To Love A Death Eater

To Love a Death Eater

"Congratulations, it's a boy!" Joyce proclaimed, holding up the squalling infant for the new parents to admire.

She cast a few quick spells to clean the baby and check for any health problems. Finding none, she summoned a soft blanket, and wrapped him up tight.

This had been her fifteenth delivery, and at twenty-two years of age, that was quite an accomplishment.

After making sure that her patients were comfortable, she handed them over to the night nurse, and headed out the door. It had been a long and grueling day, and she just wanted to get home to her cat and a nice hot bubble bath.

Joyce nodded to a few nurses and healers on her way to the women's locker room in the back of St. Mungo's. Once inside, she peeled off her gloves and outer robe, and then vigorously scrubbed her hands under the faucet.

As she dried her hands, she studied her reflection in the mirror.

Her long brown hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. Her small but bright blue eyes looked weary, and her pale, freckled complexion was shiny with oil. She was just shy of five feet and quite plump. All in all, she looked like a thirty-year-old mother of three, not a twenty-two-year-old intern. This was probably why her patients trusted her so much, and why she hadn't had a date in years.

She sighed heavily, grabbing her bag, and apparated home.

Well, it was actually her great-grandfather's home, but it was where she'd been living since her parents had died last year.

An hour later found her soaking in her huge marble bathtub. Merlin, her orange tabby cat, batted at the raspberry scented bubbles while she became engrossed in a muggle romance novel: her weakness. She lifted her wineglass to her lips to take a sip and ended up dropping it into the tub as the bathroom door flew open.

"Grandpa Abe, really! Can't you knock?" she cried, sinking low in the bubbles to hide herself from view.

"Sorry," he said, not sounding a bit sorry at all.

"We have some things to discuss," he began, looking quite nervous.

"Grandpa? Can this wait five minutes?"

"Well, I really don't..."

"Grandpa Abe! I refuse to discuss anything with you while I'm in the bathtub! Please remove yourself from my room, and I'll meet you in your study in five minutes."

He opened his mouth to argue, but cowered at the scowl on his great-granddaughter's face.

"All right then, be quick about it," he mumbled and walked out the door.

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Exactly five minutes later, Joyce entered her great-grandfather's study. He was sitting at his desk, staring into space.

"Grandpa?"

He roused from whatever daydream he'd been having, and sent her a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry I didn't knock."

Joyce shook her head as she felt the anger toward him recede a little. It wasn't his fault that he was a bit absent-minded.

"It's all right Grandpa Abe. Now, please tell me what you want to discuss," she requested, sinking into one of the leather chairs on the opposite side of his desk.

He lifted his wand and summoned a glass of brandy.

"You're going to need it," he said, pushing it toward her.

She simply nodded, hoping he'd get on with it.

"I've found you a husband."

She spit a mouthful of brandy onto his desk.

Joyce saw a faint blur rush past her eyes, and then the mess vanished. House elf.

She took a deep breath, determined to keep her temper.

"I wasn't aware that you were looking for a husband for me, Grandfather," she said smoothly.

He was looking at her warily, as if waiting for her to hit him.

"Well, you're not getting any younger..."

Joyce was unable to stop herself from glaring at him, and he flinched.

"I want the truth, Grandpa. All of it, now," she demanded.

He sighed.

"You're not going to like the truth."

"Well, I'm not liking your lies either."

"Fine. I was gambling with Dunn."

"Tell me you didn't lose the house!"

"Are you mad? I'd never wager the house. I was born here, and I'll die here."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Then what did you wager?"

His eyes dropped to his clasped hands in his lap, and he mumbled something.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

"You."

"What?"

She could feel the dread building in the pit of her stomach.

"I had a very good hand, but I was out of money."

"So you offered him me to let you stay in the game?" she asked incredulously.

"Actually, it was his idea."

She took a few minutes to digest this little tidbit.

"So, he wants me to what? Be his slave?"

"No, he wants to marry you."

She snorted.

"Why on Earth would anyone want to marry me?"

"I'd be lying if I said you were a looker, 'cause you're not. But you're not ugly either. Besides, Dunn wants a pureblood heir. There aren't many pureblood women left that aren't related to him."

She summoned the bottle of brandy and poured herself another glass.

"I've known Nicholas Dunnington almost all of my life. He's a reasonable man, I'll just have to go and speak with him tomorrow. Make him see reason."

"I'm afraid that not even you'll be able to change his mind."

"We'll just see about that."

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Joyce giggled as she crawled into bed that night. For the first time in her life, she felt like the heroine in one of her romance novels. Her virtue being gambled away by her guardian.

If this had been a romance novel, her new fiancé would be handsome and kind, but misunderstood.

She sighed as the reality of her situation came crashing down around her. Her grandpa had signed a legal contract, and unless Mr. Dunnington agreed, it would be almost impossible to get out of it.

Nicholas Dunnington was not what one would consider 'husband material'. His extracurricular activities were a favorite of the community's gossips. He loved women, all of them. Joyce had known him since she was a child. He was about thirty years older than she was, and while that wasn't too uncommon in the Wizarding Community, it still made her shudder.

There were also rumors that he was involved with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters.

No, this would never do.

She settled down beneath her blankets, resolutely pushing all thoughts from her mind so that she could sleep. She felt Merlin curl up on her pillow, and drifted off to the hypnotic sound of his purring.

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The following evening, Blaise Zabini watched himself in the mirror as he slipped the Death Eater mask over his face. He couldn't believe his life had come to this. It was hard to believe that only a few months ago he had been a student at Hogwarts. His parents were dead by the same hand he now served. He wanted to bring Voldemort down, but knew the only way to get close to him would be to earn his trust. It had been easy to convince Malfoy and Nott that he'd wanted to join. Tonight was his initiation. They were going to have him kill someone.

He didn't know if he could do it. Would they kill him on sight if he suddenly refused? His biggest fear was of actually going through with this. He felt so empty, cold, and detached. Would taking someone's life finally push him past that final line? Would he become a monster like the one he was trying to destroy?

He glanced down at the photo of his parents. They waved up at him merrily. If only they were here to tell him what to do.

He let out a humorless laugh.

If they were still here, none of this would be necessary.

Blaise gasped and stumbled back at the sudden burning pain on his left arm. It hadn't hurt this bad when they'd burned it onto his arm a few days ago.

He watched in horrid fascination as the Dark Mark began to glow and pulsate.

"It hurts worse the first time," a snobbish voice drawled.

He whirled around to see Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway.

He sent Draco a glare, and quickly covered his arm with the sleeve of the long, black, cloak.

Draco walked over to the dresser and picked up the picture of Blaise's parents.

"Not having seconds thoughts, are you?" he asked.

"No," Blaise answered, being careful to keep his face impassive.

"Good. I'm to take you to Dunnington's house. Apparently he's done something to earn the wrath of the Dark Lord. You are to eliminate him with the killing curse. Once you've cast it, a few more of us will join you, and we will remove evidence of Death Eater involvement."

"I thought he wanted people to know..."

"Not this time. Mr. Dunnington has wronged our Lord in a private matter, and we are to be discreet."

Blaise nodded, and hoped he looked more confident than he felt.

"Let's go then."

Draco looked as if he was going to say something else, but changed his mind, and held out a portkey.

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Joyce had never been so terrified in her life.

When she went to Dunnington's office earlier that day, she had been informed by his secretary that he would be in an important meeting all day long, but that she was expected at his residence this evening.

Joyce hadn't wanted to go to his house, but decided that the sooner she spoke with him, the sooner she could get this mess straightened out.

She arrived at six, and promptly began discussing the contract her grandpa had signed. Dunnington waved away her protestations, saying that he needed an heir, and that she would give it to him. This had upset Joyce greatly, and she flatly refused.

Unfortunately, her refusal angered him, and he got the idea that if he could make her pregnant right now, then she would willingly marry him.

He moved faster than she had, slipping her wand from her pocket, and forcing her down on a nearby sofa. She kicked and screamed as he pulled at her robes.

The real terror hit her when she realized that he was much stronger than she was, and there was no way she could stop him. She started crying, and begging him to let her go. She even promised to marry him, if he'd just let her go.

He was unmoved, and slapped her, hard, when she let out a piercing scream.

She continued to struggle, even though she knew it was futile. She refused to allow the despair to swallow her whole.

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Blaise crept silently through Dunnington's house. He was heading toward the front parlor, where he could hear the sounds of a struggle.

He felt a flicker of hope at the thought that there was someone else with his victim. Maybe he wouldn't have to commit the murder because there was a witness.

He looked through the door, which had been left open just a crack, to see Dunnington forcing a woman onto a sofa.

Blaise watched in horrified fascination as she cried and begged him to stop. After a few more minutes of struggle, Dunnington was able to rip her robes open down the front, baring her large breasts.

The woman let out an ear-splitting scream as he roughly grabbed her chest. Dunnington scowled and slapped her.

Something snapped in Blaise's head, and he found himself hurrying into the room, wand drawn.

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"Avada Kedavra!"

Joyce froze as she heard a cold voice shout the forbidden words.

There was a flash of bright green light, and then Dunnington keeled over dead.

Her relief at being saved was short-lived as she looked up to see a masked Death Eater.

She pulled at her torn robes, trying to cover herself with little success.

Joyce watched in shock as the Death Eater pulled off his long black cloak and handed it to her.

She quickly wrapped his cloak tightly around herself, wishing she could just stay hidden for the rest of her life.

Suddenly the room was filled with masked Death Eaters. The one who had saved her quickly moved to stand in front of her, not allowing anyone else near her.

One masked man walked over to talk to 'her' Death Eater.

"We can't leave her here alive. She knows too much," he said softly.

"I won't let them kill her," he answered back, meeting the other man's eyes, defiantly.

He nodded, and handed him a small object.

"This will take you back to the Dark Lord. It'll be up to you, after that."

Her Death Eater kneeled down beside her. After making sure no one was looking at him, he pulled off his mask so that she could see his face.

"I know you're scared, but it's not over yet. I promise you'll live if you do exactly what I say. Otherwise, you will die. Do you understand?"

Joyce stared into his dark blue eyes and nodded solemnly. She didn't want to die, even if it meant facing You-Know-Who.

He held out the object that the other man had given him. She touched it, and they were whisked away.

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They ended up in the middle of a heavily wooded area. Blaise turned to Joyce, who was shivering in the cool night air.

"What is your name?" he asked her softly.

"Joyce," she whispered.

"Joyce, I'm Blaise," he held out a hand for her to shake.

She stared at his outstretched hand for a long minute before shaking it.

"I'd say it is nice to meet you, but it's not," she admitted, then put her hand across her mouth, as if she was surprised that she'd say such a thing.

Blaise chuckled at her action, and then turned serious.

"There is a clearing about half a mile from here. The Dark Lord is there, awaiting news of tonight's attack. I'll have to bring you before him, and when I do, you must act afraid of me."

"Couldn't you just let me go?"

"I wish I could, but too many Death Eaters saw you. If I let you go, we'll both be killed."

He saw the unshed tears glistening in her eyes, and pulled her into a hug.

"Hey, I promised I'd get you through this, and I will. I just need for you to trust me, okay?"

She pulled back, and nodded.

"Okay, I need you to just act terrified."

"Of you?"

"Of everything, especially me. I'll have to convince him that I don't care what happens to you, do you understand?"

She nodded, then slowly pulled off his cloak and handed it back to him. He was about to protest, then realized that if he didn't care about her, he wouldn't have given her his cloak.

Joyce crossed her arms in front of her torn robes, and stared at her shoes.

He gently took hold of her chin, and tilted her face up so that he could see into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

She stared into the depths of his warm brown eyes. She could see his fear, hatred, and something else she couldn't identify.

"Yes, I do."

He gave her a small smile and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

Suddenly, a change seemed to go over him, and he roughly grabbed her arm and dragged her the rest of the way to the clearing.

Joyce found that no acting was required on her part, she was truly terrified.

Her arm ached where he tightly gripped it, and her face stung from briars and thorns that whipped her as he hauled her past them.

Finally they reached the clearing, and he threw her to the ground.

She gaped up at the hooded man with the glowing red eyes, and was unable to stop her gasp of horror.

"Zabini? What are you doing back so soon?" his snake-like voice hissed.

Blaise dropped to his knees in front of his master.

"My Lord, the operation was a success. Nicholas Dunnington was killed by my hand no less then twenty minutes ago. Unfortunately, there was a witness," he nodded in Joyce's direction.

"I see. And why did you not kill her on sight?"

"Draco Malfoy suggested that we bring her to you, since we don't know who she is. We were hoping to avoid any unwanted attention her death might attract," he responded, being careful to keep his voice even and uninterested.

The Dark Lord nodded slowly, and turned to look at Joyce.

"Who are you, and what was your business with Dunnington?" he demanded.

"I-I'm Joyce Bishop. Nicholas is- was my fiancé," she said, her voice trembling.

"Bishop? Oh, yes. Fredrick and Anna's daughter. You're of Dumbledore's line if I'm not mistaken," those cold, red eyes narrowed at her suspiciously.

"Are you a spy?"

"N-no..."

She gasped as she felt him invade her mind. Flashes of memories assaulted her. They were mostly of delivering and caring for babies, and then her parents' funeral, and finally Nicholas Dunnington forcing her onto the sofa.

She screamed, and he withdrew.

Joyce collapsed onto the ground, gasping and shaking.

"She is not a spy," Voldemort said, satisfied.

"What would you have me do with her, my lord?" Blaise asked.

He seemed to ponder the situation for a moment.

Joyce held her breath.

"Young Malfoy is engaged to Ms. Parkinson?" he asked out of the blue.

Blaise's eyes widened in surprise at the question.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Her blood is untainted, and that is a rare quality among witches and wizards your age," he commented. "Very well. She can give you pureblooded heirs."

Joyce's jaw dropped, and Blaise's eyebrows shot up.

"My Lord?" he questioned.

"If you don't want her, give her to Nott, but don't let her go to waste. She is your reward for a job well done."

Blaise was about to protest, then thought of Theodore Nott. His eyes met Joyce's and he knew there was no way he could hand her over to him. Nott made Nicholas Dunnington look like a saint.

"Thank you, my Lord, you are most generous," Blaise said, bowing low.

"I reward those who serve me well, Zabini, and I punish those who do not. You'd do well to remember that."

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Joyce sighed in relief as she sank down into her steaming bath filled with bubbles.

Once they had been dismissed, Blaise apparated them to her grandpa's house. Abe was not home, and had left no note, so Joyce offered Blaise a guestroom. Luckily, he had been just as tired as she was and had merely said goodnight before shutting himself in the room.

They both needed time alone to think. Her mundane life had taken a very drastic and frightening turn in the last couple of days.

It seemed odd that she was more comfortable being engaged to a stranger who was a Death Eater, than to a man she had known all of her life. Curiously, the Death Eater thing didn't bother her. He'd proven himself a decent man when he saved her tonight.

She wondered how soon they would have to marry, or if he'd even go through with it. She scowled down at her plump, naked form that was barely covered by bubbles. She wouldn't blame him if he changed his mind.

But something about the way he'd looked at her earlier had told her that he'd do it. There was some motive driving him to do whatever it was Voldemort wanted, and it had nothing to do with her.

"At least I'm not marrying Nicholas Dunnington," she said to Merlin, who was batting at the bubbles again.

Joyce picked up her latest novel as she climbed into bed, but quickly put it away. This was the first time she could remember her own life being more interesting than a book.

She tossed and turned for quite some time before settling into a restless slumber.

Joyce suddenly found herself back in the woods again, but this time, she was alone. She could hear Blaise calling out in the distance, and began running toward the sound of his voice.

She saw him in the distance. He was kneeling on the ground, trying to fight off a big, black, shadow. It had no definite form, and her blood ran cold at the sight of it. He cried out again, and she reached for him.

She was suddenly falling, and landed with a painful thump on the hardwood floor of her bedroom. Her eyes darted all around her darkened room, as her mind struggled to catch up to the fact that she'd only been dreaming.

Joyce slowly got to her feet, rubbing a tender hip. She'd probably be bruised tomorrow.

She had settled herself in bed, determined to go back to sleep, when she heard Blaise cry out again.

She threw a dressing gown over her thin nightgown and hurried to his room. She hesitated outside the closed door.

Would he be mad at her for barging into his room?

Blaise let out another yell, and she rushed into the room, expecting him to be under attack.

However, he was alone in the room, thrashing on the bed in his sleep.

Joyce hurried to his side, and grabbed one of his flailing arms.

"Blaise? Blaise, wake-up," she said, as loud as she dared.

He suddenly grabbed her arms and flipped them both over so that she was lying trapped beneath him.

She had to bite back her terror at being trapped beneath a man again.

Blaise blinked down at her in confusion.

"Joyce?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He suddenly realized that he was holding her down, and quickly moved away.

Joyce slowly sat up; rubbing her arms where he'd gripped her.

He rubbed his eyes, and then turned to look at her in concern.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"No," she lied.

They were quiet for a moment.

"Did you need something?" he asked, finally.

She raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Then why are you in here?" he asked, a little annoyed.

"I heard you yelling. It sounded like you were being attacked," she said, sounding a lot calmer than she felt.

He seemed to deflate a little.

"Sorry about that. I've been having pretty violent nightmares since my parents died a few months ago."

She just nodded, knowing all too well the pain of losing your parents.

"Well, if you're alright now, I'll just go back to my room," she said, getting to her feet.

"Wait!"

She turned to look at him, surprised at his outburst.

"Could you stay? I mean, we should probably get to know each other if we're going to be married, right?" he asked.

She hesitated.

"It's two AM."

"Oh, are you tired?"

"No."

He grinned and patted the bed next to him

She sat back down beside him warily.

An uncomfortable silence fell over them.

"So, how old are you?" he asked.

"That's not a very polite question to ask a woman," she reprimanded playfully.

He just gave her a look.

"Oh, alright, I'm twenty-two."

"Wow, you're old."

She glared at him.

"Twenty-two is not old! How old are you?"

"I just turned nineteen a few weeks ago."

"I'm a cradle-robber," she said, looking away from him.

He laughed, but she just glared at him.

"I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

Her expression softened.

"Don't be. I'd be dead if you hadn't intervened."

Slowly, he reached out and grabbed her hand.

She watched as his long finger stroked her skin, and she shivered.

He smirked at her, and then raised the hand to his mouth, placing soft kisses all over it.

Joyce sighed in pleasure, and had to resist the urge to pinch herself. If this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up.

She gave a little yelp when he bit down hard on her pinky, but not hard enough to draw blood.

Nope, not dreaming.

She gave a half-hearted tug on her hand, and he released it.

"I wasn't aware that this is what you meant by 'getting to know each other'," she commented, staring at her red pinky.

He leaned closer and trailed a hand down the side of her face.

"Joyce?"

"Hmm?" she asked, mesmerized by the desire in his eyes.

"Can I kiss you?"

She didn't answer, but leaned forward closing her eyes.

She was expecting a gentle, chaste kiss like the ones he'd placed on her hand, but he surprise her by slipping his arms around her waist, and pulling her flush against him. His lips met hers with a passion she'd only read about.

He pulled back to whisper, "Open your mouth for me."

Then his tongue was sweeping inside her mouth, and she moaned in ecstasy.

The reality of what was going on hit Joyce like a ton of bricks when Blaise slid his hand beneath her nightgown to cup a breast.

She suddenly froze, and pulled away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing, I just... You know, I'm pretty tired. I should really get to bed," she jumped up and hurried toward the door, crying out when he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop.

He was shocked to see the tears falling down her cheeks.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked.

"Not you," she said solemnly.

And suddenly he realized what was wrong. He felt really stupid. The woman had nearly been raped a few hours ago, and here he was, taking all kinds of liberties that she clearly wasn't ready for.

He let go of her arm, and gave her a sheepish look.

"I'm sorry, Joyce."

"It's okay, Blaise. I'll be fine; I just need a little time, okay?"

"Sure."

She pecked him on the cheek, and hurried back to her own room, resisting the urge to lock the door.

It would be better in the morning. It always was.

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When Joyce went down to breakfast the next morning, she was surprised to see not only her grandpa, but also his brother, Albus Dumbledore.

"Good morning, Joyce," Albus said cheerily.

"Good morning, Uncle. What brings you here?"

"I brought him here! Did you know we have a Death Eater asleep upstairs in the guest room?" her grandpa demanded.

"Of course I know, I brought him here."

"Why on Earth would you do such a thing? You should have contacted the Ministry at once!" he yelled.

Joyce crossed her arms and glared at him defiantly.

"He saved my life last night, I at least owed him a place to sleep," she said defensively.

"Don't think I don't know what's going on! You went to Dunn's last night, and this morning, you're harboring a Death Eater while Dunn lies murdered!"

"I don't know what happened to Nicholas Dunnington," she lied, "but now that he's dead, I'm no longer engaged to him, and therefore eligible to marry someone else."

Abe gave her a suspicious look.

"Who?"

"Me," said Blaise from the doorway.

"Oh, how delightful! I do love weddings," Albus exclaimed, breaking the shocked silence.

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"Joyce, please reconsider! You can't marry a Death Eater! What would your parents think?" Grandpa Abe begged as Joyce packed a trunk.

Blaise wanted to marry her right away so that she could move into his parent's mansion with him. He didn't trust the Dumbldores, and he didn't trust the Death Eaters. He wanted her safe at home where he wouldn't have to worry about her.

Joyce had agreed, but insisted that once things settled down, she wanted to go back to work. This had been a surprise to Blaise, who wasn't aware that Joyce had a job.

"Just another reminder that we really don't know each other," Joyce had sighed.

She finished packing the last of her things in the trunk.

"I'm sorry Grandpa Abe, but I've made my decision," she said, closing the trunk with a snap.

A simple spell had the trunk and the rest of her belongings following her down the stairs and out the door to where a car was waiting to take her to Blaise.

"You listen here, girl! You walk out that door; don't even think about coming back!" Abe growled in a final attempt to stay her.

She stopped in her tracks and stiffened. Slowly she turned toward him, her face impassive.

"Aberforth, don't be a fool," Albus admonished.

He was ignored.

Joyce and Abe stared at each other for a few minutes in tense silence.

"Is that what you want Grandfather?"

Abe didn't say anything. He just crossed his arms across his chest and glared at her.

"So be it," Joyce whispered, and quickly made her way to the waiting car.

"What have you done?" she heard her Uncle ask her grandfather before shutting the door to the car, and ending a chapter of her life.

Once her grandfather's house was out of sight, she began to cry.

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Two hours later, Joyce sat nervously in a back room of the small chapel that she and Blaise would be married in. She glanced at the clock and drew in a shuddering breath. Fifteen minutes and he would come for her. They would be married, with two Death Eaters as witnesses, and would then apparate to the Zabini Mansion.

She went to stand before a floor-length mirror and smoothed her hair down.

There hadn't been time to purchase wedding robes, so she had chosen a set of silver dress robes that she had bought on a whim a few months ago, but had never worn.

She pulled back her heavy brown hair into a French Twist and secured it with a diamond rose clip that had been her mother's. Pearl earrings and a necklace completed the look nicely.

Joyce couldn't help but admire her looks. It had been quite some time since she'd had the opportunity to get all dressed up for anything. She'd forgotten that she could be pretty. Never beautiful, but pretty nonetheless.

She started wondering if Blaise would think she was pretty, and that led to thinking about the upcoming wedding night. What would he expect of her? She didn't think that he'd force himself on her, but then again, he was a Death Eater. She knew nothing about him.

She had a momentary flashback of Dunn forcing her down onto a sofa, and she shuddered.

There was a knock on the door, and Joyce turned to see Blaise walk in.

"You look amazing," he said as he reached her and kissed her cheek.

She blushed and looked down, not wanting him to see the fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

Unfortunately, her hands were shaking so badly they gave her away.

"What is it?" he asked gently.

She took another shuddering breath, trying to slow her heart rate.

"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, a tear slipping from her eye.

He grabbed her hands and pulled them up to his lips.

"Joyce, if there was any other way to keep you safe, I'd do it."

"I just hate that we have to get married when we don't love each other. Do you think you could ever fall in love with me?" she asked.

There was another knock on the door, and Draco Malfoy stuck his head in.

"Move it along, you two. I have plans after this."

Blaise scowled at him.

"We'll be there in just a minute," he said motioning for Draco to leave.

Then he turned back to Joyce.

"I can't promise that I'll fall in love with you Joyce. But I promise that I'll take care of you, and always be faithful."

Joyce took a few more deep breaths, and then nodded.

"Okay, let's do this."

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The Zabini Mansion was huge. Joyce couldn't believe that this was her home now. She lay in a bed by herself, staring at the canopy. Blaise hadn't even tried to make her share a room with him. He'd shown her to her own room, explaining that his was right across the hall. When she'd looked at him questioningly, he'd explained that he wasn't going to take more than she was willing to give.

Joyce had been grateful and disappointed at the same time.

She glanced at the clock and sighed. She'd been tossing and turning for four hours now, it was time to admit defeat.

Sighing, yet again, she climbed out of bed, slipping on her dressing gown and slippers.

She moved over to the far wall that was covered in heavy drapes. She assumed that there were windows under there somewhere, and started looking for the way to open them. After a few minutes of searching, she gave a cry of triumph upon finding a taut cord. Giving it a hard yank, she gasped in awe as beautiful glass French doors that led to a balcony were revealed to her.

Joyce couldn't keep the pleased smile off of her face as she pushed open the doors and strolled outside. When she reached the railing and looked down into the gardens below, she was surprised to see Blaise walking quickly away from the house. He was holding a bundle of flowers in his arms.

Her curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to follow him. Surely he wouldn't be bringing flowers with him to a Death Eater meeting.

She hurried down the stairs and out the door. It took a few minutes to orient herself and find the gardens under her balcony. By then, Blaise had disappeared from sight.

Joyce wandered around aimlessly for a while, admiring the gardens in the light of the full moon. An odd sound distracted her, and she followed it without thought. As she got closer, she realized the sound was someone crying. She wandered through a patch of thick bushes and tall trees, suddenly coming to a clearing.

Blaise was sitting on the ground, sobbing. She started walking toward him and saw the two gravestones bearing the names of Blaise's parents.

Being recently orphaned herself, her heart went out to him, and she found herself kneeling beside him, putting a hand on his back.

He jumped when she first touched him, startled. But he slowly relaxed, and allowed her to comfort him by rubbing his back.

When Blaise finally got his crying under control, he began to talk. He told her about his parents, and how Death Eaters had killed them. He explained about how he hated Voldemort, and wanted to see him dead for good this time; that when he'd killed Dunnington the night before, it had been his first time.

Joyce listened patiently, allowing him to get everything off of his chest.

While he spoke, he grabbed one of her hands, and studied it in his lap.

"I thought I just wanted him dead. That that would make everything okay again. But I'm starting to realize how impossible it will be to pull off. And even if I do manage it, it won't bring them back."

She wrapped her arms around him, and held him, not knowing what else to say or do.

He looked at her, dark eyes filled with pain.

"I just don't want to be alone anymore," he whispered.

"You won't be," she told him, and leaned forward to brush her lips against his.

His hands came up and held her face against his. When she didn't try to pull away, he slowly pushed his tongue into her mouth.

Joyce waited for the fear to grip her again like it had the night before, but it never came. Blaise was her husband, and she wanted to be with him.

She pulled away from him and got to her feet.

He gave her a dejected look, until she reached out a hand to help him up and said, "Let's go to bed."

Blaise allowed her to pull him to his feet, and then he caught her around the waist and pulled her up against him.

"Mine or yours?" he asked, wanting to be clear about what he wanted.

"Ours," she whispered, and kissed him again.

Then she broke away from him, and started running toward the house.

At first he was confused, and then he heard her giggle.

'She's playing with me!' he thought in astonishment, and quickly gave chase.

He caught and released her several times before they made it to his bedroom. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree.

Joyce lost some of her confidence once he closed the bedroom door behind him.

He grabbed her hands and spun in a circle, trying to keep the mood light. It worked, and she smiled at him.

He then pulled her close to him, and began rocking side to side, so that they were slow dancing to music only he could hear.

She giggled again, and he kissed her.

Joyce tensed up a little, and he pulled back.

"We don't have to do this tonight," he said.

"No, I want to," she protested.

He studied her silently for a moment.

"Alright, but all you have to say is stop, and I will," he promised.

She nodded, again feeling grateful that he was being so patient with her. She really didn't want to disappoint him.

Blaise started kissing her again, and this time, she forced herself not to tense up.

"Good," he whispered approvingly.

He slid his hands down her sides and waist till he reached her hips and began massaging them with his thumbs.

His lips left her mouth to trail kisses down her throat and neck.

She moaned and leaned her head back, giving him better access.

Emboldened by her response, he slowly began untying her dressing gown. She stepped back and allowed the gown to fall to the floor.

He gasped, and swept his hungry gaze over her dark purple satin negligee.

Joyce blushed, but kept her head raised up.

She hadn't intended on sleeping with him tonight, but there was no way that she was going to wear her flannel pajamas on her wedding night.

Looking at his face, she was glad of her decision.

Blaise had fun slowly taking the negligee off of her. He stepped back to admire her, watching the blush travel all over her body.

She was lovely to him, all soft curves, and creamy skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered, and pulled her close for another kiss.

He walked her backwards, until the back of her knees hit the bed. Then he encouraged her to lay down and spread out next to her.

Blaise lowered his mouth to her breasts, and delighted in her sounds of pleasure. When she started begging him for more, he slipped a hand between her legs. She moaned in ecstasy as he stroked her. He took his time pleasuring her, and soon she was squirming beneath him.

She groaned in disappointment when he pulled away to remove his own clothes, but he returned to her quickly, and she had to admit that the feel of him naked in her arms was amazing.

He pushed into her, slowly, prepared to stop if she asked him to.

Joyce felt like she was being stretched, then something seemed to snap, and he was able to slide all the way in.

"You okay?" he asked, keeping as still as he could.

She nodded.

"It really didn't hurt as bad as I thought it would," she admitted.

"Good."

And then he was kissing her again, and moving in and out of her.

When they were both sated, Joyce curled up against him, and sighed in contentment.

"I don't know what I was so worried about," she said.

He smiled at her, and started running his fingers through her hair.

"Earlier today, you asked me if I thought I could fall in love with you. The answer is yes, Joyce. I think I already have."

Joyce smiled, feeling the warmth of her beginning love for him.

She knew that things wouldn't be perfect. Her husband had a deadly job, and things could really get ugly in a hurry, but Blaise loved her, and that meant more than anything. And she felt she could face anything, because she knew that he'd be with her.

The End