Hazardous Wager

Don't stray, don't ever go away
I should be much too smart for this
You know it gets the better of me
Sometimes, when you and I collide
I fall into an ocean of you, pull me out in time
Don't let me drown, let me down
I say it's all because of you.

And here I go, losing my control
I'm practising your name so I can say it to your face
It doesn't seem right, to look you in the eye
Let all the things you mean to me
Come tumbling out my mouth
Indeed it's time to tell you why
I say it's infinitely true.

-- Sway, Bic Runga.

Chapter 4 -

Fuming, Draco sat on one of the armchairs, biting his lip in frustration. He couldn't believe she'd been able to escape, again. He'd been so damn close... And the most amazing thing was that she'd actually had the nerve of leaving him without any explanation. She was lucky his wand was out of his reach when she left.

"There's a cloud of smoke over your head, Malfoy," Blaise whispered, slithering to his side without being noticed, as she always did. "What's eating you?"

"Go away," he said, not even bothering to turn around and face her, a habit of his Blaise always found especially annoying.

"Not telling? Let me guess, then," she idly scratched her chin, as if in deep thought, the smirk never leaving her lips, "it must be something that has to do with that little game of ours, because if not, you would have told me ages ago," Draco scowled, but said nothing, "And if it has to do with our bet, then undoubtedly it has to do with the Mudblood."

Noticing he hadn't even turned around, she grabbed his face with one hand, making him face her. "When I'm talking, Malfoy, I don't like to feel like I'm the only person in the room. Is that clear?" He glared at her, but he still wasn't speaking. "So, as I was saying, it must be something that has to do with the Mudblood... Did she insult your poor little ego? Is the poor darling in need of some stroking?" She chuckled at her own joke, "Or did she just walk away from you in your desperate and pathetic attempt of winning her trust?"

That finally got Draco's attention. He stood up from the chair and pressed her hard against the wall, so quickly she wasn't able to react. "Are you following me, Zabini?" She struggled fiercely under his grip on her arms, but he didn't let her go. "Did you actually have the cheek to send someone after me, to keep an eye on my doings?"

"And why if I did?" she snarled back, still struggling. "It is my own, bloody business. And besides, I like to see things done, Malfoy. Do you think everything is about the bloody bet?" She suddenly laughed, making Draco wince, "I thought you were egotistic enough as any other respectable Slytherin, but this is just way too much. Did you forget that our main purpose was to get Potter and that the bet was only a way to spice things up? A bit naïve on your part to think everything swirls around you,"

Draco, not being able to contain himself any further, slapped her hard. Blaise stopped laughing the second Draco's hand connected with her cheek.

"I do not tolerate being laughed at, Zabini, in case you forgot," Draco said coldly, loosening his grip on her arms. "And do stop sending people to watch me. I'm perfectly capable of doing what's required of me." At that point he leaned closer to her face. "If I wasn't, I wouldn't have wagered my Cloak."

Blaise attempted to slap him back, but Draco's quick reflexes were still on guard. She took a deep breath before speaking. "I know your real reasons, Malfoy, don't think I'm stupid. But if those reasons motivate you to do what you have to do, by all means, use them. I wouldn't care less," her voice tone was considerably more composed, and was lacking the scorn with which she usually complemented her mode of speaking, "However, I do need to see results, Malfoy. Our Master was extremely pleased with our plan, but he still wants regular reports. Unfortunately, I do not know when the next meeting will take place." Draco released her, and she added, "So I would advise you to speed up the process, unless you want us to be in serious trouble."

Draco nodded, and while he did so, taking advantage of the distraction she'd created, Blaise slapped him back. "Oh, and keep in mind that I do not tolerate being slapped, so don't do that again, ever." And with nothing else to say, she left for her dormitory.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione was running as fast as she could, as if someone or something was actually chasing her. What the hell had just happened? What exactly had clouded her senses so much she'd considered that there was a possibility that Draco Malfoy was being in any way truthful?

She stopped by the portrait of the Fat Lady, suddenly remembering that she couldn't enter the common room for a big while. She wasn't about to face Ron and Harry just yet. Probably they wouldn't want to see her, either.

"Are you going in, dear?" a sleepy Fat Lady asked her, stifling a huge yawn.

"No, not yet. I'm sorry if I woke you up needlessly." She replied, leaving what she was carrying on the floor. The Fat Lady muttered something Hermione wasn't able to catch and fell asleep again.

Sitting by her things and burying her face in her hands, Hermione realized she was completely alone, at least at the moment. And she hated the notion. It had been stupid, really, to think the delicate balance between them would last forever. Those kinds of friendships were the most likely to break, and she was sure hers with Harry and Ron was no exception.

Damn those hormones, Hermione thought miserably, letting go a big sigh. She was almost sure Ron had been seeing someone secretly for at least a month, but neither he nor Harry had had the balls to tell her. Somehow she could see their point of view in the matter, if she could still presume to know them well: Most likely they were thinking along the lines that she still had feelings for Ron, and by knowing that he'd moved on so quickly, that she'd be absolutely devastated.

As if I'd be upset just because he found someone else. I can find someone for myself, too. Is only a matter of finding the right one, that's all, she thought, somewhat uncertainly.

"Hermione?" the voice calling her name made her interrupt her train of thought as she tilted her head up and turned sideways to see Harry standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face. "What are you doing out there? Come inside, its freezing." Hermione did not reply, and looked the other way. "I know you're mad at me, but that's not a reason to remain out here in the cold. Won't you come inside?" he said, coming closer and offering his hand.

Reluctantly, she gathered her things and took Harry's extended hand, still refusing to meet his eyes or to speak. Anyway, she had already started to feel the chilly late-October air, and she had forgotten her cloak.

"I was so worried when I didn't find you at the library," he said softly, leading her inside, "I didn't know where else to look."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Where's Ron?" she asked, once she was properly seated and covered with Harry's cloak on one of the armchairs by the fire.

"Ron?" Harry said as he sat by her. He seemed nervous, and refused to meet her eyes. "I - I think he's at - at - er - I honestly don't know."

"Harry, you definitely need to learn how to lie convincingly," she said, shaking her head, "Now tell me, where is he?"

"I told you, I really don't know. He left shortly after you did, and I thought he was going after you, but apparently he didn't."

Hermione frowned at him, and crossed her arms over her chest. "What exactly are you two hiding from me, Harry?"

"Hide something from you? Why would we?"

"Harry please, don't think me stupid. Anyway, you have hidden things from me in the past, so why shouldn't I think so now?" she said firmly.

"We aren't hiding anything!" he said exasperatedly, perhaps a bit louder than he intended. A few heads turned in their direction. He lowered his voice. "What do you think we could possibly be hiding, Hermione?"

"I have been thinking about the possibilities for quite a while, to be honest. But before I tell you what they are, I'd like to hear what you think," she replied, crossing her arms.

"What do I think? What do I think about what, exactly?"

"Quit playing thick with me, Harry," Hermione said simply, her tone of voice threatening, as well as her glare.

"I'm not doing anything of the sort, Hermione!" he said, now fully exasperated, "I don't know what the hell are you talking about, I'm most certainly not hiding anything from you, neither is Ron, and I'm just plainly sick of having this stupid discussion!"

Hermione didn't react to his hysterical display as he had expected. She just stood up from the couch, and looked at him firmly in the eye. "Fine, then. Have it your way. But I'm going to find out what's going on by myself, and when I do..." she stopped speaking suddenly, and left without finishing the sentence.

"Fine!" he yelled after her, and sat on the armchair closest to the fire to wait for Ron, who was probably going to take quite a long time to come back. But he had to inform him of the latest happening, and that couldn't wait.

* * * * * * *

Draco tossed and turned in bed. It was nearly midnight, and he hadn't been able to sleep. He wondered at the reasons, because for all he knew, he was absolutely exhausted after such a demanding day. Perhaps it was all the tension that he had accumulated the last few days finally getting to him. And he had to admit, after what Blaise had told him, he was terrified.

Not executing an order in time was the same as disobeying for the Dark Lord, and he didn't want to imagine the consequences he'd bring to himself and to Blaise if he didn't bring Potter for Easter. Come to think of it, just the very thought that he'd have to attend one of those meetings made him nervous.

Looking at the ceiling, he shuddered involuntarily, suddenly recalling what Blaise had related to him the first time she'd gone to a Death Eater meeting, barely three days after the start of term:

Draco glanced at his wristwatch as he paced the Slytherin common room. It was well passed midnight, the hour Blaise had told him she'd be back. If truth be told, he had started to worry for her welfare. What if the Dark Lord had decided to punish her or something worse?

"You waited up for me, Malfoy? That's so sweet." Draco turned around to see Blaise standing in front of him, covered with a heavy black cloak and dripping wet from head to toe. "I'm sorry if I took longer than I expected to come back," she added as an explanation while she lit the fire and sat on one of the armchairs.

"So," said Draco, sitting by her, "how was it?"

Blaise sighed and kept staring at the fire. "You have no idea how it feels to be actually there, Malfoy. To be that close to - to Him. It's almost surreal."

"Cut the bullshit, Zabini, if you please," said Draco simply, looking sharply at her green eyes. "What the hell happened in there?"

Blaise faced him, and smiled resignedly. "Well then, if you're sure you want to know," she sighed before continuing, "We met in the forest near your manor. We were about twenty, mostly wizards I am acquainted with; although there were some I had never seen before in my life. Pansy's mother and older sister, besides me, were the only women present. The sexist bastards!" Draco kept staring at her eyes, and urged her to continue with a gesture. "Anyway, they made some kind of ritual in which Primrose Parkinson, a young man who I didn't recognize and I were not allowed to participate, perhaps because it was our first time in a Death Eater reunion."

"What kind of ritual?" Draco asked, apprehensive. On countless occasions, usually when returning from those meetings, his father had enlightened him with some details regarding the most popular rituals among Death Eaters, none of which were in any way pleasant.

"A welcoming ritual, I think, and it wasn't that bad, really" she replied casually, "It just consisted on a really eerie chant in Latin - praise for the Dark Lord if I'm not mistaken - followed by some kind of "blessing" granted by him to every Death Eater present in the circle around him. Then they kissed his feet," Blaise made a gesture of repulse, "that was utterly disgusting."

"Was that the only thing you had to witness?" Draco asked, relief showing in his voice.

"Of course not, you prat," she said, untangling her wet hair with her fingers, "after that, any Death Eater that had something to say - usually reports on dark activities - would do so. That took nearly an hour. Then, it was my turn to tell about the Black Serpents."

"And what did you say?" Draco asked eagerly.

"I didn't speak much, to say the truth. I just told about the double initiation of Perry and Peter Hewitt last night, and I'm grateful I wasn't questioned. I was so bloody nervous I'm not sure what kind of rubbish I would have answered. Especially after what happened to the bloke who spoke before me," she said, and winced.

"Crucio?"

Blaise nodded gravely. "You have no idea how he cried out in pain. It was awful. But according to what Marigold Parkinson was able to whisper, it could have been a lot worse. The bloke could have just died."

"What did he do?"

"I don't know. I wasn't paying any attention. I was worried enough thinking about what I was going to say," she replied, staring once more at the crackling fire.

"And after that?"

"We all apparated to the manor, where your father was offering this huge feast. I had never seen so much food and wine together in my life, not even in Christmas Eve dinners at the Palazzo. And you know that's saying something,"

Draco nodded, "I know about those gatherings. In less than an hour everyone is royally pissed, and quite peculiar things start to happen in the dungeons. Every time I was present, I was always sent upstairs by my mother as soon as someone started to speak gibberish."

"So you get the idea, then. Honestly, I was rather bored. It's not amusing anymore to see people drunk, not after our private parties here in the common room," she smirked for a moment, as if recalling something funny. "But after a while, it became extremely disturbing: Avery announced in a very loud voice that the Muggles had arrived, and five very pretty but otherwise terrified young women entered the dining room, and even before Avery had managed to assemble them in line, the wizards were already fighting for them. And I mean real fighting. My uncle Vladimir got a very nasty punch from Crabbe, for example," she paused, and took a deep breath, "In the end, Goyle, Nott, Avery and two other chaps were the ones to 'win' them, and left for the dungeons. Merlin knows what they did to them."

Draco found he had nothing to say, so she continued, shakily. "The wizards that didn't have any company, either looked for some amongst them, or went for the other available women in the room: Primrose, Marigold and myself," Blaise looked at Draco's eyes, shaking, "I admit I was scared out my wits by then. Primrose was very drunk, and I doubt that she realized that two very ugly men - McNair and Crabbe - had stripped her and were raping her at the same time. Marigold was with her husband, both awfully drunk as well, having sex on a deck chair, oblivious to their surroundings. I think I won't be able to look at Pansy with a straight face in my life again," she said, trying to make a joke out of the situation, but Draco didn't even smirk.

"Do you think that's funny, Zabini?" he asked harshly. Blaise continued talking as if he hadn't spoken.

"So that left only me and the three wizards approaching. And for the first time in my whole life, Malfoy, I regretted having a miniskirt on," she quickly glanced at the said skirt, and continued, "I was lucky I had my wand with me, and that I was sober, because that saved me. I was able to stun them all as soon as one had started grabbing me. I hope no one noticed."

"I doubt it. They probably thought they had passed out," Draco said, trying to comfort her. "You haven't mentioned the Dark Lord. Was he drunk too?" he added, smirking at the mental image.

"Of course not. He just sat in an armchair and watched. He seemed like a merciful king observing his plebeians amuse themselves. It's creepy to be watched like that." She paused. "Well anyway, I don't know what happened to me - I suspect it was my revolted mind's doing - but I approached him."

Draco raised both of his eyebrows in astonishment. "You did WHAT? Are you insane Zabini? He could have killed you!"

"Relax, Malfoy. The important thing is that he didn't. I bowed and kissed his extended hand, and when he bid me to stand, I just asked for permission to leave."

"You are nuts, aren't you? Or perhaps just very suicidal,"

"He chuckled, said that he liked my guts, and gave me the Portkey back to Hogsmeade, where I took a horseless carriage and came back here."

"And my father? What was he doing?" Draco finally got to ask the question that had been nagging him since Blaise had arrived.

"He offered a toast for our Lord as soon as the feast began, but I lost sight of him a while before Avery brought the Muggles. Hell knows where he went."

"I think you were extremely lucky to have come out of that hellhole alive, Zabini," Draco said dryly, as if ignoring Blaise's last comment. "There are some who haven't been as fortunate."

"I know that, Malfoy. But that's a risk I agreed to take. A risk, if I'm not very much mistaken, you agreed to take too."

Draco stared at the ceiling, breathing evenly. Of course he'd agreed to everything she'd proposed that rainy dawn many months ago. That was what he'd been brought up to believe, after all. But under the present circumstances, which included every threat to his personal security, he couldn't help but wonder at his motives of joining the Black Serpents, and for that matter, to any further identification with the Death Eater principles.

Viewing it carefully, he'd been rather foolish.

But then again, his father wouldn't have expected anything less from him. It was sometimes very difficult, to live up to such expectations. To excel in absolutely everything: in Quidditch, in every single one of his school subjects, in social status...

He'd been able to succeed in the latter, but the previous two he'd always had the shameful second place. Outranked by Potter and the Mudblood.

Hell, there she was again, invading most of his thoughts. Get out of my head, you bloody Mudblood, he thought irately.

Anyway, he was going to complete his task, no matter the costs, even though he was starting to doubt his very own identification with the Death Eaters. There was still the matter of Blaise, and he wasn't about to let her down.

* * * * * * * * *