A/N: IT'S AN UPDATE! RUN, THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING!
…joking. But I do apologize for the lack of updates in SO LONG!!
Minimal Draco in this sorry, there's not much for him to do in a cage without Harry. :(
Anyone miss me:P
If you're a previous reader and you have not been reading my rewrites, please go read them. Chapter 1-9 has been partially rewritten and some things have changed majorly. Please read the previous chapters, otherwise you may have no clue what's going on!!
Chapter 10
Almosts
Harry stared at the fax machine in shock.
B-Blaise Zabini?
As in former-best-friend-of-Draco-Malfoy Blaise Zabini?
The doctor stood, gaping at the phone for long, hanging moments. He had never even had contact with any person that was named Zabini, so this couldn't be a coincidence…
The doctor reached to pick up the phone, only to find his hand shaking slightly. Why was he scared? It was just… a person Malfoy knew. So what?
Harry frowned, punching in the numbers slowly… He didn't know if this was such a good idea. If Zabini can reach his home phone, why couldn't he reach his cellphone? It would be easier to contact him too. Though, he thought, if he wanted security, home phones couldn't be tapped as easily as cell phones.
The speculation just made him more nervous.
The phone rang two times before a voice answered. "Blaise Zabini; is this Potter?"
Harry hesitated for a split second—this really was not a good idea. "Yes… How did you know? You only called me a few hours ago."
"You are the only one I have recently given my personal office number, Potter." He chuckled, sounding amused.
The doctor quirked a brow. Zabini had a deeper voice than he expected; it made him sound old. "Ah… I see. So… Mr. Zabini… What is the reason for your call? Is it urgent?"
"You're treating Malfoy, correct?"
The phone almost slipped out of Harry's hands. So this was about the him…
"Um—yes, I am. This is about him, isn't it?"
Another dry chuckle. "How could it not be? Potter, you'll have to learn that the world revolves around him when you know him. He wanted something."
"A favour…?"
"Yes, a favour."
"Ah…" The doctor scratched his head. "So what would his favor be? What's the reason you needed to contact me?"
"Malfoy hasn't told me the whole thing completely." Replied Zabini with a pepper of mirth in his tone, "and I don't think he will for a while. Anyways, I want to meet you. He said it was probably a good idea too."
"Is that… it?"
"Well, to be truthful, I wanted to meet you as well. It's not every day Malfoy resurrects a ten year old debt."
"I'm sure." The doctor attempted to reply with as much gratitude as he could, but found little ability to do so.
"Are you free tomorrow?"
Harry mulled his schedule over in his head. He should just say no… But even with the slight warmness in his voice, Blaise Zabini still sounded dangerous. "Umm yeah, I think so, I don't have anything set in stone. Just tell me a time."
"Shall we meet for lunch at 12? It'd be a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Potter, you're almost a celebrity."
"Um—yeah. That sounds fine. Where?"
"How about the Amici Restaurant? I'll give you directions if need be. I'll wear a gold tie to help identify me."
"Alright, that works."
"Then I'll be seeing you tomorrow."
There was a click as Zabini hung up. Harry stared at the receiver, feeling slight nausea washing over his system. Did he just book an almost-date with his client's former best friend? Oh god. How was this going to work? He was supposed to go see Lupin sometime his weekend too, and he'd need to wire that five hundred to Sirius before he calls again…
Harry frowned, wondering where Ginny had gone. He'd need some help to get past his weekend… And it was suppose to be a vacation…
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
After debating with Ginny about the lunch, she had convinced him it was probably a good idea not to ditch his new guest. Harry was getting curious too, in spite of obvious dangers, about Blaise Zabini. A ten year debt? And there was also the question of how the hell Malfoy reached him to call on his favour.
He and the woman went out to an French restaurant for dinner, Harry relishing the fact that he actually knew where the restaurant was without a map. Everything was so friendly… even the staff greeted them with familiarity as they stepped in. It was one of Harry's favourites,
He decided to create a rough schedule for the next two days—first of all, go see Zabini for lunch. While that happened, Ginny would retrieve his textbooks from Neville. Then they'd go over to Columbia, providing nothing interrupted them. On Sunday… hell, whatever came along was good. Maybe sleep for the entire day?
After the dinner was over, they returned to their apartments, where Harry was snoring before he hit the bed.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
As Harry entered Amici, he immediately started looking for Blaise. He was just good with getting it over with—it couldn't last too long anyways and he might even benefit from the meeting, if Zabini tells him anything about his relationship with his client.
His bright eyes scanned the surroundings of the upscale restaurant, looking around for a man with a yellow tie… His name was Blaise Zabini, correct? It sounded Italian. Chances were, Zabini was Italian. Alright…
The restaurant was beautiful, large windows allowing in rays of sunshine with hanging mirrors all over the area. The furniture looked hand-made and looked comfortable, the hardwood floor making it feel like home.
There was a pale man in the corner with auburn hair, wearing a suit with a golden tie… Was that him? He was talking on his phone, however, and sitting with another woman already. He fit the description; but the fact he was meeting with someone else meant he couldn't be meeting with Harry.
"Doctor Potter?"
The deep voice appeared behind him and Harry spun around.
Woah.
Okay, definitely not what he had thought Zabini looked like.
He was dark and taller than him by a few inches, skin a deep mocha colour, like well blended chocolate. His darker hair was pulled back in what looked like cornrows—Harry questioned whether his terminology was correct—and wore transparent gold-tinted sunglasses that covered his eyes. Conventional at best, Zabini wore a crisp black suit with a golden tie and looked like he was almost a professional.
Zabini smiled wryly, gesturing to a preset table. "Shall we sit?"
Harry nodded numbly, his brain in both distress and awe. Okay, Zabini looked like a fucking Mafiya leader. But that's fine, right? Right?
As they took their seats, the dark-skinned man took off his sunglasses, glancing around him. "Doctor Potter… I have the feeling that you'd like to start off the questions?" He clasped his hands together and leaned back, looking at the man across from him expectantly.
"That'd be good, yeah," replied Harry with so much relief that it was almost palpable, "first off, I guess, is who are you? I know your name, and that's about it."
"I'm second in command Zabini Estates—it's centralized in Europe at the moment—mostly England and Italy, something I'm hoping to change, because I have found a new location for headquarters. I'll give you a guess to where I've picked."
Harry frowned faintly. "New York?"
"Yep, New York. All the powerhouses are doing it, so why shouldn't we?
"Wait, you're second in command? Then who's first?"
"My mother, Lucretia. She's a dangerously cunning woman."
Harry felt his brows rise unexpectedly. "What about your father?"
Zabini shrugged as casually as he could but the doctor saw the tensing of his jaw and neck at the mention of his parent. "I'm not sure. People say he may be in Sicily somewhere."
"Ah…" Alright Harry, don't revisit that topic. "What's your connection to Malfoy then?"
"We were friends in grade school, though Malfoy showed how intelligent he was, even at the age of 12."
The doctor put on a questioning face as the businessman continued his story.
"We were powerful, Potter, especially in Britain. Exponentially more than the Malfoys. He gained more than just a playmate the day he befriended me, he brought his own name the power that we carried."
"Are you bitter about it?"
"No, of course not. It was a very symbiotic relationship; we got business while Lucius Malfoy got his ties for court. My mother even said Draco had the spark for business too."
Harry nodded, in thought. "You talk very calmly of him… aren't you afraid of him? Or afraid of what he could do, now that you know he's in an institute?"
Zabini looked introspective. "I realize that but Malfoy is still Malfoy, even if he's supposedly crazy. I mean yes, he's killed people, but everyone does, especially in his business. He's only crazy because he got caught. He doesn't act crazy, am I right?"
Harry chose not to reply to the question. "But he killed his parents—is that normal?"
"No, that was something I had to overlook. He had troubles with his father, however, though I don't think it was turbulent enough to fuel anything like killing them."
"Troubles—?"
"Well, the typical Father-Son stuff, Malfoy wasn't up to his expectations, couldn't tolerate this and that… It never really affected Malfoy too much as it could've because he never was spurred to work any harder."
"I see…" Did Malfoy lie about the reasons behind his parents' death? "How did Malfoy contact you?"
"He phoned me," said the dark man casually, "he does it every few months."
Harry gaped. "He has a phone? How the hell does he have contact with—"
"I have no clue, Potter," replied Zabini, motioning for a waitress to come nearer, "but he has one and he can certainly reach it."
The brunet wished he had a notebook now. He had to ask Draco about that phone business too… but he wouldn't be surprised if Pansy brought in hers whenever he asked. "Damn… Okay, so, what is the reason we're talking today? I mean, it's nice meeting you and all but—"
"I'll have to pull some serious strings for him later, but no, this is not part of the favour he's asked of. I just wanted to meet you for myself, out of curiosity."
Serious… strings? Curiosity?
"Well um, alright. As long as you don't… kill me or anything, I'm good." Harry tried to chuckle, but it sounded rather strangled. "Will I be seeing you again after this?"
"Are you looking for a second date, Doctor?" teased Zabini, flashing white teeth in a grin, the white contrasting with his dark skin.
The aforementioned doctor scowled. "You know I don't mean it like that."
"Of course not," replied the businessman in a smooth tone that was eerily similar to Malfoy's, "for both your sake and mine, I suppose."
Harry was about to reply to that odd line but the waitress interrupted him, and his stomach took over his brain.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
After the lunch, Harry was pleasantly full. Zabini had picked up the tab much to Harry's vexation—he was not a girl and that had not been a date. Despite the fact, he still enjoyed the meal and Malfoy's friend had been warm, if not a little edgy on some topics. Really, he had been friendly and nowhere as scary as Harry would have anticipated anyone that was remotely associated to the psychopath.
Ginny had been waiting for him in his Land Rover, a large bag in the back seat. "I got your books—how did the lunch go?"
"Pleasant, surprisingly. Zabini looks like a pimp, but that's fine."
She giggled. "Is that him?" She pointed to the car in front of theirs, with the dark man getting into it.
"Um, yeah, that'd be him. Are those cornrows? I still have no clue."
The redhead squinted. "Yeah, those are cornrows—wait, is that a Porsche Carrera?" She finished the sentence in astonishment.
"Um—I don't know? It's a nice car though."
They both looked at the convertible. Ginny crossed her arms, envious.
"I didn't know you were meeting with a spoiled bag…"
"Spoiled? I don't know. I just know he's got money, he seemed pretty nice though…"
"Spending five hundred grand on a car seems a little excessive, no?"
Harry squinted as the convertible took off. "Jeez, yeah a little… but it's his prerogative if he wants to spend that much on a car."
He put the vehicle in reverse gear, backing out of the parking space and driving back onto the main road. Content that he hadn't been targeted by anyone yet, and there was no laser sniper on his window. The doctor started to hum, which earned a crooked look from Ginny.
"Shall we go to Columbia, then?"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
As soon as he parked the jeep in his old lot at the university, Harry felt glee rush into his system.
I love endorphins, thought the doctor happily, dragging Ginny through the double set of doors. They'd been here numerous times though, so the surroundings had been familiar, even to the redhead who rarely frequented the psychology wing of the institute.
They walked past the lecture rooms, a few professors stopping to greet Harry.
"Harry!" said the familiar voice of Professor Sprout, "glad to see you. Professor Lupin's been wondering where you've been." She winked and then chuckled, carrying a large pot of plants in her arms.
The doctor waved to his former biology teacher while Ginny grinned. "You know Harry, I think she likes you…"
Harry scowled and poked her in the rib before reaching a closed door with the plague that read 'Psychology Professor – Remus J. Lupin'
He knocked twice, then paused before knocking the third time. There was a shuffle of footsteps and the door swung open, revealing an older, scruffy man with warm amber eyes and an inviting smile. He was dressed in a patched burgundy scholar's coat and darker pants and small glasses resting on his nose. Remus grinned, making his eyes crinkle in joy.
"Harry! Well this is a surprise, I haven't seen you in a few weeks now. What graces my classroom with your presence?"
The doctor smiled, pushing Ginny into the room. She smiled and waved, albeit a little weakly. To her surprise, Tonks brushed passed her behind Lupin, stepping out of the large lecture room without a hello. The redhead frowned, her instincts ringing in her head. She followed Tonks out into the hallway quickly, sensing something was wrong.
The brunet sat down, looking up at the notes on the blackboard, missing his teacher's sombre look as the pink-haired woman left. "How's class been, Professor?"
"Pretty good," replied Lupin, sobering up and meeting Harry's gaze on the board, "we've got a boy that has as much enthusiasm as you—though I'm sorry to say he lacks your touch for the subject."
"Who?" asked Harry with a smile, leaning back on the chair. "My enthusiasm was pretty much non-existent, though."
"A boy named Creevey. He's very upbeat but clumsy… alas. You had a love for the subject, which was good. He does too, but it's much less discrete."
Harry spun the chair around and stopped until he was faced to the sea of chairs. "How is Tonks doing?"
"I'm not really sure… she's seemed a little down ever since coming back from that apprenticeship with Professor Snape."
The brunet pushed his glasses further up his nose, thinking about the plane trip. She had been alright but she had been rather upset when discussing her feelings for their professor. His nose wrinkled in faint disgust at the thought of Snape. He was just plain creepy… He had only seen him once or twice when the other psychology professor had flown in from Georgia. He always had the expression of being constantly vexed and bitter and spoke quietly with lethal precision, with beady black eyes and hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in years.
"Have you talked to Snape about it?" asked Harry. He never liked Snape from the first look he had gotten from the greasy bastard, and he had a feeling the professor felt the exactly same way about him.
"No, but I might if it continues… I'm really concerned about her. I think I know what's going on, but I don't want to presume…" Lupin smiled sadly. "I just hope she'll talk to me about it… I think she was going to today before you guys arrived."
Harry sat up. "Oh god—we're sorry, I just wanted to come visit, I didn't know—"
"It's alright," replied Lupin sympathetically, "I think Ginny's talking with her right now."
Outside, Ginny was frantically trying to help the distressed student. Tonks was crying—not great heaving sobs, but small mews and whimpers that made her feel even worse.
"Tonks—please talk to me, oh, don't cry—"
"—I was going to do it, Ginny, I really was…" replied Tonks between sniffs, "I was going to tell him today… I swear, I was going to do it and I can't believe it…"
"Tell him what?" asked the redhead, offering her a depleted pack of tissues.
Tonks took it, her frame shuddering.
"I was going to tell him that I loved him."