Year 6 at Hogwarts and there have been some major changes. Voices in their heads. Memories missing. And a Dumbledore that wasn't so great after all. The forces of the dark are closing in and they need the help of an ancient group to win this war. From the Slytherin perspective.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any part taken directly from 'Half Blood Prince' that you see here.
The idiot realized that Draco had heard him, and was now trying to find an excuse for discussing his grumpiness (with his best friend) right in front of him.
"I was just wondering why you were... were... " he said, his hands up in surrender. Cleveland turned to Daphne. "Um, Greengrass? Help?"
Daphne Greengrass scoffed and pretended she didn't hear him. When Cleveland turned to Pansy, she looked up at the ceiling as if it was the most fascinating thing she ever saw. Did he really expect them to come to his rescue when Draco was in a bad mood and Cleveland so blatantly talked about Draco while he was there? Was Cleveland dumber than he thought he was?
HPHPHP
Chapter Three: "Blaise and the word 'Cazzo'"
Sunday, September 1, 1996.
~On the Hogwarts Express~
Blaise Zabini stared at Draco, waiting for the boy to feel unsettled. He felt the side of his lip twitch when the blonde narrowed his eyes at the window and rubbed his thumb over his pale cheek. Blaise could tell he was irritated, and honestly, he found it a bit cute. Draco acting childishly was something Blaise liked to see no matter the circumstances. It meant that there was still a childish innocence left in his best mate. Of course, the boy refusing to talk to him was justified. He went through a terrible thing this summer whilst Blaise and Pansy were staying at the Parkinson's Villa in Rome, enjoying their summer.
You couldn't expect one to want to talk about that, especially with your mother's life on the line.
How did Blaise know?
That's because his mother was currently married to— and pregnant for!— Xellar Renson.
Besides intentionally having the "I'm an idiot" brand on his forearm, the bloke was an arrogant, annoying and positively guileful Junior Death Eater. ("Why did they even need classifications or divisions for it?! A Death Eater was Death Eater no matter what you called them, whether they willingly or unwillingly took the mark!") Sure, Renson was rich, he will give his mother that, but the prat was also an incredibly obsessive man! Blaise lost count of how many times the man spoke about his mother as if she was a possession! Honestly, he just wanted to punch the man every time he saw him! Renson also loved to boast to Blaise's mother, talking about many things concerning 'the great Dark Lord'. It was as if he wanted a death wish!
Well, considering who he was... serving and who he was married to, that might happen much sooner than Renson thought it would.
Blaise had intended to keep thinking ill of his new step-father while appearing nonchalant on the outside, but his attention was caught by the fair skinned female who sauntered her way down the walkway between the table areas. He wanted to frown at her authentic mink coat. Wearing animals like that should be a crime, leather excluded. Wizarding folks found a way to remove the skin of cows without harming the animals. As for every other animal, well, the same spell just didn't work. Don't ask him how.
"Dra–" Pansy started to say.
Their classmate, Emma Vane, interrupted. "Is Malfoy still refusing to talk?"
Blaise watched as Draco jumped, clearly having been lost in his thought. Draco then turned around and glared at her. Blaise would've been more amused if he didn't notice the almost hostile red sparks of magic around the two of them. Of course, he knew he wasn't supposed to be able to see that. However, he always found a way to know or do something he wasn't supposed to. It didn't matter if it was legal or not.
A snicker threatened to escape Blaise's lips when he noticed Draco's grey eyes returning to Vane's chest more than once. He would keep his thoughts about that to himself.
About five seconds passed before she spoke again. "It seems you are. "
Blaise looked towards Pansy, who was twirling a lock of dark brown hair from the half of her hair that was down. She was also glaring at Vane. Well, Pansy never liked her, so that was expected. Considering how Vane didn't even spare her glance, the feeling was mutual.
Draco replied. "It seems you aren't? I must be blind then to the way you've been avoiding Vaisey."
Blaise caught on to the satirical tone the blonde used; sarcastic, critical, and mocking. That pretty much summed up an upset Draco.
"I have nothing to hide."
'Hmm. Sure,' he thought sarcastically as he stared at the antagonistic female. 'And my mother is white.'
Decided this conversation wasn't worth his time, Blaise looked towards the Greengrass sisters. They always dressed well, so he didn't have to worry about them being an eyesore. Unbeknown to almost everyone, Blaise liked looking at people for longer periods of time. He found the hobby of appreciating, or disliking, their outfits of the day a nice way to pass time. He just didn't do it often or so boldly anymore. Two of Blaise's Slytherin female year-mates, Davis and Edsel, told him he looked like a stalker. He'd never forget the insulting word they called!
But, they... had a point.
Anyways, Daphne was dressed daintily as usual; a delicate beauty in a grey velvet sweater with charcoal-coloured mink lining the collar ("Again with wearing the animals?"). The matching pleated black skirt was long enough to touch her shin while sitting. Her black flats made her already cute feet ("Don't judge me!") look even cuter; the grey stockings she had on complimented her shoes and outfit.
Astoria, on the other hand, was more bold than her older sister. She opted for a green and navy blue, hounds-tooth print travelling suit with trousers. It was tailored perfectly to be fitted, but not overly so, and highlighted her slim waist. Peeking from under her jacket was a black, funnel turtleneck shirt. To top of Astoria's outfits, she wore a pair of black, heeled ankle boots.
Blaise had to admit that their styles of dressing fit them well. Maybe, he can convince Mamma to let his second sister, Elaine, to wear a travelling suit with trousers. Elaine loved to wear trousers and—
"Greetings, Vain one." He heard Pansy say, interrupting his thoughts.
He turned his head towards them in time to see Vane flush in embarrassment. Pansy had come up with that name to get back a Emma Vane for calling her 'Penstemon', a plant with stems of showy flowers resembling snapdragons. Indirectly, she called Pansy a dragon, using another flower's name. Ever since then, Pansy refused to call Vane otherwise. Speaking of insulting names, Blaise needed to make a bet with Tracey Davis on how long it would take before some cheeky first-year called Vane that name. Perhaps, a hundred galleons that it would be said before Yule? No, before October. These kids were secret devils.
"Greetings, Parkinson." She almost sneered at Pansy.
When Vane turned to him, the smile softened ("Please don't.").
"Saluti, Blaise."
He wanted to frown, but kept his lips still. Mamma raised him to be polite. Blaise rose an eyebrow at her and gave her a tilted nod. He immediately regretted doing so when Vane sat down beside Draco. He wanted to narrow his eyes at her, but kept his facial expression the same. Vane didn't come here to flirt with him. She came to harass Draco—
"Come stai oggi? (How are you doing today?)" Vane asked. Her elbow was on the table with her hand under her chin. Her eyes were trained solely on Blaise.
'Oh! Dalle palle cadenti di Merlino! Perché cazzo ha deciso di dargli attenzione? Voleva urlarle per farle indossare il visone, enfatizzando la pronuncia, sé mal disposto davanti a lui prima che lui—'
(Oh! By Merlin's saggy balls! Why the fuck did she decide to give him attention? He wanted to yell at her to get her mink wearing, pronunciation emphasizing, ill-disposed self from in front of him before he—)
Blaise let out so much frustration in that one nanosecond longer blink, and the others were none the wiser.
'Thank you, Mamma, for body and facial expression control lessons!'
In his peripheral vision, he saw Draco roll his eyes. When the blonde opened his mouth to speak, Blaise knew that Vane's attention would be diverted from him.
"We're all fine today. Now, leave, Wind Vane."
Pansy moved closer to Blaise. Of course, he had no idea what his female best friend intended when she did that. Going along with it, Blaise met her halfway and gracefully put his arm around her shoulder. He put on the most seemingly effortless, innocent look on his face. Perhaps, the whole point of this was to insinuate a relationship between Pansy and Blaise. Or Pansy displaying possessiveness. He was then graced with a scowling Emma Vane who narrowed her eyes at the two of them.
'Ah... Insinuate, it was.'
She turned to Draco, her right hand twitching as if she wanted to hex him. "Afraid I'll tell your secret?"
Blaise did a long blink to avoid sneering at her. He watched as Draco did 'that smirk', and knew that whatever proceeded would irritate Vane to the fullest.
Draco replied. "They already know. After all, I got special permission."
She glared at him. The girl hated those favoured over her. Childish and annoying at times, but totally Emma Vane.
She gave Draco a cold smile. "I look forward to seeing you crumble!" Then she got up and left.
Pansy glared at her retreating figure. "Can I hex her?" She mocked Vane's way of speaking.
"No." Blaise said.
"Why not? She's a bitch!" She frowned at him.
He finally rolled his eyes, tired of keeping his expression to himself. "Because... that'll only lower... you to her level."
Pansy pouted in that annoying way. "But—"
"Don't... even finish that." He said quietly but firmly. Blaise raised both eyebrows and questioned. "Do you... want to be... like Vane?"
The look of disgust and mild outrage that graced her face was a bit comical. "Fuck, no!"
"Then,... no hexing."
Blaise gave up a long time ago on fixing his pronunciation emphasization. At least it fit his haughty mannerism, as opposed to Emma Vane.
He leaned back in his seat, reaching a hand into his well structured jacket, slowly pulling out a small book.
A pair of lower-year girls were walking by, and the brave ("—Cazzo stupido!") one decided to run a hand through his short hair. Then the girls giggled and ran off towards carriage door. In retaliation, Blaise sent a barrage of wand-less, nonverbal Stinging Hexes at both girls. The shouts of pain were music to his ears. Blaise knew they'd need to have their hands and bums healed when they get to school. Cazzo stupido! Serves them right!
Pansy already had her wand out, and was doing a scan on his hair to see if they rubbed anything in it. Or worse, took a hair. No one was Polyjuicing as him any time soon if he had a say in it!
"Stop glaring and sneering, Blaise." She placed her wand on the table when she was done. "No hairs missing, pastes in, spells on, potions rubbed or sprinkled on your hair." Then, he felt her hands in her hair. "Nothing's changed since the start of the ride, except its shape. Let me fix it back, you petty child."
Blaise whipped his head towards her so fast, he felt his neck crick a little. The Italian stared at her in outrage. He was not petty! He opened his mouth to tell her such, but his curly hair thought otherwise. The brown locks piled on top of his head had suddenly decided to flop down into his face. Blaise angrily batted his hair upwards and back on top of his head.
"I... am not petty!"
Pansy scoffed. "And I'm not a spoiled, rude, rich girl."
She had the nerve to roll her eyes at him! Blaise glared at her, even if he knew it would have no effect on her. Curse her for being used to it!
"They... deserve it."
Pansy opened her mouth to reply, but their attention got captured by the small— definitely forced— cough Draco made into the back of his hand. He looked like he was trying to cover up his snicker. Blaise and Pansy shared a look. Draco was staring out the window, a glazed look in his eyes.
"Is... " Pansy trailed off.
It was only due to Blaise knowing her since they could walk that he understood her incomplete sentences. "Talking... to Oblem?"
She nodded.
"Yes. Nadja does it too,... but I don't have her this year." Blaise was referring to his female Eurasian eagle-owl.
Tilting her head a little to the side, Pansy nodded, a pondering expression on her face. He gave a hum for her attention, and when she turned to him, he raised an eyebrow to ask a silent question.
"Oh," she blurted out. "Just wondering why my parents never got me a bonding familiar."
Blaise smirked. "Because... with them, you... are mendacious."
"I am not!"
"I said... with them. Not... with others."
Pansy scowled at him, but let it go. Instead, her attention was diverted to the book he pulled out. Blaise eagerly— well, only he and his Pans knew— told her the title, 'Advanced Wand-less Magic 101', and both began reading, ignoring the bubbly Cleveland behind them. Somewhere in the back of Blaise's mind, he remembered glancing at his blonde best mate, who was gritting his teeth with a stubborn look in his eyes. Whatever reason Draco did that, Blaise subconsciously found not as interesting as the book before him. With that, Blaise's attention stayed on the book he was sharing (graciously) with Pansy. By the time they were at chapter two, both were discussing how to benefit fully from his book, as a Slytherin.
"I think, if we follow the instructions carefully—" Pansy started.
Blaise interrupted. "—then,... we'll cast the spells... correctly. And later—"
"—Later, we'll be able to tweak some parts to shorten the process!" Pansy finished.
He flipped the page. "That makes it... a whole lot easier,... and I'll look cool... doing it so effortlessly."
Pansy snorted. "Always about you! Why not say 'We' instead?"
Blaise did a long blink. "My book."
"Not for long... Blaiseykins."
He sneered, feeling shudders go down his spine when he heard the horrendous nickname. "Pansy!" Blaise put his book face down on the table, still open, and swatted her on her shoulder. "Don't... call me... that!" He whined.
Mamma's voice rang in his head saying, "Zabinis don't WHINE!"
"Jones just looooooves to call you that!" Pansy teased.
Before Blaise could retort, the named person skipped down the walkway. He frowned at her low pigtails bouncing with each small jump she took. Pansy dissolved into giggles, covering her mouth to (unsuccessfully) hide the sound. Blaise didn't even hide his eye-roll at that. Pansy switched from an A to bloody Q in a blink. How he managed, he never knew.
Erasobeth Jones, a third-year, stopped right at their table and took the empty seat beside Draco. She had her elbow on the table with her hand propping up her head. When she stared at him with a simultaneously cheeky and affectionate smile, Blaise immediately thought of Emma Vane. Jones was only cuter and bolder, tan skinned, and wearing a child cowgirl costume.
"Howdy, Pans!" Jones gave her a greeting without looking at her. Then her eyes took in Blaise's attire appreciatively. "Handsome as always, ma Blaiseykins!" Her western accent was heard clearly when she used the 'endearment'.
He sharply inhaled and closed his eyes. Jones took it as a good thing and chuckled. He was to throw up. Imbavagliami con un cucchiaio! (Gag me with a spoon!)
"Saluti, Jones." He said politely.
Jones grinned, smacking the gum in her mouth. "Aww! I told ya to call me 'Beth'!"
"Quando le magiche Isole Vergini britanniche rimangono incinte! (When the Wizarding British Virgin Islands become pregnant!)" Was what he wanted to say.
Instead, he spoke quietly but firmly. "No, Jones."
Suddenly, she smirked at him. Blaise rose an eyebrow as that, and it stayed raised when he saw her take out a roll of parchment. The scroll was tied with a violet ribbon and was surrounded by white dots of magic. Of course, Blaise alone could see it, and told him that there were not charms or curses on the thing. It was safe. Jones stretched it towards him, then when he reached for it, she pulled it back.
"Nuh-uh, hot stuff! Call me 'Beth'."
Blaise let the scowl that wanted to form since she sat down, form on his lips. This child was really annoying! How was it that she was a Hufflepuff? The Sorting Hat made some kind of mistake with this bundle of trouble wearing a cowgirl hat. And that wasn't all. Apparently, she was some cousin twice-removed to Megan Jones, another Hufflepuff. Megan was a fragile and dainty girl, much like Daphne but not as pretty, and also someone Blaise could call his friend. How both girls were so different when they lived in the same house, he didn't know.
"No."
Pansy, having stayed to herself since Jones sat down, got up and plucked the scroll from her hand. Jones whined in protest, but neither of them cared. Pansy handed it to him. After sneering at Jones, who was still seated, Blaise unrolled the parchment.
"What is it, Blaise?" Daphne asked softly in her fae-like voice from across the walkway.
Jones spoke up. "An invi— "
Pansy cut her off rudely. "No one fucking asked you, brat!"
Blaise tuned out whatever Jones said and focused on the parchment. He heard Astoria let out a questioning hum and decided to (graciously) read it aloud.
"Blaise,"
Both he and Daphne let of a small sound of displeasure.
"Not even 'Dear' or 'Greetings'?" Gregory Goyle asked from his spot in front of Daphne. With consideration to Blaise's table, Goyle was actually sitting across walkway from a now sleeping Draco and an annoying Jones.
"None... I'm continuing," Blaise said.
"I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely,
Professor H. E. F. Slughorn"
He blinked multiple times. It's finished? What kind of invitation was that?! Blaise flipped the parchment around, checking for anything else. Nope. That was it. Blaise frowned. He'd been honestly hoping for more, not that he'd let the others know.
Astoria asked. "Is that it?"
He nodded. "Should I... go?" Blaise asked them. "Is it worth my time?"
His friends, minus Crabbe who was staring out the window and an intruding Jones, looked at each other. Daphne answered for all of them.
"It's an invitation from a professor. It would be rude to not go."
Sighing, he got up and fixed his jacket. Hopefully, this would not be a massive waste of him time. Or worse, he's interrogated for something illegal him did in the past. Though, the likelihood of someone catching on to what he did last year was next to none. Having a mother who killed half her husbands and got away with it had its benefits.
"I'll see you by the next hour or so."
HPHPHP
When Blaise reached compartment C, he noted at once that he wasn't Professor Slughorn's only invitee. Through the window, he saw a seventh-year Gryffindor, Cormac McLaggen, already seated. He and Professor Slughorn seemed deep in conversation about something he couldn't hear through the compartment door.
Deciding to be an arse, Blaise opened the door slowly, hearing it made a loud creak sound halfway through his pulling. McLaggen glared at him. Obviously, they were talking about something important. He just didn't care.
"Blaise, m'boy!" said Professor Slughorn, standing up at the sight of him. The old man's great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you!"
When Professor Slughorn sat down and Blaise took the empty seat beside McLaggen, he noticed that someone else squashed in the corner. Seeing the red hair and the multitude of freckles on her skin, he quickly identified her as the Weasley girl. The name, however, was lost to him. He had to admit though, she was good-looking, something the other Weasley obviously fell short of. Most likely, it came from her mother, or some distant relative.
Doesn't mean he'll ever tolerate her.
"Greetings." Blaise said politely. It was a generalised question, forcing She-Weasley and McLaggen to return it. If not for the teacher here, he was positive they'd ignore him, and he'd ignore them.
"Now, young Zabini" Professor Slughorn started. "I trust you are doing well?" Blaise nodded without saying anything.
"Yes! Now—" The fat man glanced towards McLaggen, who was pointedly looking out the window. "How is Thestor Nott? I haven't heard from him in such along time. We were old friends."
The fact that Professor Slughorn asked him such a question was somewhat surprising. The whole 'Department of Mysteries' adventure they said Potter and his friends went on in fifth-year was published it the Daily Prophet. Which rock was this professor living under?
McLaggen looked towards the walrus-sized man and started twisting his fingers on his lap. "I don't know much about—"
The professor turned to Blaise and asked. "You must know, Blaise."
'Don't call me by my first name.'
Only giving the professor a nanosecond longer blink, Blaise respectfully answered. "Yes, sir... He was arrested—"
"For what?"
'Cazzo maleducato!' (Fucking rude!)
Deciding that this man would not wait for him to just get to the point, Blaise spoke bluntly. His slow and stiff speech would not be appreciated. And neither was Professor Slughorn's impatience!
"Death Eater."
The man's eyes widened. "Oh my! When?"
"When... " The pause was because he noticed someone peer inside through the window. He continued as he pulled out his wand slowly. "You-Know-Who's return... was officially announced." With a flick of his wand, the compartment door slid open, revealing a seventh-year he did not know the name of.
The boy squeaked and stuttered an explanation. "Th-Th-The invitation! I-It said h-here!" He dug into his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of parchment and violet ribbon.
"Ah! You are Marcus Belby?" the professor asked. When Belby nodded, he said, "Welcome! Good to see you," but didn't stand up to greet him.
After that, Blaise ignored Belby. He didn't return the greeting Potter or Longbottom, didn't even look at them when the walrus asked if the Golden Boy or Longbottom knew him. He made a tiny cough of amused skepticism when Slughorn was being overly praising of Potter, followed by the She-Weasley angrily saying he was talented at posing. Well, Blaise was very good at posing. In response to Slughorn's comment about not crossing her, the Italian graced them all with a look of contempt.
He answered respectfully when asked about his mother, and refrained from hexing everyone when the topic of his step-fathers' deaths came up. The skin beside Slughorn's eyes crinkled, and it wasn't from a smile. Blaise knew the walrus was judging Aida Zabini— now bloody Renson! but only temporarily...— and he had to hold back his magic that wanted to claw the professor's eyes out, slowly! Violence would get him expelled and a one-way portkey home. Mother would not be pleased in the slightest.
When the commoner classed food was passed around, he politely took from some of which he was good enough in transfiguration to discretely change before eating, and also checked for foreign elements in or on it using his magic. Blaise was not eating low-class food from a walrus; look at its size! Professor Slughorn must've been trying to fatten them up when dessert came, because those Mince pies were bigger than they were supposed to be and sweet!
Before the eating even started, Blaise identified that the entire point of this meeting was for the man to connect with those from famous or prominent families. So, those who were invited were only here because they were connected to somebody well-known or influential for something, except the She-Weasley.
Marcus Belby because of his Uncle Damocles, who made the Wolfsbane potion.
Cormac McLaggen for his Uncle Tiberius in the Ministry, who coincidentally hunted nogtails with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour.
Blaise for his mother, because she had been married seven times, each of her husbands dying mysteriously ("Hmm, sure.") and leaving her mounds of gold.
Neville Longbottom for his parents, well-known Aurors, who had been tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange and a couple of Death Eaters. (That had been an uncomfortable ten minutes...)
Ginevra Weasley for "the most marvelous Bat-Bogey Hex", according to the whale of a man.
Lastly, Harry Potter was there simply because he was 'The Chosen One', for defeating You-Know-Who when he was just a year old, etcetera, etcetera. Blah, blah, blah!
When the lunch was declared over, Blaise stood up, along with the others. He checked his watch and saw '7:26 PM'. He had left his housemates at half past one, so, that meant he had stayed here for nearly six hours. Blaise felt like his limbs needed oil from how stiff they were. His long legs had been quite uncomfortable since he was in front of Professor Slughorn, and now, the Italian desperately wanted to stretch his legs out. Maybe, he should do some Yoga when in the safety of of his bed curtains? Yeah, he should.
Just when Blaise was about to exit, Potter stopped in front of him. Annoyed, he pushed past Potter into the darkening corridor, shooting him a filthy look, unable to keep hours of irritation under control. Potter returned the look with interest, and rather quickly for a stupid Gryffindor. Blaise headed towards the train carriage door, aware of Potter, She-Weasley, and Longbottom following him behind him, talking quietly among themselves. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for them, compartment C was in one of the train carriage that happened to be Slytherin's territory. The three behind him stiffened and seemed to walk closer to him, as if he would protect them from the rest of him housemates.
'Ha. Funny... '
Before Blaise opened the carriage door leading back to his original seat, he looked behind him at the three Gryffindors. His dark brown eyes locked with bright green ones, and he blinked twice, unsure of how to feel after those two seconds that passed. There was something about Potter that was different this year. But, what was it?
Blaise turned the doorknob, then sought out his seat from previously. Thankfully, Erasobeth Jones wasn't seated there beside Draco. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing her after that 'Slug Club' lunch.
The Gryffindors were watched intently by all Slytherins present, and successfully not hexed. Even Draco and Emma Vane refrained from their usual sadistic ways of harassing people. When the carriage door closed behind them, Blaise was bombarded by questions. Thankfully, Pansy and Daphne got them to shut the hell up and wait until the Slytherin First Night Gathering tonight. Without their intervening, the Italian was positive he'd have cursed someone already.