As promised, here is the next chapter. Happy Reading!
Chapter Eight: Hollow Realities
It's three months into the school year, the wind wailing almost constantly as though mourning the last days of November. The wind isn't the only thing mourning, however. It's almost two in the morning and—thanks to how light a sleeper I am—I wake to the rustle of bedsheets and a very soft creak of the floor, so light that I could almost blame it on the wind.
That's when a flash of lightning hits the artificial window of the room and reveals the movement of an almost-white haired boy. He's dressed in a large black cloak and seems to be bracing himself to enter the fierceness that is the storm. I keep my eyes mostly shut and moan softly in mock sleep, causing him to look over at me. I need to see his eyes so that I can pinpoint his intent. Catching them in another convenient flash of light, I see mostly determination—a stubbornness that Malfoy's aren't lacking in—but behind that I see just a tiny hint of fear. That's all I needed to see and all I get to see before he rushes away from the beds and out the door. Not bothering to even put on slippers, I jump out of bed and bolt down the halls.
Gaining the head start that I needed, I see Draco walking towards me, moving as though a mere shadow on the wall. When he passes the dark corridor I'm standing in, I reach out and grasp his wrist, whisking him into the hallway with me before pulling out my wand.
"Lumos," I mutter, revealing a stunned-looking Draco. "What, never seen a wand before?" His expression loosens when he recognizes my voice, but he still seems quite tense. "Draco," I say quickly, seizing my moment, "I know what you're about to do and it's not worth it."
"What do you mean not worth it?" he hisses, ever a good tribute to our House's founder.
"I mean it's not worth it." I quickly pull up my left sleeve and reveal the ugly snake twisting around a haunting skull. Like Theo suspected, the mark can't really be removed. Mine is once again in perfect condition, despite the fact that Ginny burned it for me.
We both gasp in response, him from surprise and me because I have been purposefully trying to forget its existence just as I've been trying to forget my looming and doomful future. Draco then shakes his head in response, probably not daring to try using words, or possibly conveying some kind of meaning, some kind of motive that makes getting a mark to match permissible.
"I'm going to be late," he finally says, pulling away from my grasp before heading down the hall. I hear the patter of his feet growing more and more faint. He never looks back. I want to run after him, but something tells me not to, so I remain where I am.
"I'm sorry Draco . . ." I mutter, head hung. I'm not surprised that he's doing this, and I'm not confused about his motives. I'm just sad because I feel as though I'm losing a friend. Sure, he's a jerk to almost everyone and sure, he thinks that he's better than the entire population, but he's still my best friend. I guess I just have to hope that my plan—however risky—doesn't fail.
I'm tired and I don't want to be caught in the halls after curfew, especially not by an entitled prefect, so I head back to my bed. My feet feel like lead and each step I take is a fight. When I finally make it, I bury myself deep into the covers and have a good cry, allowing the sobs that Slytherins supposedly never experience to control me. I pull my arms around myself, urging my body to calm down, but it won't hear it. I swear I can feel my Dark Mark right now searing painfully, as though Voldemort's creating it all over again. This makes me cry harder.
I imagine that my mother would be less than proud of me if she could see me now, but then I wonder why I'm wondering it at all when it hits me: I'm alone in this world. I'm truly alone. If I were to die tonight, the students of my House wouldn't even stop to pay respects. Mother would take care of the arrangements via owl, not even bothering to take one last look at me. I matter so little that the rest of the Houses wouldn't even find it necessary to jeer.
I know I won't sleep any more this night, so I leave my bed and sit idly in one of the chairs by the fire in the common room, willing this ache to go away. The fire crackles and I think of all the death and destruction that will come this next year. I think of burning heaps of corpses, the bloodshed never stopping. Suddenly I think of failure and Dumbledore actually dying, Draco actually murdering him, myself receiving the kiss. I see myself stumbling around in the darkness of Azkaban, foam splattering everywhere as I shake my head with a stupid smile plastered on my face. I see the horrible snake that comes from nowhere and yet hovers menacingly and swirls around a skull.
I jerk from the chair and barely stifle a scream before running as fast as my legs can carry me to the Astronomy tower and fresh air. I need to breath and I need to do it now. Bursting through the door, I rush to a window and thrust my head out of it, trying to drown my thoughts by forcing the freezing air into my lungs.
"Blaise?" I hear a soothing voice behind me. As I jerk my head around, I spot Dumbledore sitting in a chair behind me and looking out his own window, though not as desperately as I am. I expect him to scold me, but instead he conjures a chair beside him, motioning for me to sit. I scold myself for how much I want to run into his arms and cry into a friendly shoulder, even the shoulder of a man I don't really know, a man I'm not sure I respect. Instead, I sit down slowly and close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. Feeling his gaze, I look over to meet his eyes.
"The world is heavy isn't it, Blaise," he simply states before closing his own eyes. I wonder if he knows how much I loathe being called Mr. Zabini. Either way, the use of my first name causes a small tear to roll involuntarily down my cheek. It's that cursed moment that Dumbledore opens his eyes and points them at the droplet that glints as another lightning bolt marks the sky. I nod, acknowledging his statement about the world.
"I'm proud of you, Blaise." I'm stunned beyond recognition. What is he on about? How can he be proud of me? What does he know? He could ruin everything simply by knowing too much! He seems to notice that I've tensed up, and he sets a wrinkled palm onto my shoulder. "You are proof to me—proof to the rest of the world—that Slytherin is still a noble House." I barely suppress a shudder. He doesn't know, then. He doesn't know that I bear the mark of the Dark Lord.
"I'm not noble." I say in barely more than a whisper, but those words need to be said.
"I believe that you are, Blaise." Then he stands and leaves, patting me on the back for a second before adding, "You needn't worry about classes, I will leave your homework here." Then he disappears, leaving me to wonder what he knows and what he's going to do with it. I simply sit and stare at the stormy sky, unable to move from my spot. That is how I remain until dawn, when I wander down to the Great Hall and sit, basking in its emptiness. I quietly pull out my first completed Draught of Peace and down it, hoping for some relief from myself.
Breakfast passes almost unremarkably, aside from a few hesitant glances in my direction by the few who notice the drowsy look on my face. I knew almost instantly that I'd done something wrong to my Draught of Peace, because I'm not feeling calm . . . actually I'm not feeling at all. I rather blubber up the many flights of stairs and manage to mutter at the Room of Requirement and get myself through the door before I collapse in an unmoving heap. I kind of wonder how long I'll be stuck like this, but in a few moments, I no longer have to worry because the potion knocks me out cold. The last thought I remember is as follows: At least I'll be getting some sleep.
When I wake up, I quickly read the clock and mutter a few curses when I notice that it is only a few hours until dinner and I haven't even touched the stack of homework Dumbledore promised would be waiting for me. But I decide that I'm not going to be doing it right now. Still, I need a distraction from my thoughts. Instead of doing the homework, I get up and make my way into my chambers, scrambling for the objects I'm looking for before rushing back into the Room of Requirement. There I begin practicing the wandless magic I told myself I'd master before I go to Azkaban.
I begin by closing my eyes and trying to focus on only one thing: light. I think about every aspect of it, from sunlight to the light that is goodness. Then I begin to try expelling other thoughts from my mind, first easy thoughts to remove such as my homework, the upcoming Christmas holidays, and the fact that my Draught of Peace failed. Then I work on thoughts that put up a bit of a fight, such as my Dark Mark and my upcoming time in Azkaban, the thought of which always causes me to break a sweat. Finally, I force out the thoughts that are nearly impossible to overcome, such as Draco's Dark Mark, Voldemort himself, and what will happen if I fail. With great trouble, I manage to clear it all away. After every thought has left my mind except for light, I open my eyes and call out "Lumos!" Almost instantly there is a faint light floating a few feet from my outstretched hand.
"Wow . . ." I hear a voice gasp behind me. I turn to see Hermione, her mouth gaping open at the now-vanished light. "I-I've heard of wandless magic, but I never actually thought it was possible."
"Still think I'm stupid?" I smirk, raising an eyebrow in mockery. Of course, she hasn't thought me stupid in quite a while, but it feels good to tease someone, knowing they won't take it seriously. I assume that by tonight Draco will have distanced me. He will never tell the Dark Lord of my treachery, we've been too close for too long, but he won't tempt fate. He doesn't want to have to kill me and he doesn't want me to know that he's supposed to kill Dumbledore.
"Yeah," Hermione responds to my question, "as stupid as that smirk you Slytherins always feel the need to wear. That and the eyebrow raise. What's with the eyebrow raise?" I force a laugh and she joins me with her real laugh, though I know that she's probably dying to know the answer.
"It's a mask, Hermione." I smile genuinely, thinking of how glad I am to not have lost everyone and hoping this satisfies her almost never-ending curiosity. She laughs and pushes me playfully.
"No, tell me the truth," she begs, the playful glint still in her eyes, but I know she really wants to know.
"No, really, it's all a mask, a charade, a big show. You just have to be able to see past it to see the real person underneath. Now, don't get me wrong though, the mask is still part of the person, but it doesn't usually tell the real story. However, I could try living without raising an eyebrow for months and probably never break myself of it."
"What's up with the clothes?" She asks this after a quick nod to demonstrate that she believes me. It's a fair question, the clothes, because I'm not in school uniform. I'm wearing a suit—a grey one—that would probably take a family like the Weasleys a month to afford. The suit is a soft fabric that moves with me perfectly and doesn't easily wrinkle. I'm not going to wear the jacket, though, as I always feel stifled in them like I'm some kind of mummy. Instead I wear a grey vest over a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show my Dark Mark. I wear a tie around my neck, but it's tied loosely as though I've been wearing it all day and am ready to take it off. The tie is the classic shade of Slytherin green, the pop to the piece, and I have on simple black dress shoes. In my left ear, I wear a single gold earring with a tiny diamond stud.
"Oh, these old things?" A smirk creeps into my expression. She cocks her head and raises both her eyebrows, though I suspect she's trying only to raise one. I continue, "This is my statement, my final statement. When I turn myself in to the Ministry, there will be loads of pictures. I don't want my public image to be this terrifying Death Eater who takes out scores of ministry workers before finally being captured, but I also don't want to pretend I'm not a Death Eater. So, I figure this . . ." I gesture to my clothes, "will give them something to talk about."
Hermione nods rather seriously but her face lights up a second later as an idea seems to pop into her head. "Blaise . . ." she starts slyly, "That will be a statement, but I can think of something that would be more of a statement."
"What," I question, "I'm not wearing a clown wig, and I'm not shaving my eyebrows off." She laughs again before snatching up a shred of paper from her backpack that she tossed on the floor and transfiguring it into a shiny metallic ring.
"If you wear this . . . " she grabs my left hand and glides the ring onto my fourth finger, "People won't just be wondering why the Death Eater seems so collected, they'll also be wondering if he's engaged or married, which will lead to the gossip about who you're engaged or married to."
"Now you're thinking like a Slytherin!" I smirk again and shove the ring into my breast pocket. "I'll do it." For the first time in months, it feels good to smile. I almost frown when I think about the fact that I'm going to be linking her mind to the mind of her most hated enemy tomorrow afternoon, but I push the thought away for now.
"Now show me how you do that wandless magic!" Hermione makes puppy eyes at me and I roll my eyes before explaining what I did before.
". . . but it was only light, Hermione. A simple Lumos. It's not like I could produce, say, a Patronus without my wand."
"What is your Patronus, anyway," she asks quietly. I can tell she thinks this is a risk because she backs a few steps away from me and places both hands on her hips, as though hoping to look fierce. "You never joined us and Dumbledore's army."
"No, I guess I didn't."
"Well?"
"Ah yes, my Patronus. Well, if I'm being honest, I've never bothered to rightly try conjuring one. The perks of being in the middle." Hermione simply stares at me, neither breaking eye contact nor uttering a sound for five straight minutes.
"Fine!" I shout, admitting defeat. "Expecto Patronum!" I try without my wand, hoping that it doesn't completely fizzle at my fingertips. Nothing. Hermione opens her mouth to scoff, but I hold up a finger. Then I close my eyes and try to think only of happy thoughts, searching for the most powerful happy memory I can come up with. The moment comes from when I was six years old, before my father left us.
I was standing in my room crying because I had just preformed my first accidental magic, a bout of Incendio that killed a squirrel. My father rushed in the room and wrapped me in a warm hug before telling me that it was okay, that I had just used my first magic. Then we went out and got ice cream. Looking back on it, I figure that he was only excited because he took the death of the squirrel to mean that I had the propensity for the Dark Arts, but I try to ignore that fact and instead focus on the happiness that I felt.
Fixing my mind on that memory, I again cast aside all other thoughts. Then I open my eyes and shout (I've heard shouting helps this spell along nicely), "Expecto Patronum!" This time it works, and a trail of blue light circles my body before turning to an incredibly clear image of an Elephant charging with its trunk flailing wildly.
Hermione hops up and down and screams in excitement. "You did it, Blaise!" I can't help but smile. "You did it, and you said you couldn't! You did it and you did it so well, so clearly!" She stops hopping and looks at me imploringly. "You did it so quickly . . ." she says slowly, "That means . . . I have to admit, Blaise Zabini. I may have finally met my match. Anyway, I have to get back to Harry and Ron, we're supposed to meet up and study. Bye!" The last part of her sentence is rushed, but then she turns and rushes out the door without looking back and I figure that she's probably embarrassed to admit something like that. Eventually I follow her and leave the room, hunger forcing me from this my safe haven.
I walk into the Great Hall slowly, as though someing is forcing my feet down. I don't want to meet the person that I am almost certain is here. Though he may never want to be my friend anymore, Draco will have to ensure that I keep my mouth shut, and that means setting up a meeting.
"Zabini." A low and almost forced voice acknowledges me as I slid into a seat at Slytherin table and begin to shove food onto my plate.
I stop for a brief moment and look over at the voice's owner before giving a tense nod. "Malfoy." We haven't greeted each other by last name in a long time or possibly ever. He knows that my last name plagues me, and I know that his last name bears a terrible reminder of his father. I wonder for a brief moment whether or not it would be possible to change names or maybe to take on my future spouse's name rather than vice versa, but now's not the time for such thoughts. Draco shakes his head at me, and I figure he knows what I'm thinking about as I've brought it up countless times in the past, a surefire way to get his mind off Lucius. Then I catch his eye and we hold each other's gazes for a few seconds before we both close our eyes in a slow blink. This is how I know that our friendship is over, because if we were truly friends one of us would have laughed and slapped the other on the back by now, or at least thrown a half-hearted insult.
I sigh inwardly. I knew that there was a good chance that this was going to happen, but I couldn't . . . I had to try; I couldn't give up on him. I wonder how on earth he's going to cope without me. How on earth do you come to grips with becoming Dumbledore's murderer with a friend to lean on, let alone on your own. I sure hope you warm up to Hermione quickly . . . I think to myself, turning away from Draco. Though we sit side by side, we couldn't be further apart.
It's now that I notice the deep silence that surrounds me. Every single person in the great hall is staring at us, noticing that we've ended a friendship, a friendship that had lasted twelve years. Suddenly I feel the urge to leave, to get out, to escape and potentially take up permanent residence in the Room of Requirement . . . but I can't. I must stay strong and I must hold up the front that I've recently built. You don't need him. I tell myself, though I'm aware that I'm lying, and I hate lies. You don't need him for this, you can save him without him. This is a more realistic statement, a statement that I can cling onto, a statement that will probably become my coping method for a long time.
I notice now that there's another choice being made before my eyes. Though Crabbe and Goyle look at their food stupidly, I can see Pansy looking out of the corner of her eye. She's debating, I've seen this look before. Will they side with me or Draco? But I already know the answer, and the whole school does after a few seconds as well. Pansy stands up and walks over to me, a very unrealistic smile plastered onto her face. Then her hand flies backwards and then forward, landing directly on face, the sting causing me to jerk away for a second. Pansy saunters over to Draco, forcing her focus anywhere but on me. She's going to pretend I don't exist, then. It's fine. I tell myself it's fine. It must be fine. But I can tell by the way her feet don't entirely commit to walking that this isn't a decision Pansy wanted to make. So, I decide right then and there to forgive her and I instead point all my anger at the Dark Lord for making this world so awful and forcing someone to save it. I'm also mad at myself for deciding that I had to be the bloke that fixes the world, that stops my former best friend from committing murder.
Now I really can't take it anymore and I step away from my spot, my stomach growling for the food I'm not going to eat. I don't want it to look like I'm running, however, so I allow my gaze to circle the room, resting my eyes on every single student for a moment before turning and walking out, a large knot in my stomach, a thick-feeling glob in my throat, and a five-fingered welt on my face.
I know, this chapter is kinda a bummer. Oh well. But what's not a bummer is that the school year is now officially over so . . . yay! Congratulations Class of 2020:)