Chapter Four- Husband Seven and a Curious Train Ride
“I do.”
“I do.”
Mrs. Paxton, mother of Blaise Zabini, was resplendent in her white wedding gown, frills of carefully arranged lace and ribbon over smooth ivory satin. Her smile had the same quality of carven, smooth tranquil perfection as a museum statue. Blaise tried to suppress a yawn as the Ministry official performing the wedding blathered on about love and happiness, using every hackneyed expression under the sun. Mr. Paxton, at least, was decent to Blaise, or he had been polite at least, during the handful of times they’d met.
Blaise wished his mother had waited longer before remarrying- Mr. Dempster had died in October, and it was only August now. Still, Mr. Paxton didn’t seem to mind. He was a pale, washed-out looking man who surprised Blaise with the obvious depth of feeling he had for his wife.
Blaise hoped strongly that his mother really loved her seventh husband and that the marriage would last for many years, with no accidents or sudden illnesses. He had had enough of coming home to a different mansion every other year. He was tired of the taunts and funny looks, and he wanted his sixth year at Hogwarts to be better than the last five. It was nice to actually get mail in the summer- both Theodore and Draco had written at least twice so far, and he had written to them. He’d also gotten a letter from Daphne Greengrass, on vulgar flowered stationary, which he hadn’t bothered replying to.
Blaise made his way into the banquet hall and placed the order at his plate for roast beef and potatoes. He sipped his pumpkin juice and tried to pretend he was at any old party, not his mother’s seventh wedding. A few guests wandered by and congratulated him in voices making an effort to be cheery. Blaise responded coolly but politely, for his mother’s sake. He couldn’t wait for it all to be over.
* * *
Blaise walked through the barrier and emerged on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters into a muddle of families and luggage and tearful goodbyes. His mother hadn’t seen him off at the platform since his second year, and he told himself he was glad she wasn’t embarrassingly effusive, like some of the women he saw around here.
He spotted Crabbe and Goyle shoving Draco’s distinctive trunk onto the train- it had the Malfoy family coat of arms next to the Slytherin crest. Blaise lifted his own trunk too- he had grown much stronger over the last year- and jumped aboard the train to find Draco or Theodore. He joined both of them in a compartment where Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle also sat. All of them greeted him briefly and continued talking about their summers.
"I heard your mother got remarried this summer, Blaise," Pansy sneered.
"That's right," he said, keeping his expression blank. Pansy glanced uncertainly at Draco, who didn't seem inclined to join in her teasing, and she moved on instead to asking Theodore if he fancied a Hufflepuff girl who he had apparently mentioned.
There was a noise in the corridor, and Blaise looked up to see the red-headed Ron Weasley, his shiny prefect badge prominent on his robes, making a face at the Slytherins in the compartment. Draco was the first to act, making a rude hand gesture at the door. Goyle stood up, cracking his knuckles and stretching, and Weasley quickly disappeared from view. The Slytherins burst out laughing, even Blaise joining in.
"Rotten cowardly scum, for a Gryffindor," Theodore laughed.
Blaise added, "Nice move, Goyle."
"His rat bit your finger once, didn't it?" Draco asked, and Goyle nodded, scowling menacingly.
Blaise got up and stretched, heading for the corridor. It was rather cramped in the compartment, and he felt like walking about. As he stepped out the door, a small girl stepped in his way.
"What is it?" he growled, not used to younger students wanting to talk to him.
"I'm- I'm supposed to give this to Blaise Zabini," she said, stuttering at sharp glare he had turned on her, and holding out a small scroll of paper ostentatiously tied with violet ribbon. For a moment he wildly imagined it was from his mother- violet was one of her signature colors- but he realized that was ridiculous, she would have sent him an owl. And what would she have to say to him, after all?
He took the parchment with a gruff word of thanks and leaned against the wall of the train to read it.
Blaise Zabini,
You may not have heard of me, so I will briefly introduce myself. I am your new Professor, Horace Slughorn. I taught at Hogwarts years ago, and I have come out of retirement to return to my old place on staff. I am in Compartment C on this train, and I would be delighted if you could join me for a spot of lunch, along with a few other students.
Yours sincerely,
Professor H.E.F. Slughorn
The note was in swirly, old-fashioned handwriting written with dark violet ink. Blaise stared at it, perplexed. What did this man want with him? Maybe going would be worthwhile, just to see what would happen. This could be interesting.
Compartment C had several occupants already- the most prominent among them a disgustingly fat, bald old man in an expensive velvet suit who had to be Professor Slughorn. The others were a couple of boys Blaise knew vaguely, including Cormac McLaggen, whose stupid stunts had earned him a sort of fame among gossipers, and Marcus Belby, a complete wash-up of a Ravenclaw. Blaise heard a lot more of Hogwarts gossip now that Pansy was dating Draco. There was also a pretty redheaded girl huddled in the corner, looking annoyed, that Blaise identified as Ginny Weasley.
He had met Ginny before, and even argued with her a few times in the corridors about Muggleborns. Blaise rather liked the way she fought, with humor and wisecracks that were actually quite funny, but he couldn't understand how she could like Mudbloods or think they were worth anything. They obviously weren't born to the wizarding world and simply didn't belong, or deserve to be anything more than second-class citizens at best. Ginny hadn't liked it at all when he had told her as much.
He didn't have much time to think, though, for Professor Slughorn was pushing his great bulk off the seat to greet him.
"Blaise, my boy! Excellent, excellent to see you, I'm so glad you could come." Slughorn put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me introduce you to the others!"
Blaise nodded coolly at each introduction, not really wanting to get to know anyone else there. Most did acknowledge him, even Ginny, who glared, remembering their arguments. He couldn't help but smile slightly in response. She really was very pretty, but not really his type. She was taken aback by his response, but decided to ignore it. Slughorn noticed nothing, because Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom walked in just then, and he greeted them enthusiastically, with the enthusiasm mostly directed at Harry. Blaise noticed Ginny's eyes also followed Harry closely as he sat down, and he wondered how those two got along.
"Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course-" Slughorn said, and Blaise raised his gaze to Harry, who said nothing. It was the first time they had ever really made eye contact. Harry seemed to be glaring at him, and Blaise guessed it was only because he was a Slytherin, since they had never had anything to do with each other. It wasn't as though he really wanted to talk to the scar-face boy, anyway. Or as if Draco would let him survive if he did.
Slughorn started to interview Belby, and Blaise began to realize what was going on. Slughorn was trying to suck up to students with connections. But Blaise wasn't related to anyone in the Ministry. Had Slughorn invited him by mistake? Unless- the idea occurred to him for the first time- perhaps his father was, or had been, well-connected. Blaise didn't know if anyone else knew who he was. Did Slughorn?
"So, Blaise," Slughorn began, turning to him. Blaise braced himself for the unknown coming. Would Slughorn attack him, mock him, praise him? He wished he could know in advance, but he was about to find out.
"I remember your mother, you know, at Hogwarts. Not a top student or anything, but not half bad either. No, not at all. Quite brilliant at Charms, actually, in particular." Blaise looked at his eyes, wondering if the professor was going to taunt him. Professor Slughorn's beady eyes were, however, quite honest and open, happily reminiscing about old times, and eagerly watching Blaise's face. "And of course, quite beautiful! I don't think there was a boy in the school whose head didn't turn when she walked by. Only old Professor Binns didn't notice her, I suppose! She really did have striking- no, astonishing- features. You look quite like her, only much more masculine, of course. And she did quite well for herself, I hear. Care for a pheasant?"
Blaise nodded, a little disturbed now by the constant stares of everyone else in the compartment, all examining his features closely, but he was determined not to look like he was bothered. He took a bite of the bird, not worried that he would choke like that idiot Belby had a few minutes ago. Slughorn scooped up some chocolate truffles and gobbled them down greedily, barely chewing them.
"Yes, she married wealth, didn't she? Quite a few times, too. Just this summer I heard she married her..." he paused, hoping Blaise would fill in the number. Blaise resolutely remained silent, not wanting to help Slughorn in any way.
"Ah, seventh husband, wasn't it? Mr. Paxton. Wonderful man, I had him as a student too. Kind and caring, and very wealthy too!"
Blaise was beyond embarrassed at this point. He hated the man with all of his guts. This was the stuff of his nightmares, having to sit silently while his mother's doings were revealed to a staring crowd of students. Slughorn was a little disconcerted by his wall of silence, and moved on to interrogate Neville. Blaise nearly collapsed with relief.
When Slughorn moved on to Potter, Blaise listened a little more closely. He'd always been rather fascinated with Potter, somehow. They were so different- Potter was always in trouble, in danger. Always a hero- saving others, saving the wizarding world. He seemed to hate fame and publicity, and he had much more of it than Blaise did, that was certain. Both boys were Parselmouths, although no one knew that about Blaise, and he also had only a few close friends, although they were much closer to him than Draco and Theodore were to Blaise. Blaise had never quite understood the source of Draco's rivalry with Potter, but it was definite and well-established at this point.
However interested Blaise was in Potter's doings, Slughorn was overpraising him to no small extent. Blaise had seen him in classes, and he was perfectly average.
"-powers well beyond the ordinary-" Slughorn was saying. Blaise coughed politely but skeptically, just as a gesture to himself that he too could show his rudeness to Potter, if not quite as obviously as Draco did. He was surprised when a reaction came from, of all people, Ginny Weasley. He remembered the way she had watched Harry as he'd entered the carriage, and made a mental note.
"Yeah, Zabini," she said scornfully, "because you're so talented...at posing..."
Blaise met her eyes, and saw she really knew his nasty blank looks didn't match his emotions. He was impressed with her again. No one else had ever called him a poser to his face, and he so often acted emotionless to cover his feelings. Still, he couldn't let an insult go by, and he made a skeptical face at her. Slughorn informed them all of her cursing ability, which Blaise had seen before- she'd cursed Draco once when he had been bullying a first year. Gryffindor had lost a lot of points that day. He was surprised Slughorn had been impressed enough to invite her to his luncheon, even though she was a blood traitor, he thought contemptuously, allowing the expression to show on his face.
Slughorn told many long stories, all very dull, and Blaise ignored him for most of it. He had learned how to tune people out years ago, and instead he daydreamed about the snakes at Hogwarts, and what his classes would be like this year. The trip was nearing an end when Slughorn finally let them go. Blaise exchanged glares with the Gryffindors and headed back to his compartment with the other Slytherins.
When he reached the compartment, Blaise tried to close the door. It jammed, for some reason, and he said angrily, "What's wrong with this thing?" The others had
stopped talking and were looking up at him. Blaise banged the door so hard he went toppling sideways as it jerked the opposite direction, and landed smack on top of Goyle, not a place he wanted to be. Goyle flung him off and slammed the door shut, and Blaise finally got to sit down, feeling annoyed.
He noticed Draco was stretched out across several seats with his head in Pansy Parkinson’s lap. Blaise made a barely perceptible unpleasant face. Watching his mother was enough, he didn’t like watching Pansy act like that.
Draco, though, had a rather funny look on his face, and he was staring at the reflection of their compartment in the window.
“So, Zabini,” he said, “what did Slughorn want?”
“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” said Blaise, still grumpy, “not that he managed to find many.”
Draco demanded to know who the others were, and Blaise obediently began a list of those he remembered. Draco, as Blaise had known he would, did not react well to the mention of Longbottom. He tried not to smirk. Draco was not a good person to laugh at, unless you happened to be bigger than Crabbe and Goyle combined.
“…think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!” Pansy said, looking sideways at Draco. Blaise caught a particular barb in her never-exactly-pleasant voice, and felt it was meant at him, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Marking it to think about later in the back of his mind, he took up the more obvious gauntlet instead, knowing she needed that reassurance of Draco, which he was all too happy to give.
“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like,” Blaise said, and watched her satisfied smile as Draco sank back onto her lap.
“Well, I pity Slughorn’s taste. Maybe he’s going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn’t heard I’m on the train, or-“
Blaise was in a mood for conversational game-playing, and Draco didn’t seem to be in a violent mood, so it was probably safe to tell him something. “I wouldn’t bank on an invitation,” he said, and explained his guess that Slughorn was avoiding Death Eaters and consequently, Draco, though that last bit he didn’t actually say outright. Draco still looked angry, but let out a forced laugh and declared it didn’t matter to him.
“I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what’s it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?”
“What do you mean, you might not be at Hogwarts next year?” Pansy said indignantly. Blaise wondered if she really cared, or if she was just upset that he hadn’t told her everything. No, Pansy really does like him, Blaise reminded himself. But what was Draco talking about? No one skipped year seven at Hogwarts. That was a major year, even forgetting N.E.W.T.s. Why was he-
“I might have- er- moved on to bigger and better things,” Draco said, with a weird expression on his face Blaise had never seen on him before. He stared at Draco with unconcealed curiosity.
“Do you mean- HIM?” Pansy breathed. Draco shrugged.
“Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don’t see it as that important these days. I mean, think about it…when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone’s got? Of course he isn’t…it’ll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown.”
Blaise was rather surprised. He was no idiot, and he was in Slytherin- he knew all kinds of things about the Dark Lord and how he operated, even if he had never wanted to join himself, and he didn’t think the Dark Lord would give any assignments to a student, even a Malfoy.
“And you think you’ll be able to do something for him? Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?”
Malfoy looked past him, past all of them, staring into the distance.
“Maybe he doesn’t care if I’m qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn’t something you need to be qualified for,” Draco said quietly.
Blaise looked around, and could tell no one else really quite believed Draco had actually received an assignment from the Dark Lord. Crabbe and Goyle, admittedly, always looked rather dull, but they seemed to be more in shock at what Malfoy was saying than anything else. Pansy was impressed, but more at the strength of his daring announcement than anything else. She probably thought that his parents had told him he’d get an assignment after he graduated, and he was trying to impress her. Blaise was tempted to believe that too, but something about the look on Draco’s face changed his mind. Draco had gotten a job from the Dark Lord- though he had no idea why or what it could be, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask. Blaise shivered slightly.
They were nearly at Hogwarts, and Blaise changed into his robes. When the train stopped, everyone left the car.
Blaise realized a moment later that Draco had stayed behind, but shrugged, figuring he was simply packing up his trunk.
Draco ran up a few minutes later, jumping onto their carriage just before it pulled away from the station. Blaise realized he was terribly hungry, despite his lunch in Slughorn’s compartment, and he could hardly wait for the feast to start.
Snape and Hagrid were missing from the row of teachers, but nothing else seemed notable this year, Blaise thought. The Hat gave another warning about inter-house unity, which Blaise thought a hopeless cause since all the Gryffindors hated them so much. The food came out at last, and Blaise dug in with unusual eagerness.
There was a bang at the doors to the Great Hall, and the whole Hall gradually fell silent as Harry Potter charged down the aisle and people started to notice him. He was followed by an angry-looking Snape, who headed immediately to his seat. Blaise caught a quick look at Potter before he sat down, and was shocked to see his face covered in blood.
“What happened to Potter?” he asked aloud. He wasn’t the only one, either, judging by the buzz of sound that was filling the Hall.
Draco was sitting across from him and Theodore, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. “I happen to be the only Slytherin who knows the answer to that,” Draco said loudly, and everyone sitting nearby leaned in to listen. “I’ve known for a while, see, that Potter has an Invisibility Cloak, and on the train I saw things that made me suspicious.”
Things went click in Blaise’s head. “The door wouldn’t close!” he gasped.
Draco nodded. “Exactly.”
“But where was he hiding? You were sitting on all the extra seats!” Pansy said.
“Simple. The luggage rack, of course. I saw his sneaker for a second, and I heard him make a sound. I just put two and two together,” Draco said with affected modesty.
“So that’s why you kept staring at the window reflection, to see if you could get a glimpse of him without alerting him,” Blaise said.
“Right!” Draco laughed. “And what do you think I did?”
“Is it connected to the blood on Potter’s face, maybe?” Pansy sniggered.
“When you all left, I petrified him so he fell off the rack, then I stepped on his nose to break it. I was hoping no one would find him, I told him to enjoy his ride back to London, since no one would see him under his own cloak.” Draco sniggered. “I guess he has a bodyguard or something to baby him, since someone apparently found him. Lucky for him. But breaking his nose- ah, that was good.” Draco mimed smashing in his own nose, and laughed, obviously enjoying it. Some of the nearby listening Slytherins laughed too. Blaise felt rather sickened. He could never enjoy inflicting suffering, even on Potter. It was just- wrong. Sometimes you had to use curses and things, but to enjoy it-
Draco told the story to anyone who asked for it over the course of the feast. Blaise was getting sick of hearing it. He was also rather tired, and was glad when the feast ended and he could go to bed. Following the crowd of chattering Slytherins to the door in the dungeons, Blaise found his trunk in its place by his bed and happily prepared for sleep.