Second Chances
Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round 4 for Puddlemere United.
Beater 1 Task: Write a fic about a pet changing the owner's life - for better or for worse
Prompts: (word) preposterous, (sound) bark or mew, (word) pillow
Thank you to my lovely wife as well as Lin and June for the wonderful beta love! :3
Word Count without A'N's: 1,940
"Oi! Zabini!" a voice called, startling Blaise. He looked up at his colleague, a man named Roberts, questioningly.
"What is it?" Blaise snapped.
"The boss wants to speak with you," Roberts grunted, leaning against the wall.
"About what?" asked Blaise, cleaning up something he spilled by accident.
Roberts shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it didn't sound good."
Blaise paled.
Did he find out about yesterday, when he hexed that one customer because he asked 'which ingredients did his mother use to poison her husbands?'
At least he had his beloved cat, Ivory, with him — oh, wait. She had disappeared the day before yesterday, and of course Blaise had freaked out.
He'd spent all of yesterday nearly pulling his hair out and putting 'Lost Cat' signs around the neighborhood that he lived in — both the magical and Muggle parts.
So, his life had pretty much gone down to shit. Blaise didn't really need even more shit to deal with, though a feeling inside of him told him that that was exactly what was going to happen.
He finally nodded. "Well, thanks for telling me. Tell him I'll be over soon."
As Roberts left, Blaise sighed deeply, praying that it wasn't anything terrible. He walked through the narrow hallways of the apothecary and up the steps until he reached his boss' office, and knocked on the door.
The runner of the apothecary was a balding man from the Flint family who was nearly about to retire. Blaise had worked there for about fifteen years now and had become a favored employee, so he was a bit lost on why his boss wanted to talk to him about something that 'didn't sound good'.
The door opened, revealing Mr. Flint. "Blaise," he greeted, his voice slightly faltering. "Come in."
"Hi, Mr. Flint, good afternoon. Is something wrong?"
"We heard about an… incident from yesterday."
"Incident?" repeated Blaise, trying to keep his voice innocent. He knew it was going to be about that one customer.
Flint nodded, before continuing, "You do realize that we have one very important rule above all else, right?"
He took a breath, still remembering how… annoying the one customer had been. "Mr. Flint, with all due respect, the guy jabbed at my mum, and I've been working here and serving you well for about fifteen years now —"
"It's not just that," Flint sighed, his voice clipped. "Personally, I don't want to let you go. I like you. That's only part of it. The truth is, we're getting poorer. We don't have the money to house all our employees the way we used to, so we have to let some of them go. A good seventy-five percent."
Blaise balked. "So, I'm one of the people you chose, literally because I lost my temper one time in fifteen years? I'm literally going through a bloody divorce. What about Roberts? He's incompetent as hell."
"Oh believe me, Roberts isn't staying. The thing is," said Flint, leaning back in his chair, "you're not as far up in the employment chain. But you're valuable, I'll give you that. Other apothecaries — ones who have plenty of galleons — will welcome you in."
"You're sugarcoating. Again," said Blaise, his voice cold. "So what I'm getting at here is that you're firing me?"
Flint looked like he was sorry, but the expression on his face was that of someone trying to be a callous businessman: he was not sorry.
As soon as he got home, Blaise slumped on the couch, sighing. He looked around the living room. Empty. Everything was empty. Always empty. He sighed, staring hard at a remaining 'Lost Cat' poster that was still on the table. There was no luck with the search for Ivory, either.
As he was about to open a bottle of vodka and reflect on what the hell was he going to do next, an unfamiliar owl flew through his window, dropping an envelope in his lap. The owl then looked at Blaise expectantly.
He sighed. "I'm so sorry, but I don't have any treats on me at the moment." The owl gives an indignant hoot, before it flew away. Blaise eyed the envelope, before opening it. There was no name on the note or the envelope.
It merely read,
'Blaise -
I'm pleased to say I've found your cat, or at least a similar cat. I'll take care of her for the night, and you can come to 2334 Ridgehurst Avenue tomorrow to retrieve her in the morning if I have the right cat. Also, just to let you know, if the owl did not already clear that up: I'm not a Muggle.'
Blaise took a breath of relief — hopefully the person found his Ivory. But then the breath of relief was replaced by an angry glower.
First of all, why was this person making him wait until tomorrow? It was only four PM. He wanted his cat immediately.
And usually when Blaise wanted something, he received it. His life was already screwed up. He at least wanted his pet.
An hour later, he was at the front door of the address the letter said. Blaise gaped at the house. It was huge, almost mansion-like. The yard was perfect and he could see a hint of a swimming pool behind it.
The question was: which pretentious shit, who wanted him to wait another eight hours to pick up a lost pet, lived here?
He knocked on the door, waiting for a response. But a few minutes passed, and no one appeared at the door — maybe nobody was here? But who had his cat then? He decided he'd try knocking again, louder, and if nobody showed up, he'd leave and try again tomorrow.
The door began to open, and Blaise stepped back as it did so. It revealed a man that looked… fake? As if he was wearing a disguise. He didn't look familiar at all.
"I… uh, thought my letter said tomorrow and not today?" the man said, looking stiff.
"Look, I just want the cat and I'll be off. I don't plan to stay for dinner or anything," said Blaise shortly.
"Actually," said the man, taking a breath. "I wanted to wait until tomorrow for this...but you can come in today. I need to talk about something."
Blaise tried to tell him that he just wanted his cat — that was literally all he wanted, but the man had already entered the house, and Blaise had no choice but to follow him in. He gaped at the lavish couch and the velvet pillows surrounding it, and the large entrance hall. He heard a familiar mewing sound, and he gasped in delight when he saw Ivory, gathering the black cat into his arms.
"Thank you so —"
But Blaise realized he was right — the man had been disguised. And under the disguise was someone he hadn't seen for years, someone that he thought he'd never see again.
(Someone that had abandoned him in the middle of the war. Someone he was never good enough for. Someone whom he had loved, always loved, and will still love — someone who he never had a chance with.)
"Theo. It's been a long time," said Blaise, his voice colder than it'd been in a long time. He clutched Ivory close, as if to protect her. She purred happily, but he himself was nowhere near happy.
"Blaise," was the uncomfortable reply. "It… I — it's good to see you again."
"I can't really say that I feel the same," said Blaise with disdain. "Not after what you did to me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to leave. Thanks for returning my cat to me, at least."
As he got up to leave, Theo cleared his throat. Blaise turned to him, annoyed. "What?"
"I just wanted to say that I know that nothing I say could ever make up for what I did to you during the war."
Blaise shook his head bitterly. "You always did what was right. They were threatening my mum. I told you my situation, but you followed your own instincts, even if they hurt me. Even if they hurt us." He eyed Theo, who looked extremely pale. "Then again, I can't blame you a hundred percent — I did fight on the side of the Death Eaters — but what was really painful was that even after the war, you just… disappeared. Never to be seen by me, or Draco, or any of our other friends. I didn't even know where the hell you were, I waited for you until I realized one day: why bother?"
Theo sighed, his hands shaking. "After the war," he said, his voice quiet, "I was so ashamed of what I did to you, so I thought it would be best to just stay away permanently."
"Why would you even think that would be a good idea? It didn't help me, and it definitely didn't help you. And why wait until now to invite me here?"
Blaise didn't know what to do after he said that, because Theo burst into tears then and there. "I found your cat… and I thought it would — there's no way to forgive me, I know."
"I should probably get going," said Blaise thickly. Part of him wanted to run to Theo and kiss him, but the other more rational part of him said no.
"I'm not saying you should… but owl me, maybe?" his voice was hesitant.
Blaise took a breath, and left the house.
"I'm honestly fucking pissed off. He decided to hide away for fifteen years?" asked Draco, taking a sip of vodka. He looked livid.
The next few days, Blaise continued with his job search, and found some interesting options. However, he couldn't stop thinking about Theo and what had happened at his house.
Blaise took a breath. "He thought it was benefiting us. But I don't know…"
"Well, it's not," said Draco, his voice cutting. "I say forget him."
"He's living there in isolation. It's a Muggle neighborhood too." He emphasized the words, knowing they'd have an effect on Draco. "Clearly he wasn't having fun without us these past years."
"You've just went through a terrible divorce, mate. You really want to try and bring Nott in your life again? The thought is preposterous."
"I'm not saying things can go back to the way it was before," said Blaise, thinking. "But maybe a fresh start as friends would be nice. And I know you miss him, as well," he said knowingly, causing the blond to scowl.
(Blaise remembered the days of their prime. Fourth year during the Yule Ball — their first kiss. Fifth year, all the dates they took and the kisses they've stolen.)
"Then owl him," said Draco, raising an eyebrow. "Ask him to dinner or something."
At first he thought about how quick that would be, how as Draco put it - preposterous - that would be, but he was running on four shots of vodka. He cracked a grin. "Why not?"
'Dear Theo,
I've decided to owl you. I do miss you, and I don't want you to stay there alone. You've done some shitty things. Then again, we've all done shit. I just want to start over. How about dinner on Friday, at seven?
Sincerely,
Blaise.'
(The reply arrived the next day. It had a simple reply, but it made Blaise feel giddy all the same. 'Yes'. Blaise gave a chuckle, leaning over to pet Ivory as she mewed once more. Who would've thought? A matchmaking cat.)
Eastern Funfair: Ferris Wheel (action) sighing
Seasonal:
Days of the Year: June 9, 2018 - World Gin Day - write about someone getting drunk
Shay's Musical Challenge - 33. Hello, Dolly! - write about a matchmaker
Writing Club:
Showtime - 19. History Has Its Eyes On You - (emotion) shame
Amber's Attic - Slash - 3. BlaiseTheo
Count Your Buttons - (character) 1. Theo Nott
Ami's Audio Admirations - 15. Why am I listening to this show? - write about a character questioning something
Please R&R :)
-Ana
