Edited 20th February 2014 to remove review responses and superfluous author's notes.

12. Calm Before the Storm

The panic had subsided. Professor Dumbledore made a speech at breakfast the day after the staff meeting, encouraging everyone to be vigilant, although it was not yet clear whether the Dark Lord was coming to Hogwarts or not. As the days and weeks passed, many people voiced the opinion that it had all been a false alarm. Anyone who dared to hope that, however, ought to have looked more carefully at Draco Malfoy. He was unusually restless, and the look of fear in his eyes could only mean one thing. There was nothing that Draco was more afraid of than having to choose which side to fight on.

Blaise toyed with his food. He couldn't eat. This was also unusual; like so many skinny people, he normally ate like a horse. But today he couldn't. Today his mind was absorbed with thoughts of the Dark Lord and the impending battle. He wondered vacantly what the battle would be like. Would there actually be front lines, or would it be a scrappy affair, like a second year fight in the Slytherin common room? He was on edge, knowing that many of his housemates were probably apprentice Death Eaters, and wondering whether he would be hexed from behind without any warning.

He was watching Ginny across the Hall, and she caught his eye and smiled. He felt a sense of glowing happiness, seeing that smile. He and Ginny were friends now. He had over a year and a half of school to convince her to feel differently about him. He was part of the way there. A shiver passed down his spine. He didn't want to tempt Fate by assuming that both of them would survive.

Daniel was sitting with the Gryffindors. For some reason, since the Halloween Feast, the Head Boy had been very friendly with Harry Potter, Ginny's brother, and the smart girl, Hermione. It seemed a little suspicious to Blaise, as well as a little bit unfair. If he wasn't friends with Ginny, he'd be all alone. Then he realised that Daniel was perhaps being kind, leaving him alone with Ginny to see what would happen, and he mentally thanked his best friend for his discretion.

He cursed him later, though, when he met Ginny, and her first words were, "I need to practise my Quidditch, Blaise."

"I don't play, Gin, you know that," he reminded her. "I don't even fly. I suppose I could throw balls from the back of the stands at you, but I won't be much use to you, I'm afraid." He spoke with genuine regret, which turned into genuine fear when he saw the girl's face set into a crafty Weasley expression. She was planning something, he knew, and he was terrified to think what it would mean for him.

"Ah, Blaise, I don't know why you won't fly, but you'll have to get back on a broom sometime, you know," she said, her eyes glittering in a dangerously cheerful way.

"Don't see why," grumbled Blaise, staring at the ground and wishing that he could keep his feet firmly on it for the rest of his life.

"Aw, come on, Blaise," she smiled at him, making the bottom drop out of his stomach and his heart begin to race. "Do it for me?"

The little vixen was clever, he thought, but his muscles were rigid with terror at the mere thought of getting on a broom and flying. "No, Ginny, I can't," he pleaded. "In my third year, Malfoy spun me some story about getting me a Chaser's spot on the Slytherin team, to get me to help him with his practice. The weather was appalling, but, well, I used to love Quidditch. I wanted nothing more than a place on that team. But it was all a trick. Malfoy drove me sideways into a tree, and my broom broke and I got stuck up there. He left me fifty feet up in the air in the pouring rain. Eventually the branch I was clinging to broke and I fell. I broke my wrist and nearly lost an eye. That's what the scar on my cheek is. Since then, I've never got on a broom, and I'm never going to, not even for you, Ginevra."

Ginny just stared at him in shock. She couldn't believe that anyone, even Malfoy, could be so cruel. But it only strengthened her resolve. She had to stop Blaise being afraid. It wasn't fair that Malfoy had stolen something so beautiful from him. She knew that she wouldn't be able to live without her Quidditch. She couldn't understand how that one night had changed Blaise so much. There had to be more to it than that, but if he didn't want to tell her, she wasn't going to ask. She was, however, determined to get him airborne…

"Look," she said, quietly, "I understand. Malfoy's said and done enough nasty things to me and my family and friends, so I know how nasty he can be. But don't stand there and tell me that you're going to let that puffed-up little pain in the arse stop you from ever getting back on a broom! You ought to be ashamed of yourself." And, seeing the way she was looking at him, with what seemed to be disappointment in her eyes, he did feel slightly ashamed.

Ginny pressed home her advantage. "Come on, it can't hurt. I won't ask you to do much, just a little spin round the pitch. You can borrow my broom. I'm really not taking 'no' for an answer, Mr Zabini." And so saying, she took his hand and half dragged him away, out of the Hall and onto the Quidditch pitch.

Harry smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. He had never thought that he could be friends with a Slytherin. But, although he did not yet consider Fletcher a friend, he certainly found him a pleasant change from Draco Malfoy. Obviously there was more than one sort of Slytherin, and Daniel was the good sort. Ron was still sulking and being less than sociable, because Fletcher was friends with 'that Zabini boy'. He was still angry that Blaise was getting far too close to his precious little sister, although, in Harry's opinion, Ginny was capable of looking after herself, and was far more likely to hurt Zabini than the other way around.

Daniel was equally enjoying Harry's company. Obviously, like all boys born into the magical world, he had grown up with the stories of the famous child who had defeated the Dark Lord at age one. He had been almost disappointed when the boy had turned up in his second year and had been nothing special. And he had been placed in the enemy house. But now, he saw why the famous Harry Potter was so well liked by all those who knew him well. He thought that the red headed boy, Ron, could be friendlier, and he wished fervently that Hermione would stop saying so many intelligent things and making him feel stupid. But at least she wasn't staring at him any more.

He asked the question he had been longing to ask all morning. "Do you think that Voldemort's really coming to Hogwarts?"

Ron flinched at the name, and Hermione whitened, but it was the smallest response he had ever seen to actually saying the Name in conversation. But then, he reflected, these three had fought the Dark Lord more often than anybody he had ever met in his life. He felt slightly humbled.

"I don't know why he should," said Hermione, thoughtfully. "He's afraid of Dumbledore, however much he wants to kill Harry. But I was watching Malfoy at breakfast. He looks worried. He, of all people, should know if V-Voldemort is coming here. And if he looks worried, then that's probably why. I don't want to believe that he's coming, but if he is, sticking our heads in the sand really won't help us, will it?"

Her words were still bothering Daniel two hours later when he returned to the Slytherin common room to find Blaise curled up in an armchair with an enormous mug of steaming tea, reading The Prince with an air of extreme concentration. Not wanting to disturb his friend too much, he made his way to a neighbouring armchair as slowly and quietly as he could. Blaise heard him, however, and looked up.

"Hey, Dan, have a good time with the boy wonder?" he asked, airily, but Daniel noticed the slight shake in his voice.

"Yes. What's Ginny been doing to you?"

Blaise's eyes filled with excitement. "I flew, Dan," he murmured, as if he hardly dared to believe it. "After all this time, I got back on a broomstick. She helped me. It was great, Dan, I'd forgotten how wonderful it feels to fly." He took a long sip of his tea. "Afterwards, of course, I was shaking like mad, so I needed a cup of tea to settle my nerves." He smiled wickedly, and Daniel thought absently that Ginny was very definitely good for Blaise.

"And the book?" he asked.

"That," explained Blaise, "is for the future. Machiavelli believes that the end justifies the means. Perhaps I need to convince myself of that before we all have to fight against the Dark Lord." He lifted the book and quoted, "The first method of estimating the intelligence of a ruler is to look at the men he has around him". What do you think that says about You-Know-Who when he's got people like Crabbe and Goyle at his back?" he concluded, and both he and Daniel laughed at the thought.

A thought occurred to Daniel. "What do you think Malfoy would say if you went up to him and asked him to make you a Chaser on the Quidditch team?" he asked, his eyes glinting wickedly. "I mean, he said himself, they're all hopeless, they could do with a decent player."

Blaise laughed. "He'd probably scream. You know, now he doesn't need me to fly, I want to. He might kill me for being annoying. Anyway, I don't know if I do want to play. I'm not a very competitive person." He paused for a minute, then went on, "And if the rumours are true, there may not be a Quidditch Cup this year." His voice dropped still further as he gave voice to his deepest fear. "There may not even be a Hogwarts when they've finished."

Daniel stared at his friend in shock. Blaise was never the most cheerful person, but it was unusual to see him afraid. He had seen enough in his short life to take most things in his stride. But then, an attack by Death Eaters on Hogwarts was something unheard of, and even the expertly impassive Blaise could not avoid the terrible feeling of dread that had descended on the school.

Draco Malfoy entered the Slytherin common room, face whiter than usual and with a horrible light in his grey eyes. Daniel didn't have to hear what he was about to say. He knew. There were only two reasons that he could think of for the look on Draco's face, and neither of them were good.

Draco looked around at his fellow Slytherins, wondering how he could say what he had to say without being seen to take sides. A lot of them were supporters of the Dark Lord, but equally there were those like Fletcher, Zabini and Nott who were stubbornly neutral. And, who knew? Maybe there were students in Slytherin who were steadfast supporters of the Light.

In the end, all he said was, "It's happening. Dumbledore knows. He is drawing closer. We must be prepared. We need to be prepared to fight. We need to be ready… by tomorrow."