Innocent Eyes

Innocent Eyes

Chapter 5

Loves Bitch.

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PLEASE TRY TO READ THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX AS YOU GO ALONG WITH THIS STORY AS I'D LIKE TO START ADDING STUFF FROM FIFTH YEAR IN - IT WILL CONNECT MY STORY BETTER. AND READ THE END OF THIS FIC. THANK YOU EVERYONE!

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Blaise and Draco looked at each other uncomfortably before Draco cleared his throat.

"Nothing father, Blaise was just mucking around," he lied calmly. Lucius gave him a withering look.

"I don't think she was. Blaise, head on up to the East Wing. Draco, come with me." And with that, he whirled around and stalked off. Blaise turned to her childhood friend, her face uncharacteristically bewildered.

"I'm so sorry Drac-"

"Zabini," he said, giving her a wane smile. She heaved a sigh of relief. She knew through experience that that tone and look indicated that he was not mad at her. He had a lot of reason to be.

"I'll see you ... soon I guess," she said, looking at him warily before following the butler who had her bags.

Draco headed up to his fathers quarters of the manor and knocked on the door firmly.

"Enter." Draco opened the door and walked in.

"I won't beat around the bush Draco. I know that you've been having ... relations with Miss Mahon ..." he trailed off and Draco knew he was done for even though Lucius was facing the other way. Suddenly Lucius stood up and turned around, a huge smile on his face.

"I'm very impressed with your initiative Draco, and so is our Lord. Befriending the Slayer, making her fall in love with you - how can she not join our side?" he stated lazily.

"I-I- yes, I thought so," Draco said, confused, but spontaneously deciding to go along with it just to see where this was going.

"Yes, a good idea indeed. I'm proud to call you my son," the older Malfoy said, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. Those words ... Draco had wanted to hear those words his whole life. His whole life had been spent only trying to make himself worthy of the family name and worthy of his father. Now that he had heard those words ... they only left a bitter taste in his mouth. Draco cleared his throat again. He found that it often got him out of tight situations.

"I'd best be getting back to Blaise ..." he said, looking questioningly at his father. Lucius nodded thoughtfully.

"You and Miss Zabini ... you have a good ... friendship?" he asked. Draco didn't like the sound of this.

"I suppose ... yes," he replied warily.

"As you know, ever since the downfall of Parkinson Industries ... your mother and I have been looking for a suitable partner for you ... we think that Blaise might just be the one," he said, looking at Draco expectantly. Draco did his best not to look horrified. It wasn't that Blaise wasn't beautiful, she was, she was stunning in fact. But she just wasn't the woman he saw himself spending the rest of his life with ... not in marriage anyway. She would always remain at his side, his best friend.

"I ... uh ... can I have some time to think about it?" he asked, trying to make his voice not squeak. Lucius nodded.

"Yes, yes, of course, I know you must have all the girls chasing after you at Hogwarts, hard to pick just one isn't it?" Lucius said, giving Draco a knowing look. Draco didn't know what horrified him most; the fact that Lucius wanted him to marry Blaise or the fact that Lucius was trying to ... to have a 'father-son' moment here. He shivered inwardly.

"Yes, that's it," he said, looking towards the door.

"All right, off you go. Remember to greet the Zabini's appropriately," Lucius said, his voice taking on a stern tone. Draco nodded and closed the door behind him on his way out. Hurrying through the vast expanse of space that made up Malfoy Manor, he made it to the East Wing in record time. Just as he was about to walk through the doors that led to the entertaining area, the doors burst open and a whirlwind of red shot through them, slamming the door behind and dropping to the ground, a shocked look in her face.

Blaise looked up at him, her long auburn hair curling tendrils around her face and cascading around her shoulders. Draco knew then that she had been told of the impending marriage.

"Malfoy, you're a hot bloke, but I'd eat dung before I ever married you! Not if my life depended on it!"

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Later that evening Draco and Blaise made their way to the formal dining room after the Malfoy's butler had informed them that supper would be served shortly. When they walked in, their parents gave each other meaningful looks ... the two young Slytherin's suddenly felt queasy. Draco pulled Blaise's chair out for her and made sure she had been seated properly before sitting down himself. Lucius had always prided himself on being impeccably mannered in all occasions.

The conversation between the adults was lively and consistent, but Blaise had been silent ever since she'd said those last words to Draco earlier on in the afternoon. He was curious to find out what was troubling her - Blaise didn't often get troubled, she was a very in control sort of person and it made Draco feel uneasy when she wasn't as sharp as she usually was. It unnerved him. She looked up at him briefly when dessert appeared before them and he gave her a questioning look. She shook her head. He would get it out of her after dinner.

When supper had finally ended, Draco excused himself and Blaise and they retreated to Draco's quarters. Malfoy Manor was so large that each member of the family had their own quarters, even though Lucius and Narcissa shared a bedroom. He opened the door leading to his lounge room and waited for her to walk through first. When they'd finally sat down, he looked at her with a withering stare that resembled his father's to the core.

"Blai-"

"I slept with Harry Potter." The words were out before Draco had even had a chance to say her name. He fell back in shock. What? Draco had to struggle to take some big deep breaths. This was possibly the most shocking thing that had ever been laid upon him.

"You ... you what?" he croaked. Blaise looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to overflow her face. Draco was even more shocked; he'd never seen Blaise cry before. She shook her head.

"Please don't make me repeat it Draco," she whispered. Draco looked at her, trying to discern what the real issue was here.

"Do you ... do you have feelings for him?" he asked hesitantly. It felt extremely strange to be discussing the boy he'd been fighting with since the first day of school. She gave him an angry look.

"Sorry-"

"Of course I have bloody feelings for him! What do you take me for? Some kind of harlot ... some kind of scarlet woman?" she hissed. He jumped back.

"Sorry Blaise ... I just ... I just had no idea about any of this," he said helplessly. She sniffled.

"I know ... it's not your fault," she muttered.

"When?" he asked.

"A couple of weeks ago ... we had a fight afterwards and we haven't spoken since," she told him, looking at him sorrowfully. He frowned - who did this guy think he was? Did he think he could ever do better than Blaise?

"What was the fight about?" he asked tentatively. He'd never really been the comforting type; this was a new experience for him. Except for the other day with ... Kathryn.

"He ... he ...told me he loved me ... that he always had, and I yelled at him and said he shouldn't lie and say things he didn't mean because he'd only end up hurting people ... I wouldn't let him speak ... I just ... I don't know what I've done, how could I have been so stupid?" she whispered, more to herself then to Draco. Draco in turn placed a comforting hand on Blaise's shoulder.

"Blaise, you're not stupid, you're a regular, normal person. As if a million people haven't done exactly the same ... Blaise, if this guy doesn't still want you, even after all that's happened ... he's a fool ... actually, we already knew that but-"

"Hah, shut up," she said, smiling weakly and punching him lightly on the arm. He grinned at her, but then his expression turned serious.

"Blaise, I don't ever want to see you hurt. You're like a sister to me, the sister I never got to have ... if he hurts you ..." he trailed off, a menacing look in his eyes. She smiled again.

"Figures you'd cheer me up by making threats. That's how Blaise is, violent, bitchy Blaise," she joked.

"And that's why we all love you!" he said happily. She rolled her eyes.

"Now that I've gotten my problems out of the way, it's your turn to spill. What the hell is going on between you and Kathryn?" she asked incredulously. Draco sighed and leaned back in his chair again.

"I honestly don't know Blaise, I don't know," he muttered.

"But you like her don't you?" she asked. He grinned.

"Hell yeah ... but ... it's complicated," he said. Blaise knew about everything. She knew Draco was a daylight walker and that Kathryn was the Slayer, she just didn't want to bring it up until it was brought up.

"I get it. Maybe we would be a good match after all, we're doomed never to have good relationships," she said, grinning at him. Draco raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded.

"Right. You wish!"

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For the third night that week, Kathryn and Draco shared the same dream. This one was more vivid and pronounced then previous ones; the bond that they felt was stronger too. The only difference about this vision was that ... it was unfinished.

His eyes followed her through the crowd; the coldest blue, icy and hard, tinged with a feral golden glow. He growled softy, hungrily. Not just the craving for her blood, but the craving for her beauty, her spirit, her soul. He watched on as she moved her lithe body to the pounding beat of the music ... somehow, she made it sexy, sensual. Her hips swayed like a leather-covered pendulum and in them, he was hypnotized.

A fire spread through his cold body, warming him to the core. It was something he hadn't felt in a long, long time. His plan was to get her outside so that he could observe her fighting skills. He made sure his voice was loud and clear when he stated that there was some kind of strange fight going on outside involving a weird looking creature and a girl. When he turned back to her ... she was gone.

She had disappeared.

Spike, William the Bloody, a direct descendant from the Brethren of Aurelius, often grouped in name with Darla, sire to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe and Drusilla, the murderously insane seer turned vampire. He could feel something burning inside of him; it disorientated him, made him feel out of control. It was a feeling he did not like, not want.

He walked outside the club around the back and lit up a cigarette. Inhaling deeply into his undead lungs, his senses drew him to the clear sounds of a fight ... as well as the sweet scent of human blood from the side of the Bronze. Making sure to stay in the shadows, he crept around to the scene of the crime and watched, transfixed as she gracefully yet lethally eliminated her two big opponents. First glance told him she wasn't like any other Slayer he'd ever come across. Not just because of the exceptional standard of her martial art skill, but a feeling that he got that told him she wasn't just fighting with her body ... she was fighting with her heart. She had a unique aura; something he'd never felt in others.

And she was so beautiful.

He noted that she'd brought her friends along for the ride. They were standing behind her, stakes in hands, but unmistakable fear lay blatantly on their faces. One girl, one boy. The redhead girl was a special one too, Spike could feel it. But the boy ... he would have to do some checking on him, surely the Slayer wouldn't bring mere mortals into a supernatural fight? It was unethical. He was slammed back into reality when she staked the final vampire and turned to talk to her friends. He stubbed his cigarette into the ground and started clapping, slowly bringing himself into the light. The Slayer whirled around, looking at him in shock.

Buffy braced herself for the person coming out of the shadows. All through her battle, she had sensed a dark presence; it reached into her, grabbed her, drew feelings and emotions that were new to her, and she could feel the power that this being emanated. She inwardly gasped as the figure emerged.

He was dressed from head to toe in black. From his combat boots, to his fitted jeans, to his tight t-shirt and long leather duster. The outfit contrasted sharply with his pale, marble-like skin. Bleached blonde hair was illuminated under the shining light of the moon, and when her gaze reached his face, she felt her knees go week. His jaw was strong and set, and above his exquisitely shaped, defined cheekbones sparkled the most brilliant blue eyes she had ever seen. Buffy was astounded.

Spike saw her for the first time in completeness. She was a unique combination of strength, beauty and heart. It left him speechless. After a few tense moments she spoke.

"Who are you?" the anger was evident in her voice.

Spike tried to collect himself. He had prepared for this! ... but he hadn't prepared for her. He gazed into her eyes and something strong passed between the two of them before she had to look away. He allowed a dark grin to spread across his face, and his eyes to glow that special gold.

"You'll find out on Saturday," he said, his voice deep and husky. The girl narrowed her eyes in scrutiny.

"What happens on Saturday?" she asked. His grin turned even wider.

"I kill you."

Kathryn tossed and turned in her sleep as the vision changed to a more recent one.

Buffy walked in from the living room, looking at him standing at the doorway. He pressed his hands against the air that shielded him from entry and gave her a wane smile. Vampires could not cross the threshold of a home unless they'd been invited in.

"Uh, if you just want to pass me a few of those things, we'll be on our-"

"Come in Spike." The look on her face was the kindest he'd ever seen it. It showed warmth and trust - something he wasn't sure he deserved. Pressing his hand against the air that only seconds ago had held him back, he hesitantly walked in. His eyes were on the floor and they flickered around as he took in this new feeling.

"Hmm," he murmured, overwhelmed. Buff's expression turned grim and she slipped back into Slayer mode. She told him to get the weapons from the chest and then headed upstairs. She was only halfway up them when he spoke.

"I know you'll never love me ..." she turned around. He was still standing in the exact same position, looking up at her ... acceptance and resignation on his face. She looked into his eyes, something she'd not allowed herself to do for a long time.

"I know that I'm a monster ... but you treat me like a man, and that's ..." he trailed off. Buffy could feel tears coming to her eyes as she felt the intensity of the moment. She nodded and they shared a brief look of understanding before she went upstairs to get what she needed.

Draco frowned in his sleep. That vision ... when he'd been Spike, he'd felt such a strong emotion ... it was different from the other visions he had experienced, Spike was different. Somehow, though he was soulless, he had managed to maintain some of the soul that had kept him as a human ... it was astounding. He fitted restlessly as a third vision overtook him, it was more then he had ever experienced before and it was wearing him out.

Kathryn had tears in her eyes as she watched Buffy tell her sister her final words ... told her one last time how much she loved her. She couldn't believe what she was going to do - this was truly heroic. The tower was trembling and the huge demon dimension opening sparkled and cracked with every second.

"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it ... so live ... for me." She looked at her sister one last time. Buffy turned towards the opening, an image of a man flashing through her mind. His desperate face was screaming at her not to do it, but she had no choice. The first Slayer had told her ... 'Death' was her gift. The tears were streaming down Kathryn's face as she felt Buffy run towards the end of the towers plank and jump.

The aftermath of the horrifying events that had taken place were almost worse then it in itself. The early morning sun was creeping up but it was not quite there yet. He still had at least twenty minutes before it would burn him.

Spike looked at the devastation around him. Everything was broken. His eyes were still glazed with the huge fall he had taken ... when his eyes cleared he turned around. For the first time in his life, Spike felt true, raw fear. Why was Buffy lying like that? Why wasn't she moving ... gods ... no. He'd seen enough dead bodies in his years to know that ... all he could think of at that moment was that his life had just ended. He'd been ripped apart from the one woman that he loved more then anything in the world. The sun was steadily creeping up and he could feel its rays start to burn him, but he didn't care. She was gone. Buffy was dead.

Even as she slept, Kathryn could feel the hot tears stinging her. Out of all her visions, this death had been the hardest, the most painful, both inside and out. She'd literally felt it as the white-hot pain of powerful magic blasted through her body, sucking the life of her. Unable to ponder on this any longer, a fourth and final vision was upon on.

The house was empty but as they sat there together on her living room couch, it felt as if there were a million people in the room. He'd just told her he was leaving, that it would be better for all of them - the first evil had a plan for him, and he was unable to restrain himself once it had possessed his body.

Buffy looked at him. She really looked at him. No matter what way she thought about it ... Spike had been there from the beginning. Even if he had been evil to start with ... they had seen so much together, a lot more then she'd ever seen with Angel ... could she really let him go? Just like that? She didn't know how life would turn out to be like if she did.

"No," she said firmly. He looked slightly startled at her response. He looked back at her intense stare.

"Why?" he asked quietly. She sighed, looking at her intertwined hands as she contemplated how she could convey it to him best. She could feel tears stinging in her eyes as she looked back up into his warm blue orbs.

"Because I'm not ready for you not to be here."

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The night had been a tough one for Harry. It had been weeks since ... since, well, it had been weeks and he'd finally gotten up the courage to go to the Slytherin dormitories only to find out that Blaise had gone away for the weekend ... with Draco Malfoy nonetheless. He wasn't too happy about that but there wasn't really a lot he could do.

When he got back to his own dormitory, Ron was there playing a game of wizard's chess with Seamus Finnegan, beating him mercilessly. The tall redhead looked up as his best friend entered the common room.

"Hey mate, what's up, I'm just about to squash Seamus in this game, fancy one after?" he asked, ignoring Seamus' indignant snort. Harry smiled but shook his head.

"That's okay, I'm heading upstairs to write um, Sirius a letter," he lied. Ron nodded and Harry heard the sounds of 'ah! Checkmate!' as he made his way up to their room. He pulled a box of parchment and spare quills from beneath his bed and sat down, thinking of what to write.

"Should I even be doing this?" he asked no one in particular. Harry lay down on his stomach, his head in his hands. This was one of the only times he was able to think, by himself. Between his Quidditch Captainship, head of the Dueling Club and keeping Ron and Hermione from the common little tiffs (lovers quarrels he named them quietly!) it was basically go-go-go as far as his life was concerned. He was just relieved he hadn't been given Prefect Duty again this year. Over the last three years the Gryffindor male prefectship had been alternated between Ron and Harry - they both laughed about it now although at times of both appointments, things had become a little tense. Harry had only gotten it once, and that was last year, sixth year. Hermione had been prefect both years and was now finally head girl, but Harry could still remember the day that Ron had become the Gryffindor fifth year prefect ... fifth year ... although it was already seventh year, the events that had conspired in fifth year had never ever left Harry's mind for a moment. He sighed. How many more people would he loose before he finally lost it? If there was one thing for sure, it was that Harry didn't want to waste anymore time dilly-dallying about. And that's why he pulled his parchment and quills out from underneath his bed and began to write.

To Blaise,

No, that sounded too formal.

Dearest Blaise,

Hmm ... too 'oh my dearest darling', it was something he could imagine his mum writing if she were alive.

Dear Blaise,

It still sounded like he was trying to put a collar and leash on her. Finally he just settled for a good old: Blaise, and started to write.

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When Kathryn woke up the next morning she felt the usual dizzy feeling she felt after sleeping through her visions, but with, was added a sense of longing. She glanced at her bedside table and picked up the framed photo of her dad she always kept with her.

Joe Mahon had been young when he'd married Kathryn's mum, in the late teens and they'd had Kathryn and Damon soon after. He had been a pretty young man when he'd ... well; he had been a great Quidditch player. After the funeral, Kathryn had got too many comforting calls then she could count. All of her dads work buddies and school-day friends. Her mums group and everyone at school that were friends with both herself and Damon ... it had been excruciating. When James had suggested a move to England it had seemed like the best opportunity but Kathryn still missed Australia. There was nothing quite like the warm sun on your back when you lay down on that golden-white sand. All her friends back home ... they'd sent her letters, many many letters, but she'd never replied. It was too hard to look back at what she'd left.

Sighing, she got up and walked over to the window. She could see the wind howling against the tall pine trees of the forest and knew it would be freezing to go out there now. Slipping on some clothes and a robe she made her way to the library. It was about 10am and James was there, surrounded by a huge mound of open books as per usual. Kathryn nearly smiled at the predictability but stopped herself as she remembered that she was mad at him. She hid herself in a corner and just watched him for a moment. He seemed to be looking at something very hard ... a piece of paper in his hand from what she could tell ... after a moment of determination, he stood up and walked around to the back, secret room of the library that held a small lounge room equipped with couches and a fireplace. Kathryn stood by the slightly left ajar door and watched as he walked upto the fireplace and lit it using his wand.

Wait a minute ... using his wand? James was a muggle ... wasn't he? What in heaven's name was going on here? She watched on in nearly salivating curiosity as he threw something into the fire and then recited the words off the piece of paper. After a few moments, a head appeared amongst the flames.

Wait a minute ... THERE WAS A HEAD IN THE FLAMES! Kathryn was shocked, why wasn't the man's face getting burnt? She'd never used floo powder before in Australia, but it was definitely there, regardless of whether she knew about it or not. She clutched the railing of the door and kept watching.

The man's face was round and he was slightly balding. Even from across the room Kathryn could smell the dry stench of ale and cigars coming from him. She heard James clear his throat and rolled her eyes, he never stopped.

"Ah ... is that the uh ... the uh, Black Estate, Grimmauld Place?" he stuttered nervously. The man seemed to look at James more closely and when he did, his eyes grew wide and he did a double take.

"It is ... I'm Mundungus Fletcher, one of the residents. Can I help you?" the cheeriness in his mood seemed to have moved over for confusion and incredulousness. James nodded.

"Yes, I believe you can. I'm looking for my brother, I found out through some contacts that he was in residence with you," he told him. Mundungus cocked his head in curiosity.

"And who might your brother be?" he asked skeptically.

"Remus ... Remus Lupin."