Bloody Valentine

Hermione hummed softly to herself as she drank hot tea from the small china cup in her hands. She looked around the kitchen at the mess she would have to clean tomorrow. Nearly all the water had drained from the leak in the sink that held the half cleaned dishes, and all the counter space--what little she had--needed to be wiped down. Putting the chores out of her mind, Hermione continued humming as she left the kitchen and set out to her chair in the living area.

She paused in her song as she neared the round table in her tiny dining room of the flat she lived in. Setting down her cup on the nearest coaster, she reached to the centerpiece of flowers and lovingly fingered one of the twelve blood red roses from Blaise. Red--the color of love; the color of passion.

Hermione sighed in content as she reflected back on their date. It had been their first Valentine's Day since they had started dating and he had made it obvious that he wanted it to go perfectly. Well, he succeeded, Hermione sighed inwardly. Everything had been just right--from the roses, to the candlelight dinner, to the soft farewell kiss.

Hermione found herself wondering yet again if she had finally found the one in Blaise, but scolded herself just the same as every other time the thought entered her head. It's only been three months! she would think to abate the thoughts, but they always wound up coming back.

She roughly shook her head and drank another sip of tea to calm the thoughts of true love. The day was over, she reminded herself, and she had the entire night to relax. The entire night to enjoy her own company. Hermione left the red rose resentfully and settled in an armchair, careful not to spill the tea. Smiling silently to herself, she fell into a trance, remembering the evening--somewhat against her will.

Blaise had surprised her when he knocked on the door of her one-bedroom flat at five o' clock that evening. She had been doing the dishes--that still laid in the sink--and had jumped at the sudden interruption of the knocks against the silence. Grabbing the nearest dry dishtowel, Hermione had hurriedly dried her hands and opened the door.

"Blaise!" Hermione said excitedly, dropping the dishtowel to wrap her arms around his neck before he had the chance to even enter the room. She pushed forward to kiss him but the loud sound of crumpling plastic interrupted her action. She pulled back and saw Blaise holding a dozen dark red roses at his chest.

"Oh," she gasped as she looked in his eyes--his brilliant sapphire eyes--silently asking if they were for her.

Blaise grinned at her sheepish nature. "They're for you," he unknowingly answered, holding the flowers out to her. Hermione clapped her hands in joy at the simple gesture and frantically began searching her cupboards for a vase. Blaise, being the more pragmatic of the two, had simply withdrawn the receipt from the flowers from his jacket pocket and quickly transfigured it into a glass vase. He filled it with water from the sink and laughed at Hermione's features that had filled with dismay over not doing the magic herself. Hermione scoffed lightly at Blaise's laugh and silenced him with a welcoming kiss.

"Hermione," he growled playfully, gently holding her to him. Hermione grinned devilishly and pushed away.

"Why are you here, Blaise?" she asked, curious to his reasons. She noticed that he was dressed up in a dark suit that matched his raven hair. He even had a blue tie that brought out his eyes more clearly.

Blaise sat down into a chair at the table and coaxed Hermione into his lap. He nuzzled his head into her brown curls and breathed in the scent of her shampoo. Kiwi-Lime, he sighed to himself. Perfect, he thought, knowing full well that apple, raspberry, or vanilla all would have been perfect as well.

"I've got the whole evening planned out, love. But it's a surprise. You'll have to come with me now though," he explained vaguely. He brought Hermione up with him as he stood, almost causing her to fall back. He held her fast in his arms, however, and Hermione suddenly realized just how perfect a match he was for her.

He moved her to the coat closet and hastily pulled a black leather jacket out for her. As he was helping to put it on, he suddenly stopped and shooed her off into her room to change out of her mundane house clothes which consisted of an apron over jeans and a tank top with her hair done up in a messy bun.

Moments later, Hermione emerged wearing a dangerously low cut brown dress, made from a fabric that both shimmered in the light, and brought out her natural chestnut hair--now in an elegant French Twist--and brown eyes. Blaise stared for a moment in awe before remembering his plans for them. He quickly helped her into the jacket--recently charmed brown to match her clothes--and then ushered her out the door.

"Why are we going out?" Hermione asked with a shiver from the cold air as they neared Blaise's car. As she tightened the jacket around her, she racked her brain for any remembrance of an anniversary or major holiday that was today. The search of her mentality proved useless, and she was lost for a reason of celebration.

Blaise stopped and looked at her in the diminishing daylight of the February morning. "Honey," he laughed, "It's Valentine's Day."

Hermione's face instantly lost its confused quality. "Oh," she breathed out as Blaise was again moving to the car. He held the door for her and she quietly got in and waited for their arrival at the mysterious place.

She wasn't too shocked at her forgetfulness of the holiday of love. After all, this was the first time in nineteen years that she had had a reason to celebrate. Blaise wasn't her first boyfriend, of course; she had dated both Ron and Harry for a trial--both failing miserably--and Seamus Finnigan had been too hands-on, too early in their relationship, so no one had lasted to this special holiday of couples. It hadn't occurred to her that Blaise would plan something for today, and she had all but blocked out the immense walls of flowers begging to be bought.

Blaise watched as Hermione relaxed against the back of the chair and shut her eyes for the remainder of the silent ride. He couldn't help but wonder at her unnatural unknowing of something, even if it was as trivial as Valentine's Day. He had been planning tonight for weeks, and she didn't even know about it? He wasn't upset, exactly, just mystified. Hermione always seemed to be on top of things.

They soon arrived at a small French restaurant in downtown London. The hostess guided them to a table near the back, and lit two tall white candles between them. They quickly ordered from the selective menu in front of them, and enjoyed the rest of the night from the Escargot and Creme Brule to the Cream Puff they shared for dessert.

During the car trip on the way to her flat, Blaise broached the topic of the holiday.

"So did you just forget?" he asked.

Hermione smiled. "Blaise," she said, resting her hand over his that was positioned on the gear stick. "You're my first real boyfriend that has ever made it to this day. I've learned to ignore the jeering signs and bouquets of flowers because it's seemed like they'd never be for me. Therefore," she reasoned logically, as was her way, "I had no proper warning that it was Valentine's Day."

Blaise accepted her response with a slight inclination of his head as he pulled the car into a parking space outside Hermione's home. He got out of the car and quickly made his way to her door so that he may have opened it for her.

And then they were at Hermione's door saying good bye. Blaise had given her a soft good night kiss before heading out into the snowy night, and Hermione had gone in to make a pot of tea for herself.

Hermione sighed and searched for a coaster on the coffee table by the chair. She set her now quite cold cup of tea on the coaster and relaxed all the way into the soft material. Looking over at the clock hanging on the wall opposite herself, Hermione realized that a whole hour had passed since Blaise had dropped her off at her door.

That's odd, she thought, instinctively looking to her phone. He normally calls when he gets home.

Just then the phone let out a shrill ring and Hermione sighed in relief. She got out of the chair and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she asked sweetly, expecting Blaise's familiar voice to answer her. Instead a low-pitched cold voice responded.

"Hello, Hermione," came the voice from the other end.

Hermione stood in confusion at the stranger's voice. "I'm sorry," she apologized to the caller, "but I don't recognize your voice."

"You will soon," he said, not giving Hermione any basis for judgment.

"Excuse me?" she asked, thoroughly bewildered by the presence on the other end.

"So," drawled the voice. "I have quite a confession to make to you. But of course, I can't tell you just yet."

"Who is this?" Hermione asked angrily into the phone.

"Now, now, my precious Gryffindor," she was chided. "Anger won't solve anything."

Hermione released a frustrated sigh as she lifted the base of the phone and carried it to her chair. Setting it down next to her teacup, she reclaimed the seat.

"So you went to Hogwarts," she concluded of the stranger. "Can you give me any clues as to who you are? Perhaps you were a Slytherin?" she guessed.

"You know me all too well," the voice admitted.

"If that were true, we wouldn't be having this conversation," she reminded him, already growing tired of the guessing . "Seriously now, who is this?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he replied, his comment unnaturally void of any of the child like verse the line normally contained.

Hermione tried to control her emotions and managed to ask calmly, "And how do I find out?"

"I'll tell you--or rather, I'll show you--in good time," he replied.

"All right," she said angrily. "As much fun as this was, I'm awaiting a phone call. So if you don't mind, I will be hanging up now."

Luckily she waited a second for a response because the caller had one last thing to say. "All right," he acquiesced. "But first, I have a single question for you."

"What?"

"Why hasn't he called yet?"

"What?" Hermione asked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Blaise. Your phone call is from him, correct? Why hasn't he called yet?"

The echo of the cold voice rang in Hermione's ears. Why hadn't he called yet? she asked herself. "I'm not exactly sure," she voiced out loud. "How did you know it was Blaise who hadn't called yet?"

"Because, love, I also know why he didn't call."

Dismissing the fact that he had called her love, Hermione waited patiently for him to continue. When he remained silent she prompted him further. "Why didn't he call?" she asked.

Hermione could almost see a smirk on the other end. "Because I killed him," he answered simply.

Hermione sneered at the caller although she knew he couldn't see her. "You're sick," she spat, disgusted at his idea of a joke. She slammed the phone onto it's base and stood up to leave the room. She noticed now that she was still in her dress, and thought she should change into a more comfortable ensemble.

The phone rang. Hermione tried to ignore it as she continued down the hall, sure that the mysterious voice awaited her--any thoughts of Blaise vanishing.

Then it rang again. Hermione stopped walking and turned around. It rang again. Then again. And again. Hermione scrambled back to pick up the receiver.

"Hello?" she cried into the phone. Nothing but a dial tone answered her, signaling that the caller had hung up before she had reached the phone. She set the phone down again and sat in the chair staring silently at it. Surely if she just waited long enough...

But the phone didn't ring again. Hermione sighed, sure that Blaise had simply forgotten to call; sure that the strange voice had finished his joke; sure that a good nights rest was waiting just inside her bedroom. She had just left the living room when she heard the phone ring. Not waiting a second, Hermione turned quickly and caught the phone in her hand before the second ring.

"Hello?" she gasped into the phone, trying to smooth her rumpled dress.

"You didn't keep me waiting this time," the cold voice answered. "How very thoughtful of you."

"Who are you?" Hermione screamed into the phone, oblivious to the fact that it was late at night and she was in a flat with very thin walls. She was thoroughly tired of his practiced sweetness, and wanted nothing more than to be on the phone with Blaise rather than this charlatan.

"Tsk, tsk, Hermione," he chided, "Manners."

Hermione stood, panting near her chair. "What did you do to Blaise?" she asked, afraid to know the answer. Against her better judgment, she was actually beginning to believe this masked man.

"Have a seat first," he suggested and Hermione gladly collapsed into a chair.

"Wait..." she said after a moment, straightening her back. "How did you know..." Hermione trailed off as she looked around the room for any muggle cameras or wizard tracking devices.

"Don't worry, love," the voice assured her. "There is nothing in your apartment. No cameras or wires... Muggle or otherwise."

Hermione wasn't about to trust him. "Then how did you know I was standing?" she demanded.

"I could hear you panting through the phone. It was quite obvious to me that you had run to answer it. So again, thank you for not keeping me waiting."

Hermione was none to assured by his answer, but merely brushed it aside for the more pressing matters at hand. "Tell me about Blaise."

"Ah, Zabini," he said, his voice ringing in the same cold tone as ever before. "What about my old friend?"

"So you were friends?" Hermione asked. If he was a friend of Blaise, then she most likely knew him from somewhere...

"We were," he admitted. "But then he betrayed me."

"What?" Hermione asked disbelieving. "Blaise would never betray anyone. Let alone a friend. What did he do?" she implored, positive that he was lying.

"He fell in love with you."

Hermione choked back a gasp. "What?" she muttered dryly.

"So I had to get rid of him," the voice continued on. "From the first day I met you, Hermione, I knew you would be mine. There would be obstacles, I knew, but my own best friend turning against me... It was more than I ever had expected. He got between us, don't you see?"

"I don't even know you!" she shouted. She faintly heard a pounding fist against the wall--from a neighbor--telling her to silence herself, but she ignored the warning. "How could he get between strangers?" she demanded.

"But love, you do know me," he said.

Hermione shook in frustration. "No," she cried softly, "I don't. I don't know anyone as cruel-hearted as you. I don't know anyone who would kill their friend for any reason whatsoever. Even if I've known you for years, I don't know you anymore."

Hermione hastily dried the tears that had been welling up in her eyes. "How do I even know you've killed him? How do I know that you are not just some sick person who thrives in fooling others so that they can feed off their pain?" she demanded of him.

Hermione heard a click from the other end of the line and knew that he had hung up on her. She slammed the phone down angrily and then reached back over to it to call Blaise to check on him. It was late, she knew, but she had to be sure he was all right. But, before she could even touch the phone there was a knock on her door followed by the patter of footsteps down the hall. Sure that it was one of her neighbors, angry over her raised voice, putting up an anonymous note on her door to warn her of the noise level as they did so often, Hermione rose out of her chair and went to the door.

But what awaited her on the other side was not a note from a nearby resident. It was proof, Hermione realized. The man she had been talking with over the phone had given her proof that he had killed Blaise. Or rather, that he had the means to.

Lying motionless on the flat hallway carpet in front of her feet was a large ball of matted orange fur. Perhaps the animal may have been sleeping, if it were not for the small amount of red stain, streaking down his stomach.

"Crookshanks..." Hermione moaned as she knelt down to pick up her beloved pet. "Crooks..." Holding the limp body of her cherished cat, Hermione began to cry. "What did he do to you?"

She quickly inspected the body of her small friend, discovering a tear in his chest. She bit her lip as she tried to hold back the tears, and quickly gave Crookshanks a kiss on his squashed face.

Hermione stood up and entered her apartment. She shut the door softly behind her and then placed her dead cat on the table next to her roses. Angrily, she stalked across the room and reached for the phone. She had to call Blaise. She had to check on him. Half expecting the phone to ring as she touched it, she hurriedly lifted the receiver from its base and put it to her ear.

A dial tone.

Hermione nearly dropped the phone in excitement. But then, as she pushed her finger down onto the first button of Blaise's number, the phone line clicked and went blank.

"No, no, no, no, no..." Hermione gasped as she repeatedly hung up the phone to check the line in vain. "No!"

She slammed the phone down, yet again, and stalked out of her apartment, pausing only to grab her brown coat from her earlier date. She left and the room remained silent, except for the china tea cup crashing to the floor from the sudden shock of the slamming door, spilling its cold contents to the floor.

Hermione stormed out of the building and headed straight to her car. She was unaffected by the chill, determined to reach Blaise as soon as possible. Withdrawing her keys that were luckily in her pocket, Hermione rushed into her small car and hurriedly tried to start the ignition.

"Damn it!" she shouted. She slammed her fists against the steering wheel before trying again. This time it started and she quickly shifted into reverse, tearing out of the parking space.

Hermione drove furiously, anxious to arrive at Blaise's apartment. She spent the ten minute car ride going over possible identities of the mysterious man. Mentally thinking of someone who was in Slytherin and a friend of Blaise, Hermione came up blank. She had only started dating him three months ago and had only met a few of his acquaintances. Greg, Vince, and Theo came to mind... all in their year, and Slytherins...

Hermione sighed and concentrated on the road. For all she knew, Malfoy could be... bluff... ing...

"Malfoy!" Hermione shouted as the recognition of the voice suddenly hit. "But he wouldn't..." Hermione argued with herself.

It's Malfoy, she thought. Draco Malfoy. Malfoy doesn't bluff.

Hermione tried to drain the thoughts; she tried to clear her head as she raced into the parking lot. Still fighting with herself, she shut off the car and pocketed the keys. Quickly, she got out of the car and started to his door. But then a looming body was in front of her, blocking her path. Hermione nervously looked up into the face of the blockade.

"M-M-Mal-foy," she stuttered. Instinctively she took a step backwards.

Malfoy stepped towards her with a long stride that required Hermione to take three shorter steps back. She stepped too quickly however, and her ankle twisted underneath her. Hermione dropped to the snow covered ground and reproached herself for wearing the same heel out now as she wore to the date. Suddenly, all the coldness that she had shook off from earlier rushed over her body and she sat, twisted and trembling.

Hearing the crunch of his approaching footstep, Hermione managed to scramble up to her feet and move to the car. She was digging through her pockets trying to find her keys when without warning, Malfoy had his hands wrapped around her thin arms. Hermione stopped moving and shivered involuntarily as he pressed his full body against hers.

"Somehow," he drawled and Hermione quaked at the memory of his voice, "I knew I would find you here."

Hermione took a deep breath. "I had to make sure he was all right."

"Was Crookshanks not proof enough?" he asked sarcastically. He lowered his head down to meet her neck and took a deep breath. Slowly, she felt his lips brush against her ear. "He's dead, Hermione."

Cautiously, Hermione turned around so that she faced him. She dimly felt a hand rest on her lower back as Malfoy repositioned his hold. "Why?" she asked dryly.

"Because I always get what I want. No matter what."

"You can't always get what you want, Malfoy," she said in a low voice and with narrowed eyes. She tried to push away from him but his hand on her back held her tight.

"Fortunately, I'm a Malfoy. Therefore, I can get what I want. When I want it. No matter what!" he shouted before pulling Hermione closer to him and bringing his lips down on hers.

Hermione groaned as her struggles proved useless. Still, she violently thrashed against his firm hold. When he finally backed away from the one-sided kiss, Hermione swore violently at him and squirmed against him yet again.

He laughed as she struggled hopelessly against him. Then, with a swift movement of his hand, he clasped a handful of her curls in his fist. She cried out and her eyes filled with tears as he pulled her head backwards roughly.

Looking down at her pearly throat, Draco spoke softly. Almost lovingly. "I want you, Hermione. I will have you."

Hermione choked back a sob of pain and managed to contest, "No, Malfoy. You will never have me. You can own me, I suppose, by force, but you will never ever have me."

"How little the Mudblood knows of magic. What a pity."

"How little I know of magic?" she quoted in shock. Quickly focusing, Hermione thought to herself, "Incarcerous!" but before she could finish the thought she felt a magical shield surround Draco's body.

"Ah-ah, love. None of that." Draco ignored her whimpers of protest as he brought her closer to himself. "I'm going to let go of your head," he whispered. "Then, I will Apparate with you by my side to my home where we can further--discuss our relationship."

"We have no relationship," Hermione growled as he let go of her hair. She raised a hand and tenderly rubbed the soreness left from his death grip.

"Imperio!" Draco commanded and Hermione felt her body fill with the euphoria associated with this Unforgivable Curse. "No relationship?" he asked. Hermione felt disgusted at his amused voice, but only with difficulty. She wanted to listen to him, obey him, love him.

"Hermione," he muttered softly. "Do you want me now?"

Hermione instantly opened her mouth and formed the word yes with a false smile--the curse was strong--but her inner strength stopped any noise from coming forth.

"I'm sorry, love."

Hermione's spirit soared involuntarily at this word.

"I couldn't hear you. What did you say?"

Hermione felt the curse strengthen even more as she croaked, "Yes," with tears in her eyes, but still sporting a wide smile.

Draco wordlessly ended the curse and caught Hermione as she fell forward into him, her face blank. She tried to move her limbs, but found she couldn't for all her exhaustion. Finally she was able to stand without support and she pushed away from Draco.

"Like I said. You may own me by force, and only force." Hermione glared into his grey eyes before suddenly sprinting past him. She reached in her pocket for her keys to Blaise's apartment. If she could just see him... Then, as she fumbled with her keys at the door step she realized a simple Alohomora would have done the trick precious moments ago. But it was too late. As soon as the door magically unlocked Hermione was pulled away from it and back to Draco.

"If you wanted to see him, dear, you only needed to ask," he grinned as he took her keys from her grasp.

Hermione sneered at him and turned her face away from his. He pushed her forward and Hermione realized that he actually was taking her in to see her boyfriend. He held onto her hands behind her back as they ascended the stairs to Blaise's fourth floor room. Hermione stalled at the door, suddenly wishing to turn back.

"Shall I do the honor?" he asked nastily as the door swung open. Hermione was forced to step into the room and her gaze shifted over the neat room. There was not much out of order in the front area, a large living room connected to a kitchen and dining area. Only a shattered glass on the table and a rip in the nearest couch were signs of any disturbance. Hermione's uneasiness increased as Draco led her down a narrow hall into the bathroom on the right.

"What are you doing?" she asked in fear as she looked around the empty room. "Where is he?"

Draco remained silent as he escorted her limp form back out of the bathroom and into the large bedroom opposite them. "And here..." he said suddenly as the door swung open and Hermione gasped. "Here is your undying lover."

Hermione tried not to gag at the sight of her mutilated boyfriend. Instead of the restful figure she had expected as the result of the killing curse, it seemed that Draco had taken a more Muggle approach. Hermione backed up into Draco and tried to turn around him. He held her tight and forced her into the room.

Desperately wanting to close her eyes, she found them stuck open against her will. She tried to get out of Draco's strong hold, but she was now too weak and fatigued to do much struggling. Consequently, Hermione was forced to listen as Draco retold the brutal story of Blaise's death. Blaise's murder.

"You see," he explained as he moved away from the door to get a better view of the man laying spread eagle across the floor in front of them, "when I got together with Theodore Nott the other day and discovered that Blaise had hooked up with you, I began to feel very--how shall I put it--angry...with my friend. I decided that I was long overdue in paying him a visit."

He looked over to Hermione who was still supporting herself against his body. "First, I waited at your place for you both to come back from your date. That way, I could make sure that Theo was correct, which of course, he was. Then, after he left, I covertly followed him back here. When I knocked on his door he immediately assumed that I knew about you two, and from that moment on he had an idea of how the night would end.

We sat for a cup of Firewhisky, and then I casually brought up the important matters...

"...I heard from Theo today that you were seeing someone. As it is, I am too. What do you say? Just us guys? Oh, and the trollops, of course."

"She's not a trollop, Draco," Blaise said as his face reddened in anger.

"Oh, no? Well I suppose I shouldn't speak of those I don't know. Or," he looked harshly at his companion, "do I know her?"

"Draco," Blaise said, standing up from his chair and moving away. "Come on. We both know why you've come here."

"And why is that?" Draco asked, interested in how long the charade would play on for.

"You want Hermione."

"What does she have to do with this?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"D-D-Draco..." Blaise faltered as Draco rose from his seat and drained his Firewhisky.

"No, Blaise," Draco stated, his passive demeanor changing almost instantly. "There is no getting out of this." He threw his glass down onto the table causing it to shatter. Blaise jumped at the action and Draco laughed. "You didn't really think you could get away with it, did you? You must have known I'd find out and when I did... You knew what you were getting into."

"Draco, please," Blaise begged as Draco advanced. "You were all talk. You never actually did anything! Even after she offered a truce at Graduation! You wouldn't accept The Mudblood's offer of friendship. She will never have you, Draco. And you will never have her!"

Draco reached out and grabbed Blaise by the throat. He threw him against the nearest wall and lifted him off of his feet. Blaise clutched and clawed fiercely at Draco's hand.

"I will have her, Blaise. Make no mistake about that. Unfortunately, for that to happen, you must not be near her. Do you understand?"

Blaise's face was now a dull blue-grey and Draco loosened his grip, dropping Blaise to the floor to gasp for breath. Draco turned away from the crumpled figure and entered the kitchen. When he came back out, Blaise was staring at him in horror.

"Draco... Put those down. Please... Draco..." he begged uncharacteristically.

"Begging?" Draco sneered as he fondly flipped a knife in the air. "From a Slytherin? Hmm... That just won't do. It's unflattering. Better that you not speak at all. Silencio!"

Blaise clutched at his throat as he tried to make sounds. Then he watched in fear as Draco flicked on of the many knives into the door on an angle that made it quite obvious that the door would be lodged shut for now. He picked another knife from his left hand and threw it unceremoniously at Blaise. Blaise dodged out of the way and then scampered down into his bedroom. Draco lazily pulled the knife from the material of the leather couch and followed Blaise down the hall.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..." he muttered softly. Then, turning the corner into Blaise's room he flicked a knife in the escapee's direction. Blaise, whose back was turned to Draco as he tried to flee out of the window--a four floor fall seemed more appealing than Draco's wrath, apparently--was hit squarely in the back. His mouth opened in a slight scream, but the spell kept him silent.

He turned to face Draco and his eyes widened in shock as Draco cast another knife into his abdomen, and yet another into his right thigh. Limping in pain, Blaise managed to nearly cross the room before tripping onto and over the bed. He landed at Draco's feet in a spread eagle position.

Draco looked down on his body with a smirk. He kneeled down and placed his knife down on Blaise's neck. He was about to draw it across when he changed his mind and withdrew it. He lifted the silencing charm from Blaise and listened almost gleefully to his heavy panting.

"Don't mess with me, Blaise," he said quietly as he placed the knife tip down again between Blaise's jugular artery and his windpipe. "That's the moral of this," he explained calmly, almost casually over Blaise's whimpering sounds. "Any last words, Zabini?"

Blaise let out a few half-formed gurgles of protest. Another silencing charm followed.

"The moral."

Draco pushed the blade down expertly, puncturing neither the artery nor the airway as Blaise silently screamed in pain. He turned it round while still in Blaise's flesh so that the cutting edge would have been facing outwards had it been visible.

"Don't...mess...with...me..." He accented each word with a push down onto the knife handle. Finally, on the last word, the knife ripped through Blaise's throat and his normally sparkling eyes clouded over with a film. Draco withdrew the knife and wiped the blood onto the bed cover next to him.

"Then, of course, I came back and called you on Blaise's mobile which I had nicked from his apartment. When I arrived at your flat, I watched you from your window as we talked. At a point, I had a feeling you didn't believe me, so I caught your mangy cat and helped you to believe."

Hermione threw herself from him and ran past. She was almost at the door when she realized she had nowhere to go; Draco had her keys. When she turned around again he had his wand pointed straight at her heart. She let out a gasp that instantly told her everything she needed to know. She was afraid of him... She had to listen to him, no matter what.

"Shall we take that trip to my Manor?" he suggested and Hermione dumbly nodded her head in agreement.

Zabini--Murdered

Blaise Zabini, a local wizard, was found murdered in his home exactly one year ago today, February fourteenth--Valentine's Day. The crime scene has been inspected numerous times and the evidence has been checked thoroughly. Due to the lack of any magic found involved it appears to be a Muggle murderer over which our Ministry has no control....

As you may remember, we were unable to stage an interview with Hermione Granger, Zabini's former girlfriend, seeing as she seemed to had disappeared the night of his murder. The Minister is still urging anyone with information of Granger's whereabouts to please inform the Ministry of Magic. "Miss Granger may have valuable information about his murder....Or, I believe it is safe to say now, she may be our leading suspect....We need to talk to her, or at least find her...."

We are sorry to report that the case will most likely be dismissed and left to the Muggle government, no matter how inefficient they may be, due to lack of both suspects and evidence supporting it was in fact a Wizard killer....

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy," Draco said as he folded the Evening Prophet and placed it on the floor. "We should keep our eye out for this Hermione character. She sounds dangerous."

Mrs. Malfoy looked up from her newborn baby laying in his cradle. "Oh yes," she agreed and smiled at her husband of almost a year. "Very dangerous."

He sighed as he crossed the room. He wrapped his hand around her waist in a protective gesture and lovingly fingered one of her brown curls. "Luckily, you are Hermione Malfoy. Otherwise, I might be concerned." His smile faded. "You didn't kill anyone the day before our wedding... Did you?" he asked, looking into her eyes.

Hermione looked over his shoulder at the clock. He noticed her glance looked as well. He turned back and smiled down at her as the clock sounded out midnight.

"Of course I didn't, Draco," she smiled, but tears were appearing in her eyes as she spoke from under the Imperious.

"Happy anniversary," he smiled. He kissed her and as expected, she was kissing back.