Indentured Servitude

Chapter 4. When Hell Blaises Through

Draco stiffened.

She couldn't be here already, he thought frantically. But there she was, Blaise Zabini, standing undoubtedly irked in the middle of his living room with arms crossed under her chest as she eyed Ginny with dubious disdain. Suddenly he realized the presence of Ginny's hands around him, and he pushed her away sharply. Gasping so softly it was inaudible to anyone else but her, the redhead flushed a deep shade of scarlet and retreated a few steps, refusing to look at either one of them.

"Blaise," he said, his throat drier than he would have wished, "you're early."

"Surprise," she said darkly.

"Not that I owe you any explanation, but this isn't how it looks."

"I would hope not," she sniffed, "because it bloody looks like you were holding a Weasley in your arms."

His face darkened noticeably. "Jealous?" he said in a low voice.

Blaise positioned herself centimeters away. "Of Weasley? Hardly," she snorted softly, trailing a well-manicured finger down his bare arm and flashing what she intended as a mesmerizing grin. "I would be, however, of any girl truly capable of capturing the coveted affections of yours truly."

"You of all people should know, Blaise, that jealousy is just another sign of weakness," he responded easily. His eyes, however, displayed no sign of antipathy as it did around Ginny, and she took no offense to his comment.

"You know me too well," she breathed, one side of her mouth curling up flirtatiously.

Draco stared at her for a few seconds emotionlessly, their heads unnervingly close. Blaise's eyes were half-lidded, her breathing labored from anticipation, and he nearly smiled at how transparent she was.

Ginny watched the entire interchange with a mixture of emotions somewhere between envy and disgust; envy because Blaise had an unnatural poise with men, one she would most likely never acquire, and disgust because Draco had, if indirectly, influenced her feelings in some way, and quite frankly, that was not something she wanted. Uncomfortable yet, Ginny cleared her throat.

He stepped back. "You should probably get some sleep now," he said, suddenly expressionless.

Her eyes flew open and her entire face contorted into a frown. "What?"

"You should get some sleep," Draco repeated. "The maid will show you to your room." He gestured vaguely at Ginny.

"Weasley's the maid?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"Why the surprise, Blaise? She is a Weasley, after all," Draco drawled, smirking at Ginny as he turned to leave, ignoring her glower. "She'll find a guest room for you to stay in."

"Which room, Malfoy?" Ginny spoke up.

Draco paused, glancing between the two ladies before him. "Whichever," he dismissed, disappearing into the adjacent hallway.

Ginny looked at Blaise uncertainly, not bothering to hide her dislike. A thick, uncomfortable silence air settled between them, well captioned by deathly glares that spoke for both. "This way," Ginny finally said, indicating towards the East Wing. The elder girl followed suit in stony silence, obviously not wanting to but nevertheless having no better choice.

By now, she was fairly well acquainted with the layout of Malfoy Manor, and in six and a half minutes (she'd counted), Ginny had found Blaise a guest room. Sure, when the sun rose the massive rays would awaken any sleeper, and yes, it was farthest from the bathroom, but Blaise certainly didn't know that. Ginny giggled to herself, leaving the Slytherin to admire her surroundings.

"Nitey nite," she said in a syrupy voice before shutting the door.

Blaise glared at where the Weasley had just been standing. How dare Draco, she fumed, leaving this cretin of a maid to show me to my room. Where were the Malfoy manners his parents had instilled? But then again, there were so many things she had to question about Draco at this point, so many things she wanted to call him on and yet, she hadn't the courage.

Sinking down onto her bed, Blaise groaned. What was wrong with him, anyway? She was Blaise fucking Zabini, damnit, Slytherin prefect, cold yet desired by all. Was she not beautiful enough for him? Blaise faced the polished antique mirror, admired the long legs, the shiny tousled hair, the dark entrancing eyes, and the utterly feminine curves that had seduced nearly every male at Hogwarts. No, she was definitely beautiful. They didn't come more beautiful than her. It puzzled her: her entire life, she had gotten what she wanted, especially when it came to men. Men, Blaise thought with a laugh, they were such simple creatures; so easy to manipulate it almost took all the fun out of the game.

And then there was Draco.

Blaise pursed her lips, picturing his stony gray eyes, his haughty demeanor and towering height, and she smiled to herself. He would look wonderful on her arm at the Yule ball, she decided, already salivating at the jealous glares she would get from the girls. She had decided from her first day at Hogwarts that Draco Malfoy would be hers; she'd in fact planned on starting the relationship sometime into second or third year, so by the time they reached seventh year, as they were now doing, all the school would know bloody well that Draco Malfoy belonged to Blaise Zabini. And they would all envy her, more so than they did now, because she had something nearly everyone wanted, and she was keeping that something. Or someone.

But Blaise had never considered the one glitch in her plan: that Draco wouldn't want her. It was admittedly a large setback, one that came into focus at the end of her third year, but being the determined Zabini she was, Blaise had fought for him, flirted with him, tried her best to make him succumb to her infamous charisma. It was like one giant game of quidditch-- he was the snitch and she was the principal player; sooner or later, she figured, she'd capture him.

Her goal never stopped her from frolicking with the other Slytherins, however; she was in her teens for crissakes. But even so, she never did actually enter a relationship, nor acknowledge that she was taken by someone other than Draco. She'd even tried using those other guys to entice him, purposely leaving her bedroom door open a smidgen during those wild late nights, hoping the noise would make him wish that he were the one in her bed. It had always worked with other guys.

She knew by now, though, that he wasn't like the other guys, he was aloof and distant, probably the only she'd ever met who could actually resist her charms. And resist them so well, Blaise thought wryly. Now they were nearing the end of their schooling, with but a year left, and he was still most definitely not hers. Her frustration with him was now bordering on desperation.

And so, her master plan came into play. Arranging to stay with the Malfoys had been fairly easy; the Zabinis and the Malfoys were linked together rather closely, if not by business than by social circles. Now all that remained was the actual seduction, but Blaise had all summer to enthrall him, and she was confident that by the time seventh year began, her most valuable accessory would be a devastatingly handsome blond.

Blaise smiled wickedly. It was just a matter of time.

~*~

Ginny stood outside Draco's room, breathing deeply as she prepared herself for what she presumed to be a confrontation. I can do this, she told herself with false confidence. But it was more than that; she needed to because for nearly three weeks now, she'd had no contact whatsoever with her family and friends. The letter she'd started to Harry never got beyond the two sentences, and after her brief conversation with Hermione she had never returned to the fireplace. But that's partly my own fault, she reminded. Either way, it didn't matter. It was time she deserved a break.

Pushing open the door, she stormed in, her face a mask of grim determination. "Malfoy!" she shouted. She was ready for and expecting a fight, all the mean sneers and leers she knew were coming, even the derogatory little comments he was bound to toss her way.

What she hadn't expected, however, was a half-naked Malfoy.

"Jesus, Weasley, don't you ever bloody knock?" Draco snarled in angry astonishment, scrambling to keep his towel from falling off his hips.

Ginny blinked, her mouth flapping open. She was certainly not at a loss for words because of his body - though the flaming blush on her cheeks accounted for that - it was just that of all situations she'd imagined, the last was one in which she nearly had the upper hand. Nearly.

She recovered. "Why aren't you dressed?" she demanded, though it came out much feebler than she'd have hoped for.

"It's called a shower," he responded nastily, "maybe if you tried one, people wouldn't run away from you."

"It's the middle of the day," she protested lamely.

"Yes well, some of us actually care about personal hygiene."

"Why?" she taunted as a sudden heat of courage rushed through her veins, "it's not like anyone is stupid or blind enough to actually get close to you." He narrowed those piercing eyes at her darkly, and she shuddered inwardly. Not a good way to ask the boss for a vacation, Ginny told herself, and then shuddered again because she had acknowledged him as her boss willingly, even if only in her thoughts.

"Weasley, if you haven't noticed, this is my room," Draco said calmly. "So if I were you, I'd just say whatever the hell you want to say and scurry up on out of here."

At least he was being relatively civil, Ginny thought.

"Oh, and by the way," he added knowingly, "I know you haven't seen many gorgeous guys, being in love with Potter and all, but do try not to drool. The saliva might damage my carpeting."

"Narcissistic prick," Ginny muttered.

If he heard her, he didn't respond. Instead, Draco sauntered over to his bureau and fiddled for a clean shirt, slipping it over his head. "Well?" he prompted when he'd spun back around, still not completely clothed but at least covered up now.

"Well what."

"Well, what did you want?"

"A break," Ginny said firmly, finally remembering the purpose of this oh-so-pleasant encounter. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for her to finish. "I've had to deal with your little friend for more than a week now," she continued, her voice wavering with rage, "and let me tell you, Malfoy, it's been hell. I have people to see and errands to do, and I want you to let me go home for a few days." She ended her brief speech rather abruptly, proud that she had spoken concisely.

He paused, thinking over her words. "No," he said simply.

"No?"

"No." He shook his head.

"But," Ginny sputtered, "all the other maids are on leave, except Adrienne, and me, and one or two more."

"All the more reason why you should be here," Draco smirked, and Ginny knew she was cornered. "Now, as much as I know you want to see me change my bottom half," he said, indicating his towel, "I'd be much more comfortable if you were out of the room."

For the second time in the past few minutes, Ginny was speechless. This time, though, it was with fury. But before she could say anything, before she could even comprehend what was happening, Draco had shoved her out into the hallway. "Malfoy!" she protested angrily. He responded with a loud slam that nearly propelled her to jump back.

She glared at his door.

~*~

Afternoons at the Malfoy Manor were usually hectic; it was a preparation for evening and, of course, supper. Ginny was no longer in a foul mood from her horrible encounter that morning in Draco's room - she had received an owl from a school friend, and it had cheered her up quite a bit. She nearly skipped to the kitchen, knowing that nobody back home had forgotten her quite yet while she was stuck waiting on atrocious Malfoy.

"You can't do that!" A voice from the kitchen rose, one that Ginny recognized as Adrienne's. She stopped immediately, pressing her ear to the door, and listened intently.

"I can, and I will," replied another one. Blaise, Ginny thought instantly.

"But--"

"Listen, you little brat, I need to get rid of her, of all of them. I obviously can't make them leave, so they'll just have to disappear," Blaise said maliciously.

"I won't let you do that."

"Oh yes? You just watch. You dare tell anyone, and I mean anyone, Muggles included, and I'll have your job, your family, your boy, not that I expect you to have a boy, and your life. Don't underestimate me. You are to keep silent, understand?"

This was going to far, Ginny thought, swinging open the door and stepping in. Blaise and Adrienne looked up at her in surprise, and it was only when Blaise loosened her grip on the other's arm that Ginny noticed the white marks her fingers had caused. "What's going on?" Ginny demanded.

"Nothing," Blaise said sweetly. Turning to Adrienne, she added, "Do we have an understanding?"

Adrienne nodded vigorously.

"Good," Blaise snarled, shoving past Ginny and out the kitchen.

Ginny stared at Adrienne carefully. "What's going on?" she repeated.

"It's nothing," Adrienne's voice wavered.

"I heard the conversation," Ginny said quietly. "What can't you tell? What is she doing?"

Adrienne stared back at Ginny, lower lip trembling. "I can't say," she whispered.

Ginny pressed a hand gently on her forearm, smiling encouragingly. "Don't worry," she soothed with a wry smile, "whatever Blaise has up her sleeve, it can't possibly be that bad. She's witchy, but she's not He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named."

"You don't understand," Adrienne cried, running for the door and leaving the redhead standing quite alone and very perplexed.

"Something had definitely gone afoul," Ginny murmured.

She was right.

~ End of Chapter 4