Hello again! Thanks so much for all the alerts and reviews! Keep 'em coming! ^-^
As always many thanks to my betas: McGonagall's Bola, Emiliya Wolfe and Gryffindork11 and as a heads up I'll be on vacation this upcoming week and the hotel I'm staying at doesn't have internet...or at least free internet -_- so, yeah I won't be able to update until the following week when I get back. But, I'll try to post two chapters instead of one to make up for it. Heavy emphasis on 'try'.
(btw, I know I said this would be a Severus/Hermione chapter, but I needed to get this stuff out of the way first)
Previously:
"Just one question, Albus," Minerva started.
Dumbledore looked at her tiredly, "Yes?"
The old witch arched an eyebrow, standing up to leave. "What in Morgana's name are you going to tell Mr. Potter?"
Chapter 12
Harry stormed out of the Weasley home completely unnoticed. It was pretty easy, since the entire house was in an uproar over what the Headmaster had just told them about Hermione. Mrs. Weasley was in tears, with Mr. Weasley hovering over her, attempting to calm her. Ginny, Ron and the twins were all bickering and Professor Dumbledore was trying to keep them all together.
They had all been sideswiped, caught with their breeches around their knees, when they should have known better. When Dumbledore had come through the chimney, there had been a look in his eyes that said it all. No twinkle could be found there, no merriment, or goodwill. Instead, they had been somber and…worried, was the only way Harry could describe it. It had been hard to tell though, since 'worried' was such an unnatural look for the headmaster.
Within minutes, it had been apparent that the headmaster hadn't come for tea and biscuits. He had news, and he had warned them that it would be "unpleasant."
Harry snorted. What a joke.
The news hadn't been unpleasant; it had been worse than anything he could have imagined. Hermione was gone. No strike that─Hermione wasn't just gone. She was lost in a dark book, having her soul slowly sucked out, and to make matters worse, Snape was, apparently, her only chance at getting out.
So, in other words, if Snape was anything like his usual git self…Hermione was doomed.
Harry turned, kicking a rock down the pathway as he went, still fuming. They expected him to just hang around and do nothing as one of his best friends withered away. Dumbledore had personally taken him aside to try and reassure him that it would all work out, but it wasn't all right, was it? It wouldn't be, until Hermione was back and safe.
"Except, nobody's doing anything about it, are they?" Harry muttered angrily, stomping into the Weasley's garden and finding a spot that would hide him from any prying eyes.
He sunk to the ground in front of a stone bench, leaning his head back so he could just watch the sky. Dark clouds were starting to form on the horizon, hinting at a storm, but he didn't mind. It only seemed fitting, considering his current mood.
With a great sigh, he closed his eyes.
"Hey, mate."
Harry grunted in response, ignoring the intruder and keeping his eyes closed. He hoped Ron would get the hint and leave him alone.
Apparently, Ron had no such plans of leaving and, instead, crouched down to sit beside his dark-haired friend. "I'm worried for her, too, you know…"
A biting comment was on the tip of Harry's tongue, as he turned to glare at his friend, but Ron's eyes, so stressed and on the brink of spilling tears, stopped him. His anger leaked out of him like a deflated balloon. "You're right," Harry sighed, "I'm sorry."
Ron shrugged awkwardly, picking up a stick and drawing in the dirt. "Can you believe the story Dumbledore came up with?"
Irritation welled within Harry at the reminder, and he had to close his eyes again. He reminded himself that his friend hadn't done anything and, therefore, didn't deserve any of his ire. It was Dumbledore that he was mad at, and Snape, and anyone else who stood by and let Hermione get sucked into that book. Still, he couldn't stop a snide comment from leaving his lips.
"We shouldn't be making up stories, and trying to get our alibis straight. We should be out there, finding a way to rescue Hermione!"
Ron flinched at his tone, but didn't seem too surprised by the outburst. It wasn't like Harry wasn't saying anything that he wasn't thinking as well. Shaking his head, Ron stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants with a determined look. "I need to fly around a bit, clear my head. You want to come?"
Harry let out a deep breath, wishing he could put it all out of his mind like Ron had. Maybe a good fly on his broom would do him good.
He relented, getting up as well. "Sure. It beats just sitting around on our arses, waiting for something to happen."
"Exactly, mate." Ron clapped him on the back. "Maybe we should get the Bludgers out, too."
Harry gave a weak smile in response, walking back to the house with Ron. For now, he would try to be patient. He would fly on his broom and sit on his hands just like everyone wanted, and if Snape fell through then he would take Hermione's rescue into his own hands. He didn't care that he had no idea how to accomplish it. He would just have to find a way.
The manor was completely silent when Draco crept through the front door. Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, he carefully closed the door, casting a Silencing Charm on it, so it couldn't creak and blow his cover. There was a sudden pop behind him that could only mean one thing, and he barely had time to throw his hand over the mouth of their House-Elf, Motty, before she could say anything.
He brought a finger to his lips, signaling that he wanted her to stay silent. Motty's eyes got as wide as saucers, but she nodded that she understood.
"What did you want, Motty?" Draco whispered harshly.
The Elf quivered under his hard stare. "Motty sorry, Master Draco, but your father looks for you. He wants Motty to tell Master Draco to come to the studies, if he comes home."
"Fine, you can go. I'll be up there in a moment," the blonde wizard lied through his teeth. He had absolutely no intention of talking to his father if he could help it. The only reason he even stepped foot in the manor, was because he needed to grab a few extra coins from his stash. With the trip to France ending earlier than expected he decided to stay the night in Diagon Alley again, rather than risk staying at the manor with his father.
Motty disappeared with a snap of her fingers. She would probably go to his father to inform him that he was there, which meant he only had a couple of minutes to get what he needed and sneak back out. Maybe less. Throwing a Silencing Spell on his feet, he ran to his room, rushing to his bedside table, so he could access the private safe he had stashed inside. He shuffled through the bags and trinkets inside, his fingers fumbling from his nerves.
"Draco, how fortuitous. I nearly missed you."
Draco's fingers froze over his pouch of Galleons, and his eyes closed in defeat. He had been so close. So close!
Turning around to face the inevitable, he met the cold stare of his father, who was standing in his doorframe, his snakehead cane in one hand and his evening coat in the other. He was grinning, in what one might think to be a charming way─like a shark was charming, just before it bit your head off.
"Father," Draco greeted. "I'm surprised you're at the manor so early in the evening."
"Are you?" Malfoy Senior cocked his head to the side curiously. It was almost like watching a serpent preparing to strike. "I told your mother to inform you that I would be taking the week off. It has been so long since I've had a proper vacation, after all. I'm surprised that this is the first time I'm seeing you, actually."
"Yes, I apologize for that, father. I had made plans with a few others to go touring in Orleans. Had I known you would be around, I might have been able to cancel them," Draco replied nonchalantly, palming his pouch of gold behind his back. With his head up and a shroud of false confidence covering him, he stood in front of the exit, motioning towards the door. His father stepped out of the way.
"You look as if you are about to go out for the night, so I won't keep you any longer. Send my love to mother for me," Draco stated.
Unfortunately, his attempt to leave was short-lived. A cane was whipped out in front of him, barring the doorframe. Malfoy Senior pushed his walking stick forward, and, in doing so, pushed Draco back into the room. The young blonde stumbled, holding back his need to gulp nervously.
"Now, now, son. You've only just arrived home. No need to scurry back out so soon. Besides, there is a delicate matter that should be…brought to your attention," his father declared.
The younger Malfoy moved out from under the silver cane and leaned up against the wall, crossing his arms. Draco was sure that his heart was beating so wildly that his father could hear the evidence of his nerves, but if he did, he made no mention of it. Instead, Lucius sat in one of the armchairs by the room's fireplace. Perched on the seat, he flicked his robes out, so they fanned across the plush surface elegantly.
The way to the door was now open, and Draco could barely resist the temptation to make a run for it and damn the consequences, but he knew he wouldn't make it. His father would have him pinned with a body bind, before he could even twitch in the wrong direction.
Lucius seemed to understand this as well, since he looked at the doorway dramatically before looking his son over with a sharply raised brow. His message was very clear: 'Try it.'
Draco decided not to press his luck and sank into the armchair across from his father. He squirmed a bit, before he could catch himself and clearing his throat he said, "Well, if you deem it an important matter, then I am only to willing to lend an ear, father."
"Good," Lucius purred, shifting forward in his chair. "An opportunity has arisen that will be beneficial for this family, IF handled correctly. You, as the heir to the Malfoy name, will of course play a pivotal role in what is to come."
"Oh," Draco remarked, "and what is this opportunity?"
Lucius fingered a strand of hair, inspecting the ends, as he addressed his son. "The Dark Lord will soon need a spy in Hogwarts, and YOU will be available to take the position."
Draco sat up in his chair, blurting out, "But what about Uncle Severus? Doesn't he already spy on Dumbledore?"
His father laughed sleekly. His eyes glinted maliciously. "Severus is very aware of the game we play. He knows the consequences of not staying one step ahead."
"If he fails, then won't the Dark Lord…" Draco trailed off, his grip on the arm rests tightening to the point of pain. His father couldn't mean what he was implying. Uncle Severus and he were good friends, had been for years. Hell, the two were so close that his father named Snape his only son's godfather.
That seemed to be exactly what his father meant though, since he replied, "If he cannot keep his position and please our Lord, then it cannot be helped." One fashionably clothed shoulder rose in an artful shrug.
"But, Uncle Severus is family," Draco argued, no longer able to keep the horror or disgust from his voice.
His father's gaze sharpened, a manic gleam lighting his eyes. So quick that Draco couldn't even follow him, Lucius brought his cane up and pressed it uncomfortably to his son's throat. The older wizard leaned forward threateningly.
"Severus is NOT a Malfoy. You are, and it is your duty to do whatever it takes to protect this family and help us stay in the Dark Lord's good graces. And if sacrifices need to be made to ensure that, then so be it."
Audibly gulping, Draco looked around the room, frantically searching for a way out. The silver snakehead dug a little further into his throat, when he didn't answer.
"Draco," his father growled dangerously. "You will not disappoint me in this, will you?"
Unable to speak past the obstruction pushing into his neck, Draco shook his head wildly, his thoughts racing.
I shouldn't have come home. I should have just risked going to Gringotts and got the hell out of dodge. Merlin! Why the fuck did I come home?
Even though he had agreed, his father didn't seem inclined to release him, instead pressing the cane in further until it was cutting off his air supply. A twisted, hungry smile curled the older man's lips. Panic fully setting in, Draco clawed at the solid piece of silver, trying to drag in air through his abused throat.
"Draco? Why are you home?"
A voice, that Draco would now forever equate to that of an angel's, called out behind the pair of wizards. His father blinked, then immediately dropped his cane. The young blonde slumped over the side of his chair, dragging in a painful breath and gasping as his lungs were filled once more. He turned in his chair to see his mother glide gracefully into the room. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on her son and then the purple bruise forming on his neck. Her mouth thinned and her nose flared for only a second, before her beautiful face smoothed into inscrutability once more.
"Lucius," she said, her voice light and pleasant, as if she hadn't interrupted a very tense moment. "Why are you still here? The House-Elves are about to fumigate the manor with Doxycide and I don't want you breathing it in and getting sick."
Whatever darkness that had momentarily come over his father vanished abruptly as he stood to address his wife. "I was just leaving, my dear," he affirmed, placing a gentle kiss on her perfectly painted lips. "I just spotted Draco and thought I'd have small chat."
Narcissa placed a hand on his cheek, smiling up at him. "Very well then," she murmured, stepping back and waving her hands in a shooing motion. "Now, off you go and if you finish at the Ministry early enough, I'll be at our vacation home in Barcelona, if you wish to join me."
"Then I will see you tonight," he purred, with another kiss. He moved to the door, stopping in the doorway to look back at his son. What looked like regret in his eyes, as he glanced down at his son's neck, was quickly snuffed out and replaced with a hard glare. "Oh, and Draco…your initiation has been moved up to your birthday. You have two months to prepare." With that last comment, the head of the Malfoy family slipped out of his son's room, leaving his wife and child behind.
Draco released a sigh of relief when he heard the front door close, signaling that his father had well and truly left. His mother rushed to his side, pulling him into a hug.
"Let me see your throat," she murmured, carefully smoothing her finger over the purpling bruise and whispering a Healing Charm to fix a majority of the damage. When the mark was nothing more than an ugly, but safe, pale yellow, she drew him back into her arms. No words needed to be said between the two. They could see the storm coming, but neither wanted to voice it.
Draco was the first to break the silence. "So we've got Doxies now," he quipped, hoping his joke would ease the tense atmosphere and remove his mother's frown.
His mother smiled sadly at him, helping him to stand. "The house IS being fumigated, just in case he wanted to check with the House-Elves later," she divulged.
"Nicely done."
His mother smiled slyly. "I thought so. You will of course have to find other accommodations for the night."
Draco waved his hand, dismissing the comment. He had already planned to do that anyway. "Done. I'll lie low until the train comes for us tomorrow."
"Good," Narcissa sighed, pausing in thought. She smoothed Draco's blonde locks away from his forehead affectionately. "I'll get you out, Draco. I have a plan for you."
"No," he argued, his mouth turning down into a frown. "I won't leave you to deal with father on your own."
One sculpted, blonde eyebrow arched. His mother's lips pursed in amused irritation. "As I recall, I am the parent in this situation and an adult witch, fully capable of taking care of herself."
"But─"
A manicured hand came up to stop him. "I will not hear it, Draco. The plan will go forward, whether you wish it or not. And you can either go along with it, ensuring that it goes smoothly, or you can fight it, exposing my hand behind it and making me a target for the Dark Lord and your father's wrath. Which will it be?"
Draco's eye twitched in aggravation at being so neatly outmaneuvered. His mother knew he wouldn't do anything to put her in harm's way, so his only choice was to abandon her while he fled to safety. The only other outcome would be setting her up for death, after a very slow and painful punishment. Both options sucked, but one would at least keep his mother alive, until he could find a way to get her out.
Seeing her son capitulating to her wishes, Narcissa kissed his forehead. "I'll be fine, my dear. I am a Malfoy, and we tend to be a resilient sort. Now go, enjoy your night, and I'll contact you soon." She pushed him towards the door, waving him off with a soft smile.
Stopping at his door and unknowingly mimicking his father's posture from earlier, Draco, his worry and anger clear on his face, whispered, "Be careful, mother," as he turned to leave.
Apparating behind a quiet, abandoned building just outside of Diagon Alley, Draco took a deep, calming breath. The short walk to the manor's Apparation point had done nothing to soothe his frayed nerves.
He was so tired of feeling so lost and helpless, but there was nothing that he could do, and it wasn't like he hadn't tried to come up with anything. He had formed and discarded so many plans that in the end, he was left with nothing and now, because he couldn't come up with anything, his mother was going to throw herself to the wolves.
"Fuck!" Draco snarled, punching the wall. He hated this! If it hadn't been for his father, dragging them all into this mess, they would be fine─no, it wasn't really his father's fault. His father had been a completely different man, before that snake had come back from the dead. His father had been fine, his LIFE had been fine, before that bastard had ripped it all to shreds.
"Damn, that worthless Pettigrew! He should have never brought that fucking monster back!" Draco leaned forward, resting his forehead against the wall's brick.
"Well, that's an interesting comment coming from a Malfoy."
Draco's eyes snapped back open. His hand went to his wand, as he prepared to curse and Obliviate the idiot thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.
Blaise Zabini watched the blonde wizard go for his wand with a smile. He didn't seem the least bit worried, as he stepped forward, a bag of Every Flavor Beans opened in his hand. He popped a jellybean in his mouth.
"There's no need to go for your wand, Draco. I just came to…talk," his fellow Slytherin declared, turning around and heading back towards Diagon Alley. Over his shoulder, Blaise called out, "Let's go eat. I could use some food."
Draco stared after his friend, confused only for a second, before he decided to follow the other wizard. He was curious to find out just what the usually taciturn wizard had to say, and if he needed to, he could always Obliviate him later.
So, shrugging, Draco rearranged his robes, and followed Blaise into Diagon Alley and down the street into the Leaky Cauldron. The boys ordered a quick meal at the bar, and then found a table in the back, away from curious eyes.
Upon sitting down, Blaise swished his wand, encasing them in a quiet bubble of privacy. "There," the wizard said, satisfied. "That should keep the eavesdroppers out of our business."
Draco leaned back into his chair, his arm slung over the back. The walk to the Leaky Cauldron was just what the blonde had needed to regain his composure. "And just what is our business, again?"
"Oh, I think you know," Blaise replied, and when Draco stared at him blankly, not falling for his bait, he chuckled. "Fine, I wish to talk to you about your desire to not become a Death Eater," he added, straight to the point.
Even though there was a privacy bubble around them, Draco still couldn't help ducking his head and looking around to make sure no one had heard what the other wizard had said. The blonde turned back sharply, glaring at his friend as he hissed, "And what would you know of my desires or 'supposed' affiliation with the Dark Lord's followers?"
Blaise leaned back into his chair. "From the letter you received a month ago from your father, of course."
"The letter from my father?" Draco questioned him calmly, his hands clenching under the table, out of sight.
"Yes, the Howler you received in March. Though, I use the term 'Howler' very loosely, since it had to be the quietest Howler I've ever heard."
Draco snorted. There was certainly truth to what Zabini had said. His father didn't send regular Howlers, for he was much too dignified for that. Instead, the red envelopes he sent were charmed to relay his messages in a subdued, controlled hiss that was, quite frankly, even more frightening than hearing the usual screeching volumes. Unfortunately, the fact that Blaise had known what kind of Howler his father had sent was just proof that the message had been overheard.
Trying to keep his cool, Draco played with the silverware on the table. "I highly doubt you heard what he said, considering I opened the envelope in an empty classroom that was heavily warded."
Blaise smirked at him. "Come on, Draco. You should know by now. All walls have ears, even the warded ones. It's just about finding them…and, you know what my family does."
At that, Draco had to roll his eyes. EVERYONE knew what the Zabinis did, it was just that nobody dared to say it out loud, but, oh, they knew.
The Zabinis lived and breathed off the business of securing and exchanging information. Officially, the family ran a consultation company, but behind the scenes, their reach went even farther, touching nearly every country in Europe, and parts of North Africa.
It was one of the reasons the Zabinis had managed to become one of the most powerful and respected families in Wizarding Britain, despite their ancestry. Their blood wasn't as pure as would be expected in Britain's high society, but it didn't matter. In the end, nobody wanted to mess with a family that could expose all their dirty little secrets.
Catherine Zabini, Blaise's mother, especially, was a legend. Her network of connections, debts, subordinates and scholars was more like an underground empire of knowledge and─
Draco sighed. And if Blaise has even a tenth of his mother's skill then he most definitely knows exactly what Father said in the letter, and witnessed my cursing fit afterward…Damn!
Seemingly satisfied with whatever he saw in Draco's face, Blaise continued. "Then you understand."
Yes, Draco understood. There was absolutely no way he could bluff his way out of this conversation. He knew there was no point in trying to lie anymore, it would just make him look like a fool. It would be better for him, if he just accepted Blaise's words and regrouped. So, he conceded.
"Fine," Draco said, folding his arms. "I'm assuming that there is a point to all this then?"
"Of course," Blaise agreed, stopping only for a second as a waitress brought over their meals and laid them on the table. He continued after they were alone again and their privacy bubble was intact once more. "I needed to verify your stance in this war. You see, Mr. Riddle is causing quite a few problems for my family."
"Mr. Riddle?"
"Tom Riddle, the second to be exact. It's the Dark Lord's original name."
"How very…" Draco paused, trying to think up the words to describe it. Blaise beat him to it.
"Muggle? Yes, I thought so, too. But that tends to happen when you're named after your Muggle father."
Draco almost choked on his food. "Pardon?"
A Cheshire cat grin spread across the other boy's face. "A juicy little nugget, don't you think? When my mother told me, I nearly fell off my chair laughing. A dark wizard with Muggle blood, in an ironic twist, is the leader of a Pureblood Supremacist movement," he chuckled.
Completely gobsmacked, Draco dropped his fork, his mouth dropping awkwardly. He couldn't believe it. His entire world had been turned upside down. He was losing his father, he was unsure if his mother would even survive the war, and his inheritance was slowly being chipped away, all because of a man who wasn't even a Pureblood.
He prayed his father didn't know about his supposed 'master' being part Muggle. Draco wasn't sure he would ever be able to forgive the man if he did.
Blaise, still amused, continued, "It makes his idea of a 'great, Pureblood-only world' seem even more laughable, doesn't it?"
Draco shot an irritated glance at his friend. "Even more laughable? Don't tell me you suddenly believe all that tripe Dumbledore tries to sell, that 'everyone's equal'," Draco exclaimed, his voice becoming more nasally towards the end as he mimicked the words of the current headmaster. "As I recall, you said, not even a week ago, that you would never touch a blood traitor like the Weaslette, no matter how attractive she seemed."
Blaise huffed, "I may have dropped the term only to appease the wannabe Death Eaters listening to our conversation, but I stand by the sentiment. I WOULDN'T ever touch the Weasley girl, even if you paid me. Not only are her manners atrocious, but there is absolutely no gain to be had from forming a connection with a family from such poor circumstances. It would be a complete waste of my time."
"So you do believe in station and class," Draco prodded.
One black eyebrow twitched in annoyance. "I believe," he stressed the last word, "in power and in the money that begets power. 'Purity' means nothing in the face of knowledge and wealth. Take all of the Weasleys. Their blood is as pure as yours and yet they have no clout, they hold no important positions in the Ministry and they can barely rub two Galleons together to make half a sickle. Meanwhile, Dumbledore, a Half-Blood, not only holds the position of headmaster, which is impressive in its own right, but he also holds a position on the Wizengamot, and a seat in the International Confederation of Wizards. And if that wasn't enough, he's also the only wizard alive that Riddle actually fears."
Draco blinked. "When did you start liking Dumbledore?"
Blaise rolled his eyes. "I never said I liked the man, but only a fool would make a man with so many connections, his enemy."
Like my father, Draco thought sullenly. That, too, had been something that changed dramatically, as the Dark Lord's return drew closer. His father, though he had never liked Dumbledore, was never outright hostile towards the well-known wizard, until Potter had arrived on the scene and evidence of the Dark Lord's rebirth slowly began reappearing. Then, Draco, wanting to emulate his father, had followed suit. Blaise was right, though. It had been foolish from a business standpoint.
"Alright," Draco folded with dignity. "I can see your point. But what does this have to do with the Dark Lord?"
"Simple. He's starting to interfere in my family's business, and while he's not hurting profits yet, with the way he's going, he eventually will. And I won't allow that," Zabini stated.
Draco's lips pursed in a suspicious moue. "Why would he interfere? It's well known, even in the Dark Lord's circle, that the Zabinis have claimed neutrality."
Blaise nodded, agreeing. "And it worked for us in the first war. Riddle, fool that he was, decided that a well-kept secret was not as important as, say, physical power and impressive party tricks. So he overlooked us─not that we weren't grateful that he did, mind you. Now, however, he seems to have come to his senses and is determined to recruit my mother. She's spent the last year keeping out from under his radar, and it's becoming bothersome."
"Her hiding from the Dark Lord wouldn't have anything to do with her habit of hopping from country to country to visit her numerous suitors, would it?" Draco asked.
It was well known that Catherine Zabini, while a respected, information empress, was also known to publically flaunt her many suitors, and take extravagant trips around the world to find more. It was a juicy bit of gossip that never seemed to grow old with each new gentleman she led around Britain on her metaphorical leash. Though now, Draco had the sneaking suspicion that Catherine's scandalous love affairs were far less scandalous than the gossip columns made them out to be.
Blaise just smiled in answer, well aware of what some of the pricklier, well-to-do families thought of his mother's romantic ways. He didn't seem in the least bit worried about it, which lead Draco to believe that the perception that the wizarding world had of Catherine Zabini was exactly what the woman wanted to orchestrate.
How clever.
"Back to my point," Blaise continued, "My mother and I are quickly losing patience with this war, so we've decided to speed up this whole process, so we can get back to our lives."
"And I don't suppose you plan to cast your chips in with the Dark Lord?"
Blaise shrugged. "The man has no vision, no creativity. He's like a firecracker. Loud and powerful, but quick to die out. Plus, my family does business with several Muggle and Muggle-Born companies, and if he takes over, he'll likely demand that we cut them out, which will not happen."
Absorbing all of this information, Draco realized that Blaise had a point. Even his own father dipped into the financial world of the Muggles from time to time, though it was never mentioned or talked about. The Dark Lord would probably throw a fit if he knew. Obstinate as he was, he was unwilling to bend in anything, and eventually his ship would sink…but that didn't mean that Draco had to sink with him.
In fact, the answer to most of his problems with his mother and his upcoming initiation might be solved if he threw his weight behind the Zabinis.
The possibilities ran through his head. The Zabinis were smart, crafty, and knew how to survive, so he had no doubt they could come up with a good plan, but whether or not that plan fully benefitted him as well, still remained to be seen. Luckily for him, Blaise had sought HIM out, and that must mean he had something that the other boy wanted, something to barter with.
Draco grinned. Oh, yes. This might just work out perfectly.
"What's your plan? And what do you need from me?" Draco laid heavy emphasis on the 'need', letting the debt, which the 'need' implied, hang in the air between them. Friends though they may be, Draco wasn't going to help the Zabinis if they weren't willing to help him back. It was just business, after all.
Blaise seemed to take it in good stride, as if he expected nothing less from his fellow Slytherin. "First, we take away his followers."
Draco's brows pushed together in confusion, but he remained silent.
"We obviously can't take them on in a full-on fight. The numbers are too skewed in their favor. Not to mention, they're zealous nuts. However, from the information that my mother passed me, your Dark Lord─"
"He's not my Dark Lord!" Draco snapped.
Blaise held up a placating hand. "THE Dark Lord is going through his followers like water. No family, no matter how pure, is safe if they displease him, which isn't all that hard. Most follow him out of fear, for themselves and their family, rather than any true loyalty."
"That much is obvious."
"So, we need to find a way to stop him from replenishing his stock of cannon fodder." Blaise tilted forward. "The seventh years that take the Mark after they graduate only take it because most feel like it's their only option, but WE can give them another option. We can BE another option for them. Aside from them, we can also give the families whose children are threatened another option as well. Without new recruits and hostages to use, Riddle's numbers will take a hit."
Draco tapped his lip in thought. It was a good plan, but that couldn't be all his friend had come up with. "Alright, I like the sound of it so far, but what else? I know that can't be it, and you still haven't told me what you needed me for."
"I need you to help me with the organizing, like finding safe houses, finding out who we can get to, which families are being targeted, and I need help with recruiting for US. You know, help me steer our wayward peers back into line, if they do support the Dark Lord under some misguided notion. If they see you, the Slytherin Mascot and Pureblood Prince, abandoning Riddle for greener pastures, then they may be persuaded to do the same."
Makes sense, Draco thought. He was the poster child for Purebloods, and seeing him turning his back on the Dark Lord, may build doubt and urge them to latch onto another cause instead─their cause, to be exact.
Still, there was one other thing… "And what of the rest of your plan?"
Blaise waved his hand dismissively. "That will come later. If you are still interested in hearing them after we work on the first part, then I will of course include you in them."
"Fair enough," Draco allowed. He couldn't blame the other Slytherin for wanting to keep some of his cards close to his chest. Still, Draco had his own cards to consider. "I want safety for my mother and I, and, as you know, I have no desire to take the Dark Mark, so if your plans include me being initiated, then re-write them."
"Completely understandable," the other boy amicably agreed. "Do you already have a plan for getting yourself out then?"
"My mother does, though she won't tell me what and the results won't be favorable to her. So, I want you to help me get her out, once we have a chance," Draco told him sternly.
"Alright. Try to get your mother out and no Mark─got it…so does this mean you're in?" Blaise asked, waiting patiently.
Draco appeared to think it over, even though he didn't really need to. Of course he was going to help Blaise. His plan would help stop the Dark Lord, but in a way that wouldn't be so obvious as to paint targets on their backs. His demise would also take a giant burden off of the blonde's shoulders and those of his family, and to sweeten the pot, he could secure his mother's and his safety. It was a win-win all around, but he didn't want the other wizard to know he was only too eager to help. It might bite him in the arse later on.
So he waited, holding off on his answer on the pretext that he was thinking it over. Then, when he decided that he had let the other wizard squirm enough, he said, "I'm in."
A/N: My, my, my what does Blaise have planned? Hope you enjoyed Blaise's re-introduction. Rowling never really went into his character in the books, but I always loved him, cold stoicism, arrogance and all. I took a few liberties with his character and his families' history but...eh, it's fanfiction.
Up Next: Severus finds Hermione-for real this time!
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