The Story of Blaise Zabini

Chapter 17

An Unexpected Guest

It's worse than I thought. Much worse.

Not only is Draco avoiding me - at least I think he is; I haven't seen him since the fight with Pansy - but I am sentenced to a whole year without going to Hogsmeade.

I received an owl this morning and it said that my punishment for fighting with Pansy didn't start until next year, since this year was almost over. At that point, I was thinking I'd gotten off lightly. That was until I read on. The letter then said that, due to my uncalled for and unorthodox behaviour, I was therefore banned from the village for the whole of my sixth year. Talk about harsh ...

And now, instead of taking the last few days of my fifth year easy, I'm spending it fretting over Draco and next year. I can't say the fight with Pansy was worth it, but it does make me feel better whenever I remember the sound of her nose breaking. It's almost like music to my ears. And speaking of Pansy, I wonder if her punishment was as harsh as mine. Let's hope so.

After a garbled explanation last night, Lydia now thinks I fought with Pansy because she was trying her level best to seduce Draco, so he would dump me and get back with her. I could hardly tell her the real reason, and, when you think about it, technically, I'm not lying to her; Pansy was flirting with Jeff to get back at me and eventually win Draco once more. Alright, I know it's a flimsy excuse but I had to think fast before I blurted out the whole ugly scenario and suffered six weeks of not knowing whether she ditched him or not.

When I finally saw Draco that night, he was a blur of robes as he rushed straight past me and out into the corridor to do his Prefect duties. So he is avoiding me. Brilliant. I can't think what he's angry with me for; I mean, sure, I landed a few on his ex, but what's that got to do with anything? He should be rooting for me really, it's not like anyone likes Pansy anyway - well, except for Jeff, and let's face it, he likes anything with a pulse. Perfect for Pansy, the slut.

Hopefully, before I go home for the holidays, Draco and I will be back on speaking terms, and I can put this whole incident behind me. Now that I've no longer got Hogsmeade weekends to look forward to, next year is going to be very dull indeed; I just hope the holidays will be marginally interesting to make up for it.

***

I was sat in a compartment with a couple of third years; Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Theodore Nott were joined in their compartment by Pansy and Millicent, so you can imagine I was in no mood to sit with them. The third years kept glancing at me with gaping expressions; they must have seen the fight with Pansy. Well at least some people are impressed.

Apart from the odd giggle and breezy voice from the third years, there was silence in our compartment. The image of Pansy flirting outrageously with Draco keeps entering my mind, but I keep squashing it with one of George, Izzy and my grandma, awaiting my arrival at the station. I can't wait to see them - though I know how they'll react when they find out I've been fighting.

When I'd had my fill of high pitched and tittering third years - and believe me, they can get very annoying sometimes - I left the compartment, and wandered down the train, just for something to do. I passed the compartment I should have been in, and saw - to my utter horror - that Pansy was giggling and curling her fingers in Draco's hair. Draco didn't look too pleased about the arrangements either, for which I was extremely glad, but he didn't notice me pass by the window, which almost made me jump into the compartment and break Pansy's fingers for ever going anywhere near Draco.

The train pulled into the station not long after that, and I hurried to get my stuff from the luggage racks. The third years let me pass first - still looking at me in awe, which I was getting fed up of - so I was one of the first off the train and through the barrier into King's Cross.

George, Izzy and my grandma were there, smiling as usual at my return and I went over and did the usual hugging and welcoming back thing. Of course, in the car on the way to Kensington Manor, I was berated almost non-stop for "brawling with another student," as my grandma put it, to which I replied that Pansy had gotten exactly what she deserved, and that I wasn't a bit sorry. That stopped them all in their tracks and I didn't hear another word about it for a long time after.

When the car pulled up at the Manor, I was probably the first to jump out. Glancing back, I saw my grandma look pointedly at George and Izzy who looked back doubtfully. I wondered at the exchange but shrugged and wandered into the grand entrance hall of the Manor. Then I stopped and my mouth fell open.

Because, there, at the bottom of the marble staircase, stood a man I'd never seen in my life but whom I had no trouble recognising.

It was my father.

Through the haze of confusion and thoughts spiralling through my mind, I felt someone put a hand on my shoulder. George looked down at me hesitantly, but kindly. I turned and looked over at my father - father! - and found that my mouth was stumbling over one sentence.

"What do you want?" I asked flatly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but George interrupted him mid-word.

"Nelson wanted the chance to see you, Blaise," he said softly.

I shrugged his hand from my shoulder and snorted with derision.

Nelson Zabini - I refuse to call him dad - was quite tall, with dark hair and skin, and brown eyes that looked almost black. It was almost like looking at a male version of myself and I can see which of my parent's features I've inherited the most of. The only things I seem to have inherited from my mom are her eyes, which were blue.

"Blaise," he said hoarsely, as though his emotions are trying to overcome him. "My God, Blaise ..."

Whether he was expecting me to jump into his arms in a tearful reunion, or show some kind of emotion other than disgust, I don't know. When I made no move or sign of what I was going to do, he sighed and blinked a couple of times, like he was going to cry.

Dammit, he has no right to cry. He can't just walk into my life and expect me to welcome him with open arms, just because he's my father and because he's finally developed a conscience. Merlin, I'm surprised I haven't tried to wipe the pathetically tearful smile from his face yet. Maybe I should start by telling him all the things he's missed while he's been off gallivanting somewhere and with someone. All the things he's never bothered to find out because he decided to walk out on me and my mother; yeah, that'd be a great place to start, because he deserves to know exactly what I think of him.

But at that moment, George went over to Nelson, and they embraced like brothers. After a hesitant glance at me, Izzy joined them, tears in her own eyes, whereupon they all looked at me expectantly.

Only my grandma hadn't moved. She did now though, standing beside me, and placing an arm around my shoulders protectively. She knows what's running through my head, because she's thinking the same thing.

"Eleanor," Nelson says pleadingly. "I know we've never seen eye to eye, but -"

"Eye to eye!" my grandma blazes. "No, Nelson, you're right; we haven't. Not since you left my daughter for dead, while she was pregnant with your child!"

"I know this is hard; don't make it any more difficult." Nelson had the nerve to patronise my grandmother.

"She's got every fucking right to make it difficult!" I shouted, and everyone's eyes swivelled around to look at me. "Don't act like you're not to blame!"

My grandmother's arm tightened on my shoulder and I could feel her shaking slightly. "Blaise, language," she said calmly, though her voice wavered a bit.

"I can see you've done a wonderful job of raising her," Nelson commented wryly. "Very commendable."

"At least she was there!" I yelled, wanting to fly at that obnoxious, arrogant face and let rip with every single angry and painful feeling he'd caused me in my life. "At least she didn't abandon me! Mom wasn't too good at it either, but she did a damn sight more than you!"

The fight looked like it had drawn itself from Nelson's body. His shoulders drooped and he looked defeated. Then he glanced up at me, pleading me with his eyes to understand him, to listen to everything he wanted to say.

"Blaise ...?" he said, his voice almost a whine.

"No," I said venomously and turned my back on him.

There was another staircase off to the left that led to the third floor, too, so I practically ran up that and into my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. Diving on my bed, I didn't cry, like the last time Nelson had been mentioned; instead I pummelled the pillow like it was his stupid, fucking face, and growled when feathers began to flutter out from the seams, like it was all his fault.

The curtains were drawn back from the French window, and I looked out. The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows from the trees in the grounds onto the grass. The sky was an angry red, which suited me just fine, given that I'd just told my father to fuck off. The fluffy golden clouds kind of spoiled the horizon, though, as they reminded of the pillow I'd just ripped to shreds - one more thing to feel guilty about, I suppose, so no harm done.

It was a long time before I moved. I was sat at the window, leaning against the frame and looking out at the endless horizon, trying not to think about Nelson and George and Izzy and my grandma. Oh and Draco. Definitely not ... Oh what the hell, thinking of Draco is probably the only thing keeping me sane here; whether or not I've alienated him. I still have hope that things will work out between us. God, it seems so long ago that I was pummelling the crap out of Pansy's face ...

There was a knock on the door later, and I got up, fully expecting Nelson, trying one last desperate attempt to get me to listen to him before he packed up and left again. Because he would do that, I was sure of it.

Instead, my grandma stood on the threshold, her face taut and strained from the events of the evening. She smiled softly when she saw me.

"Mind if I come in?" she asked gently.

"No," I said expressionlessly, and went back to my position at the window.

My grandmother walked in, shutting the door behind her. She took a seat on my bed and sighed. I glanced at her, noticing how tired she looked all of a sudden.

"They'd been planning this for a while," she said quietly. "George and Isabelle -" she always calls Izzy by her full name - "were so sure you would be glad to see him. I knew better, but I had hoped ... well, the point is, I've remembered why I never liked him," she said frankly. "He always was a pretentious little snob; always thought he was better than me and your mother."

"Then why didn't you set George and Izzy straight?" I asked suddenly. "If you knew all this was going to happen, why didn't you just tell them what he was really like?"

"Nelson has a way of appealing to people; George and Izzy are enamoured with him. Say he's been a close friend of theirs for years. How could I argue with that? And I didn't want to start a row."

"All they had to do was ask me and I would've told them; I don't want a father. I've got everyone I need here and at school." I was on the verge of tears and horrified that my voice was starting to wobble.

"Oh darling," my grandma said, her own voice starting to shake. "I know you're upset about Nelson -"

"I'm not upset about him!" I protested. "I couldn't care less. I just don't want everyone to think I'm ungrateful. George and Izzy - and you - went to a lot of trouble for this. I just feel like - like a - brat and -"

And there I burst into tears; perhaps it was the overwhelming emotional events of the night that were causing me to behave like a five year old, or maybe it was just because my grandma was being so nice about it, when I knew I didn't deserve it.

"Darling, you are nowhere near being a brat," my grandma said quietly, and beckoned me over to her. When I was sat next to her, she hugged me tight, and whispered, "None of this is your fault; it couldn't be helped. I should've known how hard it would be for you. Don't cry ..."

That only made me cry harder because it was easier than talking, and less painful than being angry, and all I really wanted to do was be on my own, but I couldn't leave my grandma on her own, because that wouldn't be fair. She was wrong though; it was my fault, because despite everything, despite the fact that I want to smash Nelson's face in, despite the fact that he's caused me enough problems already, despite all that, I still wanted to forget all of it and forgive my father and make up for all the years he'd missed while I was growing up. It would've been so easy to do so. But instead I had shouted at him, sworn at him and practically wished he was dead just because that was even easier than forgiving him.

When my grandma left, which she didn't do until I'd stopped crying - and that took a while, believe me - I paused for a while at the window, watching the stars glitter like some kind of celestial diamonds, and just losing myself in a feeling that was happiness, contentment, and the feeling I get when Draco kisses me, combined. It hadn't escaped my attention that half the reason I was so miserable was because of what had happened at Hogwarts; it figures I'd be more worried about that than about the sudden appearance of Nelson.

I don't think I slept much that night. It wasn't that I didn't want to; I really did, but I just couldn't. Nelson kept cropping up, then changing into George and Izzy, looking disappointed that their marvellous plan had gone south, then transforming into my grandma, explaining how Nelson was a lying bastard. Then the killer; my grandma changed into Draco who just glared down at me with his expressive eyes.

At some point, I think I woke up and ran to the bathroom to be sick, but that might just have been my imagination and eventually I went back into that restless sleep, with the same recurring dream twirling around in my head.