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Gone	By : Nightshade Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1885 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N:This part has some really dark stuff in it, so tread carefully. It also starts right where we left off. Okay, enough babbling. On with the story!

CHAPTER 8B--Emotional Confrontations cont'd...
"I'm sorry. I'm just really tired. I think I'm going to lie down a bit before dinner." Harry said softly, still guilty over his outburst. Before his friends could even respond, he was dashing upstairs to the 7th year boys' dormitories.
Ron stared after the other teen in bewilderment. Then he turned to Hermione.
"Harry's acting odd again."
The witch nodded. "Do you think he's hearing voices again like in our second year?"
Ron looked alarmed. "You mean like there's another Chamber of Secrets?!" His blue eyes darted around nervously.
Hermione gave the red-head a withering look. "Honestly, Ron, sometimes I wonder about your state of mind. No, I don't think there is another Chamber of Secrets. However, perhaps something equally bad is going on. I propose we keep an eye on Harry for a while and if things do not improve, we'll let Dumbledore know."
Ron nodded and then sighed with relief. He remembered the debacle with the Chamber in their second year and the whole nasty business with the spider Aragog and his children. Ron HATED spiders and was doubly glad that they wouldn't have to be dealing with them anytime soon. Hermione, as if understanding his worry, reached out and patted his arm gently. Ron turned a suspicious shade of red.
"Uh, Hermione? I--I just wanted to let you know that I'm really glad that potion that touched you was actually a sleeping draught and not one of Neville's creations. You could have had something a lot worse happen to you and I'm just, happy you're okay."
"Ron, that's so sweet!" Hermione exclaimed. She was amused at the alarming crimson color of his face. *Gosh, he's acting like he's going to propose or something!*
"Really?" Ron squeaked and then hurriedly cleared his throat--blushing even harder if that was possible. "I mean, I'm going to go start on my homework. See you later tonight after detention."
Hermione smiled and watched the tall, lanky boy practically float out of the room. Then she shook her head in exasperation. Men could be so stubborn sometimes! Obviously if anything was EVER going to happen between Ron and her, she would have to take matters into her own hands. She feared that if she waited for Ron to make a move, she'd be dead and buried before she would ever get any action.
******************
Dean Thomas' whole world was falling apart. Just a few days ago he and Seamus were the best of friends. They went almost everywhere together. They were, like Harry, Ron and Hermione--virtually inseparable.
Now all Dean wanted was to be as far away from Seamus Finnegan as possible.
*Why did he have to bloody kiss me for?* Dean thought in despair as he headed into the gardens surrounding the school. Vaguely he noticed that the wind was picking up, but he was too upset to care. *Why did he have to go and complicate everything?* It wasn't as though he hadn't enjoyed their impromptu snog. It was more that he hadn't been prepared for it or the feelings it evoked. Dean had never looked at Seamus in a romantic sense before and he had LIKED it that way. In his opinion, friends should never throw romance into the mix of things. It was just bound to fuck everything up. Dean valued his friendship with the Irish boy too much to ever jeopardize it by encouraging Seamus' silly infatuation with him. It wasn't as though he was denying his mutual attraction--the kiss had definitely opened his eyes too much for that--but Dean, although technically bisexual, still found the female population much sexier. He'd had several crushes on boys before, but there was just something about soft, feminine curves that really turned him on. And, the last time he checked, that certainly wasn't a crime, but lately Seamus kept making him feel guilty about it.
But what about how sexy he now found Seamus? *Dammit* Dean thought, the anger returning full force. *Why did this have to happen?*
"There you are." Came a slightly winded voice from behind him.
Dean looked up at his sandy haired friend. "You found me."
"It wasn't that hard. I know you like to come here and think. I know all your secret places, Dean." Seamus smiled briefly as he settled next to his friend on the stone bench he was resting on. Then the smile faded. "We need to talk."
Sighing, Dean nodded. "This is where you kissed me the other night, remember?"
"Do I REMEMBER? Of course I do! It was one of the best moments of my life--and I know you feel the same."
"Seamus, " Dean growled; a warning note in his voice.
"What?! What is it that I'm saying that is so terrible? I speak only the truth." His lip trembled. "I don't understand why you're so angry with me, Dean. You enjoyed that kiss as much as I did."
"Yes, I did. And that is precisely why I'm so angry."
"I-I'm not sure I follow you."
Dean fought the urge to scream in frustration. Why did this have to be so fucking hard? "Seam, I'm angry with you for screwing up our friendship for something so bloody trivial!"
Seamus' hazel eyes narrowed. "Trivial?"
"I mean, let's say we have this little fling you're so keen on proposing. What happens when it's done and our friendship is ruined because things are awkward? I mean, look at how awkward it is NOW, and we only kissed!"
But the other boy wasn't listening. "You think this is TRIVIAL?" Seamus repeated the words so softly you could barely hear him--but Dean did. He noticed the wounded look in his best friend's eyes and winced.
"Uh, look I didn't mean to imply that your feelings are meaningless--"
"But you SAID it, so that means that a part of you must think it. I can't believe how little you think of me, Dean!"
The darker boy grew defensive as one tends to do when they know they are in the wrong. "Well, you're not exactly known for being monogamous. You flirt with everybody and everything!"
Seamus stood up trembling violently. Neither boy noticed the dark clouds threatening them from overhead. The wind had picked up even more and was swirling around with great force, but the teens remained oblivious. "Now the truth comes out! If you really think so little of me, Dean, why didn't you tell me to get lost long ago?"
"Because I don't WANT you to get lost! I like you, you're my best friend!"
"Am I?" Seamus couldn't seem to stop shaking. "You apparently don't know me at all."
Dean realized too late that he had gone much too far. He didn't want to hurt Seamus. He reached out a hand. "Look, Seam--"
But the other boy was already backing up slowly. "No, it's okay. I get it. You don't have to waste your precious time explaining." Seamus' voice was becoming suspiciously shaky. "I don't mean anything to you."
Dean groaned. "That is not--"
But Seamus was already gone.
***********************
Malfoy Manor sat on the hill, silent and foreboding like something straight out of a Muggle horror movie. Thunder and lightening continued to have their battle for dominance, and the air was rife with earsplitting booms and crackles of electricity.
Inside the manor was dry and safe, but Lucius felt anything but. His whole body ached from the Unforgivable Curse Voldemort had thrown at him. He felt certain that he'd be feeling sore for days. But, being a Death Eater sometimes called for pain, and Lucius was used to it. No, what was causing his inner turmoil had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with a teenage boy. One teenage boy in particular--that is, if one could still call him that.
Lucius was nervous and he HATED feeling out of control. He had been Voldemort's top Death Eater--his right hand man. Now, in the space of a few hours, all that had changed. Suddenly Voldemort was conspiring with Blaise about his plans and leaving Lucius out. It was disconcerting to say the least.
He blamed Draco for everything. If his insolent son had just done what he was supposed to, none of this would have happened.
It was difficult to see through the rain and sleet that battered the windows, but he tried to keep his eyes on the solitary figure heading away from the manor. Blaise Zabini had been cleaned up and fed--an extremely bloody steak if he remembered correctly--and given his instructions. The boy had been a bit more coherent, but the madness still shone in his dark eyes. Lucius cringed as he remembered Voldemort petting Blaise's long, dark hair; the boy's eyes never leaving Lucius no matter where he moved to in the room.
The creepy little bastard.
And the absolute kicker of the situation was that Lucius could do nothing about it. Blaise had taken over his role. He was Voldemort's Vessel and he was the bringer of chaos and destruction. Lucius was nothing. A mere pawn in the scheme of things. He could only follow the Dark Lord's orders and hope that Voldemort didn't backstab him. After all, Lucius would get into a heap of trouble with the Ministry if they found out what REALLY happened to poor Blaise Zabini. A dark, ugly scowl crept across his face and his ice gray eyes narrowed. Somehow, he had a feeling that Voldemort planned it that way all along.
"Lucius."
He whirled around and immediately regretted the action as his muscles groaned in protest. Narcissa was standing in the doorway to his study, a blank expression on her beautiful face. Her eyes flashed fire however.
"What is going on, Lucius? Where is that boy going?"
Lucius' eyes flicked towards the window again, but the figure was long gone. "How the hell should I know?"
"I think you do." Narcissa insisted and moved into the room. "Is he going to harm our son?"
A bitter laugh reverberated throughout the room. "It is our son's fault and no one else's if that happens, Narcissa."
"How can you just stand there and act as if you don't care about Draco's welfare? You weren't always this cold, Lucius. What the hell happened to you?"
"I became a man."
"No," she spat. "You became a coward." She anticipated the blow, but it still took her by surprise. She went reeling from the force of his fist and tumbled over the arm of a chair in the corner. He followed her and yanked her up roughly by the hair.
"How dare you defy me, woman! Do you WANT to go to the dungeons?"
Narcissa sneered at her husband and hissed. "Don't you dare threaten me, Lucius. For too long I have sat by and done nothing while you forced our son to become another version of you. A cold hearted, unfeeling MONSTER! But no more. I will not let you further harm our son! Now, I'll ask you again. Is that boy going to hurt Draco?"
"Quite possibly, yes, but I don"˜t believe he will actually do it. The Dark Lord hasn't requested it yet."
Blue eyes widened in horror. "Hasn't requested it? Does that mean that he WILL in the future? For what? What is going on, Lucius?!"
"None of your business, woman. Now stay out of it! I won't tell you again." He turned his back on her and strode back to the window to continue his vigil. Suddenly, he felt long fingers slide between his legs from behind and cup his manhood. He groaned in pleasure and bucked into his wife's talented hand. Just as he was getting fully aroused, he felt her sharp, blood red fingernails entrap his half erect cock in a viselike grip.
"Ah!" He gasped in agony. "Narcissa, take it easy. That's delicate equipment you're handling there."
She squeezed him even harder and twisted; digging her nails into the sensitive shaft. "I know it is, dear, which is why I am only going to say this to YOU once while I have your undivided attention." She ignored his gasps of pain and continued. "Whatever it is that you have done to displease Voldemort--fix it. Whatever that boy is going to do to Draco--stop it. I mean it, Lucius. If I find out that Draco is harmed in ANY way," And here she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I will first rip off this delicate equipment you seem to be so fond of, and choke you with it. And then, dear husband, as you're struggling to breathe with your own useless cock down your throat, I. Will. KILL. You. Am I clear?"
"Quite." He squeaked.
With that, Narcissa made as if she was going to let go, and when Lucius started to relax, she gave his bruised prick one more hard twist. Yelping in pain, Lucius sank down to the ground clutching his tortured balls. "And that, dear heart, was for hitting me." Straightening her robes, Narcissa swept gracefully from the room and headed to her chamber. Picking up a piece of parchment and quill, she started to scribble a hasty letter. Time was of the essence.
******************
~Hogsmeade--Stan and Stacey's Flowers and Sweets Shop~
It was the third time she'd gotten the feeling as though someone was watching her, and even though there was no one in the floral shop besides her husband and her, she'd had enough. It was nasty outside--the rain pouring down relentlessly--and on nasty days like this, people belonged in their homes. "It looks horrible outside, Stan. I think we should close up the store for the day." Stacey Danton said as her husband sat at the counter going over the store's inventory totals. Upon hearing a incoherent grunt from him, she sighed and busied herself with the beautiful floral arrangements on the counter. "We're not going to get any business at this rate anyway. The storm is too bad." No sooner had she spoken the words, when the bell on the door jangled and a slim figure slipped inside.
"See? Still some people out there who want to shop, dear." Stan Danton muttered and buried his head back in his papers. Giving her stubborn husband a mock glare, Stacey hurried forward to the customer.
"Hi, can I help you? Are you looking for something in particular?"
The figure didn't answer her right away. The dark eyes instead chose to roam salaciously over her curvy body. Stacey shivered and felt goose bumps rise up on her arms. Not wanting to appear nervous, she repeated her question. "Uh, can I help you?"
"My mum loved roses. Red ones. Blood red roses were her favorite."
Stacey sighed in relief. "Well, we have several shipments of that particular color that arrived in today. Would you like to get some for your mum?"
A brief pause and then a slight nod of consent. Stacey motioned for the young man to follow her to the back room where most of the fresh flowers were kept in a huge refrigerated cooler. "Honey, we're heading to the back, all right? Keep an eye on the front door!" Stan barely looked up or acknowledged that he heard her. Shaking her head, she entered the back room. "So, what exactly are you looking for?"
"I told you, roses. Mum loved roses." There was a dreamy smile on his face.
Stacey laughed and opened the clear cooler. "I know, but what do you think she'd like? An arrangement? A bouquet?"
Suddenly the smile disappeared. "How the fuck should I know? She's dead."
"Excuse me?" Stacey turned around shocked. She was startled to find the young man standing inches behind her. She immediately stepped back from him but he followed her. "W-what are you doing?"
"Shut up." Came the calm reply. Too calm. "Just shut up."
Stacey was rapidly becoming terrified. She opened her mouth to scream for her husband, but the boy was quicker. "I TOLD you not to talk, didn't I? Didn't I SAY that I wanted you to shut up?" He pressed his body up against hers, shoving her into a wall. "I was watching you, you know. I was imagining you without your clothes. What you'd look like naked and spread out, my cock thrusting into your tight, wet cunt."
She struggled against him, but to no avail. He was too strong.
"You're so pale." He whispered in a strange, lilting tone. "Blood would look good on you." He ground his hardness into her thigh and reveled in the tears streaming down her cheeks. "Have you ever been fucked up against a wall? No? I have. I've been fucked every which way from Sunday. You get used to it. And, I'm so hungry. I'm so fucking hungry and you look just like her. Just like a girl I used to know." He kept one hand pressed over her mouth, bruising her lips and almost suffocating her. With the other, he ripped the front of her dress down and thrust his hand between her legs. "I'm going to rape you now." He said almost conversationally. "It's probably going to hurt, but blood would look so good on you. So good, " He unfastened his fly and his cock leapt free of it's confines. He stared into Stacey's panic stricken eyes and smiled. "I'm going to make you bleed." With that said, he forced her legs apart and rammed himself inside of her. She screamed behind his hand, but the sound died before it could even leave the room.
Half an hour later, Stan Danton found his wife's ravaged and half eaten body in their backroom. She was alone. Authorities were contacted and immediately arrived on the scene. As he had not gotten a good look at the young man who had last entered his shop, Stan could not give the police any good leads to follow. It wouldn't have done much good anyway as the thing that used to be Blaise Zabini was far, far away from the crime scene.
Stan Danton was understandably a sobbing mess and could not be comforted. Nevertheless, one of the more insensitive cops couldn't help pointing out something that he'd noticed.
"Sir? I know this is not a good time, but I just had to ask. Exactly what kind of floral shop were you and your wife running?"
It was only then that Stan realized that every single fresh flower had withered up and died.
TBC, , , , ..please review!
A/N: I know. I know. Pretty dark stuff on the Blaise angle. What can I say? Blaise has some pretty twisted urges. Yes, no Draco/Harry in this section, but I had to develop some of the other storylines. Don't hate me. And I realize this chapter is getting extremely long, but it can't be helped. There's just so much stuff to put in and I keep getting more and more ideas to add. Like I said, I pretty much have to story mapped out, but little muses and plot bunnies are trying to lead me astray. Let me know how I'm doing. I mean, is anyone even still reading this shit? For those that are, thank you for dealing with my insanity.
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