Chapter 23

Draco stepped back and his first instinct was to reach for Astoria's hand again, but for a moment, he seemed almost paralysed. What had he been thinking, discussing their plan in a public place even when the streets seemed deserted? Now, they had been caught and the idea of getting his book back, the idea of bringing down the secret society fell apart like a house of cards in a light breeze. If Blaise Zabini knew, there was no way they were going to carry out their plan.

"Relax," his old classmate said with a chuckle. He stepped a little closer and, under the light of a streetlamp, the amusement was visible on his face. "You're lucky it was I who overheard you and not some dubious wizard coming down from Knockturn Alley. You two really shouldn't discuss these things out in the open."

When Draco glanced at Astoria, he was relieved to find the same kind of confusion on her face that he was feeling right now. Together, they frowned at him.

"You were there before," Astoria realised. "You followed us even before we went into the pub."

Zabini laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his had with his index finger. "Yeah, well, I overheard you by accident. Figured you were up to something, but I had no idea it would be something this interesting." He straightened his back and observed them for a moment, obviously judging their capabilities. Then, Draco received the biggest surprise of the evening. "I want to help."

"I'm sorry, you what?" Draco scoffed.

"Why don't I buy us a bottle of Firewhisky from the pub you were so ungraciously kicked out of and we'll go somewhere more private to finish this conversation?" Zabini suggested.

Draco turned towards Astoria, but to his surprise, she merely shrugged.

"Well, we're kind of at a dead end right now," she reasoned. "And he's overheard enough to put the rest together by himself, so let's give him a chance."

"You can't be serious!" Draco exclaimed, but then Astoria grabbed him by the lapel of his cloak and pulled him further away from Zabini, out of earshot.

When she spoke again, her voice had dropped to a whisper. "Listen, I know for a fact that Zabini has no love for the Dark Arts. I don't know what prompted it, but I'm guessing he'll tell us if we give him a chance. If we don't like what we're hearing, well, in that case, I'm pretty decent at memory spells."

A hint of a smile appeared on her lips once again and for a moment, Draco thought she looked extremely proud. Sometimes, Astoria was so kind that he almost forgot she was a fellow Slytherin, but it always shone through eventually. It wasn't her words that changed his mind at last, it was the mischievous twinkling in her eyes that made him agree. And she was absolutely right. They needed help.

With a flick of his wand, Draco poured the Firewhisky Zabini had bought into three glasses while his former classmate let his gaze wander around the flat. When Astoria did it, it felt a lot less like an invasion of his privacy.

"Love what you've done with the place," Zabini said eventually, an amicable smile on his face. "Though I never really pictured you moving out of Malfoy Manor. Your family still owns that place, right?"

"They do," Draco confirmed coldly. The implication that they had lost even that bothered him. "I just-"

"You needed to get away from your parents. I get it. I have a flat in Muggle London now," Zabini explained. "You two live here together?"

When Zabini nodded towards Draco and Astoria, he became aware of how close they were sitting to each other and he felt the heat rise into his cheeks. Had they really given off the impression that they were together in that way? And why had this particular implication caused his heart to skip a beat?

"Draco and I are friends," Astoria corrected him. Her face looked slightly flushed, but it could have been the effects of the blazing fire. Then, it took on a stern expression. "You said you wanted to help us. Why?"

Blaise Zabini shrugged and took a sip from his Firewhisky before he continued. "Like your family, Astoria, my mother and I remained neutral during the war. We never chose a side, but, unlike you, people assumed that since I was part of Slytherin house, I must have… an affinity for the Dark Arts. At first, I didn't do much to discourage that way of thinking. I had never done anything wrong, so I had nothing to fear from the Ministry. And if… certain people thought I was well-versed in the Dark Arts, well, it commanded their respect. Until they started to harass my mother. It drove her out of her home and into seclusion."

"Who harassed her?" Draco wanted to know. He remembered Mrs Zabini from several social gatherings that he had been made to attend throughout his teenage years and she had always struck him as a strong personality. One whose husbands kept dying under mysterious circumstances, always leaving her richer than she had been before. Draco couldn't think of anything that might scare her.

Zabini shrugged. "That's the thing, I don't know for sure," he admitted with a sigh. "They made it look like it was nothing but a prank from people who fought in the war and aimed to eradicate Dark Magic. They even broke into our home and smeared slurs across the walls. However, since it seemed to have come from the winning side of the war, the Aurors never really looked into it. My mother eventually moved away to a quieter area and my flat in Muggle London is warded up to the teeth. The attacks stopped."

Astoria leaned forward, her eyes narrowed at him. "Yet you have your doubts about the matter," she concluded.

He nodded. "Around the time the attacks started, I began to receive… invitations. They wanted me to join a cult, or, as you've put it, a secret society where the members still practised the Dark Arts. I declined, of course. Coincidentally, the attacks on me and my mother stopped at the same time as the invitations."

"And you think it was them," Draco reasoned.

Zabini nodded.

"Why didn't you join?" he wanted to know. "I mean, it's not like you had anything to lose."

"For the same reason you would never join them," Zabini spat at him in return. "Because as much as we fancied the idea of the Dark Arts as children, the reality of it never quite lived up to the fantasy of us as all-powerful wizards. I've seen enough of that during the war and I believe so have you."

Draco nodded. He understood all too well.

"Did you ever mention any of this to the Aurors who were investigating your mother's case?" Astoria wanted to know.

"I tried," Zabini admitted. For a brief moment, Draco thought he had seen a flicker of fear in his eyes. "But I couldn't. This secret society you're up against, they're good, they're really, really good. I couldn't talk about them. I couldn't write anything down. The invitations they sent me vanished as soon as I had looked at them. It took me nearly three years to overcome the spell they put on me. Even Veritaserum couldn't coax it out of me."

"That's impossible!" Astoria argued immediately. "That kind of magic doesn't exist. Besides, Draco met them and he was able to tell me."

"While I was at their meeting," Draco interrupted them, only really remembering the incident now. "I don't know if this is important or not, but someone approached me when I tried to leave. He looked as though he was going to say something, but then stepped out of my path. Maybe it had something do to with the magic that prevented you from talking about it."

"Still," Astoria said, "it doesn't explain how you were able to tell me and Professor McGonagall after that."

Blaise Zabini, however, shrugged. "Once the curse is broken, you can tell whoever you want. There's nothing keeping me from telling you now. But it took years to overcome. I tried so often to talk about it… to the Aurors, to my friends. Finally, I was able to tell my mother just a few months ago."

Draco sipped his Firewhisky quietly and watched Astoria do the same, all the while pondering the matter. He thought back to the evening he had first told Astoria about the book. The delicious dinner, her beautiful green dress, both of them sitting on the pillows by the fire just like they were doing right now. When he had finally told her, the words hadn't come easily and the longer he thought about it, the surer Draco became that he had broken the spell right then and there without even knowing it. Just for him, the person who could break the spell happened to be the very first person he had attempted to tell.

"You trust your mother completely, don't you?" Draco found himself asking his former classmate.

Zabini looked surprised and also a little affronted. "Naturally," he replied. "She raised me. Why are you asking?"

Draco took a deep breath, knowing how strange it was going to sound. "It's about trust," he explained. "These people don't trust anyone, not even each other, so to prevent information about them from falling into the wrong hands, they built their spell on absolute trust. And that's rare. You couldn't tell the Aurors or your friends because even the smallest hint of doubt prevents the spell from breaking. You have to be absolutely and undeniably sure that you can trust the person you're telling with your life."

That's how Draco had broken the spell. Even though he hadn't even known Astoria that well, even though they had only decided to be friends days before that particular evening, Draco had known that he could trust her completely. She had been the first to be honest with him, she had helped him and listened without judgement, she had saved his life twice. Draco hadn't realised it until now, but Astoria had become the one person he trusted most in the entire world and that had broken the spell.

Glancing in her direction, Draco found Astoria looking at him and he had to fight hard to not avoid her gaze. From the look in her eyes, he could tell that she was fully aware of the implications of what he had just confessed. Yet she didn't seem to mind at all. If it hadn't looked completely stupid in front of Zabini, Draco would have reached out and taken her hand again.

When his classmate chuckled, Draco was torn out of his thoughts. "And you're perfectly sure you're not living here together?" he wanted to know, clearly amused.

Luckily for Draco, Astoria decided to continue. "We could report them to the Aurors, but they have something of Draco's that they might be able to trace back to him. We have to get it back before we get the Ministry involved," she determined. "But you need an enchanted Galleon from Mr Borgin and to receive it, you need a password."

Blaise Zabini nodded. "I can get those things," he reassured them. "Might take some time, but I can get them."

With that, his former classmate rose to his feet and brushed imaginary dust off his trousers. "I'll be in touch," he said and turned towards the fireplace.

"Wait!" Astoria called after him. She waited until Zabini had turned around to look at her. "You know who is behind the secret society, don't you?"

Draco was surprised to hear her say it and looked from Astoria to Blaise and then back to her. Had he missed something important?

"I have a hunch," Zabini admitted carefully.

"It's Nott, isn't it?"

Draco watched his classmate nod and somehow, he didn't even feel a hint of surprise at the mention of Theodore Nott's name. While he had never been officially associated with Voldemort or the Dark Arts, his father had been a Death Eater, one of those now rotting in Azkaban. The idea that Nott had decided to walk in his father's footsteps wasn't exactly far-fetched.

"I can't be sure," Zabini admitted. "He was always a quiet boy at school. You never knew what was really going on inside his head. If your sister is still friends with him, she might be in danger."

When Astoria failed to respond and even Draco had run out of things to say, Blaise Zabini turned his back on them, reached for the Floo Powder and vanished into green flames.