My mother though - oh, she had no idea." He laughed bitterly, a harsh, cracking sound. "She thought that to save me she would put a piece of dementor inside me. And it grew and grew. Without it - I would die. With it..."

Numbness had crept over Asherah's arms. This beautiful boy was...dying. Or the equivalent of. A wave of injustice washed over her. This wasn't fair! This one person who had allowed her to hope - to long for acceptance - and she was going to lose him.

"No." She shook her head.

"I'm losing my soul," he whispered. "One day I'll wake up and...there'll be nothing left."

"No." He stared at her.

"What do you mean, no?"

"I won't believe it." Not caring what he thought, she put her hand on his arm, ignoring his flinch at her cold skin. "You - no one could ever be afraid of...you."

"No," he said. "You don't understand. You're different. You do something to the darkness. You make it go away. It can't control me whilst you're there." He pulled away. "I don't even know who I am anymore. Whether its me or the darkness. But when you speak to me, I know it's me. And that scares me."

Asherah felt a tiny bud of warmth in her chest - when you're there. She couldn't begin to express what those words did to her.

"I - "

"Is this even a good idea?" He stood up. "Should I be testing the boundaries? Maybe I shouldn't meet you anymore."

"No!" She shook her head frantically. "I mean - no." She searched for some excuse. "I can help you, Blaise."

"You can?" There was hope in his expression.

"I - my people are very wise. They might know something." She swallowed, and met his gaze. "Anything."

"You want to help me?" He didn't seem to believe this in the slightest. That broke her most of all - the fact that this boy couldn't fathom the idea that someone would even want to help him, even try.

"Of course." Of course. She could face her people again, for him. Even if they had rejected her, Blaise needed this. He needed her.

That feeling of being needed warmed her. Being needed - perhaps the most beautiful feeling of all, and it filled up Asherah to the brim.

"I will help you," she said. "I promise. We'll find a way to get it out."

A wry twist if his lips made her doubt herself again. "That's not the biggest problem," he said. "The problem is keeping me alive after we get it out. I'm supposed to be dead, remember?"

She nodded, losing momentum, unable to form another word. Blaise looked at his watch and cursed.

"I need to go," he said, looking back up at the winding path that led to the castle. "They'll miss me, and I can't - I don't want anyone to find out about you." He nodded, opened his mouth, and shut it again. "Bye."

Asherah raised her arm in farewell, but he didn't look back.

Was he trying to protect her?

Or was he ashamed of asking for her help?