Chapter 7- But I Never Really Noticed
The fading red glow of sunset through the windows illuminated Draco Malfoy’s too-pale face and the crow’s feet etched as though they had been permanently embedded around his eyes, giving him a freakish, eerie, half-dead look. Blaise’s eyes widened.
“Draco?”
“What?” Draco growled, his voice weak and cracking as he spoke. “Stop staring at me, will you?”
“You’ve looked a bit off-peak for months now, Draco, but this is beyond a bout of flu. Have you been to Madame Pomfrey?” Blaise said with concern. It wasn’t his problem if Draco was ill, but he was alarmed that his housemate resembled an Inferius more than a human.
“That meddlesome Dumbledore-loving harpy? I don’t think so.” Draco gave a rattling cough that belied his next words. “I’m fine, Zabini, leave me alone.” He tried to push past Blaise.
“Draco,” Blaise said with exasperation, and Draco reluctantly looked him in the eye.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Draco said, backing down a little. “I’m under a bit of pressure at the moment-”
“A bit?” Blaise snorted. “More like a rock the size of Sisyphus’s.”
“Yeah,” Draco said defiantly. “I’m coping. I’ve just got a lot on my plate.”
“You haven’t thought of asking for help?” Blaise said tentatively.
“Are you joking?” Draco said, sounding for a moment like his old self. “What if they messed with what I’m doing? And if- when I succeed, they’ll take all the credit. I know their plans.” A sour look crossed his face. “I’ve got to go, Blaise. Thanks for- for asking.” Despite his standoffish attitude, Blaise knew Draco was grateful that someone had cared enough to ask.
After one last moment, Draco broke eye contact and turned away from him, practically flying down the hall. Blaise stood still for a minute instead of going on towards the Slytherin dungeon.
He tried to think about what Draco’s secret might be- he respected Draco’s wish to not share what he was doing, but that didn’t mean Blaise didn’t want to know. Draco didn’t love his father, not really, but Blaise thought he was more upset by his father’s arrest last year than he’d ever let on.
But he suspected Draco’s changed character and appearance had more to do with the Dark Lord directly. A stray memory of Draco on the train last September surfaced.
“I might not even be at Hogwarts next year. I might have moved on to bigger and better things.”
“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.”
Blaise remembered his impression that Draco might actually have gotten a job for the Dark Lord. But no one had mentioned anything again, and he hadn’t thought to connect Draco’s ill, washed-out appearance with it. Until now. What exactly was Draco Malfoy up to?
Sighing, Blaise made his way back to his common room. As he settled down on his bed with a stack of books, he thought wryly that if he told himself one more time to keep his eyes and ears open, the holes in his head would grow so wide that his brain would fall out.
The next morning, Blaise was unusually tired and grumpy. He hadn’t slept well, worries floating through his head and interrupting his sleep throughout the night, and he made his way through the common room with a scowl.
“Blaise?” a high-pitched, unpleasant voice called from behind him.
Blaise turned, surprised to see it was Daphne Greengrass. “What?” he demanded.
“I heard about your run-in yesterday,” she said, looking at him with suspicion.
“So?” Blaise said. Dozens of students had seen him running and the men chasing him. Rumors were bound to get around. “What’s your point?” he said, wanting nothing more than to get away and get some breakfast.
“Can I talk to you for a minute? In the corner, I mean,” she added when Blaise looked at her sarcastically.
“Fine,” he grumbled, and followed her to a quiet end of the room.
“What did you mean by attacking those men yesterday?” she hissed, surprising him.
“What did I mean by what? They were threatening me, and they were strangers who really shouldn’t have been in Hogwarts.”
“Be honest with me, will you?” Daphne accused, her beady eyes piercing.
“I am,” Blaise said. “Perfectly. Are you calling me a liar?”
Daphne didn’t respond directly, but said bluntly, “Are you joining the Dark Lord?”
Blaise drew a slow, measured breath. “That,” he said quietly, “is a stupid question to ask someone. And my personal plans are not currently up for discussion.”
“You’ve been avoiding a lot of people, Blaise,” Daphne accused, glaring at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, even if most people haven’t. You know what I think?”
“I think I’m about to learn,” Blaise said drily, but she ignored him.
“I think you’re a coward. I think you’re too scared to do anything. And a Gryffindor calling you a coward is practically a compliment, but I’m a Slytherin, and I think you’re being utterly pathetic,” she spat.
“I see,” Blaise said, a bit shocked at her vitriolic tone.
“I think you’re a pathetic git and a fool, too. What kind of a pureblood are you?” Daphne’s tone rose to a grating screech.
“Look, Daphne,” Blaise said, looking down into her dark, angry eyes, “I’m not standing here to be abused. I’ll ask you again. What’s your point?”
“To tell you what I think of you unless you change your path!” Daphne exclaimed with even more fury, as if she was upset that he even had to ask. “I’m giving up on you, Zabini, you cowardly scum.”
Shoving him in an attempt to run past him, she dashed away in the direction of the girls’ dormitories. Blaise stood still for a moment, and he thought he heard her make a strange, strangled sound as she disappeared through the doorway.
At the Slytherin table, he was unsurprised that she didn’t show up for breakfast. He slid into a seat next to Theodore.
“How are you, mate?” Theodore asked casually. Theodore, like Draco, had been upset by his father’s capture and imprisonment, but his moodiness and occasional nasty comments were nothing compared to how Draco was now.
“Rotten, actually.”
“What’s up, Blaise?” Tracey Davis, Theodore’s blonde girlfriend asked. Theodore was always marginally more pleasant when she was around- she had a good effect on his mood.
Blaise shrugged. “Slept badly, and just now Daphne Greengrass gave me a major telling-off. Not sure what was with that, but it was a bad start to my morning.”
“You don’t know why?” Tracey said, leaning in closer. She loved a good gossip, and Blaise could see her grey eyes widening eagerly.
“No, I don’t, didn’t I say? Why, do you know?” he asked, giving her the chance that she was obviously going to take anyway.
“She’s been mad about you for ages, isn’t it obvious?”
“Sorry?” Blaise didn’t register her words.
“She. Fancies. You.” Tracey repeated in a slow voice
reserved for people who were being thick. “Well, fancied you. From the sound of it.” She giggled at Blaise. “You’re actually surprised?”
“I’ve barely said five sentences to her all year, until today,” Blaise protested. “Why would she care about me?”
“Girls are unfathomable, Blaise,” Theodore said with a grin, and Tracey giggled again.
“You do have the silent, mysterious loner thing going for you,” she offered. “But how could you not have noticed? She’s had a thing for you for a while.”
“She did send me a letter this summer,” Blaise remembered.
“You are oblivious, aren’t you,” Theodore said, laughing. “How obvious did she need to be?”
“Well, it’s over now,” Blaise said. “I’m apparently a ‘pathetic wimp,’ and she’s declared herself to be giving up on me.”
Tracey clucked sympathetically. “Missed your chance, I’m afraid.”
She began to talk with a seventh-year girl sitting farther away, and Blaise lapsed into silence, moodily chewing a piece of toast.
He had never really thought about Daphne- girls usually ignored him, and he had never thought that she was interested in him. She wasn’t amazingly pretty, but when he thought about it, she was kind of good-looking, but not really his type. And her personality was as grating as her voice.
“Where does she get off, calling me a coward?” Blaise muttered inaudibly into his toast. Who needed her good opinion? True, he didn’t want to join the Dark Lord, but not because he was afraid. It was probably just as dangerous to refuse. And whatever he did was entirely his own business anyway.
Forget Daphne, he told himself firmly. No great loss there. You never even noticed her, and there are much better fish in the sea. Not that his lifestyle of the near future promised much time to socialize- chances were he’d have to go into hiding. Someday, when there was peace, perhaps.
Blaise snatched another piece of toast and slathered it liberally with marmalade to distract himself from his despondent, restless feelings.
* * *
“Class dismissed,” Professor McGonagall said sharply. Blaise was thinking hard, and stayed in his seat for longer than usual, gathering his papers up.
“Zabini?” a quiet voice said from far too close. Blaise jumped, and realized McGonagall was standing right next to him, and the last few students were leaving the room.
“Yes, Professor?”
“Are you feeling all right, Zabini? You haven’t moved for a few minutes,” she said.
“Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I was just distracted for a moment.”
“I see.” She lowered her voice. “The headmaster has told me of your talk with him.”
“Yes?” Blaise said.
“I just thought I’d tell you that I am aware of the situation. You may come to me if there are any new developments and you can’t reach the Headmaster. You may also find it reassuring to know that a few improvements have been made to the castle’s protections, although we are still not entirely sure how those men got in.”
“Oh.”
“Has anything happened?” McGonagall asked curiously, her gaze uncomfortably sharp.
“No, not really,” Blaise said, examining the wood of his desk.
“Not really?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Blaise said, the words coming out more harshly then he’d meant them. “I was told off by another Slytherin. I don’t think it was connected to a threat.”
“Ah, in that case,” McGonagall said, not finishing her sentence. “Well, good luck, Zabini. You may go.”
Theodore was standing outside the classroom, surprising Blaise. “What did the old witch want with you?” he sneered.
Blaise shrugged, wishing Tracey were with him. He really didn’t like spending time with Theodore these days when she was somewhere else. He had a sudden strong feeling that he had to tread very carefully here.
“She’s suspicious of me, for some reason.” He smirked at his friend. “Can’t think why, eh? I mind my own business. Don’t we all?”
Theodore snorted. “Ha. You’re the lucky one.” He started walking, leaving Blaise to wonder what his cryptic comment meant.
When Blaise returned to his room, he sat down hard on his bed intending to rest for a few minutes. A crinkling sound alerted him to the fact that he’d just sat on a piece of paper. He lifted it from the bedclothes and discovered it was a letter addressed to him, in his mother’s handwriting.
“What on earth could she possibly have to say to me?” Blaise muttered aloud.
A Blaze of Light by Leahr
Chapter Endnotes: Come on! I know people are reading this. Don't be lazy, now. Couldn't you please give me a review? Constructive criticism welcome.
Thank you.