CURSED [D.M]

-(83) her art to stare at

ZILLIAH just closes her eyes and lets the wind kiss her all over her skin as she soars through the sky on her thestral, Lenin, with Blaise's head resting on her back and his hands clutching onto her shoulders so tight he might be leaving his imprints there.

"You scared, Zabini?", she muses, a smirk crawling up her features as she tilts her head to the side.

He draws his head back up and huffs out. "Of course not."

The shakiness of his voice leads Zilliah to believe otherwise. But that is only until the next words come out of his mouth.

"I miss Quidditch."

Those three words- they are simple enough, but the sheer amount of emotion they hold is not something she can decipher. She has never been a Quidditch craze. It was banned by Umbridge the year she came to Hogwarts. And in her sixth year, well- she didn't really have the time or energy to care about that. But she realizes how much of an important part of their lives was it to her friends, especially Blaise and Pansy. It is now a mere memory of normalcy they know they can't grasp at anymore no matter how hard they might try.

That's what war does to a person. It strips off everything mundane, everything normal. It creates terror and inflicts pain in all spheres of life. It takes away everything that offers you comfort.

"It's sad I never got to watch you guys play", she mumbles out to him as his grip on her loosens like he only just realized now that it was rather too tight. But she doesn't care about it because she knows it's the ache and the rage in him that made him do it. No not the fear, but she wouldn't have cared if it was that either.

"Oh, yes", Blaise's voice is dreamy, like he is lost in a memory. "You should've seen Draco's game the first year. You would've been laughing your ass off at him."

And as he explains what had happened in detail, she indeed finds herself laughing her ass off like she was right there when it all unfolded.

She has known her beloved for two lives now and yet, she has never got to be with him for the same amount of time like the rest of them in his lives had. It makes her jealous and it makes her angry for some reason even though she knows it isn't their fault that she never got that.

The universe just liked playing games with her, no matter whose form she took or what name she bore.

"You're a little angry at him, aren't you?", Blaise asks and she ponders over that question for a moment.

"I don't think anger is the right word for it."

"Then?"

"I don't know", she says truthfully. "I know he didn't mean to shout at me but it doesn't change the fact that he did. And I don't like to be treated that way. He doesn't like to treat me that way."

"True. But if there is one thing I know, it is that he would take a sword to the heart for you."

And her breath catches at that because he had. Five hundred years ago, he had indeed taken a sword to his heart because he could not be parted from her. Even as Ezra drove that sword into his body, he smiled. He smiled because he was in her arms as it happened and that's all that mattered to him. That he got to feel her touch and smell her scent as Death clutched him by the neck and took him far far away from her.

She had lost all sense of her morals and actions then. She beheaded Ezra. She killed anyone and everyone in her vicinity. She tore the whole place down and sent her power shaking up the entire island, threatening to consume every single life that was left on it. She would've. As cruel as it may sound, she would've because it was that very world that took her beloved away from her.