The Story of Blaise Zabini

Chapter 20

Warning Signs

Despite the fact that I'm back with Draco, and that Pansy and I are on okay terms, Lydia still isn't speaking to me. I've tried everything - approaching her when she was doing homework, trying to get her to talk to me late at night, chattering mindlessly at mealtimes. Hell, I even sent her a damn letter, by owl, but she still won't talk to me.

But anyway, how can I be worried when Christmas is so close? I'll be going home, as usual, this year, but strangely, Draco's staying here. He vaguely mentioned some homework he'd put off until the last minute, and I didn't really want to push the issue, considering we've only just gotten back together and things are still a bit rocky.

You know, it's funny, but I haven't thought once about going to Hogsmeade this year. In fact, I probably wouldn't have thought about it at all, if Draco hadn't brought it up.

He asked me if I wanted to go into the village with him, then he remembered that I couldn't go. But the idea was in my head by then, and I flat out refused to stay behind while everyone else had fun in Hogsmeade. For some reason, Draco kept saying I shouldn't go, but I brushed it off, thinking he was just worried about me getting caught.

Turns out I was wrong. Dead wrong.

Anyway, I have an ulterior motive to go to Hogsmeade. Lydia might think she and Jeff are meant to be, or something, but I certainly don't. So in the village, I'm going to go and see George and ask him if he still likes Lydia or not. I'm hoping he still does, because I'll take any excuse to get rid of Jeff.

Which reminds me - Pansy. Yeah, she did originally set out to hurt me - and split me and Draco up, obviously - but it takes to two tango, so I guess, although she's not blameless, it's not all her fault. Jeff has a very persuasive personality, it turns out. But I'm not suddenly going to claim Pansy is, like, a saint or anything, so I suppose things are pretty much normal.

As it turned out, I didn't get to go to the village that weekend. I had a Transfiguration essay that I'd completely forgotten about, for some reason, and it was going to take me hours to even start it, never mind finish it. So I said goodbye to Draco at the foot of the marble staircase, and then made my way up to the Library for some serious hard work.

There was a table at the back of the Library, and I sat there, holed up behind the shelves containing books on History of Magic and Divination, which are easily the most pointless subjects at Hogwarts. I could've sat nearer the Transfiguration section, but there were a few too many fourth years over there, giggling madly, to concentrate much.

I got back to the common room that night to find it buzzing with the most incredible story. A seventh year Gryffindor had been attacked. Not attacked in the normal sense of the word; more like ambushed. She'd been given a package, apparently, by some mysterious stranger who hasn't been identified yet. She and her friend were fighting over it - or something like that - and then the girl - Gryffindor Chaser, Katie Bell - sort of hovered in the air for a few seconds, as though she'd been hit by a curse. Weird. It gives me the creeps just thinking about it.

I found Draco over in the corner, on his own. Pretty unusual, since you can always find Draco in the thick of things. Come to mention it, he looks strangely pale and tired, but I put that down to the cold that he claims he must be getting. He did look pretty ill, so I didn't say anything else.

Over the next few weeks, Draco continued to look horribly pallid, and occasionally, immensely stressed. It's as though there's some shadow hanging over him, and no matter how much I ask him about it, he just brushes it off, and tells me it's nothing he can't handle.

I don't know when I first had this thought, or why I'm even entertaining it, but Draco's strange behaviour all started about the time that Gryffindor was cursed, or whatever. Something about the whole situation is wrong, but I can't seem to figure out what it is. The only thing that does stick in my mind, is that Draco is, in someway, involved in the attack on Katie Bell.

But that's ridiculous, of course; how would Draco have been able to curse her? He's sixteen years old, and no sixteen year old knows enough magic to perform a spell like the one that got Bell. I'm just being paranoid.

With each day, more news of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reaches Hogwarts. And every time some new tidbit of information arrives, the Slytherin common room bursts into cheers and applause. They seem to think that You-Know-Who has the right idea by killing Muggle-borns, yet Draco, as big a pureblood as any, doesn't seem as pleased as he should be.

I wonder if this is connected to the fact that he's more withdrawn and pale these days. I know it must be, somehow, because he's never been like this before; he barely talks to me anymore, and whenever I ask him what's going on, he just mutters something under his breath and starts talking about homework. I want him to tell me what's wrong, I want him to realise that I'm right there, waiting for him to acknowledge me. But I don't think it's going to be that simple.

A funny thing happened the other day; Pansy came over to me and actually talked to me of her own volition. True, we are arguing less these days and I don't really mind her that much anymore, but still, it's weird that she's willing to talk to me.

Anyway, I was sat on the sofa in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room, when she sat down next to me. I glanced at her; she looked anxious about something.

"What's wrong?" I asked curiously. I've never seen that kind of worry on her face before.

"Blaise," she murmured so quietly I had to lean forwards to hear her, "if I tell you something, will you promise not to repeat it to anyone?"

Surprised by her request, I blinked a few times. She waited intently for my answer.

"Okay," I said slowly, perplexed.

Pansy sighed heavily, looking down at her hands. "You remember you asked me why I was so eager for you and Draco to get back together?"

I nodded uncertainly; was she about to tell me that she wanted Draco back?

"And I said that I was just fed up of seeing him so miserable?"

"Yeah ..." I said suspiciously.

"Well, I lied."

My heart jumped into my throat as she said that; I should have known that Pansy wouldn't be true to her word! I am such a fool for even thinking she was telling the truth.

"Really?" I said coldly.

"Yes." Pansy paused for a second, glancing around the common room, as though she didn't want to be overheard. Then she went on, "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that you two are together. It's just ... I was worried about Draco."

"Oh?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, but I could feel my icy tone relenting.

"I can't tell you exactly what's wrong, because Draco would kill me," she said quickly. "But the reason I wanted you to get back with him was ... he's done something that could get him into an awful lot of trouble if he gets found out."

She stopped, and there was a silence broken only by the background chatter of the common room. I stared at her incomprehensively; for some reason, I couldn't seem to understand what she was saying.

"What are you talking about?" I managed to say eventually.

"I'm saying," Pansy whispered fearfully, "that you need to be careful. You're the only person Draco would do anything for, and that's what's going to save him."

Her blunt tone startled me into silence once more. She was about to say more, when her eyes widened and she jumped out of her seat, after a meaningful glance at me.

Next moment, Draco had dropped onto the sofa beside me.

"You and Pansy the best of friends now?" he asked, his voice sounding amused.

"No," I said casually, though it was somewhat forced. "But she's ... tolerable."

"I don't know," Draco said thoughtfully, "you two looked pretty friendly over here."

"Trust me," I smiled, "we will not be sharing girly secrets anytime soon."

But she'd already told me something she wasn't supposed to. What do I do? Should I believe her; she did sound really serious after all. Maybe I should just ignore the whole incident. Pansy has never done anything to help me before ...

Except get you back together with Draco, said a voice in the back of my head.

I wouldn't have needed to get back with Draco if it hadn't been for her, in the first place, argued another voice.

Either way, though, I'm still not entirely sure if I can trust Pansy. She's Slytherin to the core; sly, cunning, manipulative. She'd do anything to get what she wanted. Maybe this was one of those times...

The fact remains that Draco's up to something. He won't tell me until he's ready and God knows when that'll be. If it's truly something serious that could get him into trouble, then I'll have to tell someone who can stop him.

When I went to bed that night, my head throbbed painfully; I'd been deep in thought all day and now I was paying for it. And I hadn't even come to a decision about both Pansy and Draco. A wasted day.

The next was a nightmare. Lydia finally found out that Jeff had cheated on her. Well, that's not strictly true; Jeff discovered that Lydia had kissed George last year and he went mad. Until I went over to see what he was shouting at my best friend for, and found out that he was calling Lydia a slut and a cheating bitch.

I walked in on them at around midday; it was a warm, April Saturday, and Draco and I had spent the earlier hours outside by the lake. Walking into the shaded common room was bizarrely chilling as I saw Jeff by the fireplace, Lydia sitting on the sofa.

Jeff's face was bright red, his eyes blazing with anger. Lydia was the complete opposite; pale and tight-lipped, her light brown eyes tinged with sadness.

"All this time you've been hiding this dirty little secret," Jeff said furiously. "You dirty fucking whore ... but then I suppose if you weren't, you wouldn't be after Weasley, would you?"

The sadness disappeared from Lydia's eyes as soon as the words left Jeff's mouth. She stood up, just inches shorter than her boyfriend, hands clenched by her sides and teeth gritted in anger.

"Don't you dare insult George!" she shouted. "It was the one and only time and I've been cut up about it since! And how dare you call me a whore?!"

"I should've known you were a slag from the start," Jeff said venomously. "No wonder everybody is so eager to get with you; you're just an easy slut, aren't you?"

Before Lydia slapped his smarmy fucking face, I intervened. Not, of course, that it wouldn't serve Jeff right to have his nose broken.

"Yeah, but you like girls who are easy, don't you Jeff?" I asked pleasantly, and his mouth dropped open, panic flaring in his eyes. "You especially liked Pansy."

"Blaise, you stay out of -" Lydia began, but she stopped as soon as my words sunk in. "What?" she whispered.

"Go on, tell her," I prompted Jeff. "Tell her about Pansy. Tell her how you went behind her back. Tell her how you -"

"Enough!" Lydia snapped. "Blaise, you're not helping! Jeff," she turned, her face contorted with rage, "you'd better start talking."

And so the story came out; how Jeff had been sneaking off with Pansy at every given moment, how he'd given no second thought to his girlfriend, instead preferring to fool around with Pansy. Their antics made me sick, and if that's how I felt, what must Lydia feel like?

The answer to that came just ten minutes later.

After Jeff had finished his story, I looked at Lydia - who was still extremely shell-shocked at the news - and thought about saying something. But I couldn't. For one thing, there was nothing I could say, and for another ...

I was as guilty as Pansy and Jeff, for not telling her sooner.

I'd had hundreds of opportunities to tell her what was going on behind her back, and I hadn't. I'd stood back and watched it all happening, even while she was still oblivious. I could've warned her earlier, so that it wouldn't seem so shocking when Jeff finally admitted it. I should've confronted Jeff myself, told Pansy to back off, done something, other than just let it all unfold in front of me.

But I hadn't. And that was the greatest crime of all.

Lydia seemed to think that, too, because, when I went to hug her, she jerked back from my arms and gave me a look of hurt and betrayal. That look killed me; it really did. And from then on, I knew I could do nothing to make it up to her. Nothing would ever be good enough for her forgiveness.

She turned and fled upstairs to our dormitory. I thought about following her, but there seemed little point in doing so. Jeff gave me a look of loathing and stormed out of the common room, through the stone wall. I was left to sit on the sofa furthest from the fireplace, and contemplate why my life suddenly seemed to be going so wrong.

It only got worse the following day.

Draco and I were sitting on the same sofa, talking occasionally, and kissing a lot more. He seemed slightly more lively than usual, but that wasn't really saying much. For the moment, however, I was glad enough that I let it go unnoticed.

At some point, the gentle warmth of common room - unusual for the dungeons, but then, the weather had been nice for a while now - and the peaceful quiet around us managed to make us doze off. When I woke up, I realised we were still on the sofa, and that it was well past eleven at night.

I was about to wake Draco up, when something caught my eye. During our sleep, my head had shifted to rest on Draco's shoulder. Somehow, I had managed to drag the sleeve of the robes on his left arm up. The sight that met my eyes crushed the air out of my lungs.

The Dark Mark.

On Draco's forearm.

I gasped. The sound was eerily loud in the silent common room, and it shook Draco awake. He looked at me blearily, smiled sleepily at me, and then he frowned when he saw my expression.

"What?" he asked, puzzled. I could only stare in horror at his forearm, and when his eyes realised what I was transfixed by, he swore loudly and tried to cover it up.

There was no need for me to say or do anything; Draco knew what I felt without any help from me. His gaze dropped to the floor, and he muttered something.

"W-what?" I said, my voice a feeble whisper.

"I said, I was going to tell you," he said, looking up, hope flickering in his eyes.

"Oh, and that would make it alright?" I asked sarcastically.

"I thought you, of all people, would understand why I did this," Draco said defensively, pointing at the Mark.

"You entered His service," I accused. "How am I supposed to understand that?"

"He would've killed me and my parents if I hadn't. Blaise, please; I wanted to tell you ... but I couldn't."

"You told Pansy," I said suddenly, remembering Pansy's warning the day before. "You told her before you told me."

"Pansy already knew," Draco said quietly. "She was there when it ... when it happened."

I was silent; what else was there for me to say? Draco had joined You-Know-Who, he hadn't told me, and wasn't planning on telling me, by the looks of it. What am I supposed to do now? Another thought occurred to me; everybody knew about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's hatred for Muggles, and I was a half-blood, one of the very few in Slytherin. Did that mean Draco would end up killing people like me? I couldn't bear the thought, but I needed to hear Draco's explanation.

"You know I'm a half-blood," I said sadly. "How can you join the Dark Lord, how can you kill people who aren't pureblood, when you're dating me? Or does that mean we're finished?" I asked angrily, tears springing to my eyes.

Draco was silent; he looked at his hands for a few seconds, before mumbling, "No, I don't want to break up with you, Blaise."

"Oh, well thank God for small miracles" I said sarcastically. "You're working for someone who despises people like me. You weren't even going to tell me you're working for him."

"I couldn't tell anyone," Draco said exasperatedly.

"You had a choice, and you made it," I said heavily. "I think we're done here."

I stood up, moving toward the stairs that led to my dormitory. Draco grabbed my arms and pulled me around to face him, willing me to understand.

"Blaise, listen to me," he said softly, trying to pull me into a hug. I resisted, pushing him away. "Just ... try to see it from my point of view. Aren't you glad that I'm alive? Don't you love me enough to realise that I had to do this, if I wanted to stay alive?"

"Oh, stop it," I bit out. "If this is some pathetic way to find out how I feel about you, then I can tell you in three very short words." Draco fell silent, and simply stared at me. "But that's not what this is about. Do you want this? Do you want to work for Him? Because if you do, then I'm not sure I want to be with you."

With that, I strode across the common room and up the stairs, almost falling into my dormitory. I'm in shock right now, which is probably why I haven't burst into tears or something, so far.

In retrospect, I could probably have said something a little less clichéd, but damn it if Draco didn't get the message. I can't believe he would do something like this, and all without telling me! I should've known something was up at the beginning of the year, when he went all quiet and withdrawn. And it annoys me that Pansy got to know before me, which is the saddest thing about it, really. I mean, I should be worrying over the fact that Draco could be in real trouble if he gets found out by someone in school, but no, I'm fuming over the fact that Pansy knew before I did. God, I feel like such a heartless bitch.

Which is probably why I can't summon the energy to feel something other than anger.