Chapter Three: Every Peace Matters
I push a curl into place and waltz out of my room clad in my shiny green tie and school uniform, smiling to myself in the mirror. Hopefully my Italian looks and chocolaty brown eyes will save me from a slap to the face. After all, most girls wouldn't tolerate what I'm about to do.
After making my way down the final flights of stairs, I swagger into the Great Hall as if I hadn't been blowing kisses at Harry Potter last night. Everyone is staring at me, of course, and it's all I can do not to blush furiously. They whisper amongst themselves loudly as though I can't hear them, which is starting to annoy me when I spot my prey: Millicent Bulstrode.
I remember the last time I kissed her. It was the middle of the Yule Ball and Draco was off sulking that Pansy Parkinson didn't want anything to do with him and instead chose to dote over Theodore Nott. These sorts of things have always bothered him, so I approached him with caution and prodded until he told me what would make him feel better, which was apparently for me to make the biggest scene imaginable so that I would get kicked out and have as horrible a time as him.
I don't know why I did it, but with a deep breath I ran right up to Millicent and pulled her away from her supposed date with Vincent Crabb. I grabbed her hand and rushed halfway up the staircase: the one place where everyone was sure to see me. Before she could react, I gave her a hard kiss. Millicent, who must really have no standards since we weren't even dating, didn't seem to mind and in fact kissed me back—for several minutes. At first no one noticed except Draco (who was laughing his head off at this point), but then a certain loud Weasley from my year shouted, "Blaise Zabini is snogging that poor Slytherin girl!". That got everyone's attention and, sure enough, I got kicked out: not Millicent and I—just me.
As I continue my way into the Great Hall, people begin to stare more openly, perhaps noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes. I'm more than slightly nervous about this as Millicent was not only my first kiss, but also the only girl I've ever kissed. I shove these feelings of anxiety away, however, and march right up to Millicent and grab her arm, pulling her away from her conversation with Crabbe.
"Oh!" she shouts, startled. I drag her to the middle of the room and try to ignore the hundreds of eyes on me.
"Just follow my lead," I whisper harshly before pressing my lips against hers and enacting my second ever snog. I rather figured she'd let me do it again, and I'm not let down. The entire population gasps in surprise and then freezes, unsure of what to do or make of it, all except one person, that is. Theodore Nott is giving me a standing ovation.
I take my chance before everyone else is shaken from their stupor. I do the only thing I can think of and bolt, this time grinning rather than sobbing after declaring my love of Harry Potter. Before I run into the hallway, I turn to face the crowd and blow one of my now-signature kisses complete with a dramatic wink before disappearing. I can hear Draco howling with laughter in the background, apparently over my little picture stunt from last night, and Theodores explosive claps. Everyone else is so quiet I could almost swear they were dead.
Like a fugitive on the run I allow my feet to go wherever they will take me. I'm not going to class today and most likely no one will miss me. Anyway, it's important that I start on my potions. Reaching a deserted hallway, I set up camp and pull out some parchment and a quill, one that doesn't run out of ink (I'm a Zabini, after all, and while it's not Malfoy level, Zabini equals rich). Then I begin listing the potions I'll need to brew, starting with Draught of Living Death, followed by Wiggenweld Potion to reverse the effects and Veritaserum, an added protection I'll take when I inform the ministry of the Death Eater's whereabouts (and probably admit to some other things that I don't want said). I'll also be needing Draught of Peace which I'll chug right before hopping into Azkaban so that I can ease my way into the terror.
After sitting there for a few hours, I look up to see Hermione standing over me. She's leaning against the wall and looks quite at peace with the world, a slight smile on her face. It's probably because she seems to think that the world can't be so bad if there's someone as terrible as a Slytherin that's "changed their ways". Of course I didn't really change anything about myself, but she won't hear it.
Presently she seems to be off in dreamland, as unaware of me as I was of her up until a few seconds ago. Suddenly a shiver passes through her whole body and her gaze sharpens. She sticks her tongue out just a tiny bit at the corner of her mouth and she leans down over my shoulder and taps the words "draught of peace".
"What's that one for?" she asks, but I simply shake my head as I begin to pack up my things. We can't do this right now; not in public. She knows it's dangerous for me to be seen with her, right? I stand up stiffly, refusing to acknowledge Hermione any further as I prepare to leave, but it just might be too late.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Draco's long strides and slightly bobbing head in the corridor beside us, Theodore Nott for some reason a few steps behind him. In a moment of panic, I force Hermione into the wall and pull out my wand, shoving it threateningly against her neck.
"Do you think you'll ever be good enough?" I spit, trying my best to portray some sense of rage, "Because you—Granger—you are just a simple, filthy mudblood. You can go rot in Azkaban for all I care, just leave me the bloody hell alone and quit following me!"
It worked! I think triumphantly as Draco walks away, a slight smile on his face. But when I look over at Hermione to tell her to follow me, I notice that tears are beginning well up in her eyes and she looks sincerely hurt.
Oh great, I chide myself, Blaise Zabini: actor and friendship ruiner, extraordinaire! She turns to leave, and again I panic, wondering how I could be so stupid as to ruin my plan before it even stands a chance. In my state of panic, I pull her into an embrace, the only one we've ever had, which in retrospect wasn't a good idea.
Hermione jumps at the contact and steps away, eyeing me suspiciously. That's when I lean in to whisper into her ear that it was all an act, and that's when she slaps me across the face. I guess it did kind of look like I was going to kiss her . . . I sigh in exasperation and grab her by the wrist, probably looking like a crazed abuser, but I don't have time right now to think of anything else.
"I need a place where I can hide, and place where everything will be hidden." Hermione stares at me, mouth gaping open and terror dominating her usually concentrated look.
And now she thinks you're going to hurt her, great . . .
She begins to struggle wildly as I pull her into the Room of Requirements. She probably has very different ideas than I do about what I'm needing to hide. Luckily, the door is closed when she gets the idea to scream. I quickly clamp a hand over her mouth. She's breathing hard and fast when I suddenly realize that speaking to her is—and probably always was—the best way to resolve this.
"If you would look at me, you'd see me rolling my eyes right now." I say this in a joking tone whilst rolling my eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you, Hermione." She still struggles, however, and begins mumbling against my hand.
"Hermione, "I plead, trying a different strategy, "Hermione, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't hate you, I wouldn't ever call you a mudblood, and I wasn't trying to kiss you back there. I don't know why I'm such an idiot; but yelling at you like that was the first thing I thought of when I saw Draco coming.
"You can trust me, Hermione, I promise. I wouldn't hurt you; I've never wanted to hurt anyone. I'm not like the others." Then I relinquish my grip on her mouth and take a few paces backwards.
"I'm sorry . . ." she breathes shakily. The tears in her eyes quickly overflow and fall in cascades down her cheek, meeting at her chin and sliding onto her neck. It's her that pulls me into an embrace this time and we freeze in each other's arms for several minutes before pulling away, me because I'd forgotten what hugs felt like and her for whatever reasons she has, probably sympathy or something along those lines.
I know that this is the time for the completely honest, trust-worthy part of myself that I just advertised. Besides, this game of fate I am playing with the world won't work unless she trusts me completely, because I might be asking her to do some completely loony things in the coming days. For these reasons, I admit the following:
"I forgot what hugs felt like." I smile in the warmest manner that I can, hardly needed any effort to accomplish it.
"I guess it hurts being you doesn't it?" There's not even a hint of teasing as she stares solemnly into my chocolaty eyes, a curl falling into my face in direct defiance of the gel I so carefully used. The words are so ironic that in another lifetime I could've laughed, but it suddenly occurs to me that it's true.
"Sometimes." I nod, letting her know that we're done talking about this. "It's to get rid of my absolute terror—" I blurt, remembering her question before my bloody best friend had to show up. Hermione looks at me as if I just proposed marriage, a confused glaze over her eyes.
"The Draught of Peace, that is," I clarify, "Dementors . . . I'm deathly afraid of Dementors."
And the cat is out of the bag, folks! Hermione laughs, lightly at the beginning and then deep and throaty, which sends a slight twinge of hurt through my chest.
"So Blaise Zabini, the same Blaise Zabini who marched up to Voldemort and demanded that he give him a Dark Mark, the same Blaise Zabini who threw his reputation to the wind to give his horrible toad-faced best friend a few laughs, the same Blaise Zabini who's going to ruin his life for the fate of the world without a second thought . . . that Blaise Zabini is scared of Dementors?" I lower my gaze and smile slightly, feeling outrageously stupid as well as incredibly sheepish.
"Yeah . . ." is all I manage to get out, though my voice comes so high that I could swear a ten-year-old kid had just appeared out of nowhere and said the word. I can't believe how much I'm letting her get to me, especially as I didn't even blush whilst declaring my love to Harry Bloody Potter or even when I snogged the living daylights out of Millicent Bulstrode. But I can't hide my feelings terribly well and hearing her say those things about me makes me ashamed.
Why am I ashamed? Well, it could be that I have conveniently left out almost every part of the plan to her that includes Draco. I told her that I needed to be the one to "kill" Dumbledore because I needed to be in the Death Eater's good graces for the next part of my plan, which involved me getting the information I needed to find a few more Horcruxes when, in reality, I already know about as many of them as I'm ever going to find out. But I just can't drag Draco into this. Maybe she'll figure out for herself when I link their minds together . . .
It feels wrong somehow to even consider linking their minds, and I know that actually doing it will further agonize my conscience that's already beginning to burn with all the lies. It occurs to me that when I die I'll probably go to hell. I suddenly can't stand such thoughts, and I rush from the room with a lame excuse that I'm late for a class. It's not entirely untrue though, because I am late for class . . . by two hours.
Swiftly pushing the door outward, I take a step to run down to the Slytherin Commons. I don't make it more than a step, however, before I freeze, realizing what I've just done. Standing not a meter behind me is Theodore Nott.
"You want to tell me what's going on?" He's displaying a sly look, his eyebrow raised marginally as he leans against the wall of the corridor.
"Um . . . I don't know what you mean?" Of course, I know that he'll get what he wants; Slytherin students always get what they want, even if it takes a lifetime.
"Cut the crap, Zabini, I know you're planning something, something that I suspect involves your life ending. You wouldn't have blown kisses to Potter or snogged Millicent if you weren't."
I smile innocently, tilting my chin in embarrassment that I don't feel. "Well, I had to cover for myself. Harry clearly doesn't see me that way." I force my voice to lift in admiration at Harry's name, hoping upon hope that my tactic will work.
"Really," he questions with feigned enthusiasm, "because I could have sworn that you just left the Room of Requirements, and I could've sworn that Hermione Granger is in there now. And I wasn't mistaken when I said you were planning something." Theodore looks bored. He waits a few seconds and then glances around before continuing, "I need a place where I can hide, a place where everything will be hidden."
Crap, I think to myself, watching as the door appears and he marches into the room, shouting triumphantly as he discovers that he was right. He plops onto a couch conveniently near the door and looks at me unceremoniously, the Slytherin way of saying that you want answers.
Hermione is staring at him slack-jawed, excitement gleaming in her chestnut eyes. She probably expects that Theodore will turn out to be "another" unlikely hero.
"What do you want, Nott?" I plop into an adjacent chair and wait.
"Same as you, probably. To bring the Dark Lord down."
"You—what?"
"You heard me."
"But—" I find myself lost for words.
"But what? My father is a Death Eater. I want out, I want him out, and I want the world to return to normal. However, I can't be rid of this blasted thing and I think it looks rather suspicious." He pulls up his left sleeve and reveals a hideous blistered mass that likely covers a Dark Mark.
I can't ignore a show of trust like this, and I can't ignore a declaration of allegiance from Theodore Nott, the person most likely to become a real Death Eater besides Draco Malfoy and apparently myself.
"Why?"
Nott sighs, "You heard me. My father is an arse and I would love to see him knocked down a few pegs. His magic isn't better or more powerful than anyone else's: I've seen it. His blood, anyone's blood . . . it's all the same. I want to help you."
I waltz into the Slytherin commons just before dinner and find Draco standing on his bed reading a Quidditch magazine as though it were the script for a play. I can't help but smile at the tall blonde figure hunched over to fit, his broad shoulders scraping the frame of the canopy, head buried in the text as he practically scarfs down the magazine. There's no one else in the room, and when my foot hits the creaking hardwood, he jumps, thumping his shoulders with a sharp crack against the dark wood.
"What the—" Draco shouts, whipping out his wand and pointing it to where I'm standing before spotting me, relaxing visibly when he sees my slightly shorter frame and face full of curls that I haven't really bothered to shove out of my brown eyes.
"Don't think I've forgiven you for last night," Draco asks after a moment, "But where were you today? I haven't seen you at all except when you were giving the mudblood a piece of your mind. Well done, by the way. People like that need to be brought down a peg or two."
The word "mudblood" rings in my ears, but there simply isn't any point to arguing about it now. He's just too prejudiced. Instead, I address the question about where I was.
"I was . . . not in the mood for classes today." I quickly say, which isn't quite a lie but twinges in my chest all the same. "It's not like it matters anyway; I'm not a top student or anything."
"Blaise, you and I both know better than that. Heck, you could probably beat the scores of Granger herself if you actually tried."
"Maybe, but you and I both know better than that." I wink at him in a more diluted form than has been my recent habit. "Besides . . ." I smirk mischievously, "there's always tomorrow."
"I swear, Blaise!" Draco flops dramatically onto his bed, though not without managing to smack himself on the headboard and pretending that he hasn't smacked himself on the headboard. I roll my eyes and chuckle lightly before heading out the door for dinner.
Thanks for reading chapter 3. As always, please leave a review, I'd love to hear from you. Until next time!