Flame Thrower (Blairon)

A Deceleration Of War

Draco Malfoy's POV

"Blaise?" I called, stalking through the brightyl lit hallway of one of the houses many floors.

"Here!" He yelled back and I followed the sound of his voice to a glass sliding door. I slid it open and looked around.

It was a music room of light hardwood floors and white marble walls. The wall to my lift was made entirely out of mirrors and the wall opposite me was made entirely out of glass, the gloomy weather and the entire city shown from Blaise's window.

Around the room were what seemed like dozens apon dozens of instruments. There were multiple guitars, classical and electronic, strung up on the walls. There were string instruments- double bases, violins, cello's, bases and violia's all in one corner organized by size. There were wind instruments on the right side of the room, as well as two drum kits, one red and one white. In the center of the room was a large, shiny black grand piano.

Sitting on the piano stool was Blaise, staring at the floor, forlornly plucking an E string on a violin as if it were a guitar.

I blinked.

"You alright, mate?" I asked him, approaching slowly. He sighed, plucking the D string this time. "Ron hasn't texted me yet. He always does during his lunch break. I'm worried," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the glossy wood floor. I stared at Blaise. If I was correct, Ron's lunch break only started around two minutes ago and he was already worried. I found it quite endearing.

Blaise seemed to shock himself out of his stupor and sat up straight. "Did you need something?" He asked, trying to sound as attentive as possible. I blinked and suddenly remembered why I had actually come looking for him.

"Oh, right. Harry, Seamus an I are about to go meet Sean Finnigan under the bridge to get as much information on McGonagall as we can," I said, lacing my fingers and Blaise nodded. He smiled at me. "Thanks for doing this, Dray," he said softly. I rolled my eyes. "It's nothing, really."

"And Pansy and Hermione?" He asked, absent mindedly plucking a tune that sounded suspiciously like Beyoncé on the violin in his arms. "Training," I lied. I felt as if my efforts were useless though. Blaise stared at me, straight into my icy blue eyes and knew it himself. He nodded slowly anyway, biting his lip. Suddenly, something made a vibrating sound and I instinctively thrust my hand into my pocket, only to realize it had been Blaise's phone on not mine.

Even from across the room, I could see the light in his eyes, the relieved smile that crossed over this face even made me let out a breath I hadn't known I was holding.

"Fire cracker?"  Blaise breathed grinning, his eyes shining. "Oh, I'm so glad you called. I was starting to get worried."

Blaise waited for a reply, but none came. I walked closer and leant on Blaise's knees with my hands, figuring that I just couldn't hear from the door.

I was wrong. Ron hadn't replied at all.

"Ron?" Blaise said, his tone suddenly laced with seriousness.

"Hello, Mr Zabini."

My eyes widened and my stomach clenched so aggressively I nearly fell into a sitting position and had to use Blaise's rigid knees to balance myself.

"Miss McGonagall," Blaise whispered. His eyes were closed and his face was pinched, eyebrows furrowed towards his nose. "Minerva what have you done?" He asked softly, his voice shaking. I could hear the effort in which he was struggling to hold it together.

"Don't play coy with me, Blaise. Some part of you must've  been expecting this," the Ministress said in disbelief. Blaise's eyes were still closed. His left eyebrow jerked up, giving him an angry, questioning expression.

"Not like this. Not him," Blaise said, swallowing thickly. On the other line, McGonagall snorted. "I have eyes and ears everywhere, Zabini. Did you really think I didn't know that you went to my mother for answers? Did you really think I didn't know about Sean?"

My heart hammered against my chest. I thought of my meeting with Sean Finnigan.

"Don't bother going to see him. He's dead."

Blaise tensed so aggressively I let go of his knee. I could visibly see him trembling. His hand, closed into a quivering fist. When he spoke, I hadn't even expected the amount of vulnerability poured into his words.

"Please," his voice cracked. "Don't hurt him."

After what felt like minutes of silence the Ministress laughed. It was a small laugh, high and pretty. But evil. My stomach contorted.

"Stop trying to take me down, Flame Thrower. You won't win."

The phone line disconnected.

"Fuck," Blaise hissed. I stared up at him, my heart pounding.

Sean is dead, McGonagall knew of our meetings, and most importantly, she'd taken Ron.

She'd had started a war.

I flinched away as Blaise stood up with the speed of light and screamed, demolishing his phone against the sliding door. The throw held such force that after a few precarious cracks, the entire door shattered.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes alight with anger. His usually chocolate brown eyes looked like wood burning in a fire.

He began to walk away.

"Blaise?" I whispered, standing up. "Where are you going?"

He turned around slowly and my heart contracted in on itself when I saw the look on his face. It was a mixture of angry and insane. His eye twitched and he laughed without humor.

"Where I'm going?" He asked, chuckling.

"I'm going to rain fucking hell fire until that woman is no more than a pile of ashes at my feet."

And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out.