9 Old Classmates

Chapter One

Invitations to Italy

There were seven letters in a perfectly nice order. Seven letters. Each one was holding an invitation for seven of his former classmates. An invitation and a chance for the truth he so much craved to find. A truth he used to be afraid of. He couldn't hide his weakness, and there was plenty of it, truth was after his passing he followed a dark path, a dark path laid with cheap wine and crudely made firewhiskey and spread lines of white snow Muggles call cocaine. And on that path he walked alone, grieving, mourning, keeping himself distant from what had happened, focusing on what he had done, regretting who was buried, wishing it was him.

And seven years passed. Seven years of complete poisoning and self-neglect. No friends, no family, and to those who might send a card with kind words and a strong suggestion of write back soon, or take care, or the simplest I am here for you, always, Blaise Zabini answered non. And the years were passing him by like strangers on a crowded street, leaving only guilt, impoverishing every aspect of his existence, making him forget his self, his values, his need for salvation, drunkness was the only hug he came to wander, liquid gold the warmth he seeked, and if it wasn't for a photograph in the forgotten pages of a notebook, he wouldn't be coming home, he wouldn't be writing those letters, he wouldn't be sober - and between lost family fortune and that photograph, he promised a truth.

Seven letters were placed in front of him in perfectly nice order. Seven letters to seven former classmates. Each holding a truth of what had happened that day, each keeping a story, a prospect and hopefully the truth about his brother passing. If asked why now, he might show his hand, only now holding a cup of tea, he rose to the portrait of his older brother, Leonard, "This time, I promise brother, I will make it right."

The wheels from the trainer could easily give him a headache. He hated mail-day. He hated mail-day so fucking much. The light whistle of the young boy, who was always happy to deliver, made his eyes close in defeat. The strong smell of butter croissant made his spirit lift and took another big bite of it, hearing the wheels close up and the whistling became happier and cheerful - he hated it and the young boy with the rather big enthusiasm over his achievements in the Auror Department and not the saving of the whole Wizarding World from the jaws of one Tom Riddle. Why didn't he adore him for that victory and only focus on the Auror badge and work matters? Is this much more important than the notorious Voldemort?

''Mr Potter.'' the young boy called his name and he moved his tired, slightly bored gaze from the same old file of some wizards who needed protecting to the borders of Scotland, the very same couple who asked for the same protection a month ago. His smile was huge, his energy unchanged and always on its highest level, making Harry question if he was getting some kind of Muggle drugs, like marijuana. ''Mail sir.'' he looked at him with adoration in his eyes, making sure it was for the Auror suit and not his fucking glorious scar. ''How are you today sir?'' he asked and felt his heartbeat fasten when his bored eyes looked at him angrily. He nodded, awkwardly taking some steps back, not taking his eyes off his badge and letting the pile of mail at the end of his desk, making Harry stand up for the very first time in hours.

''Thanks Rob.'' he nodded and looked at the Department's stamp with another boredom gaze, not wanting to think what else they will ask for him now. ''That is simply brilliant.'' he mumbled, resting his back on the questionably large chair and fixing the opened button of his shirt where his belly was shown. He looked around him to see if anyone was watching him covering his fatness. Clearing his throat, he fixed his tight jacket, feeling it ready to pop around his arms.

Okay, yes, he shouldn't have let himself driven away from the healthy boy he used to be seven years ago, and of course exercising could help him, but between his moody wife and crying baby, and boring life, food could actually give him some pleasure, some warmth and kindness. Is that how depression starts? His naive self started to question his doings, but the smell of the butter croissant made him smile a little. He grabbed it and shove it into his mouth in one single bite, untying the ribbon of his letters and starting to cough, small pieces of his food started to escape his mouth, dirtying the almost silky envelope with his calligraphic name written in the back. His cough got worst when his eyes scanned the sayings - he spitted it, dirtying the rest of his mail.

His eyes widened, his lips pressed together, his breath fastened and his left hand started to numb - isn't he young for a heart attack?

''Potter, you ready?'' one of the Aurors didn't even bother to knock on his door. ''Are you alright?'' he disgustedly asked and he looked at him with a wrinkled face.

''Yes, yes, no. I - '' he reread the letter and he looked at the framed photograph of his wife with a trembling heart. ''I have to leave.''

''No, you don't! No! Potter!'' he yelled at him hating the way he was behaving like a fucking brat, ''We have work to do - Potter! Fuck you man! Fuck you!''

Her crying made him open his eyes at once and look at the white ceiling with the small lamp in the middle of it. His wife didn't even blink and if he wanted to be honest with himself, he knew she wouldn't - it was his turn tonight. He forced himself to open his eyes again and stand up, missing the late hour. ''I am coming, Molena. I am coming.'' he whispered and threw the covers off his body, not wearing his slippers, not looking at the late hour again. He walked across their room to hers and smiled to himself when her crying stop the moment their eyes connected. ''Hey pretty lady!'' he said and took her in his arms, watching the way her lips turned into a small smile.

''Hi papa.'' his smirk could have been seen from outer space. She rested her head on his shoulder, sighing, carefree and loved. ''Fifi.'' she asked for her favourite toy bear, the one he won at a fair at the nearest village where a circus had landed out of the blue. He had proposed to her at that fair and she said only if he won that fucking dirty bear. And he did. Of course and he would, he used to play Quidditch, right?

''Shit.'' he said and looked at the late hour, ''That's why you were crying.'' he realized when the clock ticked at eight in the morning. He walked to the kitchen and opened the curtains, letting fresh light and air bomb the room they were in. ''Let's make mama and Molena breakfast.'' he said with a silly voice and looked at her smiling face that looked just like him.

''Buna dimineata Mr Weasley.'' his personal assistant opened the kitchen door facing the backyard and looked at his surprised face. He pointed at a basket filled with fresh eggs, butter, bacon, some handmade pasta and dolma. He let it on top of the table, saying hello to Molena and thank you for the cup of coffee Ron offered him. ''Emailul tau.'' he offered a pile of letters, telling him how good today's weather was, and how well the new dragons are behaving, but Ron's eyes were left to stare at the unusual envelope with his personal full name written in calligraphic letters. He felt his heartbeat fasten. ''Este totul bine, domnule?'' his assistant asked, but Ron didn't even flinch. Eyes ran multiple times along the words that were written and the dates it was disclosing. ''Ron?'' his voice made him shiver.

''Da, da Alexandru, multumesc.'' he mumbled with a trembling voice. His jaw tightened, his lips pressed together holding back cursing words he swore never to use in front of his daughter who had the name of his beloved mother and mother-in-law, a companied name he firstly hated but now loved. ''Papa?'' her voice made him feel weak and alone. Her eyes were watching his hands holding the letter and not the breakfast he promised. He read it again, and once more - maybe if he had answered some of Hermione's letters over those past seven years he would have known about this invitation, did she get one? His heart started to beat faster than before, and now the letter had turned into a small ball inside his sweating palm. He was afraid - too afraid. Guilt filled his heart with an unknown shame he wished and hoped never to feel again. The name of the host kept echoing in his ears, 'What the - ''

'' - fuck you want me to do?'' Pansy Parkinson threw a file with several parchments to the face of the shocked girl standing like a statue in front of the perfectly well-dressed businesswoman. ''I have repeatedly asked for the contracts to be signed, it was a deal we had to make before the end of the semester!'' she yelled for the unfinished job and looked at the blushed face of her assistant, the young girl that looked promising in the very first month of her employment, only to let her down too many times, too damn hard. ''I trusted you with the Nonoba Bank of Asia and - ''

''Miss Parkinson, I can explain - '' Pansy's eyes left her blushed face and looked at the calendar she once had made with the goals of 2004 perfectly visible from where she was standing. She felt her heart ready to explode - her cheeks might have started to feel a bit wet, was she crying? She never had cried in front of her employees before. Shame filled her gaze and looked away - she was behind her schedule, she was behind her goals, her expectations. Her whole life was starting to fall apart right in front of her eyes - she felt like a loser. Everything she ever fought for, every trip, every sacrifice, everything was gone because she trusted the wrong person.

''Explain what?'' her voice was lower now but she looked mad, furious even - if she knew her better she might have left her alone, not wanting to see what she was capable to do. ''Those were the last clients I needed to start my own bank - '' the door opened wide and she dangerously looked at her other assistant. Instantly, the man froze at her sight - her once calm eyes he used to see after a good fuck was now holding the power to bomb an entire planet and maybe destroy the cockroaches she so much hated. ''What? What is it now?'' she yelled throwing her hands in the air and starting to measure up her doings now that she was fucked up. He looked at her with a small numbness, feeling his shoulders stiffen. He felt the need to hold her, to tell her that everything is going to be alright - he knew she needed to hear it from someone.''I didn't mean to interrupt - ''

''Yet, you did!'' she looked at him hurt and he noticed the wetness on her cheeks. Shit. He hated seeing her like that. She snapped her fingers too many times in front of him and he rose his brows. She was behaving like a bitch whenever she was feeling cornered and threatened. ''Can you hurry - ''

''This is for you.'' he gave the silky envelope he was holding like a living person and waited for her to tell him to stay, but she didn't. Her whole panic changed to a different one - the kind he might have seen before when she had started to open up about the war and the dark days of her past, a past befriended for the past years. She looked hurt, not physically, but mentally this time. Her eyes widened and her hands were shaking. Her gaze was never leaving her written name at the back and the rather familiar handwrite. She took a step back, finding her ass meeting the edge of her desk. Her mouth dropped. Her throat felt sore, ''Are you alright - ''

Pansy looked at her hands with the decorated envelope, then him - him, who was always there for her whenever she was facing difficulties, whenever she was telling herself she is not going to make it to the business world, him who was always by her side and make her smile whenever tears fell down her eyes. Him, who didn't tell him the whole truth. The envelope fell from her hands and she met his eyes. He was concerned and she was afraid. Her knees trembled, her lips pressed together. Her eyes started to glance around the room in an attempt to find whatever rescuing vest there was - but found nothing. Nothing. Only the image of the envelope laying cold on the floor could make her blink and breath - she could breathe, but he couldn't. He couldn't breathe. She found him there, cold and choked on his own blood, dead.

''Do you want me to leave - '' the young girl asked and brought her back to reality, making her forget about the boy she once befriended and loved in her own way. She looked at herself. Thin body with high heels, a pencil skirt with a corset top, skinny arms and popped collarbones, hair perfectly straight in a low ponytail standing in front of her desk with two people looking back at her with shocked eyes.

''You are fired.'' her husky voice broke the silence and the girl widened her eyes, knowing she will never find another mentor like her. She watched her storming out with tears running down her cheeks. She couldn't care less. She wouldn't care. She now was looking at him - him, who was always looking at her with adoration, with love and care. Him, who was always there for her asked nothing in return. Him, who told her she was perfect. Who could tell him how coward she was? Who could tell him how wrong his idea for her was? ''Scott.'' she called him and he took some steps towards her, picking up the envelope and reading the invitation.

He breathy laughed, ''It's just an invitation to Italy, why are you panicking like that?''

No, it wasn't, and she was not panicking enough.

His robes were new, showing off the expensive fabric, thread and carefully handwritten in gold ink-thread - something no one else had in the whole Wizarding World except his favourite tailor, the one he had lost after the Nott Family fiasco, but now find and intent to never leave again. He smiled at some of the nurses that came by and giggled with blushed faces and thirsty eyes. Yes, he was handsome and yes, too many girls were offering their love to him as if it was the light of a sunny day in the summer, not knowing why no one ever show him to a woman before.

He didn't mind it. He loved the mystery surrounding it, he loved the secret aura of his footsteps and the enigmatic gazes in several people when the question of where's your date was popping up. Truth was, he did have a date, and he was dating, various guys he liked over the years, but no one was worthy enough for introducing him to his close friends - he couldn't dare to say family. He had forgotten about the idea of family a long time ago. Now he was all alone, in a house belonging to one of his aunts who were nice enough not to believe in the Dark Lord and have a voice for herself. To his eyes, Aunt Stephany was his mother, his family until she died.

Theo took a big breath and looked at the folder he was holding, opening the door and watching the Hollister family, mother and father in a small panic as their kid was laying there in the bed of the St. Mungo's hospital, fearing for his battling life as he was fighting to live another day. To his expert self in child care, he didn't have much time left. ''How are we today, Mr Hollister?'' Theo looked at his young patient, smiling and hiding behind his favourite blanket. ''Your mom told me you refused to eat dinner last night, is that true?'' he sat next to him, looking a bit offended by the chosen food he had picked for him.

''I wish not to consider soup as dinner.'' he smiled and looked at his Healer with a mischievous gaze, taking his hands out of his blanket and showing him his new bear. ''This is Mr Tony.'' he proudly said, ''He is a healer, like you.'' he gave it to him with a smile.

''He seems smart.'' he nodded and pet the toy, hearing him saying how good he looked. ''How about that small wounds of yours? '' he asked and started to examine the young boy's legs, watching the tears of his mother when he opened his hospital robes and reveal several wounds that couldn't heal. His mother tightened the handkerchief she was holding. A firm, strong arm held her closer to a hard-breathing chest. Theo looked at the couple with a heavy heart. He really tried to help the Hollisters, he really tried to save their only child. ''Let me talk to your parents.'' he smiled at his young patient and opened the door for them.

''He is not going to make it, is he.'' the trembling voice of the mother made his heart ache. That was the hardest thing about his beloved job. ''We are going to be childless.'' tears covered her cheeks and she hid her face at the chest of her husband.

''Mrs Hollister - ''

''What can we do?'' the father asked and she looked at him shocked. They knew what that meant. He whispered, ''You talked about Muggle science - ''

''His condition has a name to them. Diabetes,'' he informed them and looked around him to see if they were truly alone. ''I can introduce you to a specialist - ''

''Anything for Henry.'' the father rushed to talk and looked at him apologetically, remembering the very first time the Healer talked about visiting a Muggle doctor. ''Anything.'' Theo nodded and took a piece of parchment writing a name and an address, carefully placing it in his palm as if it was drugs.

''Are you Nott? Theo Nott?'' a man asked and Theo nodded. ''Good morning.'' he said and gave him a letter that made his stomach turn into a knot.

''Where are you going - who gave you this?'' he asked and looked at the bored face of the mailman.

''Post office.'' he shrugged and looked unimpressed of the handsome features of Theo Nott's face who now had turned paler than a ghost - he might have looked like one. Mr Hollister was talking to him, but there was a high pitch echoing in his ears trading every single noise in the corridor to a distant sound of a long-lost voice that he swore he had forgotten, now slowly starting to be heard clearly, louder with every breath he was taking - was he taking? He felt someone holding him and something cold touching the back of his neck. Someone was talking to him, calling his given name, asking him if he was alright. He didn't know if he was, he didn't know why he was feeling so panicking all of a sudden. Cold sweat was running down his forehead.

''It's just an invitation to Italy.'' someone said to him. No. It wasn't just an invitation, and it wasn't just a trip. It was a promise he had heard Blaise Zabini give on several occasions, it was a goal, a fearful goal to find out who killed his brother. Knowing Blaise, he wasn't the only one invited. Telling himself to stand up, he felt Mr Hollister's hand on his shoulder, thanking him again for the muggle doctor and the last chance to save their son.

''It's my duty,'' he mumbled and started to walk fast determine to meet a man who had to see in a long, long time, Draco Malfoy.

''Mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom, mom!'' James yelled at her, desperately wanting to get her attention this time. ''More juice, more juice, more juice - ''

''James! I heard you the first time - no, no, let the spatula alone, James! Don't run in the kitchen!'' she started to run after him, missing the way the boiling meat with red sauce was over heeling. She grabbed him by his waist and lifted him up in the air, hearing him laughing and enjoying himself, which should have brought her some kind of joy, only to find herself ready to start crying and running away like some kind of coward bitch. ''That's enough! Enough!'' she yelled at him and his happy face turned into a rather sad, shocked one. She placed him on his seat, taking the spatula from his small hands, hearing a soft protest she shushed with a single gaze.

She stood still in front of him, covering her face with her palms and taking several breaths, wanting to relax her mind and heartbeat - a loud noise made her turn around to see the sauce escaping the pot and running all the way down to the floors, creating small stamps of hot thick redness, the kind she had seen before - she barfed. Vomit reached her throat and she might swallow hard - she ran to the counter, emptying her stomach in the nip with the clean plates. ''Fuck.''

''Mamma?'' she heard James talking and she looked at her reflection in the window in front of her where a rather big owl was coming towards her. She wiped her mouth and frowned at the sight of it, flying towards her house with a force she never thought possible. Her eyes widened and rushed to open the window some seconds before the bird could easily kill itself. James started to cry, making her grin and close her ears, hating the way his voice was sounding. The huge bird made one single round in the kitchen, obviously looking disgusted with the view of the spilt sauce and the crying little boy. The letter he was carrying fell on the floor and on top of the spit sauce. She cursed and cursed and cursed, kneeling to take it and trying to clean it on top of her skirt, reading her name on top of the silky envelope she swore she had seen before but failed to remember where. Her balance betrayed her and she fell on her ass, slowly starting to feel tears running down her cheeks.

The man that looked around thirty, maybe thirty-five extended his hand the moment Draco Malfoy's assistant opened the door to his private office, introducing him. ''Mr Malfoy! You simply do not know how pleased I am to finally meet you!'' his sweaty hand grabbed firmly Draco's who hid his disgusting reaction with forced laughter. ''Really, really pleased - ''

Draco nodded his assistant to leave the room, ''You only feel that way because I am investing in your company, if we were on the opposite sides you might be feeling different.'' Draco tried to take his hand back, only to feel him grabbing it more.

''I am a huge fan, huge!'' he ogled his handsome features, not minding the height difference.

''You really shouldn't - ''

''You are so funny!'' he giggled like a teenage girl, offering the large box of chocolate cake to him. ''I hear you have a - a sweet tooth!'' he helped him open the box, waiting patiently to see the smug on his face - which he did because it was chocolate cake and who was he to say no to chocolate - wait. He had eaten too much breakfast after his morning run, fuck, maybe a small bite -

''Please.'' he offered him a seat, blaming the promise he had given himself when he saw Harry Potter and his fat belly with the double chin face in that ball some months ago - how could he let himself get fat? He looked like a miserable little guy with a miserable life and sex esteem. He forced himself to forget about him, he didn't have time to lose to mediocrity hate and the old enemy feud he thought he had with him back in Hogwarts, when it was really a small jealousy for his actions and ethical self. Okay, he knew he was a fucking brat, but he wants to believe he is not any longer.

The contracts he had personally made for Mr Holly were sitting next to a set of personally made quill and ink. Proudly, he looked at his new colleague and smiled.

''Mr Malfoy.'' his assistant opened the door wide and took him off guard. In his hands, there was a familiar envelope, silky and inked with a handwritten note he could easily recognize everywhere. ''What is that.'' he wanted to ask, he really wanted to, but never did. He knew who sent it. Running footsteps echoed in the long hallway from the elevator to his office which was filled with fine art, elegant furniture, several books and a single portrait of his beloved grandmother, Astra. Draco rose his gaze from the letter to the door, widening his eyes at the sight of Theo Nott in front of him.

''He is starting it.'' he tried to catch his breath. ''Blaise,'' he said and watched Draco's jaw tightening hard, too hard, almost giving the impression he is breaking his teeth on purpose. He grabbed the letter, fast licking his eyes to the written words and dates his friend had included. Old memories of his drunkenness making him cry for the loss of his older brother made his stomach turn into a knot. Theo called him and Draco looked at him panicking. He knew how far Blaise could pull this. He knew how much pain he was carrying and how much hate had stored over the years when his questions about that night were not being answered.

''Fuck - ''

'' - me!'' she grabbed the end of her chair as he pushed all of him inside her, making her hair a knot in his hand, pulling her towards him to see her red breasts and hard nipples. ''Fuck, I am going to cum - '' she moaned and he took his dick out, kneeling and licking every juice she unleashed. She hid her fingers in his brown hair and moaned a bit more before pushing him away. ''Thanks, nurse.'' she gave him a wicked smile and sat on her chair with her hard nipples still tempting him to continue his doings but knowing her better than that. He made a move to kiss her and she turned around, feeling his wet lips on her cheek.

He breathy laughed. ''I feel like you are using me.'' he complained with a still horny dick between his legs, carefully caressing it. She never left him to finish inside her, on her or even near her. She didn't want that kind of intimacy - well, at least with him.

''I am.'' she smiled and he rose a brow. He shook his head and grabbed his nursing clothes, never taking his eyes off her.

''I will see you tomorrow, same hour?'' he winked at her and she shook her head no.

''It was the last time.'' a kind smile made him frown. He thought she didn't mean it, but of course she did.

''That has your name on.'' he squatted, revealing his tight ass, knowing she loved fit guys. ''Damn, that's fancy.'' he threw it on top of her desk, watching her naked breast with desire and fixing his still hard dick before leaving. ''Good day, doctor.'' he might have expected some kind of goodbye, but her attention was on the letter now resting between her feminine hands.

Her brows touched each other and she rushed to open the letter, forgetting about the thought of throwing it away, pretending it never reached her desk - her eyes widened and her heart started to beat faster than before.

A tall, handsome guy with a shining smile and short hair popped into her tired mind. She had talked to him in the library one day. He had said something funny, making her laugh for the very first time that week - as it did right now. He was smart and witty. He was kind, but stubborn and fucking awkward to deal with sometimes. God, she was over the moon for him. The smile was gone from her face when her eyes started to read the letter. Now in her mind was only the image of the boy who was slotted on the balcony of the fourth floor. It was the image of the boy in a blood lake, the image of the boy cold and lifeless. Her hands shivered and her lips decorated her face with a sad smile.

A week to Italy. That was the invitation all about. A week to Italy. That's what it was all about, but why her heart was beating so fast? No, she won't accept it - ''Hermione?'' the Head of the Pathological Department opened the door of her office to yell at her naked stage. ''What are you doing - oh my God.''

''I am sorry, Sellia, I am sorry - '' Hermione stood up at once, watching the woman closing the door behind her and grabbing the dress she wore yesterday to come to work for her 48 hours shift. ''I was changing - ''

''I am sorry, I should have knocked - ''

''It's fine.'' Hermione awkwardly laughed, fixing it around her waist. ''I am all ears,'' she said and sat on her desk, taking the letter and sitting on top of it, not wishing to give someone the chance to gossip her. ''What is it? You want me to stay longer - ''

''No, no, actually, we give you 15 days off.''

''What?'' she looked offended, ''Why - I don't want to - ''

''Hermione, you haven't taken your assisted days off since you started working. The HR has been alerted and to be honest, you look tensed.'' yes, she was. She took a big breath, relaxing her shoulders. She opened her mouth to protest, but she looked at her dangerous gaze and shut up. ''I will see you next month, okay?'' she nodded and left her alone, letting her door open.

''Fuck me.'' she mumbled and hit her head on her desk.