"Zabini, Blaise please report to the Transfiguration classroom for your interview."
The call caught Blaise off-guard. He'd only just been released from the infirmary, and his head still felt too small for all the information and pain it had been hit with through out the day. Still, he stood up and straightened his robes, smirking at the Gryffindor Trio as he passed by them. He ignored Weasley's glare but put a bit of extra saucy into the sway of his hips as he noticed Draco's speccy git couldn't quite tear his eyes away from it.
Once out of sight of anyone of note, Blaise stood taller and marched to the Transfiguration Classroom. He came to the closed door, knocked, and then entered as a deep voice--dark, rich like Mama's favorite Belgian chocolate, and so very warm like pumping blood--called out, "Come in."
Blaise turned the doorknob and stepped through the opened door without looking at the body that voice belonged to. He knew he'd have to look, but for the past two years he'd been so disappointed by the promise of a voice...
"Mr. Zabini, I'm Auror Shacklebolt. I'll be conducting today's interview. You'll have another one in a week with someone else. Now, before we begin, do you have any questions for me?" The auror looked down at his notes, ignoring Blaise's gobsmacked expression. When no words were uttered, the auror began speaking again.
"Well, then, please be seated, Mr. Zabini." He looked down at a separate sheet of notes in another's hand. "From our preliminary reports, you were not present for the battle. Is that correct?" That dark voice stopped and Blaise blinked his eyes trying to understand what had been said.
"Ah...no, no I was not, kind sir." Blaise winced internally as he felt the caged power he always fought against flexing inside him, taunting him by replaying the other man's voice over and over in his head. "I was too smart to be caught up in a losing proposition." He crossed his arms over his chest, really just an elegant way of wrapping his arms around his treacherous body before he could launch it over the desk and at the warm, male body on its other side.
"Please relate the events prior to the battle...Blaise."
"I was..." he licked his lips, noticing how the other man's eyes seemed to follow the tip of his tongue as it peeked out between his lips, "I was in the Slytherin Common Room when word came down to evacuate. I left with the others and came out in the Hog's Head, a remarkably ramshackle pub for a Dumbledore to own, if I may say so." He licked his lips again, noticing a faint tightening of fingers upon the hand that held the quill making notations on a piece of parchment.
A spark of deviltry woke up in Blaise and he leaned forward, putting his hand on that writing hand. There was a frisson of something that passed between them before the auror removed his hand from under Blaise's fingers.
The call caught Blaise off-guard. He'd only just been released from the infirmary, and his head still felt too small for all the information and pain it had been hit with through out the day. Still, he stood up and straightened his robes, smirking at the Gryffindor Trio as he passed by them. He ignored Weasley's glare but put a bit of extra saucy into the sway of his hips as he noticed Draco's speccy git couldn't quite tear his eyes away from it.
Once out of sight of anyone of note, Blaise stood taller and marched to the Transfiguration Classroom. He came to the closed door, knocked, and then entered as a deep voice--dark, rich like Mama's favorite Belgian chocolate, and so very warm like pumping blood--called out, "Come in."
Blaise turned the doorknob and stepped through the opened door without looking at the body that voice belonged to. He knew he'd have to look, but for the past two years he'd been so disappointed by the promise of a voice...
"Mr. Zabini, I'm Auror Shacklebolt. I'll be conducting today's interview. You'll have another one in a week with someone else. Now, before we begin, do you have any questions for me?" The auror looked down at his notes, ignoring Blaise's gobsmacked expression. When no words were uttered, the auror began speaking again.
"Well, then, please be seated, Mr. Zabini." He looked down at a separate sheet of notes in another's hand. "From our preliminary reports, you were not present for the battle. Is that correct?" That dark voice stopped and Blaise blinked his eyes trying to understand what had been said.
"Ah...no, no I was not, kind sir." Blaise winced internally as he felt the caged power he always fought against flexing inside him, taunting him by replaying the other man's voice over and over in his head. "I was too smart to be caught up in a losing proposition." He crossed his arms over his chest, really just an elegant way of wrapping his arms around his treacherous body before he could launch it over the desk and at the warm, male body on its other side.
"Please relate the events prior to the battle...Blaise."
"I was..." he licked his lips, noticing how the other man's eyes seemed to follow the tip of his tongue as it peeked out between his lips, "I was in the Slytherin Common Room when word came down to evacuate. I left with the others and came out in the Hog's Head, a remarkably ramshackle pub for a Dumbledore to own, if I may say so." He licked his lips again, noticing a faint tightening of fingers upon the hand that held the quill making notations on a piece of parchment.
A spark of deviltry woke up in Blaise and he leaned forward, putting his hand on that writing hand. There was a frisson of something that passed between them before the auror removed his hand from under Blaise's fingers.