Done with his letter, Blaise curled the parchment up in front of him, tapped it with his wand and muttered a few words quietly. The air in the room was stale, and he was itching to get up and exit through the door to his left. He had a bit of a migraine coming on and needed some fresh air. He also needed a drink. But he had too much to do, too many things that needed his immediate attention. He sighed and looked over to his right where Pansy Parkinson was sitting on a severe looking chair she had summoned, face petulant as she tapped her foot anxiously.
The Dark Lord had made Draco his charge for now and ordered Draco to be conscious and alert when he arrived to the castle. If he were to leave Pansy alone with him, he was sure Draco would not be any of those things once The Dark Lord arrived.
Blaise decided to play the waiting game. He was immeasurably good at it, and judging from the way Pansy was always fidgeting, she would not be. He relaxed his jaws, and his shoulders, which he hadn't realized were tense, and crossed his long arms in front of him. He became still and motionless, with even breathes. Up until this moment, Pansy had been watching him intently as he wrote on the parchment, but now she would have nothing to watch. Draco was still tied to the wooden chair against the northern wall, but his head was bowed, and he was taking deep and even breathes. Blaise wasn't sure if he was asleep or not, but it didn't matter.
Minutes slipped by as Blaise stayed as stately and still as a marble statue. In stark contrast, Pansy jiggled her legs, fidgeted, cross and un-crossed her arms. She sighed, and sniffed, and messed with her hair. She got up out of her chair and stretched. She sat back down. She looked from Draco's face to Blaise's. She pulled a folded up Daily Prophet out of her robes and flipped through the pages, not reading it. As these movements registered in Blaise's peripherals, he had to stop himself from smirking. Pansy cannot go without some sort of stimulation for even an hour, he mused to himself.
Finally, after a long and dragging hour, Pansy got up and disappeared from the room with a huff, her robes sweeping behind her. Blaise was pleased with himself. This was not the first person he had played the waiting game with, nor would it be the last. And he always won. He cast an eye towards Draco, whose face was tight with a crease between his brows. He was dozing, no doubt from exhaustion and injury, and most likely dreaming something unpleasant.
He got up quietly and left the room. He did not want Draco to wake up and try to talk to him. He locked the door behind him, muttering a spell that only he could use the counter spell to. He drew up an image of Pansy standing at the door casting alohomora repeatedly with no luck and getting increasingly irate. He loved to see her struggle and be denied something.
He checked his pocket watch, dismayed to see that it was going to be time for his first lesson of the day soon. He wanted to drop this parchment off before the day became too hectic. He toyed with the idea of cancelling the lesson, knowing he would undoubtably be pulled out of it when The Dark Lord arrived anyways but dropped the idea. Things would be tense enough as is, no need to make waves and draw suspicion. What the castle lacked in deft professors it made up in suspicion, paranoia, and distrust. Everyone quick to point out some one else's mistake, some one else's accountability, ever fearful that the heavy gaze of Voldemort's eyes would soon turn to them. Everyone had seen the Malfoys fall from grace firsthand, and no one was eager to be the next family to befall that fate.
He worked his way down through the castle, heading to the potions room. He passed a window as he walked and stared out at the morning sky. The sun never really came through the sky to the castle anymore, not since the dementor population took up permanent residence, however it looked a like a pleasant morning none-the-less. He wished he could escape for a few hours, return to Hogsmeade for a drink and his cottage he rented there. He hated to spend any extra time at the castle and liked his privacy, but as of late more people were raising concerns about his comings-and-goings. Millicent Bulstrode, the herbology professor- if you could call what she did worthy of being a professor- had insisted once that he bring her to his cottage. She was bold about it, and insinuated that Blaise was hiding something there. But the way she looked at Blaise when she insisted he bring her there had been very telling, and Blaise denied her outright. He wasn't interested in her or what she wanted them to do when they got to his cottage. There wasn't a witch in this castle he wanted, though a few wanted him.
No, the witch he wanted was in Hogsmeade, probably sprawled out across his bed, curled in his blankets. He checked his pocket watch again. Knowing her, she would sleep till noon. She probably had a half drank glass of fire whiskey on the nightstand, her discarded clothes on the floor. He pushed thoughts of her away and continued his descent through the castle. Current situations being what they were, he doubted very much he would be able to slip off his cottage for a while. Students were beginning to fill the halls now, a few greeting him, most just scurrying to their lessons. The dementors made the students quiet, and the halls were so much less nosy now compared to when he had been a student. There were fewer students too, now that Hogwarts only accepted pure bloods, and half-bloods whose families had been approved by the ministry.
When Blaise had been given this position- and it had been given, Voldemort had not allowed Blaise to choose- he had been wary to teach. He was of agreeance that the new crop of witches and wizards deserved a good and thorough education, but that did not mean that he wanted to be apart of providing that education. He had warmed to the idea once he learned that Pansy had been dying for a teaching position and had been denied. He had a problem with some 6th and 7th year students, what with him being so close in age, some of the witches tended to think they might be able to sway a grade from him if they offered certain favors in return. He always turned them away.
When He reached his office, attached to the northern wall of his office, Adette Brignac was waiting outside the door. She was a petite, blonde witch from France. She had been a student under Madam Maxine at Beauxbatons but had moved to England after the battle of Hogwarts. She supported pure blood supremacy, and was hired at Hogwarts to teach astronomy, which she was very skilled at.
" 'Ello Professor Zabini," She said politely, bowing her head slightly. She smiled in a pretty way, and her blonde hair fell loosely out from behind her ear. " I wanted to tell you zat Venus is transitioning to trine Pluto tonight. Which that will be favorable circumstances to brew Veritasum." Her French accent was thick and charming.
"Thank you, Professor Brignac," He replied coolly, unlocking the door to his office. "I will try to initiate that process later today, if time allows."
"Professor Zabini," She said looking into his eyes. "I know I am not zee only one inquiring about when it will be made. If you do not brew it today, zen when?" She eyed him suspiciously, and Blaise found that irritating.
"I do not remember a time when I came to the astronomy tower and demanded a schedule of star gazing from you," He shot back casually, meeting her gaze. "Perhaps you've noticed, certain things have transpired as of late that require a lot of my time and attention. If you wish to gain knowledge from someone that you believe is withholding the truth, I suggest you seek out Isolde Vikander and take Legilimens lessons with her until such a time as you are apt enough to not need Veritasum."
Adette's Face blanched slightly. She looked up at him for a few seconds more, and then turned curtly and walked away, her light gray robes sweeping behind her.
Blaise sat at his desk. His office was much different than when Snape had presided as the potions master. It was more modern now, cleaner, and there was a bar in the corner that he kept various brandies and whiskeys at for when he stayed late in his office. He was tempted to make a drink now, but decided against it. He realized his jaws and shoulders were tense again and forced himself to relax. Being tense wouldn't fare well for him today, not with Voldemort coming to the castle. Dolohov and Flint would be bumbling morons while he's here, and Pansy would be an over energetic mess. Blaise did not like to be the subject of suspicion, and the lack of Veritasum in the castle would probably trigger that. But he was resigned not to make it, no matter how many times he was asked. It wouldn't bode well to have on hand.
His familiar black and grey horned owl, Bastet, landed on the sill of his office, and allowed Blaise to attach the parchment to his leg. He watched the owl fly off towards Hogsmeade, regretful he couldn't go as well.
The students were already gathering in the potions room, and the growing heat of his dark mark alerted him that soon the real show would start. Draco's careworn face popped into his minds eye for a minute, and he felt pity. He didn't believe a word Draco had said, he knew him too well. He didn't know Granger very well, but he knew she was lying too. He was determined to get to the bottom of this.