A/N: I've edited this chapter as of 3/22/2012 for formatting and flow.
/.../ denotes voices in her head
Blaise Zabini
"... Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning fold use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause –
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.
Blaise listened as names were called and houses announced to cheers from the aforementioned houses. But she was thinking of the Sorting Hat's Song. Slytherin sounded nice. Maybe she could finally make some friends there, now that she was where she belonged... in a world of magic.
There was some commotion when a "Potter, Harry" was called, then things seemed to go smoothly until Blaise was startled out of her thoughts by her name.
"Zabini, Blaise!"
Being the last in the line to get called, she made her way to the stool, plopped the Hat on her head, and thought 'Please, Slytherin.'
"Slytherin, eh?" said a small voice. "Are you sure? You might like it more in Hufflepuff. You could work your way to the top there."
'Oh please, you said I could find my true friends in Slytherin! I've been ever so lonely. I just want to make friends.'
"Well if you insist... you'll do equally in all the Houses," came the small-voiced reply though it sounded slightly sad. "So I guess it's SLYTHERIN!"
And Blaise hopped off the stool to go to the table that cheered for her.
~ Five Years Later ~
(The beginning of Blaise's Sixth year)
She had the compartment to herself this year, again. After the other Slytherins had found out her parents were Muggles, she hadn't been able to make any friends at all. In fact, the Slytherins treated her worse than they treated the Gryffindors! The Gryffindors treated her like they treated all the Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws saw no real point in treating her any differently than they treated the rest of the Slytherins. In other words, her desire for friendship when she had talked the Sorting Hat into putting her in Slytherin had earned her eternal isolation. The one time in her first year that she had brought the problem to her Head of House, Professor Snape, he had told her that she was making a troll cave out of a gnome hill and to just try to be friendlier. Suffice it to say, she had not brought any of her problems with Slytherin student tricks to his attention after that.
Her only respite was Potions Class. Thankfully, Professor Snape's presence, and that of Harry Potter and the Gryffindors, kept the other Slytherins from attempting to trip, pinch, push, pull and other wise humiliate her in that class. Thus her barely passing
grades in everything except Potions, where she breezed through in the top ranks of her class.
She was more miserable at Hogwarts than she had been at her old Muggle school. At least there she had been left alone to do her work which had resulted in academic acceleration. Now she also dealt with angry parents. Every holiday she went home for was the same. "You never had this much trouble when you went to your old school!" and "Blaise Tristania Zabini! Can't you do ANYTHING right?" or "Barely passing! Where did our all A girl go?"
She was heartily sick of it. Her parents were considering taking her out of Hogwarts. She wouldn't let them. She wanted to know about magic and to be able to cast spells. It was a shame she wasn't allowed to show her parents her magical skills. Stupid laws against underage usage of magic.
The train began to slow and Blaise looked out the window. Yes, they were finally there. Arriving in the world of magic that she would not ever dream of giving up.
~ That Night ~
Feeling resigned, she made her way down to the dungeon and to the Slytherin door. Staring at the stretch of bare stone wall, Blaise repressed her shudders of dread. "Serpent," she spoke softly and watched as a stone door swung open. She slipped into the Slytherin common room and ignored her house-fellows to make her way further into the dungeon to the 6th year dorms. Luckily, there were so few girls in her year that she had her own room, with four beds and only her things to clutter the space.
Unfortunately, any of the other students could come in. And they frequently did. Her room, as a result, was consistently messy. Like it was now.
A careful series of swish-and-flicks later, the worst of the mess was righted and she knelt before her trunk to carefully pull out the slim exact-o-knife she had hidden in the lining. This she now hid under her mattress before going to sleep.
~ The Next Month ~
Blaise stared at her Transfigurations book. It was hopeless. She would never get this! Professor McGonagall wanted her to get expelled for poor grades. She had spent a week pouring over the official textbook and supplements from the library for this spell. And it was no use! She couldn't possibly manage to Transfigure a full-sized desk into a tiny kitten! And she had to do it tonight for class. Blaise let her head fall to the open library book before her with a loud *thunk* and mouthed curses at the unworkable spell. With something so large, she could barely get the wood grain to shift color and the legs to end in paw-like nubs. It didn't help that this test was a major part of their grade for this semester. She would never pass at this rate.
"Oh look," drawled a husky voice that she knew so well. "The Mudblood is taking a nap. Apparently she can't keep up with the real witches and wizards."
Her day could only get better from here. So she didn't bother lifting her head off of the book, hoping that Draco Malfoy would leave her in peace to... she wasn't sure yet, but it would be something involving an excuse to get out of the test today.
"Maybe we should wake her up," said a deeper, slower voice. One of Malfoy's goons. Probably Goyle. Crabbe never seemed one to speak up, just to follow.
"Indeed," came the low, deadly voice of the blonde again. "I know just the thing." He muttered a spell that Blaise couldn't hear, and then something cold and wet splashed onto her from the side as she heard footsteps moving swiftly away. Lifting her head, she found an empty pitcher of water laying on the table before her. She was wet, her books were soaked... and the ink was running on the topmost book. Madame Pince was going to *kill* her.
Aforementioned librarian was making her rounds at that very moment. And she came across a wet Zabini, a stack of ruined books, a half-full glass of water and a tipped- over empty pitcher.
"Ms Zabini!" she spoke sharply to the student, looking down her nose in an almost Snape-like manner. "Really! There are rules in this library. One of them is no food or drink! Ten points from Slytherin for breaking the rules and one point per damaged page! Now get back to your dorm while I find out how much damage you've caused my books!"
In a flurry of coordination staff and student alike had come to dis-associate with the Slytherin girl, Blaise gathered her textbooks and slid around the librarian and out into the corridor, heading for the dungeons and the relative safety of her dorm.
~ About An Hour Later ~
Blaise stared at her potions homework, having set up a cauldron in her room so that she could work on perfecting her creation of Draught of the Living Dead. Her potion usually came out a shade too dark, making it less a Living Death and more just a Death. And for the life of her, she just couldn't get it to come out that perfect mercuric-blue that it was supposed to be.
She stared down into the cauldron as her potion simmered softly. Maybe if she left it on a little longer it would lighten? Or maybe some water...
Blaise followed both hunches, only to watch in despair as the liquid became a midnight blue. "No, no!" she cried softly to herself, tears threatening for the first time since she had come to this school. "That will just kill someone, not let them sleep!" She looked for a moment at the cauldron, her gaze longing for the calm sleep that was promised with just a lightening of color. But perhaps... maybe she had been meant to make a Draught of Death, not one of Living Death.
With a shake of her head, she began to clean up, leaving the cauldron where it was while she straightened around it. For some reason, she could not bring herself to dispose of the potion. Instead, she ended up pouring it carefully into a glass and setting it on her bedside before finally cleaning the cauldron and flopping onto her bed and falling into a light doze.
~ In a Dream ~
She stood in the dungeons, turning slowly in a circle. The walls were damp and chill, the stones beneath her feet were freezing. It was dark and the only light came from an unidentifiable glow along the ceiling. There was only one door out of the room and it
was locked. Rushing forward suddenly, filled with a horror she could not explain, she threw herself at the door and beat at it with closed fists. "Let me out! Please, Rodrick! Let me out!"
She didn't know why, but she *knew* that her brother Rodrick had put her here, in this room that she could not escape from.
"That won't help," a dark and smooth voice murmured from behind her.
Whirling about and pressing back against the door, she searched the darkness for the speaker.
"You can't leave here unless you're a ghost. Only the dead can leave life behind," the voice continued. "And this room is your life. Destined to be alone and cold and shivering and dying but still living. Just like your dorm room, your life will never have anyone with kind intentions within it."
She shuddered at the words. Words that bit deep into her being.
"You should never have come down to the dungeons, child," the voice whispered almost sadly. "The snakes will consume you and no one will ever hear your screams because you will never voice them. That's your Gryffindor side showing through with pride and courage. You stupid, stupid child."
~ In Her Dorm ~
Blaise's eyes flew open. In the familiar darkness of her room, she shuddered.
~ Halloween, In Potions Class ~
"You stupid child!" shouted Professor Snape, glaring down his hawk-like nose at the cowering student.
Nevile Longbottom hung his head, his gaze fixed on the shards that had been his cauldron.
Across the room, Blaise's eyes were wide, her skin pasty white as the blood had drained from her face. "/Stupid, stupid child... you stupid child... The snakes will consume you and no one will ever hear your screams.../"
She lifted her trembling hands slowly to her lips as she stared unseeingly at her teacher. Instead, she was back in that horribly cold and damp room where an unknown voice had been eating away at her foundations for weeks. "/...no friends... always alone... no one likes you enough to care... no one pays any attention to you except to make your life more painful than death... dying but still living... foolishly unable to die.../"
No one saw the tears sliding down the icy pale cheeks since everyone else's attention was on the Professor as he dressed down the Gryffindor yet again. "/...you are nothing but a shadow, a ghost in the world of the living... you are nothing... nothing... nothing... you are nothing.../"
"...no," she whispered. Those nearest her did not hear until her voice rose. "NO! Stop! You're wrong!"
In the silence following her outburst, the 16 year-old girl fled the dungeon room, racing towards the near-comfort of her dorm-room.
"Monarch," she sobbed to the wall and pushed her way into the common room before stumbling deeper into the dungeon tower.
"/You are nothing! You are but a worthless speck of dust! No one would notice if
you died and became a ghost in truth as well as in manner./"
"No, please stop," she sobbed as she burst into her room. She flung herself at the shelves, pawing through the assorted bottles to find something to still the voice in her memories.
"/Not even the teachers care enough to pay attention,/" the voice of her nightmares whispered ruthlessly in her mind. "/Not even the man who is supposed to listen to you, hear out your worries. All because you are a worthless, contaminated Mudblood./"
"Stop," she moaned as her fingers curled around the failed attempts of her sleeping draught.
"/Mudblood... mudblood... mudblood.../" the voice hissed.
"Must make it stop," she whispered fiercely, clutching the potion in her white fingers. "Must make it all stop, no one will notice, no one will care, nothing will change but maybe it will," she continued as she stared at the bottle. The voice continued to whisper its poison in her mind. With a shudder, she lifted the bottle to her lips and gulped down the incorrect potion.
"/Nothing but a Mudblood, nothing but a coward, nothing but a worthless bit of flesh,/" the voice continued as the door was flung open behind her.
"Miss Zabini!" the voice of her Head of House came faintly through the streams of painful words that were flooding her body. "What is the meaning of you leaving my classroom-" With a start, she dropped the bottle, the sound of shattering glass fainter than even the voice of her Professor as she turned slowly. His dark eyes dropped to the shattered glass at her feet before flicking to her face to take in the parchment-white skin and the sunken dark eyes that were starting to show sparks of silver. "What did you take?" he asked sharply.
"... wormwood... and asphodel," she whispered as she slowly dropped to her knees. Her vision was going silvery. She knew what the Draught of Living Death felt like... they had given the fifth years a taste of it last year so they would know how it felt. This wasn't at all like the pleasant feeling of drifting off. This hurt. Oh where was her Gryffindor courage now? Her Slytherin Cunning, her Hufflepuff toil or her Ravenclaw knowledge? All she felt was fear... and a sick kind of hope. She didn't notice the fear that flashed in her professor's eyes, didn't notice as he called out 'Accio' or when he forced her to drink something. The world was embraced by a silver light.
~ Hospital Wing, One Week Later ~
It was curiously quiet wherever she was. No annoying whispering in her mind, no verbal cuts to her spirit. She felt like she was floating. Was this what death felt like? What it was like to be a ghost? It was almost pleasant. Even if it was odd. Oh wait... the darkness was slowly shifting from black to red. And was that a murmur? It didn't sound like the noises she had become used to. Who was it?
"... course I strengthened the anti-abuse wards, Albus!" said a weary voice. "I still don't understand how the wards in that particular room had been broken without my knowledge."
"I have the feeling," said an older voice... must be Dumbledore, "that you must look inside your House to find the answers to that, Severus. Perhaps Miss Zabini will have an answer once she wakes today. You are sure she'll wake today?"
"Of course!" the first voice, identified now as Severus... Snape, yes, that was it, said. "I analyzed the traces of the potion left on the glass shards and it was a Draught of Death. I should have been immediately warned through the wards that it was created. It must have been done within her room," Professor Snape sounded tired and sad. "When I find the person who undid my wards without my knowledge, I insist upon a suspension for the rest of the year. Let them redo this year, Albus. We cannot let the students think that this sort of thing is acceptable. Even if it's that Potter boy!" his voice had risen to a quiet shout and did he ever sound angry. "Even if it's Harry Potter, we can't let anyone get away with tampering with the school-wards!"
"Severus, calm down," Headmaster Dumbledore said calmly. "While I doubt it was Harry, I agree with you. Suspension and remaking a year is exactly what we'll be doing. Now," he paused then continued, "I have to attend a meeting at the Ministry of Magic in an hour and it will take me that long to get out of the Anti-Apparration Wards. I will see you again when I get back."
Footsteps and then a door opened and shut, followed by more fading footsteps. She heard a soft sigh and the sliding of fabric on wood, then the creak of someone sitting in a chair. "Miss Zabini, you may open your eyes now," the Head of Slytherin House said in a low voice. "I know you are awake."
Slowly, she lifted her heavy lids to stare up at him. "You're not going to make me go back, are you?" she whispered hoarsely. Her throat hurt.
A surprisingly gently hand moved to help her sit up and a glass of water was pressed to her lips. "Unfortunately, you won't be going anywhere anytime soon. You are still experiencing the side-effects of the combination of the Draught of Death and the Life Elixir. You are currently stripped of all magics that will let you practice your lessons." Her eyes widened slowly, fear sinking into them as she gazed at her professor. "I'm a Squib?" she questioned with a wavering voice.
"Only temporarily," he assured her. "However, I must ask you if you knew that the wards on your dorm had been tampered with."
She looked away. It was something that Draco Malfoy had taunted her with after he determined she would not go to their Head of House with any of her problems. That had been in her third year.
A sigh as he settled her back down on the Hospital bed she was in. "Obviously, I have messed up somewhere along the line," he said as he leaned back in his chair, running his long fingered hands over his face. "I am exceedingly sorry that you felt you could not tell me that your wards were down, that things came to this point, Miss Zabini."
She closed her eyes, her head still turned away. Somehow she found the courage
that the Sorting Hat had glimpsed. "They hit me," she whispered. The whisper of cloth and she knew his dark eyes were focused on her. "Like Rodrick does, they hit me."
"Who is Rodrick?" Severus Snape asked in a low tone.
"He... he's my brother. My twin. He... likes to lock me in the basement when my parents are gone. And they never ever believe me when I tell them because Rodrick gets good grades and has lots of friends and he's on his school's football team and he plays the trumpet and he helps the drama club and volunteers at the homeless shelter... He's perfect and I'm not. Just like him. They're both perfect and no one ever listens to me. You didn't listen to me. Like my parents," she murmured softly, slowly curling into a ball under the sheets of her bed.
There was a moment of silence, then a hesitant hand rested on her shoulder. "Miss Zabini... Blaise. I am very deeply sorry that I did not listen to your complaint in your first year here. I assure you, that I am no longer deaf, child. I will listen and I will act. But you must tell me who drove you so far, who tampered with your wards, who hit you." She knew he felt the shudder that ran through her body, then she slowly turned her head to look at her professor with silver-shot eyes. "Draco Malfoy," came the barely audible answer.
He gently squeezed her shoulder. She was suddenly drawn into a comforting hug as she sobbed for the first time with the comfort of someone's shoulder. Perhaps life just needed a bit of courage to help one along. She was determined to try.
