Authors Note: This is a short little catch up, nothing extensive.
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Adrian Pucey - Phobos
Liam Baddock - Deimos
Theodor Nott – Oberon
Draco Malfoy – Chaos
Vincent Crabbe - Moros
Gregory Goyle - Pallas
Blaise Zabini – Pan
Pansy Parkinson - Nyx
Daphne Greengrass - Hebe
Morag Macdougal – Nike
Millicent Bulstrode - Cerberus
Elijah Harper - Cratos
Anthony Vaisey - Tyche
Malcolm Baddock – Hecate
Astoria Greengrass - Eris
Flora Carrow - Nemisis
Hestia Carrow – Hypnos
Ginny Weasley – Tartarus
Seamus Finnegan – Hyperion
Neville Longbottom - Chiron
Dean Thomas – Prometheus
Demelza something or other - Selene
Anthony Goldstien - Styx
Terry Boot - Perses
Zacharias Smith - Chronos
Kevin Entwhistle - Pontus
Jack Sloper – Morpheus
Ritchie Coote - Erebos
Colin Creevey - Metis
Dennis Creevey - Eos
Mandy Brocklehurst – Leto
Michael Corner – Charon
Stephen Cornfoot - Atlas
Orla Quirke - Lamia
Ernie Macmillan –Minos
Sally-Anne Perks – Aether
Blaise hated the weeks that followed them leaving. He had barely been able to get Potter to leave, and not bone headedly fight and ruin everything, but the guilt on Potters face when he finally left, was what hung in Blaise's own chest. It was a deep, heavy guilt, he shouldn't have left, he should have stayed, now, though they'd met up with Phobos and the rest of the family, Chaos, his best friend, was gone. He hadn't met them, hadn't communicated at all, and every day that went by that they heard nothing, Blaise hated himself a little more for leaving them.
He couldn't dwell on it though, not if he wanted to actually help the situation. They were doing the best that they could to just be a nuisance to everything the death eaters did. They also tried to help when they could, muggles and under ground wizards, but they were just a group of kids in masks, and not many people listened to them and their warnings.
They were living in a tent, stolen from the wizarding quarter of Edinburgh. It was nice; well, nicer than sleeping in the outdoors. Once in a while the little gold bird Chaos had left with them brought chicken scrawl notes from Potter and his lot, usually sent by Tartarus, who the bird liked best about vaguely what they were doing.
Blaise sighed, stretched, and shifted, prodding Nike off of his leg. The quarters were tight, but sleeping in pretty much a dog pile was oddly comforting, when there weren't people cutting off the circulation to your limbs, anyways. She mumbled something and curled up, swatting irately in her sleep.
When he looked up, over to where the small fire burned in its heater, he could see Nyx, still up. He padded over to her and sat down, his body protesting at the hard wooden bench she was sitting on.
"Hey," he said, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, trying to gauge her mood. She looked up at him, and gave him a tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and didn't respond.
They sat in silence for a long moment before she finally spoke.
"Do you think he's alive?"
"Yeah, I do. They're smart, stronger than us, and you know him. He's not one to let a little death eater attack get to him," Blaise responded lightly, though his heart felt heavy, thinking about them.
Pansy nodded, and together they sat in the dark, wishing they believed it a little more. Tomorrow they would go raid another death eater camp, and would pretend they were just rebelling, fighting tooth and nail against the oppressive bigots, but really, they would be looking for prisoners from their family, to get back, or any of Chaos' wolves.
