He ran as fast as his short legs could carry him, crying, into his nurse’s arms. She scooped him up and shut the door behind them.
“There, there,” she soothed, smoothing his hair, “I’ll make sure no one hurts you.” She kept holding him but muttered ironically under her breath, “The only good thing about what your mum does is that you know you won’t have to put up with those fellows for very long. I swear, my lad, if it wasn’t for you I would be out of here.”
“Don’t leave me, Nurse,” the boy sniffed into her shoulder.
“Aah, would I do that to a wee lad like you, now? What would you do with yourself if I left? I don’t want to go, never worry,” the stout, grizzle-haired woman reassured him.
There was a quiet sound at the door and the two looked up. Mrs. Fairbanks stood there, dressed in a fitted black evening gown with a teardrop diamond glistening at the base of her throat. She held out her arms to her little son.
“Come here, my boy. Who loves you?”
“Mummy loves me,” he mumbled as though it were a lesson learned by route. He wanted to stay with his nurse, whose lips were pinched together as they always were when his mother came into the nursery. It made her face even less pleasant than normal, but to the little boy she still represented comfort and security, even though his mother was the beautiful one, with her olive-dark skin and lustrous black hair.
She was beckoning him forward, and he wanted her to be happy with him, so he gave her the hug she expected.
“That’s my boy,” she whispered. She smelled like flowers and cigarette smoke, since her new husband, Mr. Fairbanks, was addicted to his pipe. The smell had wafted through the entire mansion and now, not long after the wedding, the smell was permanently entrenched in every particle of air, every fiber of cloth, every cranny and nook. Nurse had banned him from pinching his nose when he walked past the man, but Mr. Fairbanks seemed to despise him on principle.
“Mummy,” he whined, “why isn’t Mr. Fairbanks nice to me?”
“You don’t have to love him, darling,” she said. “I’ve spoken to him just now about trying to kick you like that, and he won’t do it again, don’t worry. Remember, mum is-“
“Mum is what matters,” he finished miserably. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “A mum is always here for her baby, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter who I get married to, you hear me? You are my precious baby.”
The little boy gave her another hug, this time on his own initiative, his chubby arms flung around her knees, which was the highest he could reach. She had never called him precious before, and he was filled with a sudden longing to make her proud of him, so maybe she would smile at him again and say he was her good boy.
His nurse gave a discreet little cough. “I’m afraid it’s nearly bedtime. If you will excuse us, Mrs. Fairbanks?”
She gave a cursory look at the nurse and nodded. “He needs his sleep. I’ll be off, then.” She glided out of the nursery, her high heels barely making a sound on the plush carpeting, and she called out into the hallway as she shut the door, “Aloysius? Where are you?”
Mr. Fairbanks’ voice echoed distantly from another wing of the house, and his wife hurried away from the little boy who was being tucked in for the night.
* * *
His feet pounded through the marble hallways. He rounded a corner and stopped short, panting, and glared at the woman sitting so serenely at the desk.
“Mum, what do you think you’re doing?” he accused.
“But darling!” Her mouth was slightly open in surprise. “You’re ten years old! You can take care of yourself perfectly well, and you need tutoring to prepare if you want to do well next year in Hogwarts.”
“But why does Nurse have to leave? She can stay.”
“Darling, you know it’s repulsive when you stick out your lower lip like that. Do try to behave.”
He corrected the offending expression. “Mum, why did you tell her to leave?”
“I thought I made that quite clear. You’re old enough not to need her care. And if you’re getting a proper tutor anyway, why spend the money on someone to care for you when you’re perfectly able to do without. Remember, Mum is what matters, not some silly nurse. All you need is the tutor, and that’s my final word.”
His mother was Mrs. Heppleworth now, and she used a few more charms than she used to in order to keep her appearance perfect, but she still wore that same expression he knew all too well from when he’d begged her for a trip to Diagon Alley with his nurse, or when he’d wanted to move into a smaller, cozier room in her last husband’s mansion. When her eyes narrowed, her delicate mouth hardened, and her fingers intertwined with each other, he knew there was no hope she’d ever change her mind. He sighed and trudged out of the room, back to his Nurse.
“I tried,” he said miserably. “Can’t you stay anyway?”
“I expected as much. And no, lad, I can’t stay without your mother’s permission, and besides, where would I get food to eat? No, don’t say you’d bring it to me. That’s no way to live, and I won’t have you stealing from…whatever this one’s name is, Heppleworth, right.” He knew Nurse remembered the name but she scorned the fact that this was his mother’s fifth marriage.
“Besides, laddie,” she continued after a moment’s thought, “It’s not like you won’t get along without me. The house elves do the cooking and laundry here, anyhow, and you can take care of yourself.”
“Maybe, but I’ll miss you too much.”
The old nurse tried to suppress a sniff, but gave it up as a lost cause and wiped her eyes with a voluminous starched white handkerchief.
“I’ll miss you too, lad, but you have to go to Hogwarts next year anyway. Do well there, and make me proud.”
“I will,” he promised, and she beamed at him with watery eyes.
“Oh, lad. You are going to have hard times ahead. I wish I could help you, but partings are a part of life, and we must move on. I’ve got a grandson in America, and he’s invited me to live with him. I’ll write to you now and then if I can find the time.”
He helped her carry her bags down the grand staircase to the fireplace that stood next to the door. She tossed a pinch of green powder on the flames and, holding tight to her suitcases, shouted, “Diagon Alley!” She didn’t take her eyes off his until she had disappeared in the swirling flames.
He waved until she was gone, and then his brave face melted down and he fled to his room. He didn’t weep, since his mother had told him often that he shouldn’t cry since he was a big boy, and he was afraid she’d hear him, but he pounded his pillow until it burst and a cloud of feathers coated the room in white.
He had never felt any emotion so strongly as this, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was. Anger? Betrayal? Loss? Mostly he just felt alone, but at the same time, he was furious at his mother. She had decided to send Nurse away- Nurse would never have left him otherwise. He began thinking vengeful thoughts, taking his mind away from his pain.
A few minutes’ thought produced some good ideas. He couldn’t cast spells yet, but he knew where she kept her beauty potions, and he could say embarrassing things in front of the dinner guests…he no longer cared about what she would say to him after. Nurse was gone, and despite his mum, Mr. Heppleworth, the house elves, and the many frequent visitors to the mansion, he was alone now.
* * *
He gasped, looking up at the huge castle. He had never known, never dreamed, how beautiful it would be. His boat drifted through a curtain of vines on the other side of the lake and jerked gently to a stop at a pebbly beach underneath the castle. He stepped gracefully out of the boat. A stern old woman greeted them and led them in. He watched a blond boy he’d seen on the train argue with a black-haired boy, and he heard two girls whispering next to him that the black-haired boy was Harry Potter. He’d heard of Potter, everyone had, and he leaned forward curiously to get a look at him. The old woman spotted them and interrupted Potter’s argument before he had gotten any closer, though.
Before he knew it he was standing in line in a big room with an enchanted sky instead of a ceiling. Mr. Heppleworth had a small window that showed fake scenery and weather, but this was somehow much more beautiful. The old witch carried a hat out, and he listened to its song, wondering which house he’d be put in. With his name, he knew he’d have a while to wait. Finally, he heard it.
“Zabini, Blaise!”
He stepped up to the stool and donned the hat, and sat, trembling, when he heard a voice in his ear.
“Last one of the year, eh?”
Blaise jumped, and relaxed as he realized that it was the hat.
“Yes, it’s me. Who else? Let me see, now, where will you go? You don’t work too well with others, and prefer to be the lone wolf. And this is interesting, you respond to events that don’t go your way by seeking revenge, eh? You solve problems by using your natural cunning, and- goodness! This is the second time I’m seeing this- normally it would mean only one thing, but earlier tonight it didn’t…Never mind, let’s not waste time, I see you’re going to be in- SLYTHERIN!”
Blaise put down the hat shakily and trotted to the green table. He tried to sit next to the blond boy he’d seen earlier, not knowing what else to do. He had almost never met another boy his own age. He was surprised when the boy gave him a hard shove, almost knocking him off the bench.
“What was that for?” he protested.
“Who are you?” the boy sneered, making Blaise defensive.
“I’m Blaise Zabini- who are you?”
“Draco Malfoy,” the blond boy said, turning away from Blaise as though losing interest in him. Blaise looked at Malfoy, who was now talking to a huge boy sitting in the seat opposite the one Blaise had tried to take. He decided to give up and sit somewhere else.
He sat near a bunch of older students who seemed to take no interest in him, so Blaise settled down and looked around the room. The headmaster got up to speak, and Blaise was puzzled by his strange remarks. Was this man a little crazy? He couldn’t be, Blaise decided, if he was the headmaster.
The arrival of the food distracted him, and he chose a few sausages and began nibbling on them. He wasn’t very hungry, since he was still nervous about what Hogwarts would be like. By the time desert came out, though, he managed to find a bit more appetite for some pumpkin pie with globs of whipped cream.
After the feast ended, Blaise followed the other Slytherins back to the common room, yawning profusely. He was slightly dismayed to learn that he was sharing a room with Draco Malfoy, but he picked a bed nearest the window and farthest from Draco. There were two boys built with mammoth proportions that seemed to always be lurking behind Malfoy, and a weedy boy whose name Blaise hadn’t learned yet took the bed next to him.
Blaise ignored the others for now and organized his trunk, which had been placed near the door. Listening to the noise the others made moving around the room, Blaise drifted off to sleep.
A Blaze of Light by Leahr
Chapter Notes: Can you tell who he is before his name is said? Just for dramatic effect. It shouldn't be too hard, actually. Enjoy, and review please!
(Okay, I kind of gave it away in the summary, but never mind that.)