Letters
The slytherins were ready to go at a moment's notice. Every one of them had a shrunken bag tucked into their pockets, and a spell repertoire to rival the most skilled seventh year.
Dare he say? Blaise was proud.
He had seen the younger years carving the Malfoy crest into the underside of furniture. His disappearance seemed to elevate Draco to the status of Martyr, and Blaise couldn't help but wrinkle his nose. Draco would hate the pearly sheen they painted over his flaws.
They didn't remember how cruel he was, or the way he would snicker behind his hand when the first years tripped on the moving staircase. Of course, Blaise was equally cruel, and so he kept the memories close to his chest.
He liked Draco mean. They could keep their glossy after-image.
It was almost Hogsmeade weekend again, a full month since Draco had gone off, and Blaise found he didn't mind it much. Hogsmeade meant gossiping with Pansy, and keeping the first years from falling into the lake.
As he was walking arm in arm with her, Pansy spoke in low tones, a silencing spell already cast around them, "Have you owl'd your mother? She won't appreciate being kept in the dark."
Blaise sighed, he had been waiting for the severity to make itself apparent, his mother, though he loved her dearly, had a tendency to go to the extremes, "I'm drafting now, you know how she gets."
Pansy smirked, she loved Blaise's mother, "Yes, well, these are rather drastic times-"
Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the arrival of Granger and Weasley, who both look frightfully determined.
Blaise and Pansy stopped, and he cancelled the silencing spell before they could sense it, no use giving them more fodder for the inevitably baseless accusations they will start throwing.
The gryffindors stopped before them, just standing, like they expect Blaise to speak first, and when he didn't, Granger does, "Well, are the rumours about you and Malfoy true?"
Blaise raised an eyebrow, a bold opener, "Depends on which rumour." He answered in the most bored tone possible.
Granger looks undeterred, "About your engagement?"
Blaise feels a stab through his heart, though he does his best to not show it, "You were there when we announced it, Granger."
Her cheeks flush, and she grimaces for a moment, before speaking again, "Yes, but well-"
"We don't trust you about as far as we can throw you." Weasley interrupted, prompting a hard nudge from Granger and two glares from Blaise and Pansy.
"I see what this is." Pansy says, eyeing the gryffindors with open contempt, "You're fishing for news about Potter."
She was right, Blaise realised, "Seriously?" He said, his lips curling into a sneer, "Our friend is missing, or dead, and you're here to use us, to find Potter?"
Granger's mouth opened and closed, like she was trying to find an explanation, but Weasley just glared right back at them, "Considering Harry's worth about ten of-"
Granger pulled him away, finally getting the hint that they had overstepped, "C'mon, Ron, they won't be any help."
Blaise and Pansy watched them go, and Pansy re-cast the silence spell as soon as they were far enough away, "Do you really think he might be . . ."
"No," Blaise said immediately, "Draco would never go down without a bang, if he dies, we'll know."
They headed back up to the castle, and the second they got back to the dorms, Blaise finished the letter to his mother.
' Dearest Mother,
You've heard by now, what's happened. I'm sorry I didn't write sooner, but I didn't think you would need me to tell you. I think it's time I asked for your help.
I'd prepare a few guest rooms, our mutual friend has travelling family. He does prefer discretion, though I think you'd know best how to accommodate him.
You should fire-call a few friends, I know you get lonely when I'm away.
Your son, Blaise.'
That should do it. Blaise felt a bit childish, asking his mother to help, but unlike Draco, he had no qualms about using the skills of others to supplement his own, even if they were his mother's. He sent it off as quickly as possible, stopping to pet Draco's owl Elodie. He considered trying to send Draco a letter, or write to him in the notebook, to tell him everything he's forgotten over the years. To see if letting his heart pour out would be enough to get Draco home safe.
But what would he say? I love you? I'll never forgive you if you die?
Please?
To say he regretted not telling Draco things earlier wasn't entirely truthful. It wasn't like Blaise dropping to his knees and professing his undying love would have prevented any of this, but he did wish Draco knew everything before he left.
Blaise wouldn't examine why he wanted that so badly. Draco wouldn't die, he wasn't even fully sure Draco could die. He was different enough that it was a distinct possibility.
He couldn't. Blaise wouldn't let him. He'd go find a necromancer if he needed to, become a necromancer if he needed to.
But until he saw Draco safe, he would wait, and continue laying his plans, and hope it was all good enough.