A/N: Yes, I'm a dead-beat, what of it? Beware, he's not committing suicide, he's just a touch desperate. And no, I will never give up any of my stories. If any of you read 'Are you all bloody mad' I will be posting soon. I've got half a chapter done, I'm just trying to come up with a good transition. Sorry! Hope you like this chapter!

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There are certain things every human needs; and we are all humans. Witch, wizard, warlock, we are human deep down with human emotions; dreams; and needs. Without these we are no better than dolls. Mindless, not able to create a connection with anyone. Needs vary. Air, food, sun; these are needs of the body. I am talking of needs for the soul. Some people are so flooded with love, they need only to give it. Some are so flooded with hate, they do the same. Souls strive for things. So far I have been able to stifle my own soul's needs, but now I don't know.

I know there are outside things attacking my own will, but now I feel another presence. I feel a soothing burn behind my stomach, like a humid swell before the real storm. I feel the waves churning and the monsoon coming. Soon in might blow me through...through what, I don't know, but I know this door is there; weather it be good or bad tidings, I know not, but I know of it's existence.

The door creaked open; my body hesitated for a moment, and looked toward the door of my inner-chamber. So far, after my painful trip to the Parkinson Mansion, I had done nothing but pace my bedroom. I began to wonder if eventually the wear on the stones would dig me down to Australia.

"Many apologies," It was the high, squeaky voice of Wobbner, my father's personal house elf. "your father wishes that you reads this." He handed me a folded piece of paper with the family seal. "He also bids me to gives you these." He produced a pack of cards. "He wishes you to stop pacings and plays with these for your pacings gives him a headache." He bowed a low bow, shaking, and left.

I opened the frail card and suddenly my knees felt weak, my stomach turned upside-down, and my head felt lighter than ashes in the wind. The weight of that note pulled my stiff knees into submission. A storm was brewing, and this was just the beginning.



People never see past a name here. It only matters who's married whom and what family disowned another. I say Blaise Zambini and no one hears the first part. I am just a Zanbini. New money in-breeds with their main income from Indian trade. I saw this recognition when I found my way to the Parkinson door.

"Let me see if my mistress is about." The human servant made a small bow and apperated away. I made a mental note that I was going to make this man bow a hell of a lot lower when I was Lady Malfoy.

I wandered into the entry hall. It was the normal sort, marble floors, the family seal hidden in a gilt sunburst, paintings of family members; very ordinary. I was busy checking the state of my teeth in a vase when I heard that unmistakable noise of stilettos on marble.

"Bemberry, have you seen my father?" It was Pansy in the morning parlor.

"No, I haven't, sorry Mademoiselle. I believe he has gone to speak with the Bulstrodes; but if you will, you have a visitor, a Miss Blaise Zambini."

"Thank you Bemberry, though from now on- until the ball- I am not in. I have an appointment and preparations need to be made. Make sure that Mr. Maligo is not within forty feet of my room." Hmmm... this was a bit of news. So she didn't look with a keen eye on her, most likely, future husband. No wonder, he was thicker than the marble I was standing on.

"I will inform that house elves." Bemberry answered.

I heard Pansy sigh. Her stilettos found their way into the room with their thin click-clack. As I looked at them I wanted to wring her elegant neck! I wanted those! They were the Italian patented dragon hide Avadas!

"Ah, hello Blaise!" She said with her plastic smile. "I expected you were going to be getting ready for the ball."

"Well, you know what they say; natural beauty takes no time at all."

"I remember quite fondly the hours before the Winter ball that you spent in agony attempting to get ready." She smiled again. I wanted to slam those stilettos into her eyes.

"Ah, so you have the new Avadas. I was just going to pop over to Florence to get my own pair."

"Oh, these? Yes, I got them last Christmas."

"Last Christmas? You must be confused. It is so easy when you have to spend so much money on looking good. They only were released three weeks ago."

"Oh yes, I forgot. My cousin is a designer at Avada; She gave me the prototype for Christmas. Would you like to adjourn to the parlor?"



I've always been told to never say never; that things have a way of changing on you. People can cheat you, prophecies can be reevaluated, and you can always step in. I suppose you should never say always either. I said I would always be in charge of my fate, that destiny had no place in my life. Well, taking recent things into consideration I suppose that's all gone to shit, hasn't it?

I had few aspirations in life. One of them was to get married to someone who actually loved me, and whom I loved back. I knew this was rather ambitious looking at the world around me. Then I found Pansy, and I found who she was, and what she was past her name and station. Past the bloodline and the treaties. She was just the person I wanted beside me at the endless balls and the person I wanted to protect me from the lusts of our world. I saw my future with her beside me. I would always be with her. This was what I wanted, what I still want.

Now it's been torn away by a frail creme colored card. I had always thought a sword would be the only thing to tear me away from my dream. Never say always.



Pansy sat in a throne-like velvet chair. Their ebony coffee table reflected the red roses in the garnet studded vase. It was like one of the portraits in the entrance hall. She was the queen of her lair, ruling over her parlor with an iron fist. I would soon dethrone her.

"I confess, the reason I came here was to wish you sympathy." I said as sweetly as I could.

"Really, what for?" She answered, she must be reigning her feelings.

"You must think I'm a simpleton not to know." She kept up a look of confusion. "Your parting from Draco."

She faltered, then regained herself. "Parting?"

"Well yes, I know he wanted out, but, well, once that invitation came I knew it was concrete. What a catch to get robbed of, but of course, now you have Faveo."

"Well yes, We have found that our engagement didn't suit."

"Well I always saw it coming. Te way he talked when we were alone! You can do much better. I mean he is rich and handsome, but he was far from loving you." I smiled again, I could see her confidence wearing away. Her queenly state was beginning to crumble. I got up and began to walk around, circling her chair, patting her arm.

"I'm sure you'll start to take this as a blow to your ego. I mean, by the invitation he is saying that you aren't good enough for him, but really; we both know that's not true," I bent beside her head and whispered, "You really aren't good enough for him." I circled to the other side of her head. "Who would connect themselves with your family? I've heard about all those sly deals." Switching ears again I could almost hear the tears welling. "He told me what he thought about you; he told me that you were a slut, a charlatan, a prostitute ready to sleep with him for his money." I saw her eyes glisten when I sat in front of her on her coffee table. I took both her hands in mine. "I didn't believe it Pansy, you know I wouldn't, but the way he spoke, it felt like daggers! I thought you might like to know, though there's nothing you can do now. He'll go crawling into the arms of some tart, not worth half as much as you. He'll find out what he's missing soon enough." If only they gave Oscars in Britain for social performances.

I let go of her hands and took a lengthy stroll around the room back to the sofa I began on. "Of course that's what you get for having a verbal contract. Love or no love, a written contract is a written contract. I hope you don't make that mistake with Faveo, he's quite a catch."

She cleared her throat, "Well, thank you for your sympathy, though I might say I hardly need them. I'm glad I'm out, now I have Faveo and my prospects are bright. He's a Baron in Russia, he'll take care of me very well. Now I need to get ready for the ball, as do you." She got up to show me out to the entry hall.



I'm bleeding, I can see that well enough. I did it myself. I figure, now I've got nothing to loose. My father doesn't know the kind of magic I know; if he did, he wouldn't have given me that pack of cards. I've never done this before, and I doubt it will work, but just the same, I have already taken out the ace of spades, I have forced my hand, through the burning, to take up a razor. I have willed myself to cut my upper arm, a jagged red line. The sensation of ripping flesh I now only feel in the hand that holds the razor, but pain that should be shooting up my arm, the agony which would follow such an act, does not come.

I can see the blood flowing down, like a slow, crimson waterfall. I know it should hurt. I know I should cry out. I know the pain of severed muscles, I've had it before, but I don't say anything. I don't cry out. It doesn't hurt. I just watch the blood run down my arm like an external vein. It goes in an ever twisting spiral, winding down each slim, tapered finger and falls in five equal droplets. As they landed the sound of their slamming into the card began beat in my head. Like a tribal drumming it spoke volumes. With every beat it said "Death, death, death, death,". I knew whom it was talking about as well. It is who I had hoped. The person who caused all this mischief, the reason I am slowly turning mad. He will be dead by this evening.

Just then I heard an unearthly screech that shattered my reverie and stopped the drumming. It was my mother.

She wasted no words. She healed my wound, and bound me. That was when I blacked out.



"You said it wouldn't hurt him." I yelled at my husband, that bastard. He assured me that there wouldn't be any pain to Draco. He lied to me! He must be behind Draco trying to killing himself.

"Yes, yes I did." He said with that irritating drawl. I hated when he spoke. I hated when he looked at me. I even hated when he touched me.

"Don't feed me that shit Lucius. You didn't see what I saw in that room. There can be no other explanation."

"Yes there can; he's inherited your family's intelligence." He took a shot of his sherry, though I doubt that was what it was, and grimaced, the closest I'd ever seen to smiling from him.

"You're killing your heir, Lucius. We can't have another, this is your only chance." What was he thinking of?

"This cannot be our only chance. There will be more." He answered nonchalantly.

"God saw fit to only see us this one; beside the fact that even if, by some miracle, we had another-"

"No!" He snarled, expressing his anger physically by throwing his sherry glass into the fireplace. The blaze came up to meet it and inhale the alcohol. It produced a frightening effect on Lucius' countenance, his sallow skin being lit by the biting flames. If I were younger I would have been scared, but I was old and haggard now; wise in the ways of my forsaken husband. I am done being scared of him and his manipulation. He can do what he will to me, but my son will no longer be slave to his dreams of glory and riches. "Do not speak to me of God and miracles. I have seen none of him, and I don't need him! He has left me with nothing. I now refuse him. I am now in charge. Once we are done with this affair, I will be God! I will be God on earth. I will also have an heir worthy of my empire." He was truly mad. He was absolutely spare! He was going to kill his heir, forsake his God, and surely die. He doesn't know what he's getting into.

"Are you bloody mad? You cannot stop Voldemort without your soul. If you don't remember, you sold your soul for Draco; for him to have this potential." I snarled right back. He had done so much for Draco to be who he is now.

"Yes, and it failed. Thus the contract is null and void." He said trying to regain the regal look that had fallen, though his act was lost on me, I had seen him with little more than his wand to keep up the charade.

"This is not a game you can fix Lucius; these- these- people-" I spat, though you could hardly call them that. "-they are not the kind you can cheat. Cheating the Devil is something left to the angels." I took a step toward him, trying to use all of my five foot-nine inches.

"Narcissa, they made an agreement and went back on it."

"Yes, and there's no way to change it now. He's a teenager and you've already promised your soul. One without a soul cannot take over the world."

"I don't mean to take over the world, you miss understand me my dear. I mean to kill everyone in it except for the pure-bloods. When you kill everyone, you can hardly call that taking over the world." He said calmly.

"Beside the fact, you cannot kill Draco, and you know this. That is why you haven't attempted it. He will kill you, it is only a matter of time- " He took this moment to slap me, though it stung, it was nothing compared to the crushing feeling of dread. He would kill my son. He would have him dead as soon as he took power. If he couldn't kill him, he would have someone else kill him. I knew who that would be.



What the hell was she talking about? She was dribbling on and on about Draco wanting out, about Draco not loving me. I know she just wants to get under my skin. I know she's always wanted what I have...but... what if what she's saying is true? That he didn't love me? That he doesn't now? All this came with the tears I so dearly wanted to stay away.

I leaned against the cool marble walls, trying to cool my face; almost trying to see if I could become part of the wall and live the rest of my life as a marble slab; it would come out a whole lot better than the way things were going now.

As I began to wonder just how long things would go before I got my wish, the front door opened. It was my father.

"BEMBERRY! BEMBER-" He yelled, but stopped when he saw me. "What are you doing there?" He asked harshly.

I straightened up immediately and began to walk towards the stairs. "Nothing, just going to get ready for this evening." I said quietly, mounting the first stair. He pulled me back by my shoulder, making me stumble backwards.

"Are you physically hurt?"


"Then you need to get your Max to make sure you don't show anything like tears this evening. I don't want to see you anything but charming and unaffected this evening." He took me by my shoulders and peered into my eyes. "Be attentive to Faveo, ignore the Malfoy boy. We've still got a hand to play Pansy, you won't mess this for me!" He shook me. I could feel his grip bruising. If he kept this up I would end up passing out. "Now, if anyone richer or more powerful than a Malfoy asks you to dance you better damn well say yes."

"Whose more powerful than a Malfoy?"

"Like I said, stick to Faveo." He finally let go, but saw my watery eyes. He sighed and rubbed his head. "Dear, there is no need to care anymore for that Malfoy brat; Faveo can provide for you very well. You won't need to curb your shopping. There's nothing to be worried about."

I wanted to scream and curse at him! To think I was only worried about shopping! Forget for a moment I have just lost the only man I have ever cared for. Forget the fact that I have had to put up with a shell of a lover for some unknown reason, and even forget that I have worked, worked harder than a house-elf on Dragon's powder to become the sort of witch that Voldemort would be proud of just so Draco and my father would approve of me, and he thinks all I care about is that I might have to give up a few trips to Milan? Oh hell! Oh my bleeding hell! Has this man no sense?

"Now Pansy, I suppose you need money for your appointment with Max?" he began to dig in his trousers for his purse.

So this wouldn't be any different from the others. I would don the cold mask of indifferent refinement; I would be charming, beautiful, but nothing memorable or clever. I would be a mere doll in a case. To be admired, but never interacted with. I suppose I should get used to it; I will be doing for sometime as Mrs. Maligo.



I will no longer be the doll in a case; set out on display. I have ignored myself and my son long enough. I will no longer be ignorant and go along with whatever anyone else says. The time has come. My husband has gone mad, my son is in danger, and I will not standby like a helpless lamb. The blindfold is off; out comes the wand.