Stammerer

Chapter Two

"String from you tether unwinds

Up and outward but only to bind

I was spinning free

With a little sweet and simple numbing me"

Jimmy Eat World, "Sweetness"

Blaise Zabini hated gossip. He hated the wagging tongues, the scandalized looks, the smug faces of the people who did the gossiping. He hated the wild stories, the notorious people who were always at the center of the gossip. He hated when people did their utmost to be creators of gossip, Malfoy's recent spiral into insanity being a prime example. But most of all, he hated it when he was the center of gossip.

Tell me what do I need

When the words lose their meaning

He was generally overlooked, not a mover or a shaker, or a loud, arrogant arse-hole, Malfoy being another excellent example. He was quiet and didn't do much to incite notice. Though, of course, devilish good looks can change all that, he thought to himself with a smirk. He had really only gotten devastatingly attractive recently, the summer before his seventh year. A growth spurt had hit him (finally), and while he was not quite as tall as Malfoy, he was more broad-shouldered and was fairly sure he could hold his own in a bout of fisticuffs. Not that it would ever come to that. His and Draco's relationship was amiable enough, as long as they weren't hurling hexes at each other, which was occasionally known to happen. His features of late had also become more defined with less baby fat hanging around, and his tan-ish coloring only made his indigo eyes (inherited from his mother) stand out more. All in all, he was not really bad to look upon.

Which trait he blamed entirely for his venture into the world of the public eye (or, at least, Hogwarts' eye). That, and his sudden break-up with a popular Slytherin sixth-year. As if it was that big of a deal. The girl had been eyeing Corner, that Ravenclaw prat, for the past month. Blaise was slightly insulted. A Ravenclaw? Couldn't she pick a less tedious house to fancy? But then, on reconsidering her options, Gryffindor (red! shudder!) and Hufflepuff (no intellect required), he had to admit she had the right of it. So he had let her go. It wasn't worthy of all the fuss. Why it had everyone talking quite escaped him.

Some people were even so ridiculous as to believe that he did it so that he could go after a Hufflepuff, which seemed to be his house's wont of late. Not bloody likely. Malfoy had managed to snatch up the only one who wouldn't give him a headache just by being in her presence; Madeline Higgins didn't evoke that kind of pain. Susan Bones, however: headache. Hannah Abbott: migraine. Most of the sixth year Hufflepuff girls were worse, with a propensity to blush and break into giggles when anyone with a penis walked into the room. Although that orange-haired one had caught his eye once or twice, mostly before the hair had been dyed orange. If he was ever going to consider her, he'd demand her natural hair color. Glancing up from his breakfast, he could see her across the Great Hall, leaning out of her seat to have a conversation with the female Weasley at the next table. What was it, Haynes, Hayes? Something like that. He had heard his former girlfriends' group of friends talking about her once, a mixture of amusement, consternation, and downright confusion in their speech. The girl definitely drew a reaction. She was friends with a couple of Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw, but they all seemed to be rather loose screws as well. Rosemary Flint spoke well of her, and Malfoy even said she was worthy to be a Slytherin. She didn't look like a Slytherin, though. As short as Higgins, if not shorter, stub nose, wide blue eyes, and a slight dimple in her left cheek, she didn't fit the bill. Slytherins didn't have dimples. She was curvy, though; so much so that one could almost make out her shape through those voluminous robes everyone had to where. It was enough, at least, to spark the imagination. He'd never actually spoken to her, and would really rather take her behind the Quidditch shed than hold a conversation with the girl. Those full lips that now turned up in a grin at the red-haired Gryffindor deserved a thorough inspection. But she was feistier than Madeline. It would probably take some work to maneuver her into a comfortable position. A position preferably in a dark, private space, and with as little clothing involved as possible. Zabini smiled down into his porridge. That was enough to warm anyone's insides.

He simply decided, after enough warm Hufflepuff thoughts, that the entirety of Hogwarts was barking mad and that he should not worry himself with the rumors. They would blow over as soon as Boot did something new and terrifying.

Of course, later that day, he would find the object of his earlier musings eyeing him dubiously with the Golden Trio standing around her a few feet away from his table in the library. He rather enjoyed the wariness on her face. It sparked a need to fulfill that fear.

Potter was acting with true Gryffindor recklessness. Annoyed the hell out of Blaise, but he decided to play the situation for all it was worth. Hayes kept her eyes averted from him as much as she could, and he wondered if she had been having similar warm thoughts. She wasn't normally this shy. Fairly quiet, but he knew that didn't come from timidity. He decided her silence would be better put to use in a good snog.

Devious Slytherin bastard mind already at work, Blaise, seeing his opening, prompted slyly, "What's in it for me? Information like this doesn't come cheap."

Huh. Potter really believed money was an object with him. He quickly disabused the Gryffindor of that idea, and then presented his own idea of payment.

Hayes was a little resistant. "Oh, hell, no!"

"-for every question I have to answer. And if you ask over ten questions, she has to go to Hogsmeade with me the next trip."

Her eyes were on him now, and they were flashing certain death, and not a small amount of terror. He rather gathered she had little experience in this department; he decided he would be happy to teach her. Seeing her riled up was rather stirring for him, as well.

Zabini also announced the rules of the game, knowing that Granger and Hayes were probably smart enough to play his game efficiently. Potter and Weasley would, no doubt, botch it up. And Wonder Boy, hell bent on saving lives, sealed the deal while Hayes blustered and Granger frowned in disapproval and Weasley watched. He grinned widely. Today was a good day.

Sinking into sweet uncertainty.

But Caroline wasn't through. She grabbed the two Gryffindor boys by the collars of their robes and yanked them out of their chairs. "Would you excuse us for a moment?" she asked with mock politeness and gritted teeth. Granger stood as well.

Zabini frowned. "A team huddle was never part of the arrangement," he argued.

"You never said we couldn't, either," replied Caroline, then dragged Potter and Weasley behind a book shelf, Granger following after, before Zabini could utter another protest. Once there, she immediately smacked Harry in the back of the head. "What the hell are you thinking?" she hissed.

"That I need information about Voldemort," slight cringe from Ron, Caroline, and Hermione, "and Zabini may be able to provide it," he hissed back angrily, rubbing his head.

"But Zabini never even said he knew anything! You may begin questioning him and find out he is just as clueless as you are!"

"He wouldn't have agreed to talk to us if he actually didn't know-" Harry began, frowning.

"Is that what you think? Do I really need to remind you what house he belongs in?"

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter, I won't ever know if I don't ask him."

Caroline sighed in frustration.

"Whether he knows something or not, you two need to have a strategy for asking questions," said Hermione, surveying her men. "For Caroline's sake, you need to ask as few questions as possible. Talk to each other before you ask each question, and don't ask several in a row. I'm sure he'll be counting question marks."

"Also, phrase as many as you can as statements, not questions. That way they won't count at all," Caroline continued, silently blessing Hermione's intelligence. "Don't ask yes or no questions, ask questions that will require an explanation so you can get as much information out of one as possible."

"All right, all right, we've got it," interrupted Weasley, glancing around the side of the bookcase. "I think if we don't hurry back out there Zabini will come and drag us out himself."

Zabini was two seconds away from going behind that damn bookcase and dragging the lot of them out himself. He did not need the girls giving those wankers ideas. He also suspected Hayes might try to bolt; but then he remembered she was a Hufflepuff, and while she may not have shook hands on the agreement, she would probably feel obligated to see it out. Hayes shifted feet behind the shelf and he couldn't see her bright hair anymore. Probably feel obligated...

He breathed a sigh of relief when the ensemble returned, Hayes looking menacing and not at all pleased, but present. Remembering Malfoy's sentiment that she could be a Slytherin, however, and feeling one could never be too cautious, he indicated that she should come sit next to him.

She grew a little pale. "You said you would collect afterward."

"And I will. I just don't want you running off on me," Zabini replied, not wavering.

Hayes scowled heartily, but did as told, the Gryffindors watching her sympathetically as she moved to take the chair beside him. A foot away from the chair, though, she tripped.

"Oh, Otis! Don't do that!" the Hufflepuff exclaimed to the floor.

Perhaps she wasn't quite sane, thought Zabini a bit fearfully, but then he saw her stoop to pick up a black ball of fur, which Zabini soon recognized to be a cat. A short-haired feline it was, with odd bright blue eyes. The same odd bright blue eyes watched him intently, long tail swishing slightly as Caroline sat next to him. He was mesmerized by the cat.

"You named your cat 'Otis?!?'" asked Weasley, breaking Blaise out of his trance.

"I didn't name him, he's been in the family for generations," Hayes replied, then finished indignantly, "And there is nothing wrong with the name 'Otis!'"

"He gives me the creeps, whatever his name is," muttered Zabini.

Hayes raised a brow and responded dryly, "I'm so sorry to hear that."

Blaise shook his head, clearing it. "Right, whatever." He clapped his hands suddenly, face glowing. "Down to business. Proceed, Potter."

"Fine." Potter drew a deep breath, leaning forward in his seat slightly. "How close are you to Voldemort's inner circle?"

Zabini shrugged. "Not very," he replied shortly and vaguely.

Caroline glared at him.

Potter seemed like he wanted to clarify the answer by asking the question again, but Caroline shook her head vigorously at him.

"No communication!" shot Blaise, eyes flashing. "Take that as your only warning."

Ron whispered something to Harry, and the two had a brief muttered conversation. Potter was ready for the next attack. "How loyal are you to your master?"

"Very."

Hayes seemed a bit surprised, and the Gryffindors' expressions all became very dark. Zabini smirked, and then Hayes looked suspicious. He blew her a kiss.

"What does the Dark Lord intend to do next?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Kill muggles, torture muggle-borns, search the world over for the best cup of java, learn how to salsa dance, produce his own best-selling album, meet a nice witch to have red-eyed, snake-faced, ugly children. Standard stuff, really."

His response was met with astounded silence.

Blaise sighed, stroking his chin, watching their expressions in mild amusement. When he believed he had let them ponder enough, he said, "Actually, Potter, I'm not quite sure what his next move will be. He neglected to fill me in."

Harry frowned. "Then where is he right now?"

"Not a fucking clue."

"Well, what good are you then?" asked a peeved Weasley.

Hermione reached over and pinched her boyfriend. Caroline growled. Zabini grinned.

Harry, with narrowed eyes, seemed to wise up. "Do you know any information that would be helpful in tracking down, finding, or fighting Voldemort?"

Looking thoughtful, Blaise considered. "No."

"But you said you were very loyal to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" exclaimed Ron, who quickly shrugged away from Granger. "That wasn't a question, so he can't count it!"

"I never said that," contradicted Zabini conversationally. "He asked if I was loyal to my master. And I am." A slow, sly smile crept onto his face. "I am my master."

"You absolute prat!" cried Caroline, unable to maintain her silence any longer.

Potter rose with dignity from his chair, looking mightily miffed. "We're through here," he announced tightly.

"Yes, yes, do leave," agreed Blaise, waving a hand in dismissal, using the other hand to press Hayes' wrist firmly to the arm of the chair, stilling her attempts to go as well. Watching the Gryffindors exit the library, Zabini could feel Caroline's pulse speed up. And he had thought that taunting Gryffindors was fun.

I was spinning free

With a little sweet and simple numbing me.

What a dizzy dance

This sweetness will not be concerned with me.