This chapter is a bit longer than the rest, but it became kind of like a Blaise-special, if you can call it that. Most of this chapter consists of Blaise and how he grew up, but the cliffhanger didn't go unnoticed, no, so don't worry :) But, without further do, enjoy!

—

Chapter 5: Blaise Zabini

Blaise Valentino Zabini had seen a lot of things in his life. Being the son of a Death Eater, he constantly got to meet his father's 'friends', and even be present and watch many different executions that were performed in his own house, scarring him with nightmares his entire life but teaching himself an important lesson.

Never be like them.

He didn't want to be like his father or his friends, murderers and bullies, enjoying their spare time by watching innocent people suffer, by hearing the cries and screams of others as music to one's ear. No, Blaise didn't want to become like them, he wanted to be someone different. Someone who helped society instead of destroying it.

Just the thought of hurting a complete stranger made little Blaise shiver and determinedly shake his head, promising his dead mother he'd make her proud, promising he'd be the son she'd always wanted. One time he screamed at his father it was wrong to hurt innocent people, that it was wrong to kill in cold blood. This earned a hard slap from his father, two days without dinner and an uncommunicating father for a week, but Blaise just knew it was worth it. He grinned every time he imagined his mother, smiling down at him proudly even though she'd never met him before. He was her son in any case.

Sometimes the thoughts about his mother warmed his heart even more than one of his father's rare hugs, which he only got if his father was having a really good day or if he was really proud. Sure, they were cold and slightly uncaring, but getting a hug from Valentinus Zabini was like getting a hug from Merlin himself, in little Blaise's opinion.

As Blaise grew up, he learned not to be disobedient to his father but to always be humble and caring to others, giving struggling people support through comfort and vile people support advice with words, not violence. His personal house elf, whom he had been gifted with at the age of 10, always told him to "form his words with care", telling him not to become like the Malfoy's spawn, spitting at people with whatever words he could find. Words were gentle things, but could be turned into knives if used wrong, and one slip of the tongue could lead an enitire suicide. At least, that's what his house elf told him.

Oh, how he yearned for Alberta's advice sometimes.

When he met Draco Malfoy, the son of the infamous Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, Blaise immediately knew he was a brat. The unnecessary and downright rude comments and 'opinions' on muggleborns and half-bloods proved it all, and Blaise didn't find him that attractive either, despite Malfoy always bragging about being called 'precious' and 'handsome' by his mother. It surprised Blaise Narcissa Malfoy was even able to do anything else than frown and glare.

But Blaise kept his mouth shut, remembering Alberta's lessons about forming words with care and thought, not saying he disliked Malfoy even though he felt this strong surge of anger whenever he saw him. He did, however, make it clear he didn't like Malfoy's prejudiced speech, using one of his practiced glares when Malfoy insulted races other than purebloods and veelas. He supposed the younger Malfoy understood Blaise's dislike for him, because after a while he stopped talking to Blaise entirely, switching to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle instead.

And while Blaise was relived Malfoy had ignored talking to him, he couldn't help but feel this strange loneliness every time he thought about him. Apparently even the departure of your very source of irritation and anger could cause sadness, Blaise guessed. But still, he had Theodore and Jeanette Nott, his best friends, so he couldn't understand why he felt the need to talk to the Malfoy brat again. He just hoped it wasn't some strange sort of Stockholm Syndrome, where you got so attached to your captor you ended up not wanting to be saved, and maybe even aiding and supporting the person.

He guessed it wasn't, as the strange feeling evaporated over time, not returning until Blaise caught Malfoy sobbing his eyes out in the boy's washroom during his sixth year, mumbling 'I'm sorry' over and over again. He ended up comforting the distressed boy, learning much about him in the process and realizing he maybe wasn't that bad. In any case, he would probably also have broken down like the younger Malfoy in a situation like that, especially without caring friends or supporting parents.

So Draco and Blaise started talking again, becoming good friends and even forming some kind of brotherhood at the end of sixth year, Draco needing Blaise's wisdom more than ever and Blaise more than willing to give it. Draco felt like his younger brother, and he took it as his responsibility to be the elder, being there for Draco during hard times and Draco being there for him during his ever so present stress.

During the battle of Hogwarts, Blaise told Draco to stay behind him, to always stay close to Blaise unless danger was near.

"Don't run of, Dragon, stay close to me," Blaise had said, looking Draco dead serious in the eyes.

"But I want to fight with you, in case you get hurt!" Draco had protested, tears shining in his knowledgeable gray eyes. Blaise had laughed a little, petting Draco's hair.

"Please," he had pleaded, "just stay close to me."

But Draco hadn't listened, of course he hadn't. He was a Malfoy, after all. Blaise, looking behind him to see if Draco was okay, noticed with insane worry and slight anger he wasn't there, but was running the opposite direction, toward the main battle. The only thought to protect Draco, Blaise ran after him, blasting away any Death Eater in his path with such skill you would think him a duelist. Panting, he reached the main battle, littered with dead bodies and injured students, to see Draco struggling to fight a Death Eater nearly twice his size. Antonin Dolohov, Blaise recognized with fury.

When Draco noticed Blaise, his face contorted into one of relief, looking ready to fall apart from exhaustion. Dolohov took the younger Malfoy's distraction to his advantage, whispering a curse to Draco's heart.

It was the first time Blaise had seen Draco in pain, and it made him growl with fury, jumping on Dolohov without a second thought. He used all his strength, beating Dolohov until he was so bloody you couldn't even see his face anymore. Red filling his eyes, he didn't notice Draco's weak screams and pleads to stop, tears staining his pale cheeks, whether from the pain or Blaise's fury he didn't know. Draco, using all the strength he could muster, crawled over to Blaise, tugging at his leg and begging for him to stop, to just calm down a little. Blaise froze, the red disappearing from his eyes, slowly realizing what he'd done. He looked at his hands. They were covered in blood. And it wasn't his.

Murder, he thought, you've just committed murder.

He felt something tug at his pants leg, and looked down to see Draco, his moon eyes full of tears and pain, clutching his chest with his other hand. Blaise immediately kneeled down to Draco's level, lifting him up in his arms and carrying him away from the vicious battle. The blood from Dolohov was staining Draco's clothing, making it smell like iron and murder.

Murder I caused.

Draco didn't even get a trial when he got shipped to Azkaban, even though he was just a child, and had no choice in becoming a Death Eater. Blaise still remembered that pleading expression, those heartbroken eyes as Draco was carried away, not protesting but not cooperating either. And the worst thing was, Blaise couldn't even do anything about it, no matter if he got help from the Golden Boy or not, because he couldn't do anything either. He remembered how hopeless he felt, how hopeless he still feels.

So when Severus said he had a plan, Blaise felt his first surge of hope in a long time, although he tried very hard to hide it.

"Uh, so, we're supposed to break into Azkaban with an ugly-looking old scroll?" Blaise heard Potter say, and he rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help but feel a bit sceptical himself.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter, this is probably only supposed to help us get inside. But, I do have to admit, I have no idea what this scroll holds, Severus,"

The scroll looked like something you would find in an ancient bookshelf at Hogwarts, not touched in a long time and incredibly beaten down-looking. Blaise had seen many scrolls like this one inside the family library located in the Zabini mansion, grand and almost as big as the Malfoy familiy library. Those scrolls weren't uncommon to find there, and almost always contained maps of old passageways and ancient buildings. Blaise's eyebrows rose dangerously high on his forehead.

"Is it a map?" he asked incredulously, wondering how in Merlin's name Severus had acquired a map of Azkaban. Severus nodded, and Harry's eyes widened.

"Yes, this is a map of all the secret passageways and entries located in Azkaban. I was looking into thsi the other day and found an enrtyway into Azkaban I believe is unknown," he said, unfolding the scroll and tapping it with is wand.

"I beg you, with every piece of my soul, to believe I am innocent."

The map responded to the words immediately, signs and passageways appearing in a few seconds, the title flashing in black in the middle. The Secrets of Azkaban, it read, and Harry lost his breath for a moment.

"It…It's just like the Marauders' Map," he said with amazement, making Severus snort.

"Of course. Where do you think they got the idea from, Potter?"

Blaise snickered as the faint blush began spreading on Harry's cheeks.

"Becoming a little red, aren't you, Potter?" he asked with a smirk, and Harry glared at him furiously but Blaise saw the embarrassment in it. Blaise turned to Severus, curious as to if it was just like the Marauders' Map, too.

"Can you track people with it? That would be really helpful," he said, shoulders slumping a bit when Severus shook his head.

"No, I didn't see that as a necessary function when making this."

"YOU made this?!"

"Really, Potter, you do need to stop asking obvious questions," Severus said with a roll of his eyes, but amusement clear in his voice. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"Then why did you make this map?" he questioned, and Severus glared at him.

"It doesn't matter,"

Blaise could see it was a private matter, so he didn't push it with more unnecessary words. He knew too well how it felt to be pushed to the limits with words. Clearing his throat, he tried to change the subject by pointing at the map.

"Where's the passageway located?"

Severus pointed at a dot right near a door, one of the doors furthest away from the main entrance, being right in the middle of the south corner. It didn't look that safe though, as it was outside the giant prison, above deep water and protected by at least ten different wards. Harry grimaced.

"It doesn't look easy to get to," he commented, and Severus sighed.

"Nothing of worth is easy to obtain."

An uncomfortable silence settled around them, no one really knowing what to say, or what the consequences were going to be like if they didn't make it. In the end, it was Harry who spoke up, with a voice way tight to even try to sound confident.

"We'll have to try. Innocent people are at risk if we fail, we have to at least try,"

Blaise, for the first time in many years, didn't have anything to say against it.