A Sorta Fairytale

Chapter 2: The Space Between

Blaise Speaks

I stood next to my mother in Diagon Alley. It was the beginning of my sixth year. I'd had no peace that summer. Mum and dad were both in and out of the house "running errands", or for lack of a better term, doing the Dark Lord's bidding. I kept my mouth shut about it. I didn't want to begin the arguments that usually ended with me getting smacked upside the head and called an ingrate. I didn't want to make the atmosphere worse for I knew my OWLs were to arrive at any moment.

When they did, I was standing in the kitchen making breakfast for my little sister, Jalona, who is four. I was flipping the pancake clumsily over, as the owl flew in with the large envelope for me. It swirled around me and dropped it on the cooker. It nearly caught fire, but I saved it in time. I took the pan with Jalita's pancake and served her before opening the envelope. I read over it quickly searching for my marks. I didn't fear them being too horrid, but to my mother, nothing pleased her. It had to be a perfect score or else.

"No son of mine will be less then stellar," she drilled into my head over and over again, until striving for perfect marks came to me like breathing.

I sighed in disappointment as I saw my score. I had gotten three problems wrong. Brilliant! She was going to have a field day with this. I would make sure she was in a good mood before she saw this. My father would just react only after she did. If she was upset with my marks, which was often, he was too. I never really knew if my father had an opinion. The fact that I was ranked second in my year and fifth in the entire school didn't appease them. Mostly because of a bushy headed Muggle, oh I'm sorry, mudblood, named Hermione Granger. She was my archrival, even though she didn't know it. It wasn't my choosing but my mother's. She always had to know who was above me and inform me how I should crush them

"It's Hermione Granger again," I would sigh.

"How is it possible for a girl of dirty putrid blood only bred to be a nuisance and stupid, have better marks than you?" my mother would shriek. "You must not be applying yourself. You're slacking off too much!"

Every time Hermione was above me, which was everytime, my social life at home was cut back more and more. The summer of my third year, I didn't leave the house once. It was while in my room, at the age of thirteen, I realized something; mudbloods were just as or smarter than, wizards. For the past two year I had hated Hermione and did everything to bring her down scholastically, but I never could. It was that summer I realized; I didn't give a fuck what her marks were anymore. I wouldn't care. I wouldn't hate her because slowly I realized my hate was turning into a slight adoration. Not romantic by any means-she had wonky teeth-but, more of me being utterly impressed with her. In fact, I decided to continue my strive for good marks only to be like her. Also, to avoid more summers of living under house arrest.

I folded back the results of my OWLs into the envelope and prepared for the scolding to begin and it did. With more swats upside the head then I was used to, however. I saw my sister Jalona crying as she watched them yell at me. She didn't realize how their words had no effect on me. I didn't feel any prick from their insults. I didn't feel anything, only the pain from Jalona's eyes. I let her sleep in my bed that night, even though she is a well-known kicker.

I woke up the next morning. Jalona was already playing with my statuettes of Quidditch players, making them tango across my bed. I changed my clothes in the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and began my routine. My school routine. At home, I let my hair curl whichever way it wanted. I wore baggie comfortable jeans and old t-shirts and glasses. But, today we were going to Diagon Alley and I would see some of my classmates. I had to look the part. I brushed out my curls into perfect waves. I washed my tanned face. The summer always made me look darker than I would like. To me I looked like I hadn't bathed in two months. I cursed my mother's Puerto Rican side for giving me this skin. I made sure I had no sort of blemishes or anything on my face. I actually had to shave my chin hair. It was really starting to be noticeable. Maybe in a year I would grow out a goatee. I would have to meditate on that later.

I came out of the bathroom, face smooth and hair gleaming. Girls always begged me to tell them what I did with my hair. I didn't want to say what I always wanted to tell them; "I don't put shit in it like you do!" Instead I would say, "It's just naturally like that." I went into my bureau and pulled out two vials of clear liquid and poured one vile into each of my brown eyes. I blinked a few times and my vision cleared. I wouldn't be wearing my spectacles today, and I call them that in the most loving sense.

Jalona looked up at me with her curly head. She had more of father's Italian side with tight ringlets in her hair, unruly and knotted. Nothing like mine. She giggled and made O's around her eyes with her hands, like glasses. She always thought I looked funny without them on. I took one last look at myself. I had on this tight blue t-shirt with a v-neck. I didn't buy it. Pansy gave it to me for my birthday. It was rather snug, but the girls had this thing about buying me skintight shirts. So, I appeased them. My new slightly form-fitting jeans were loose enough that I knew if ever I wanted children, which as of now was never, that I would still have my equipment alive to do so.

I took my cape and clasped it around my neck. I ran over to Jalona, hoisted her upside down, and took her to her room giggling, to dress her. I had fed my sister, who was dressed in a very frilly and far too expensive dress of satin, my mother insisted she wear. It must have taken all of my father's paycheck to pay for the sleeve of it. It's amusing for they never buy her anything new, except for when we go out in public, which is rare. I made sure she was ready, then we left to Diagon Alley, the whole bloody Zabini family.

So, there I stood next to her, my mother. A beauty of a bitch. I had her hair, her eyes, her skin, and her smirk. We went through the list, picking out my books for that year.

"Why are you taking Muggle Studies?" my mother gasped scandalized, looking at my schedule.

I had kept it hidden so well till today. I cursed myself for that minor slip up.

"It's required," I lied.

"What is this school coming to?" she sighed to my father who was holding my sister's hand.

In public we were a perfect happy "pureblood" family. We never complained that we were lower-middle class because we were "pureblood". I was the scholar son, Jalona, the quiet obedient daughter, my mother, thrifty and wise, my father, devoted and attentive. At home, who takes care of the house? Me! My father barely talks to either of his children and my mother isn't thrifty but down right stingy! And who takes care of Jalona? Me, again! The one thing I hated going to Hogwarts for, was leaving her to them. Good thing they would ditch her at my abuelos house most of the year. At least my grandparents, though, yes dabblers of the dark arts, loved my sister. At least they acknowledged her presence.

I found all of my books.

"I can't believe how much books are theses days," my mother huffed as we approached the till. "Bloody Muggle Studies books are ridiculously priced."

Of course they are mum. Of course they are.

"Mum?" I asked feeling my tension rising from her comments. "Can I take Jalita to get some sweeties?"

Jalona's face lit up.

"No, certainly not," she huffed and I waited for what she always said. "We don't have money for such bobbles."

I nodded and reached into my pocket pulling out a few galleons I had saved.

"It's alright mum," I muttered. "I'll pay for it."

My mother observed my hand cupping four galleons and sighed, "Fine."

I took my sister's hand and hurried off as she yelled after us, "Don't be too long! I have some errands to do!"

We were finally gone from her sight. I walked on towards a sweetshop. We entered in and Jalona jumped up and down pointing to every colorful morsel she wished to eat. I looked around wishing to find something I could afford for her, that wasn't so tiny that she would finish it in a moment. I turned around to look down the other row of sweets and standing at the end was Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. Jalona stopped walking, not liking strangers, and scurried behind my legs. I pretended not to notice them. I knew they would not associate with me. I was an evil pureblood. One of those Slytherins who wanted them dead. They knew me so well. I grabbed a bag of mint humbugs and handed them to my sister who smiled widely. She loves mint.

The Gryffindor three, came walking towards my sister and me. Ron made it his duty to show he was trying not to brush against me in any way. Harry walked on normally and Hermione glanced over, then smiled at my sister. Jalona reacted like she always did and buried her face in my thigh causing Hermione's smile to fall. I picked up Jalona easily to cheer her up and put her up on my shoulders. Her tiny fist still grabbing onto the humbugs. We walked over to the till, waited silently behind the Gryffindors, and then when they left, paid for our sweets. I walked off with my sister to kill some more time. So, we'll make mum wait, oh well.

* * *

Hermione Speaks

"Hermione!" Ron called to me. I guess I had been walking too quickly out of the sweetshop.

He caught up to me and took my hand. Harry came running up panting. Honestly, I don't walk that fast!

"You're legs are too long," muttered Ron.

"My legs!" I gasped. "Don't even get me started on yours!"

Harry smirked at us and walked a little ahead. He always does that. He considers any misunderstanding between me and Ron, a lover's quarrel. Lord love him, he is still so naïve. I stuck my tongue out at Ron and he pulled me forward planting a kiss on my cheek. I pulled back. He knows how much I hate public displays of affection. I goggled at him a little annoyed and he just rolled his eyes. After half a year of being my boyfriend, you'd think he would finally catch on! But, no! Doesn't he feel everyone's eyes? All having their own little views about us. Oh, I must be bonking him of course. We have been together for half a year, after all. Twits! Ron loved to rant to Harry how I never let him do anything. I'm always amused by an image of poor Harry having to listen to Ron's problems with sexual frustration. I am just not going to be the same as all those other giggly, hormonal girls, filled with nonsense in their heads. I am not Ginny or Lavender or Parvati. I don't swoon over boys, I don't kiss on the first date, and I don't like public displays of affection! People just don't understand. It's like it's unnatural or something, for me to want to be this way. Must be something wrong with me, they assume. I know better.

I watch Ron hurry to catch up with Harry. He's still mad at me. But, probably mostly from what happened the night before. I was sitting on the lawn behind the Burrow watching the stars. The house was so stuffy. Ron came out and sat next to me. He looked over a few times at me, but said nothing.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

Ron shrugged. I hate when he does that! It always means he has something bugging him.

"What is it?" I insisted.

"Well," he sighed and looked at me. He looked a little scared. "I just wanted to say that . . ."

He looked down and dug his fingers into the grass.

"I've been thinking about it a lot," he mumbled. "I think . . .I mean . . .I love you."

I felt frozen. He wanted sex didn't he? That was the first thought that came to my mind. I shook it from my head. He knew very well, I wouldn't do that even if he did love me. He must just be confused. He only just turned 16! Poor thing, he thinks he loves me. What am I supposed to say now? I don't want to lie.

"I don't want to lie to you," I sighed. His face grew grave. "I don't think I do. I mean . . . I have never been in a relationship before. And neither have you. Maybe you are just mistaking having a girlfriend for the first time, with love."

He pursed his lips and nodded.

"Okay, don't want to make you," he muttered. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I am confused."

He went inside and didn't talk to me for the rest of the night. He can be so selfish. And, now he still is being childish. Mad because I pulled away from the kiss. I just don't understand him. Why does he get this way? I walked up to Ron and Harry as we continued through Diagon Alley. We looked through stores out of boredom. We had already bought most of our school things the day before, but Pigwidgeon had gotten into Ron's potions book and had ripped it to shreds in the center and was now sleeping in it. So, we had to come back.

Ron lit up at the sight of the broom shop and so we went in. He stroked and ogled over all the brooms he wished he could get. I smiled at him. When he acted like that, I could mistake my feelings for him with love. He was like a child, bouncing up and down.

"I think I know what to get him for Christmas," Harry whispered to me.

I smiled back then the smile fell. Malfoy was standing behind Ron chuckling.

"Wishful thinking, Weasley?" Malfoy smirked.

Harry went over to Ron's side. Here we go, another one. Bloody git always causing problems.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Ron spat facing Malfoy as Harry took his side.

"I'm sorry," Malfoy replied. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Ron moved towards him. Not another fight? Harry reached over to keep Ron at bay, when I heard a voice behind me.

"Oi! Malfoy!" called a boy.

I turned and Blaise Zabini was standing with that little girl, I assumed his sister. But knowing his sleeping habits, it could be his daughter.

"You have to see this!" Zabini chuckled motioning him over with his hand.

"You're right Weasley," Malfoy hissed. "I do have better things to do."

Ron grimaced as Malfoy walked past me without a glance and went to Zabini. I hurried over to my boyfriend in a huff.

"Why do you let him get to you?" I said with contempt

"I'm sorry," he spat sarcastically.

I glanced back at Malfoy. Zabini was showing him some sort of letter and they were both laughing over it. If hadn't been for Zabini distracting Malfoy, Ron would be in deep trouble. It's odd, but I was glad Malfoy had a friend at that moment. Zabini looked up from the letter for a moment. I stood frozen as if he heard my thoughts. Then he did something I hadn't expected, he winked at me. I looked from side to side making sure he wasn't coming on to one of his many girls. But only Harry and Ron were near by. I rolled my eyes and looked away from him. Though feeling a little flustered inside. No boy had ever winked at me. And, here the biggest heartthrob in school just winked at me. What is wrong with me? I am so stupid. Am I going to go potty because he winked at me? Oh I might faint! Oh lord. I huffed in disgust. Stupid prat. He should just be glad he saved my boyfriend from getting into a fight, or I would give him a piece of my mind.

* * *

Blaise Speaks

I folded up the love letter from Pansy. Draco was still laughing. I really shouldn't have let him read it, He would use it to embarrass Pansy to no end. But, I couldn't think of any other way to stop the fight. We couldn't just leave because Draco was blocking the door and Jalona was getting scared. I had to do something, not that Weasley didn't deserve a punch in the nose every now and then, or Draco for that matter. Weasley just asks for it, easy prey for Draco. Both pathetic though.

"Brilliant," Draco chuckled. "Let me read that part again! I want to lick you all over was it?"

"No!" I snapped glancing at my sister who was staring up at us.

"Oh, right," Draco huffed. "Best be off. I needed a good laugh. Cheers!"

Draco waved and walked off, leaving me with an empty grin on my face until he was out of sight. Prat!

"We should hurry back," I sighed to Jalona.

"No," she whimpered clutching my leg.

I stroked the top of her head and knelt to her eye line. "Mummy will get mad. You don't like mummy mad, right?"

She shook her head frightened.

"We better run," I smirked and then she realized I didn't mean to threaten her. She gave me her hand and we ran out of the store, back to our parents.