Chapter 12

10 MONTHS AGO.

Oreste Zabini sat behind his large desk, trying to concentrate hard on the Zabini Industries financial reports that needed his approval. He sighed, what seemed like the tenth time in the last hour and decided to give up on the papers. He took his glasses off and stared at the seat in front of him.

It was only an hour ago that his grandson had sat there, arguing with him, again. It had been a nasty fight and Blaise had left, fuming and cursing. Oreste had to admit, he had been too harsh this time and now he felt something that he rarely felt-guilt.

Sighing for the last time, Oreste decided to go to Blaise's office and apologise. He stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button under his floor. It gently bumped to a stop and Oreste stepped out, making his way to the opaque glass door with the plaque that read 'Blaise Zabini.'

Oreste raised a hand, about to knock, when he heard Blaise's voice drift out.

"I know, I know," Blaise said impatiently.

Silence followed, and Oreste assumed he was in the middle of a fire-call. Oreste turned, about to return to the elevator, but stopped in his tracks when he heard Blaise's next sentence.

"Of course I still want him dead!"

Another pause.

"Can you believe what the old bastard called me this morning? A sexual fiend. Just because there was a picture of Miles and I in the papers today making out."

Blaise snorted in disbelief before continuing.

"Yeah, I know...It'll take me awhile to get the money..."

Oreste had heard enough. Half furious, half shocked; he made his way back to the elevator, leaning heavily on his cane. A part of him refused to believe his grandson was plotting to murder him, but he thought back to a conversation he'd had a couple of months ago...

"...own grandson is plotting to kill you right under your nose..."

Realising the lift had returned to his office, Oreste walked back to his desk, catching sight of a copy of The Daily Prophet lying next to his quill. The photo on the front page stared up at him, a cruel reminder of the fight this morning.

Oreste didn't mean to call Blaise a sexual fiend; he was just sick and tired of seeing his precious heir's personal life splashed across the tabloids. Clenching his jaw at the photo of Blaise and his latest...suitor, Oreste closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was an ex-Slytherin and still one at heart, and if there was one thing a Slytherin could do, it was to fight back.

Oreste reached out and pressed a button on the enchanted intercom, the voice of his secretary floating out.

"Yes, sir?"

"Contact Astoria Greengrass. I need to speak with her."

Blaise Zabini stormed into his office and slammed the glass door, causing it to crack. Fuming, he raised his wand and aimed it at the desk, muttering a spell, and the desk, along with all the paperwork and quills, were destroyed into pieces.

Once he had calmed down slightly, there was a knock on his door.

'It's most likely his stupid assistant,' Blaise thought.

Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on and threw it against the wooden frame of the door, as a sign to leave him the fuck alone. He looked at the broken bottle he just threw.

"Fuck," he cursed; it was the rare giant's wine that one of his business partners had just given to him.

"Why is everything so screwed up today?" Blaise yelled. He went over to the fireplace and fire-called Draco.

Draco Malfoy's head appeared seconds later in Blaise's fireplace. Instantly, Draco's eyes landed on Blaise's office before on the man himself.

"What happened? World War 3?"

With a flick of his wand, everything fell back together and returned to their original place, all except for the dark red stain on his white carpet. Blaise sighed and turned back to face Draco, looking annoyed.

"No, Oreste Zabini happened."

"Ahh. So, Zabini War Number 517, 000," Draco corrected.

Blaise laughed humourlessly. "Oh, so funny. I'm calling to find out how long it'll take for you to kill him!"

Draco tsk'd. "Patience, Blaise, you know the rules. We'll start planning as soon as we receive the funds." He raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

"I know, I know," Blaise said in an impatient tone.

"Unless, of course, you've changed your mind?"

Blaise shook his head. "Of course I still want him dead!"

"Okay. So what was this fight about?" Draco asked.

"Can you believe what the old bastard called me this morning? A sexual fiend. Just because there was a picture of Miles and I in the papers today making out." Blaise snorted.

"Yes, I saw that. It was a good picture."

"Yeah, I know." Blaise sighed. "It'll take me awhile to get the money though. Your services are ridiculously expensive."

Draco smirked. "Hey, you pay well to get the best."

Draco paused and looked over his shoulder, and Blaise heard someone speaking faintly in the background. Draco turned back.

"I have to go, I've got a job. Call me if you need anything else, okay?"

Blaise nodded, and Draco extinguished the flames.

ONE MONTH LATER...

"Mr. Zabini, Miss Greengrass is here for her appointment," Oreste's secretary said.

"Send her in."

Astoria entered Oreste's office holding in her arm a black folder with 'Setterland Financial Holdings' printed on it and a black briefcase. Once the door was closed, Astoria placed the folder on Oreste's table. Oreste raised one eyebrow. "I thought out meeting today was ... non-business related."

Astoria had the urge to roll her eyes but prevented herself from doing so out of respect. Instead she opened the folder and inside, written in bold was 'Tuer Academy'

"Ah, I see, very clever, my dear. So what news you have brought me today?"

"I contacted the Tuer Academy and they want to meet me."

" And you're wondering if it's a good idea," Oreste said.

"Yes, I would like your opinion, do you think it's safe for me to meet them?"

"I don't see why not, what's there to fear?"

"What if someone sees me meeting them? What if Draco notices that I've been meeting you more often lately?" Astoria said, growing anxious.

"Do not overthink, Miss Greengrass, just remain calm, like you usually are and everything will be fine. Everything will go perfectly and you will take your well-earned place as vice-president of Zabini Industries."

"How can I be calm? It's not like I do this often, you know!" Astoria snapped. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just very... nervous."

"It's fine, Miss Greengrass, but just remember that the only link people can find between the Tuer Academy and me is you, so if anything should go wrong, you will be the one facing the Dementor's Kiss, so I suggest that you keep your act together," Oreste said coolly.

"You're the one funding this plan, people could trace-"

"The Aurors would trace it back to an account that doesn't exist in an island that has never been heard or located before."

"Are you threatening me?" Astoria whispered quietly.

"No, I'm merely pointing out the disaster that you could face if you...do not succeed."

"I understand... I will be arranging a meeting with Tuer Academy then."

"Will that be all?"

"Yes."

"Good luck then, Miss Greengrass and good afternoon."

End chp 12.