Run Away

Run Away
By ArrA.

A lone girl was left, sitting in a dimly lit booth in the corner of the room. All he could see was her long black hair shielding her face from prying eyes as she stared non-stop at the table in front of her. Maybe someone was supposed to meet her, he didn't really know. But he did know that all the time she was there she hadn't touched the drink in front of her. Warm butterbeer. He wouldn't have either but still; she ordered it and then never drank it. She must have been waiting for someone, he thought.

Most of the patrons had filed out of the room twenty minutes before and those who were left were to drunk to get up and leave themselves. He would have to drag them out into the alley behind the pub so that they could stumble home before daylight broke.

Twenty minutes later there were two people left in the bar. Him... and her. He knew he would have to approach her and tell her to leave but there was a dark aura around her that made him hesitate.

Finally, after cleaning the counter and pushing in the bar stools he decided he had hesitated enough. Slowly he approached the girl and cleared his throat.

"Miss, the bar is closing. It's time for you to leave." The girl looked up at him, her long, black hair shadowing her face but he could make out her dark brown eyes that were slanted into menacing slits. He knew who she was. Her picture had been plastered onto many a wall, including the one behind the bar. He gulped, taking a step back and the girl smiled at him. Not a nice smile. A cold and calculating smile.

In one smooth motion she was on her feet, approaching him slowly. "I remember you," she said in a cold, quiet voice. "I used to watch you prance around in your Gryffindor robes, thinking that you owned the school. You were so carefree and I wished for a second that I could be like you. Not a care in the world. But I've always known my fate, my reality. And now here I am, and here you are. You don't seem so carefree now."

He gulped, looking at her with frightened eyes, wondering if he could make a dart for the door, or if he had time to pull out his wand.

"Don't do anything," she murmured. "No sudden movements. I've been waiting for this for a long time, you know?"

He didn't know and he had no wish to. She obviously insane, messed up. Not to mention the fact she was a Deatheater, a follower of You-Know-Who, who had yet again risen.

She laughed and reached out a hesitant hand towards him, touching his cheek. "So long," she murmured and he felt sick. It wasn't that she was ugly, no far from it. She was beautiful in a dark, forbidding way, and dangerous. No matter how beautiful she was, it would always shadowed by the sense that he felt deep in his stomach.

She let herself flop back into the booth, looking up at him. Now she had a childish expression written across her face and she looked almost innocent. He felt the fear relenting in his stomach.

"You know, the Ministry lies," she said suddenly in a soft voice. "I didn't torture those children at the orphage or that old couple in Devin. I'm not a big, bad Deatheater."

"Then what are?" he asked, talking to her for the first time since he had discovered her identity.

She shrugged. "A girl who was forced to obey her family's duty and honor since she was young. Since I could walk I've been following their code. They were ambitious, and so was I. But now all I want to do is run away." She said it such a soft, lonely voice that it made him want to laugh.

"Blaise Zabini wants to run away?"

She nodded. "Yes, I want to run away. I hate being a Deatheater and I hate serving my family's honor. I don't want to end up like Narcissa Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestrange or my mother. Slaves to their husbands, slaves to the Dark Lord. Ha! As a child I didn't understand it but I understand it now. Sometimes, when I was in Hogwarts, I would watch the other girls. I would think, they may end up like my mother, but I'm stronger and smarter than that. It was a dream."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Why are you telling me this?"

She cocked her head to one side thinking, "I needed to tell someone. You were here, you were lucky man... but then again you were always the lucky man."

It was going too far. She was to strange, to crazy. "The bar is closed, you need to leave now."

She looked up surprised; she hadn't expected to be asked to leave. "Alright, I'm going," she said finally after a long pause. But you Gryffindors were supposed to care; you were supposed to be different!" She told him, got up and walked away. He didn't turn around and watch her leave, he didn't want to look at her but if he had he would have seen her wipe the tear from her eye.

* * *

Blaise sat in a dark room, looking out the near by window at the darkened city. London.

She had always liked him. She wasn't sure why. He had been so different from her, full of sunshine when she had been full of darkness. He had been Gryffindor, she Slytherin. He popular, she had stayed in the shadows. But she had always been attracted; she couldn't help it no matter how hard she tried. It always came back to him.

The night before, when she had been feeling her very worse, her mother had come into her room and told her that she would be marrying Colin Avery in less than a month, she had found him, watched him, and finally poured her heart out to him. Damn, noble Gryffindor. He wasn't so noble, she thought bitterly.

Slowly she climbed to her feet and pulled a black top over her head before grabbing a pair of faded blue jeans. After that she put on a robe that reached just above her knees, followed by her cloak. Finally when her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, she left her small, three room apartment and went down into Knockturn Alley.

Knockturn Alley was a sinister place in the daylight and by the moon it was even worse. Everyone who passed her could be a killer but of course they didn't threaten her because they knew her face, who she was and what she was to Voldemort. She walked unharrassed by the shady inhabitants of the street and soon left it behind her, wandering around Diagon Alley with her hood up, shielding her face from Aurors, bounty hunters and the unsuspecting public.

After half an hour of window shopping, she found herself in front of his bar again. Well it wasn't his bar, he just worked there, but she associated the Red Dragon with him, Oliver Wood. After being attacked by Deatheaters he had ruined his knee and had no longer been able to play quidditch. Finally, the great, Gryffindor Keeper had gotten himself at the Red Dragon and worked there ever since.

Shyly she pushed open the door, heading towards the back of the room. She looked towards the bar, where Oliver was standing and paused. He looked up and met her eyes in her dark hood before shaking himself and returned to pouring a fire whiskey for a wizard settled in front of him.

Thankfully the booth she had used the night before was empty and she quickly slide into it, keeping her head down. Reaching into her hood, she pulled the tie that held back her hair out and shielded her face. She pulled off her hood, knowing it would be suspicious and waited for him to come.

She hadn't been sure if he would come, but she waited anyways, hoping against hope that he would.

Two hours later he finally slide into the seat across from her, and grabbed her chin, starring deeply in her eyes.

"I should have called the Aurors last night," he muttered. "I would of if I knew you would come back."

She looked at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the table. "You could have told them you spotted me. Any information would have been useful to them."

"Aw, but if what you told me was really true, I would be turning in an innocent girl," he told her.

"Damn Gryffs."

"Yes," he chuckled, "Damn Gryffs. Anyone else would have turned you in."

She smiled slightly, the first real smile she had smiled in ages. "Well I guess I've taken a new liking to Gryffs then," she told him.

"Good," he nodded, "because I've been thinking about it. What you said about running away. I would come with you if you'd have me. There's really nothing to hold me here and everyone who walks in here reminds me of the past. Of Hogwarts, quidditch, ex-girlfriends."

She nodded. "Of course I'll have you. When do you get off?"

"I'm off now," he had leaned across the table, whispering huskily in her ear.

"Good," she murmured, just as his lips skimmed her own and she leaned forward into the kiss. It felt right and she was sure he knew it too. Silently she wished it would never end.

Suddenly he pulled away and was pulling her to her feet. "Let's go," he told her. She nodded in agreement and pulled her hood over her head and headed out into Diagon Alley, one step behind Oliver.

He led her down a small, narrow alley, telling her he needed to go to his flat one last time. She should have known it was a trap because before she knew it there were a score of pops and aurors were circling them, telling them to throw them their wands and lay on the ground with their hands above their heads.

Blaise was smart enough not to fight as they pulled her violently to her feet.

Oliver stood five feet away from her and Harry Potter was talking to him rapidly but he ignored her, looking miserably at Blaise. She felt a tear creep to her eye and she squeezed her eyes shut so that it wouldn't fall. She had been so stupid, so naive. Of course a Gryffindor would never care for a Slytherin. She should have guessed the truth.

The Aurors started to drag her off, and suddenly Oliver was beside her. "I'm so sorry, Blaise," he said desperately. "I didn't know what to believe. I'm so sorry!"

She ignored him, letting the Aurors pull her away and fasten chains to her wrists and ankles. She was stuffed into the back of a muggle truck and then engine started, taking her to Azkaban.