Not awful
His mother wanted him to go to Castleobruxo. More than wanted, really. She had been adamant until he reminded her that he knew where all the skeletons were. Figuratively, of course. Shed been furious and had refused to speak to him for three months. He didn't care, he’d gotten his own way and that was what mattered.
So now he was here, waiting on an overcrowded platform, utterly freezing and utterly alone. It was worth it though if he found her. He wondered if it would be easy, if there would be a resemblance there somewhere. There had to be surely? They might have different fathers but he rather obviously resembled his mother, surely his sister would have at least a hint of her? Circe he hoped so, or this was going to be horrific. He didn't actually want to freeze in the Scottish highlands. He’d have been blissfully happy in the Amazon rainforest. But she was supposed to be here, so here he was.
He wondered if she knew. If her father had told her about her bitch of a mother who had not only cheated on her husband and fallen pregnant immediately following her birth, but who hadn’t uttered a single word when said husband had divorced her as quickly as he was able and whisked his daughter away. His mother had never been shy about admitting she had never wanted children. Unfortunately, his father had become husband number six and wasn't quick enough to escape. Poison that time. She did like to change up her methods. Apparently it kept her skills sharp and people from asking too many questions. It meant she’d been left with him though. Or the elves had. His mother was not what you'd’ call a hands on parent.
The sound of the train whistle startled him out of his introspection, time to board then. Maybe he’d have time to scout out the train. His mother had refused to give him a name. He knew she knew it, or knew what it had been, but she had informed him scathingly that she wasn't going to help him reunite with her first mistake, if he was that stupid, he’d have to do it on his own. At least she was nice enough to leave out that he was her second mistake, even if it was heavily implied.
He’d found nothing on his quick scan of the compartments, finding himself stuck with an overly pompous boy named Malfoy. The way he said it indicated the name should mean something to him. It did not. The mountains either side of him had grunted and while Malfoy had told him their names,he'd promptly forgotten them. A boy named Nott lounged by the window, looking like he’d like to melt into the seat so as not to be noticed, which meant he was stuck listening to the Malfoy boy who seemed overly fond of the sound of his own nasally little voice.
“Excuse me?” A voice interrupted, “Has anyone seen a toad? Somones lost one.”
He blinked, taking in the tiny witch with more hair than person. Her skin was a shade or two lighter than his, the wild hair reminded him of his mother the one and only time he’d been stupid enough to interrupt her in her rooms and she hadn't completed her grooming regime, and the eyes that met his unflinchingly were a match for the ones he saw in the mirror.
“Who are you?” he blurted before he could stop himself.
“Hermione Granger,” she drew her spine up and her shoulders back, clearly waiting on some sort of reaction. He wondered who’d insulted her already. “And you are?”
“Blaise Zabini.” he offered, almost sure that she was who he’d been looking for. “We’ve not seen a toad but might I have a word?”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously but she nodded. “Why don't you try the next compartment, Neville, I’ll be there in a minute,” she murmured to the boy next to her that he hadn't noticed until she spoke to him.
The boy glanced warily between them, but nodded, he could feel the other boys watching with interest as he shut the compartment door behind him. All at once he realised he had no idea what to say to her.
“What was it you wanted?” she asked.
“I ah…I have an elder sister,” he blurted. “I’ve never met her.”
She froze. “I see.” she murmured slowly.
“Do you?”
Hermione sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Your mother is Calia Shafiq?”
“Yours too, I assume.” he replied softly.
Hermione snorted, “My mother is a muggle dentist named Jean Granger.”
Blaise whined low in his throat. He hadn't considered that she’d deny their link completely. “Is that you telling me to leave you in peace?” he asked softly.
“I don't know!” she retorted exasperatedly. “I knew you existed, but Daddy wasn't sure if I was a fluke or if Calia was also a witch. He told me about you just in case.”
“She's a witch,” he confirmed. “In more ways than one. Your life will be easier here if they know you're a half blood though.
Hermione frowned, “In what way?”
“The UK is…backwards. They care about nonsense like blood purity and look down on muggleborns.”
“Why?”
“Because they're idiots?” he offered, making her laugh.
“Do you believe it?”
“No.” Blaise snorted, “Your fathers a muggle and to date he's the only one who had enough sense to leave our mother and is therefore still alive.”
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, “Pardon?”
“Our mother enjoys the wealth that comes from marriage but isn't overly fond of the husbands.”
“Or the children,” Hermione muttered.
Blaise gave a choked laugh, “Well yes. We do rather cramp her style apparently.”
“We?” Hermione countered, “Surely only you?”
“Ah but you got away with your father and all that lovely money she had plans for.”
“Good god,” Hermione muttered, clearly not sure what to say to that. “Well she sounds lovely.”
Blaise laughed, “She's bloody awful, you had a lucky escape.” his voice turned pleading, “I’m not awful though.”
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled at him. “Alright, little brother. I'll give you a chance to prove it.”
Blaise beamed at her, the relief flooding him. He’d made the right decision after all.