The Zabini Manor pt. 2
Safe to say, Blaise was not having a good day.
Interrupted during important war planning by Potter related problems? Check.
Forced to reveal a massively important Slytherin house secret? Check.
Having to wake his mother, only to find her already awake and expecting him? Check.
If Blaise lived to thirty, he'd be so grey in the hair it wasn't funny. At least to him, Draco would think it was hilarious.
Bloody Draco and his bloody solutions that caused more problems than they solved, it would be much easier for all of them if Draco could just pick an enemy and stick with it. All this switching allegiances was giving Blaise a headache.
(Blaise was worried. So worried it hurt. Why was Draco moving around so much? Was he alright? A lot can happen in a month.)
(Why was he with The Dark Lord? Had he been forced? Had he been tortured? Draco came back so scared last time, what was he like now?)
(Please, please, please, let him be ok, I don't know what I'll do if he's not.)
And if they all lived to have Theo ghost-write their massively shocking and raw biographies, it would confuse the readers. But to be entirely fair, existing for any amount of time in a Draco-like headspace was enough to induce chronic migraines. Blaise would know.
So walking with his mother to the private sitting room (which, by the way, was about two wings over from the sitting room they'd floo'd into) Blaise couldn't help but feel a mounting dread.
By the time Blaise could feel the comforting press of privacy spells, he was almost on edge enough to start fidgeting. Almost.
His mother led him to the green room, Draco's favourite, he noted distantly. But any other thought was quickly silenced by the sight of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Draco's father was standing, pacing the room and occasionally sending annoyed looks down at his own cane, while Narcissa sat politely on the sofa, sipping tea.
She was the first to notice Blaise's entrance, and set down her tea cup, "Blaise, hello dear."
Lucius didn't offer any greeting, continuing to pace, "You'll have to forgive my husband, it's been a . . . Trying few days." Narcissa offered, smiling tightly.
"It's quite alright," Blaise replied, not really caring what Lucius was up to, "I suspect I know why."
"Oh, that's good then, though I'll refrain from asking how exactly," She looked to Blaise's mother, but quickly returned her gaze to Blaise.
She seemed to be waiting for something, he realised.
"How is Draco? Do you know?" He asked, striking blindly.
Narcissa's shoulders relaxed, smile growing more genuine in the way it always did when anyone asked her about Draco, "He was right, my clever, stubborn boy." She said, mostly to herself, "He must have known you'd ask, but he still set the condition."
She looked down, rearranging her skirts needlessly, "My son had made a deal for our protection, that is to say, both you and us, and has given me permission to tell you everything I know. Only you."
Blaise shot a look to his mother, but Narcissa carried on, "However, my son did not say we couldn't be overheard." She smiled at Dymphna.
So Draco's mother told him everything, laying out all the details of Draco showing up at The Manor, duelling his father for the title of Lord Malfoy, and making a deal with The Dark Lord before ordering them to leave.
Again: Not a good day for Blaise.
"I need to tell Potter." He said, rubbing his temples. He hated it, but it was true, this was as good a signal to start as any, which meant it was time to set his part of the plan in motion.
Draco, in a surprising turn of events, had made things easier by aligning himself with the Death Eater's. Now, he and his mother didn't need to fabricate a reason to seek membership to The Order of the Phoenix. But to do that, they needed to get to Dumbledore, and the easiest way to do that, was through Harry Potter.
If they needed to ransom the bastard, so be it.
"Really?" His mother asked, frowning, "I rather think we can hold off, Draco's always been made of stronger stuff than we know, I see no reason-"
"My son should not have to be strong!" Lucius shouted, his first words of the evening, "He should not be Lord! He should not be around that maniac!"
Blaise found himself in the middle of the rare phenomenon of agreeing with Lucius Malfoy. He didn't like it.
His mother didn't either, evidently, if the way her eyes began to flash said anything, "Lucius, I recognise you've had a difficult week, but I will not be yelled at in my own home." She said slowly.
Draco's father took a deep breath, "Apologies, Dymphna, I let my anger get ahead of me."
Blaise loved his mum, she was so cool.
"No, I know Draco, we've got to start soon." Blaise interrupted, before anything could escalate, "We tell Potter, have him help us with Dumbledore, make our move."
His mother frowned further, but nodded, "Alright. Narcissa?" She asked.
Narcissa sighed, "I cannot come with you, part of Draco's orders were that we be inconspicuous."
"Thorough, isn't he?" Dymphna asked, a smirk on her face. Blaise had been right all those months ago, his mother was much too enthusiastic at the idea of Draco indulging in the less-than-legal side of the Zabini Family.
He made a mental note to keep them separated, for the good of the public.
"Would you like to stay here?" His mother asked, "We've more than enough rooms, Salazar knows."
"No, thank you, we're to stay in France, actually, The Villa." Narcissa replied.
"Well, if you had to be ousted from your home by your son, at least he had your comfort in mind."
Nevermind, Blaise was going to kill his mother.
"We had better go then, right mother? To make sure Potter and his gang haven't burned down the east wing." Blaise smiled, grabbing his mother's elbow, "Lovely to see you, Narcissa, truly I'm regretful we couldn't speak longer but . . ."
"I understand, Dear, tell Draco hello for us, will you?" Narcissa smiled, something sad behind her eyes, but also something dangerous. Something threatening.
"I will." Blaise answered, deadly serious.
His mother said her goodbye's quickly, and they both left the room, making their way back to the eastern wing of the house.
"Well, there's no smoke." His mother sighed, opening the door.
All three Gryffindor's were lounging in various comfortable positions, with Potter and the Weasel actually looking to be playing exploding snap.
Blaise resisted the urge to rub his temples again, "We're going back to Hogwarts. We need to speak to Dumbledore."
"About what?" Potter asked immediately, his friends adopting similar looks of suspicion.
"About The Order." Blaise answered honestly. Draco preferred to keep his plans hidden until the last second, but Blaise through a small bit of honesty went a long way. There was no point in lying now, when it would only be considered an attack later.
"What about The Order?" Granger pressed.
They didn't have time for this, "You'll know soon enough. Come on." Blaise walked to the fireplace, holding out the floo powder for his mother. When she stepped through, calling out for one of the many floo's in Hogsmeade, Blaise turned to the Gryffindors.
"Listen, if you want to help, come with us, if you'd rather sit and twirl your thumbs doing useless school assignments while the world burns around you, be my guest. But either way, you tell anyone what's happened tonight, and you won't have a tongue to speak with much longer. Come on."
Blaise stepped through the floo, calling out for The Hog's Head Inn. When he came out the other side, his mother was waiting with Aberforth. They exchanged nods, and the old barkeep opened the passage to the room of requirement. Potter, Weasley, and Granger came through the fireplace, looking around the dimly lit inn with a curious lack of surprise.
Blaise didn't even want to know at this point.
"Come along," Dymphna calls, "It's quite late, and I really am looking forward to waking him."
They follow his mother through the secret passageway, and why Gryffindor secret tunnels were so decrepit would always be a mystery to him. Why go through the effort to make the passageway in the first place if you've no intention of maintaining it? The Slytherin tunnels were much cleaner.
Eventually they came out into the Room of Requirement, towers of forgotten objects looming above them.
"Is this-" Potter was abruptly cut off when Granger elbowed him in the ribs.
"Yes, Potter, it is the Room of Requirement." Blaise finished, unable to help the smirk that rose when Granger scowled, "What? You think Gryffindors have all the fun? Poor things."
His mother shot him an unimpressed look, but he only grinned back, expression tight, she wasn't the one who had to deal with Potter on a daily basis. Blaise would take what he could get.
They got to the Headmaster's office almost too soon, standing in front of the stone hippogriff. Blaise didn't know the password, but before he could ask, the statue began to unfurl and spin away, revealing steep stairs. Blaise's mother started up them with no hesitation, so Blaise followed, hearing the steps of Potter behind him.
Dumbledore was obviously expecting them, sitting at his desk, though he only had an outer robe pulled on, with the white edge of a nightgown peeking out at the collar, "Dymphna, how lovely to see you, it's been too long."
Blaise's mother narrowed her eyes, "Yes, it had been, I've been quite busy," She walked over to the desk, settling in the chair elegantly, crossing her ankles, "But this isn't a social call."
"Pity, I do so love our chats, may I ask what brought you all the way here from Italy?" Dumbledore asked, eyes flickering over Blaise, Potter, Granger, and Weasley. Blaise didn't think he imagined the way his eyes seemed to linger on Potter, expression going cloudy.
"It's about my son-in-law, you see," Dymphna began, "He's found himself in a delicate position, and I'd like to help him." She tilted her chin up, and Blaise recognised the gleam in her eye as the same she had when setting a particularly clever trap.
"Young Mr. Malfoy had been missing for months, I'm afraid there's a limited amount of help I can offer students not at Hogwarts." Dumbledore sighed, looking like he wanted nothing more than to spring to Draco's defence.
Blaise was suddenly overcome with such an intense surge of anger his nails dug into the wood at the back of his mother's chair. Why? Why did they insist on pretending to care about Draco? Blaise could handle their hatred, their bigotry, their dismissal, but this faux sympathy nearly drove him to violence.
"That's not what I mean, and you know it, Albus." The ice in her tone seemed to take Dumbledore back, his eyebrows shot up, either at the bold statement or the use of his first name, Blaise couldn't tell.
He shot a look behind him, to see how the Gryffindors were reacting to the verbal equivalent of a cat-fight in front of them, but they all were silent, staring between the two adults with flickering eyes.
"I'm afraid I don't." Dumbledore said, voice maintaining his lyrical and upbeat cadence, even if his eyes had gone tense.
Dymphna sighed heavily, "If you must make me be so forward, I'm prepared to offer Zabini Family resources to The Order of the Phoenix."
Dumbledore considered this, and Blaise heard the faint whispers of Potter and his friends, though he couldn't make out what they were saying.
"For what price?" Dumbledore asked, abandoning his ignorance gambit.
"Information, of course. We're Draco's family, and we won't leave his fate in any hands but our own." Dymphna smiled, "We know he's not always been the kindest student, but I think we can both agree, people can change so much, politically.
She sat back in the chair, examining her nails, "I mean truly, it's remarkable what the right friends can do." She leaned forward, looking up, "Do you write to him, Albus?"