Deliver Me

Chapter XXIII – Defied Hush


Davian was carrying her, his touch made her skin crawl. His fingers caressed her cheek and Blaise couldn’t stop him. He rested her down on a rather large sofa. She suddenly felt cold. He was standing in front of her. She looked up and his lips were getting closer to hers. She felt his hands circle her waist, move slowly up her abdomen and dig in to her ribs. He held the blade above her head and then he sliced.


Draco woke up to hear her screaming.

”Blaise,” he shook her, “Blaise, love, wake up,” he shook her again.

When her eyes opened, she leaned over the side of the bed and threw up in the bin he had set aside for her. He muttered a spell to get rid of the vomit, and another cleansing spell over her mouth. She was grateful he did it, she didn’t think she had the strength too.

“Are you ok?” he asked handing her a glass of mineral water. She took a sip and exhaled deeply.

She lay back on the bed, sweating and pale, “He was there. Draco he was there.”

“Shh, love, I’m here now -”

“Draco, he was there…again,” she cut him off.

“Blaise, has Davian done something to you before? Before tonight?” he asked.

She began to shake her head ‘no’, “Blaise,” he prodded, and she nodded ‘yes’.

“What did he do to you?” asked Draco.

And for the first time in years, teardrops fell from Blaise Zabini’s eyes.

“Don’t cry,” Draco rocked her back and forth.

“I’m not crying,” she said meekly.

“He didn’t rape you did he?” Draco asked tensing up. She could see the anger in Draco building up, something she hasn’t seen in him very often. It was the beginning of pure, unadulterated, passionate rage. She’d seen in him like that before, and once he got built up, it was very hard to bring him back down. Draco was going to be a perfect Death Eater just like his father.

“No,” she said and felt him relax again, “But it’s not like what he did was any better.”

“Blaise, why didn’t you tell someone, what did he do to you?”

She shook Draco off of her, brought her hands up to her neck and removed the necklace she was wearing.

It was a one-inch wide, lightweight, silver choker, with a long emerald snake around it. It brought out the green in her eyes. In the past couple of weeks, he couldn’t remember her ever taking it off.

“Dear gods,” he muttered.

There was a thin scar on her neck. It was similar to Harry’s scar, only it wasn’t cause by magic.

Davian had cut her throat; he tried to kill her.

Draco traced the scar with his finger, “Has anyone seen this?”

She shook her head.

“You should have told someone, when did this happen?”

She gulped before continuing, “It was about two months ago, when we went home.”

“Wait, I was there, we stayed at your place, I saw you all the time, when was this?”

“One night, I couldn’t sleep and I went to the kitchens to get something to drink, maybe a sleeping draught. On my way down there, I saw lights coming from daddy’s library. I thought daddy was up late, so I was going to keep his company until I felt sleepy.”

“Only Eros wasn’t there, now was he,” Draco inferred.

“No, daddy wasn’t. I’m not sure what, but Davian thought I saw whatever he was doing. Only I didn’t. He saw me, and well, you see what happened next…” her voice trailed off.

“Blaise, I’m glad he got caught tonight,” Draco stated.

“Draco, I can still see that dagger, that blade, I dream about it,” her expression dripped in sadness.

“What does it look like? I mean a blade is a blade Blaise,” he tried to ease the situation.

“Golden at it handle with a green gems lining it, a perfectly sharp Slytherin dagger. I should be dead now hadn’t…”

“Hadn’t what?”

“Hadn’t Alizeé showed up. He wasn’t able to cut deep enough, it just grazed my skin,” Draco couldn’t believe she was talking about it so calmly.

“That night…oh Draco, that night…” her voice choked.

“He must have really been up to no good,” Draco commented.

“What else is new,” she said. He noticed the sadness in her voice, she was trying to laugh it off.

“Blaise, why didn’t you tell me? Tell someone? He’s horrid,” he pleaded with her.

“I do not need you to save me,” she lied.

“Has Ron ever seen this?” he asked.

“No, no one has.”

“Why didn’t you use a healing charm on it?” he inquired.

“I did. But it didn’t help. That dagger, Draco, was…different.”

“Love,” he stoked her hair and held her close.

“I’m sorry,” she told him.

“Don’t apologize, you shouldn’t have too,” Draco said, “Besides, after tonight’s little fiasco, I doubt he’ll come near you again.”

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“Only if there is a need,” and he left the option open to his discretion, “and one more thing, while we are on the subject,” he added.

“Yes?” she asked quietly.

“I choose who I wish to and not to save, and at the moment, I want to save you.”

She smiled at him. Her eyes were warm and Draco Malfoy was one of the few people in this world Blaise ever trusted.

They spent the greater part of the night talking, and before they knew it, dawn was coming up outside Draco’s room.

Blaise let out a soft yawn.

“Staying in?” he asked. She nodded as he got up out of bed.

Blaise was halfway asleep when she felt him near her, “I’ll be back to check on you later,” and he was gone.

xxxxxxxxxx

Hermione awoke in Severus’ arms. He felt her stir and held her tighter. She liked the feeling of his on her, inside her, with her. Hermione snuggled next to him and closed her eyes. If this was to be the one and only time they were going to be together, she wanted to remember it.

He felt her stir, “Did you sleep well?”

She snuggled against him, but did not answer.

“Well?” he asked dryly. The man had no concept of ‘silence’ apparently.

“Shhhh,” she ushered looking up at him. She brought her fingers to his lips silencing him. Severus let her fingers linger there for a few seconds before entwining his hand in hers and moving it to his chest.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” she said.

“What?” He couldn’t help the surprise in his voice, she had caught him off guard.

“When I’m gone, I’m just going to miss you so much. You are like my Heathcliff, you know that?”

“Is that a drink?” he asked. What in the world was a ‘Heathcliff’?

“Oh I forgot, you don’t know about Muggle literature, or music. How shall I describe it to you?” she pondered out loud.

“I’m not entirely sure I would wish to know.” It was one of the few times she could think of where he wasn’t being difficult or had his guard up. He was actually speaking with her…genuinely.

“Can I tell you something?” She propped herself up against him, chest to chest, so she could look into his eyes, and just be honest.

It was time, she ended the game, at least, ending it from her end.

“You do always speak your time to me, do you not? I find it rather difficult to get you to even consider biting your tongue. So as you wish. Speak.”

“Severus,” she started, and the words didn’t quite make it out.

“That is my name,” another dry comment.

She started to pull away from him to get up. Hermione wasn’t going to tell him anything. Stupid man, she thought.

He pulled her back to him. “No, don’t.”

“You wished to tell me something, and I prevented it. I want to hear you.”

She shook her head ‘no.’

“Please.” It wasn’t a request from him, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement, whispered through his lips like frosty air in the winter.

She inhaled, and the words barely made it out of her mouth, before his lips met hers.

“I love you.”

xxxxxxxxxx

It was almost noon when Draco excused himself from lunch, at an excited Slytherin table, to return to Blaise. Most of his fellow Slytherins were discussing the upcoming final initiation into becoming full-fledged Death Eaters. There were always large parties held after the initiations and most formal gatherings the Dark Lord ordered. Many of the Slytherins were excited about the parties, moreso than they even cared about what the parties were in honor of.

Her eyes opened when he walked in. She did have excellent senses, she was a real lioness.

“I brought you tea,” he ushered the saucer next to his bed.

“‘Raco, my hero,” a faint smile crept to her lips.

“Ron asked for you.”

“What did you tell him?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. I don’t need to tell Weasel anything,” sardonic Draco was back.

“Play nice, Draco.”

“You sound like my father,” he noticed, and she laughed.

“Let me see your bruise,” he peeled the covers off of her and unbuttoned her shirt; his shirt.

“I think the redness should be gone,” Blaise told him.

His fingers pressed the region below her breasts.

She groaned in agitation, “I guess it’s not fully healed yet.” Blaise would never admit it was hurting.

“The after effects of the stone, should be wearing off soon.”

“How much longer?”

“A couple hours, most of the redness is gone, it’s just reworking the bones, that’s what taking so long,” he pushed harder on her ribcage. “I can’t believe that son of a bitch fractured your ribs. I hope father killed him.”

She flinched but didn’t say a word.

“Blaise, you are a true solider,” his lips caressed the red spot below her breasts.

She smiled, but said nothing.

xxxxxxxxxx

Draco left Blaise and was heading to his afternoon classes, when he ran into Ginny.

“Hi,” she said.

“Um, hello,” he greeted her a little taken back.

“Are you alight? Where’s Blaise? I haven’t seen her since last night,” she asked.

“She’s in the dungeons, not feeling well, caught a bug last night,” he lied – sort of.

“Oh, maybe I should go see her,” Ginny offered.

“You aren’t a Slytherin, thus, the dungeons are off limits to you,” he pointed out.

“Yes, yes I suppose that’s true,” she took heart to his silence and continued, “you don’t look to well, did something happen last night?”

He took her hand and led her to an empty hallway where they could be alone.

“Ginny, I need you to listen to me and trust me, can you do that?” he asked.

"I suppose so, what’s going on?”

“It’s not my place to say, but don’t ask about Blaise okay? She’ll be fine. And don’t ask about me and Blaise, either. Just understand that I’m helping her. She needs to get well and right now I’m the only person who is going to make that possible.”

“Draco, if she’s really that sick, she should see Madame Pomfrey-”

He cut her off in mid-sentence. “This is the kind of illness that Pomfrey doesn’t need to know about.”

Ginny’s eyes widened in understanding, “So something did happen last night. Draco?”

“Yes, what is it?”

She leaned closer to him and barely whispered it, “Why didn’t you tell me Blaise’s sister was a Death Eater?”

He didn’t look surprised when she confronted him.

“How did you find out?”

“Ron.”

“And I suppose Blaise told him about Alizeé.”

She nodded.

“Ginny, you gave me your word. I cannot discuss this further, it’s water you don’t want to tread. It’s water I don’t want you to tread. Do not discuss last night with anyone. Just pretend like you know nothing.”

“But I want to help-”

“If you want to help, pretend like you know nothing. That’s the only help we need right now.”

“Was last night really that bad?” she asked him lightly, hoping her would give her at least some more information, “Surely it cannot be so horrible that you need all this secrecy?”

“It was that terrible and worst,” he lightly kissed her lips and walked away.

xxxxxxxxxx

Hermione woke up and it was the late afternoon. Severus was gone and she assumed he was in classes. So she got up, and headed to the Gryffindor common room.

Walking into the common room, few people were there, not seeing Harry or Ron, she walked upstairs and cleaned up a little, when Ginny came in.

“Hey Gin,” she said, packing away one of her clothing drawers. Ginny didn’t answer Hermione, but rather just sniffled.

Hermione turned around to find Ginny crying and looking rather miserable.

“Oh what’s wrong? Don’t cry, it’s okay,” Hermione said, and handed Ginny a tissue.

“Look, Hermione, I know we haven’t always been the best of friends,” she hiccupped. “But I need advice, and I really need it.”

They sat down on the bed together.

“Yes? Well, I’ll help you as much as I can. I don’t know…I don’t feel like I know too much about anything these days,” Hermione admitted.

“Could you ever love someone enough Hermione? I mean love them enough to just let them go?” Ginny asked. “Would that be true love?”

“What?” she asked. “Gin, I don’t understand. What do you mean enough to ‘let them go’?”

“I….” the words failed her and her eyes found her lap.

“Yes,” Hermione answered. “Yes, if I love him enough, to think that he needed to be free of me, I would just let him go.”


xxxxxxxxxx

Draco brought Blaise’s dinner to her that night.

“You’re so sweet, you should be a Gryffindor,” she teased him.

“That isn’t funny,” he was not amused.

“You are dating one,” she teased some more.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he smiled.

“A little,” she told him.

“Oh, before I forget, mum sent me an elixir to use with the stone, it’ll make the soreness go away quicker. You should be fine by tomorrow.”

He handed her the green bottle.

“Ugh,” she spat, “it taste terrible. Whoever said medicine was supposed to taste good was sadly mistaken.”

“You didn’t have to drink it,” he pointed out.

He took the bottle from her and took a seat on the bed next to her.

“Blaise, you know what I was thinking?”

“You’re going to tell me anyways, so I shall not object to hearing it. And no, I do not know what swirls around in that well gelled head of yours,” she told him sweetly.

He laughed. No one ever spoke to him that away. She was allowed. Not that he was any different, he played the same word games with her.

“Well?” she prodded.

“Wanton aren’t we?” he asked.

“Very,” she answered going along with his play on words.

“How much?” he inquired further.

“Too much,” she pretended to bat her eyelashes like a silly, schoolgirl.

Draco chuckled at her expression, “Damn it, Blaise, why can’t more women be like you?”

“Then I wouldn’t be so special, would I?”

“Now what would dear old Ginny think if I answered a loaded question like that?”

Blaise shrugged her shoulders delicately and sunk back into the bed, “Well, you wanted to tell me something?”

“Um, oh, yes. I was thinking about that dagger you mentioned.”

Her eyes became serious again, “What about it?”

“It wasn’t the Jadelisk dagger was it?”

“What do you mean? Of course not…well, no…Davian, doesn’t, well he couldn’t…besides, that spell would not work on me. It’s only meant for her.”

He was silent.

“Why do you ask?” she posed.

“Blaise, this,” his fingers traced the scar around her neck, “should have healed by now. If not from time then from the stone. The stone is certainly powerful enough to bring you back to full health.”

“What do you want me to tell you? I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the knife in the hands of the man who nearly raped and killed me,” her last couple of works drove wounds into him. That was the reality of it wasn’t it. He didn’t want to think about what could have happened to her.

“Forgive me,” he caressed her cheek, “it’s nothing.”

“No, I want to know, why would you think that it was the Jadelisk dagger?”

“Well, I’ve been hearing things from Ginny about what’s been going on with, well, you know, Hermione. I hear things from home too, you know that, and you very well know what Davian was up too…”

“So what do you think he was doing with the knife? Enchanting the damned thing further?” she had a harsh tone when it came to Davian.

“I don’t know Blaise, but something isn’t right.”

She looked worried.

“Don’t fret, my pet,” he attempted to make her smile, “I won’t let anything happen to you. Besides, I’m sure it’s nothing.”

xxxxxxxxxx

Hermione found Severus in his room, on his bed, reading when she walked in. He looked up at her, but did not move, and continued to read. Hermione took off her shoes, her robes and moved into bed beside him. She was only wearing pajama shorts and a tank top. She planned on sleeping next to him tonight.

Instinctively, he opened one of his arms, to scoop her towards him, without taking his eyes off of his book.

“I missed you, when you left,” she told him.

“You already knew I could not stay. Not all of us have the luxury of being away from our duties without consequence,” he rebutted dryly.

“Perhaps,” and she moved one of her hands over his novel.

“I can’t read your hand, my dear,” he stated.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Again?”

“Yes, Severus, that is what civilized people do, we talk, we discuss!”

“Oh I see,” he muttered. “So talk.”

She was about to start speaking, when he silenced her. “Wait, let me guess. Shall I?”

Hermione gave him a confused look.

“You love me,” he told her.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned, “No, you idiot!”

“You don’t love me?” he gave her a quizzical look.

“Yes! No, I mean ‘no’ that’s not what I was going to tell you, but yes, I love you,” she spat at him.

“I love it when you’re feisty,” he nuzzled into her hair.

This is hopefully. Who would have ever thought – Severus Snape, incredible sexual being.

“No, darling, I have a real question for you,” she told him, pushing him a bit ways away, to actually speak to him. “I need to know about the Snake’s Breath.”

That seemed to have secured his attention.

“Yes?” his tone dry and he seemed to have fallen right back into himself.

“I really want, no, Severus, I really feel like I need to know more about it,” she pleaded with him. “Please?”

He nodded, sighed and said, “Aiken describes something called the Snake’s Breath which is, in all actuality, Nagini’s unique, but poisonous venom, mixed with the extract of a rare flower, found in the mountains of Switzerland in the pure virgin snow, called the White Lotus.”

“What is it? What – I mean why?”

“The two have to be heated over a small but concentrated fire, where the vapors can be inhaled, sent into the blood stream and literally, burn off, in a sense of the meaning, the Jadelisk mark off its inhabitant.”

“Why can’t the person drink the potion directly?”

“Because it is too strong, the slightest miss at the precise brew, can kill. The virgin extract and the dark venom cancel the other, thus neutralizing whatever they come in contact with. Do you understand?”

“And me? Am I, healed? Did you heal me?” she asked.

He looked away from her and straight toward the other end of the room. Severus straightened his shoulders, and became rather stiff.

“In a sense,” he paused thinking of the right words to use. “I have.”

xxxxxxxxxx


Draco left Blaise sleeping in his room while he went out for Quidditch practice, when he returned she was still sleeping.

He didn’t want to wake her, but he was keen to find out if his mother’s elixir was having any effect on her.

“Blaise?” he shook her.

“What?” she mumbled.

“Wake up,” he ushered softly.

“Why?”

“I want to see your mid section,” he requested.

“My mid section was sleeping like the rest of me,” she grumbled moving her body into a position where he could look at her.

His hands were cold from outside, and her skin was so warm.

“You’re hands are cold,” she muttered.

“Deal with it,” he replied.

“How does it look?” she asked sleepily.

“Better, actually, a lot better,” he told her. Had his mother known what was wrong? That elixir did the trick, but still, the fact that it was what did the trick disturbed him.

“That’s nice,” she smiled faintly up at him, “You look adorable all muddy.”

“I thought I was adorable all the time,” he smirked as his fingers subconsciously stroked her stomach.

“You’re so hot right now, so hot,” she teased him.

“Hmm, that makes me a little angry, I was hoping for kisses,” he told her.

“Really?” she played along with him, in her sleepy state.

“Yes, really.”

“Where?” she asked him pulling him closer to her.

“You know where."

“Do I now?” she smiled faintly.

“As always,” he told her.

Blaise kissed Draco’s cheek, and slid her arms around his waist, letting him hug her.

He rested his elbows on both sides of her head and looked down at her with sad eyes.

“Why do you look so sad, ‘Raco my hero?” she asked him.

His thumb glided across her lips, he quickly brushed them and stood up.

Draco said nothing as he took off his clothes and walked into the bathroom for a shower.

Blaise went back to sleep when she heard the running water and she fully knocked out when he emerged out of the shower. Draco got dressed quickly; he needed to speak with his mother about that elixir.