Chapter Eleven: Dear Oma

Truth and Consequences

"You're early," Remus Lupin replied once Blaise stepped into the foyer of Grimmauld Place. She nodded stiffly, hoping her eyes didn't betray the scare she had in Van's padded cell.

"Is my grandmother here yet?" Blaise peered into the kitchen, noting Sirius brooding over a flask of amber liquid. Moody leaned on his chair, that crazy eye rounded on Blaise. They acknowledged each other tiredly. Blaise never testified for the old Auror. Fudge took it upon himself to be prosecution, judge, and jury in the investigation. The Minister managed to point the guilty finger at Moody's impostor without providing evidence of Voldemort's return. That helped the Dark Lord's cause more than it did Fudge's but Blaise expected the worthless, power-hungry git would do as much.

Sirius gazed up from his drink.

"I suppose you're staying here too? Molly Weasley's coming with her children. It'll be one big party." Blaise grimaced.

"I see you've kept your sense of humour after all. I'm not staying. No offense."

"None taken." Sirius waved his hand towards the archway behind him. "Your grandmother's with Dumbledore. Just go straight and you'll see the doorway." Blaise followed his gesture across the kitchen. Remus quickly cleared his throat.

"Blaise, Rhonda didn't leave us any instructions for your arrival. Perhaps you should wait here with us. They might be discussing something …"

She smirked suddenly. "That's always the best time to barge in."

"I always liked that kid," she heard Moody grumble as she ducked into the damp, dim hallway.

After a few feet, she noticed light seeping through a great, mahogany door. Muffled voices boomed inside the room. After rubbing a clean spot on the wood, she listened quietly as the conversation bled through the withered door.

"I can't believe you hid this from me, Rhonda!" A book slammed on a desk.

"No one was supposed to know it, Albus. I promised Zon I wouldn't tell a soul. I promised Gwenyth. No one was supposed to know!"

"But you cannot deny the implications of this. If I hadn't found out the truth the way I did …"

"Albus, I know for a fact that you wouldn't be affected. I had to do what I did at the time. Zon told me the truth at the last minute! There was no time to ask questions."

"Yes, but he came to you not knowing the whole story, did he now? And … what of her? Oh my … but how could we tell her such a thing? Not when the boy is … and she's -- What? Does she know?"

"Y-yes. I had to tell her. She discovered Vanessa was barren."

The response came out garbled.

"Albus, I did it for her safety. For all their safety."

"Rhonda, I have nothing but love for you. But … what you have done is far from safe. This has serious consequences--"

"I know! Stop being my Professor for once! We have long crossed those lines."

A laboring pause swept the room. Only the rigid tap-tap of someone's footsteps echoed through. Finally, the tapping stopped and capes rustled into stillness.

"You must remove it."

A shuddering sigh. "No. I won't."

"How can you protect her this way? When you're endangering others?!"

"Don't you dare lecture me about endangering others!" A chair fell over. "What are we arguing about?! Stop feigning concern for my family, Albus. We all know your priority has always been that boy and that blasted prophecy!"

"Rhonda, I only am fulfilling my obligation--"

"Yes! But no one was supposed to die!"

"No one saw that coming."

"You saw it! You read it in the stars. That night Voldemort would rise. You were warned and still my grandson is dead. I told you once before, Albus. Nothing is written in stone. Not even your precious predictions. A true Seer has the ability to change the future from what is Seen. If you blindly follow every prophecy uttered … you're a bloody fool. They were Seen for you to change things. Not stand aside and let them happen!"

"I am not destined to alter this future, Rhonda. We have meddled in the past, but not now. What will happen, will happen. The only thing we can do is prepare …"

"Rubbish! You can stop this now, Albus. You can end this. Seek him before he gets any stronger. He fears you. Sod the prophecies, and let the children have their youth."

"Don't you think I've tried this?"

"You call this spy game an effort?! Do you even remember where the last attempts got us? Well, I've tried shielding my family from the truth, and it only proved worse. And you ask me to stop?" A sarcastic laugh echoed sharply.

"Rhonda, your protection could very well lead to her downfall. It's a bloody time bomb, woman. I understand your concern. But his mind focuses elsewhere."

A fist slammed against a wall. "Dammit, Albus! It stays! It stays, you hear?! This is my bloodline. It bloody stays."

Backing away from the door, Blaise knew she had heard too much as she paced quietly in the hall. The facts came in drones, overwhelming Blaise. She knew plenty. But plenty of who's story? Hers? Oma's? Or Harry Potter's? I need to write this all down or my head will explode, she sighed tiredly to herself. She always sucked in taking notes.

"Find Rhonda yet?"

Startled, Blaise slipped and landed on her back with a loud thud. Lupin pulled her clumsily to her feet. She grimaced up at the man sheepishly.

"What are you doing?"

Shuffling came from the room again. The door opened and Padre stood there with a stern look on his face. It immediately softened when he saw Blaise before him.

"She was a bit early," Remus said guiding Blaise inside the room. He nodded and closed the door leaving her alone with her two crotchety elders.

Padre sat behind a bulky desk as Oma stared out the grimy window. Both acted as if they weren't arguing seconds before. Must be for my sake, Blaise mused, Mama and Papa did that too. Her jaw tensed thinking of Vanessa in her 'sane' years. She watched as Dumbledore pulled out a scroll of parchment and unrolled before him. He sighed deeply and beckoned her to take a seat.

"I have received this document late last night, Blaise," he began glancing at her over his spectacles. "Are you aware that Gwenyth Diggory has granted you full emancipation?"

"Yes, I asked for it," Blaise replied. Oma cursed under her breath as Padre folded his hands over the paper.

"Blaise, do you realise the ramifications that come with emancipation?"

Oma flipped her cape over her shoulders. "What I want to know is what the bloody hell Gwenyth was thinking granting a juvenile such privileges!" Padre raised his hand, bracing Oma's voice.

"Well, Blaise?"

"Umm," his gaze unsettled her. Not angry or disapproving, just quietly inquisitive. She preferred Oma's glare to this though.

Blaise shrugged with great effort. "I knew it would grant me the right to live on my own. I'm aware I'm still underage, but I am allowed to choose my guardians. And I'm aware of the initial agreement my father signed when he granted Gwenyth full guardianship. I know I'm supposed to continue my studies in Hogwarts. And that's it, I think." She trailed off.

Padre pursed his lips together. "It also freezes your family's accounts. No one in your family can touch the Zabini fortune without your prior knowledge and consent. And since you're underage, all activities must be disclosed to the Head Banker at Gringotts, who in turn must file this report to the Ministry." He rubbed his forehead with a bitter smile. "It's Fudge's way of preventing fraud. Or so he insisted. It's another way to keep track on your family's activities."

Blaise frowned. "I … don't understand," she said quietly.

"Of course, you don't!" Oma snapped. "You're just a child!" Padre stood from his chair.

"Rhonda, if you can't keep your voice down, I will have to ask you to leave this room."

Oma stormed out, biting her lip until her chin turned blue. Blaise stared at her hands, letting the information sink in.

She sighed. "So neither Oma nor my father can lift a finger without asking me for an allowance of sorts? And I have to list where every knut and sickle has gone … This could either be very interesting or very traumatizing. No wonder Oma's spitting tacks. She won't be able to hide anything from me now."

Of course, she felt bad. But she also felt defiant about it. Now they'll know how it feels to have something but can't claim it without some bogus permission.

Padre leaned forward clasping his hands over the scroll. Blaise had a gnawing feeling like she forgot something but had no clue what it was.

"Rhonda and Zon can manage. They have always acted independently from your inheritance. It's just … we have a situation with Vanessa."

Blaise gasped and cupped her face in her hands. "Bloody hell! The Ministry will find where she is."

"Exactly," Padre sighed. "I'm sure they won't disturb her knowing the condition she is in. But having her location disclosed in their files is not a reassuring thought. Not when Voldemort has many spies within those walls. Even if Vanessa has long been inactive for the Order, I worry the Dark Lord will still try to find some use for her."

Blaise bit her lip. "I visited her like you said. She isn't safe there regardless. Someone tried to siphon her thoughts."

If this information was new to him, Padre didn't show any signs of it. He began pacing across the room again. "I know only of one Death-Eater who can affect your mum like that. He should be rotting in Azkaban. So Voldemort may have made contact with the Dementors this early on."

Blaise nodded avoiding his gaze. She felt Padre turn to her again.

"I will arrange for her transfer to a secure location. One of our newer members has suggested a monastery located south of Romania. We have a friar there that has a long allegiance with the Order."

"That's good." Romania's far, she glumly thought. A bit of her pride slipped to the floor. She made the mess, yet Padre was cleaning up after her. She felt grateful, of course. But she'd rather have figured things out on her own. Who's to say she couldn't think up a solution herself?

"Gwenyth granted you this because she loves you and hoped this would make you happy. She's making up for lost time, Blaise. But you don't have to go through with this."

"Well, I don't know if I'll be happy, but this is what I want."

Padre nodded with a slight sigh. "Well, Blaise, you'll be pleased to know Rhonda and Rusty have re-established the Villa's security. It's better than before. I take it this's where you want to stay?"

"Yes. With Rusty and the house elves as caretakers."

"You still need adult supervision. Have you decided?"

Blaise bit her lip. "If it won't be too much trouble … I figured since you're the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I'll just report to you."

Padre eyed her carefully. "I can't say I've never had an arrangement like this before. I suppose you think I'll be too busy with the Order and school to supervise you as a regular guardian should?"

"More or less." Blaise stared at her hands.

"You shouldn't deny those who want to be in your life, Blaise."

"I'm not." She blew her bangs from her eyes. "I just don't like being smothered."

A slight pull emanated from his gaze. Just a slight probe as if to encourage her to tell more. But Blaise tightened her lips. The pull ceased and Dumbledore's gaze softened into casual surprise.

"Before you go back to the Villa, is there anything else you wish to tell me?"

She thought about the Death-Eater trying to siphon her thoughts, the wall of fire that erupted around her, Vanessa's intelligible mutterings. The fact that every night now, she dreamt of someone dying in her arms. Each time a different person, each time a different violent death.

Suddenly, Oma's words echoed in her head … They were Seen for you to change things. Not stand aside and let them happen …

"No. I'm done."

Mission Very Impossible

Blaise spent the rest of her summer vacation, plowing her nose through the books in Oma's library. This year was O.W.L.'s year. She figured studying for the tests would distract her. Unfortunately, she had already mastered most of the lessons, so she began to hound Rusty whenever he popped into the castle. The warrior elf did not mind giving Blaise extended lessons. The whole learning process kept her gratefully distracted.

Her birthday came, the first birthday without Cedric. Blaise noted soberly that the more years she lived through, the more birthdays she'd have to endure without him. Zephyr delivered items from her friends and the usual greetings from McGee. Papa sent her a cleverly disguised gift: a dead rat. It transfigured into a silver chain with a locket containing Blaise and Cedric's baby pictures.

So on her 15th birthday, with the necklace clenched in hand, Blaise locked herself up in her tower. And thoroughly trashed the place.

Perhaps it was the gift, the sting of his absence, or it was just time for her to give into it. But no matter how hard a chair hurled itself across the room, no tears fell. She was beyond petty weeping now.

Different people sprung to her mind, Cedric, Vanessa, McGee. She thought of the all the secrets and lies she had conceal. And she had no bloody outlet! Nothing to hit, punch, or scratch but a sack of potatoes that didn't bleed. She resented herself. What good was she being a Zabini? What good was she as a witch?

Grief sure had a perverted way of twisting her sadness. She had started out mourning for Cedric and now she mourned for herself. Did misery always do that? Or was she just a selfish prat feeling sorry for herself, because her hero was gone? Blaise hadn't felt this low since her 3rd year, when the Dementors came.

And that's another bloody thing she didn't want to recall … The fact that the dementors made her relive her most miserable moments and one of them was a memory she thought she never had.

The memory of a young boy in a park. Face smudged with grime, broken glasses, and a broken watch. Scar on his forehead. The brightest green eyes she had ever seen. She held his hand. She watched him leave. She remembered begging Van to let her see him again.

"WHY? Why are you in my life?!" She roared as another vase smashed into the wall. The shattered pieces regrouped and scampered under the bed. With a flash in her eyes, the bed turned over. Blaise stared at her hands. Her hand still clenched the locket as more objects crashed against the walls. She crumpled to her knees.

She wished Mama's memory charm never broke. Damn dementors. Blaise would've been content to know nothing about her early childhood connections to Harry Potter. What good were they to her now? He has probably never noticed her in his classes. He probably thinks all Slytherin were scumbags. He'd never give her the time of day.

Blaise snorted aloud. There it was. That ugly thing called Shallowness. Of course, this all had to focus back on her. Never mind her brother's death or the fact her family's lives are in danger. Harry Potter would never notice her, now that's the real devastation.

"Blimey, I'm so pathetic!" She snarled. She couldn't even say if she actually liked the boy. But the charm had been broken and so it's there. Sitting in her head like a drunken troll. Farting on her brain just to annoy the piss out of her. She thought of her sorry existence, huddled in a tower where no friends can visit, no family in sight.

Blaise shook her head, almost twisting it out of socket. "I don't need them," she whispered to herself. "Things won't change. I'll be … I'll be okay. I'm a stone. I'm a stone." She closed her eyes, rocking back and forth on her knees. Stones had no emotion. Stones did not break easily. Stones were hard.

"Wake up, Blaise."

She found Oma standing over her with an actual grin on her face.

"What are you doing here? Do you want Fudge to raid this place again?!" She barked toppling off her tattered bed as she scrambled after Oma's departing figure.

"Good morning to you too, sweetie. I see you've been redecorating," Oma drawled, jogging down the stairs. Blaise sputtered but Oma quickly held up her hand. "Don't worry about Fudge. The old coot is probably laying an egg in his office. I hope it's a sizzling, spiny dragon's egg too."

"What happened?" Blaise gasped still blinking at the vision Oma made in the kitchen.

"Your Padre came through for us," Oma beamed. "He convinced the Wizengamot to absolve me and your father." Blaise opted for a chair, suddenly weak in the knees.

"Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Rhonda." Oma winked. "Of course, there were some in the court who only agreed to absolve us by blaming Sirius' escape on Crouch Jr. The Ministry has gone on a tangent now, claiming Sirius was the mastermind behind the Triwizard Cup tragedy and Crouch Jr. was merely following orders." Oma suddenly frowned.

"Dumbledore then tried to present a case proving Sirius' innocence. It was more difficult convincing the court to believe that. During this hearing, Fudge caught whiff of Padre's meddling, he called it. He promptly bullied the Wizengamot to demote him."

"He can't do that!" Blaise snarled.

"Well, Fudge insists he can by some decree that Umbridge, the bulldog, concocted. She's in the Wizengamot, too, unfortunately. Never saw that coming. Dumb as a mute that one. But not all is lost, sweetie. Your father and I can walk free now …"

"Will you be staying here then? And Papa too?"

Oma's smiled stuck awkwardly on her face. "Well, since the Order has been activated again … we're doing our best to recruit new people and monitor Voldemort's supporters here and abroad--"

"In other words: NO," Blaise sighed. Oma's expression softened.

"Durmstang needs leadership, sweetie. A strong one. Most of the students and their families have been alerted of Voldemort's comeback, despite Fudge's efforts to convince the Bulgarian Minister otherwise. Your father has played a major role in informing that community. He sends you his regards though. Always."

Blaise nodded, her shoulders drooped once again. "So how long will you be here?"

"Indefinitely," Oma smiled. "Unless, you're going to kick your grandmother out of her own house."

"Can't say I'm not tempted," Blaise replied. But she smiled as Oma pecked her on the forehead and ruffled her hair. "I … I don't mind you staying here. Though the Order might need you often."

Oma snorted. "I doubt it. Albus has it all figured out." Her tone higher than usual. Blaise followed Oma into her study room. Oma pulled out several books from the shelves and stacked them on the desk.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. And nothing will happen, the way I see it," Oma sighed. She began to pace the room. "I have been telling him for the longest time that he must talk to the boy. He should have, before Voldemort came back. But no, he said. He's too young, he said. Too young, my arse. Kids these days can take it."

"Oma, what are you talking about?"

Oma sighed and opened one book. She turned to a specific page and pointed it to Blaise. "Remember what I told you about the Order of Phoenix? How it was based on an ancient organization?"

"Yes," Blaise said skimming the pages. She noted their appearance. They weren't made of paper but of gauzy thick fabric. The words were either hand-painted, sewn, or both. It looked centuries old. But the magic brooding within the pages kept the book mysteriously intact. She doubted the library of Hogwarts had a copy of this one, even in the Restricted Section. On the page were sketches of animals, all arranged in a tapestry that looked vaguely familiar. Oma tucked the book under her armpit and paced the room. Blaise felt an odd buzz all over her skin.

"Blaise, remember when I said that every generation has a Dark Lord? And every Dark Lord has a counterpart. A hero that would equal the dark power. It's believed that the Order had been created by the very first of those wizards. And passed on to the next Vanquisher and the next. The identity of that person is in a prophecy. And I'm sure that prophecy will claim that Harry Potter is the next wizard."

Blaise suddenly burst into laughter. "Well, considering his history with Voldemort, how can that be a secret?" She remembered the little red scar across his forehead and pulled nervously at her collar.

Oma nodded. "Yes, you see it right away. But not everyone is quick on the uptake, including Potter himself. With Voldemort back, it will be virtually impossible for Albus to communicate with Potter without risk. I would gladly tell the boy what I know, but that might just strengthen the connection."

Blaise's eyes glazed over. Oma's speaking in tongues again. Blah-blah, Albus, blah-blah, Voldemort, connection, Harry Potter, blah-blah. If this brought them closer to avenging Cedric and helping her family, maybe she'd pay more attention. Her mind wandered back to the mysterious image she saw in the old book. Maybe it wasn't a tapestry. Or maybe it was some kind of art book. She really wanted to look at it again.

"Have you been listening to me?" Blaise's head snapped back.

"Y-yes, Potter's the chosen one. He has to vanquish Voldemort."

"Shh! Not so loud!" Oma looked over her shoulder. "Take this with you to Hogwarts."

Blaise's excitement went from a peaky crescendo to a dull flat when Oma handed her a spiffy red leather-bound book. It wasn't the ancient gauze-paged one.

"What is this for?"

"It's a journal. Well, sort of. Anytime you wish to tell me something, simply write down Dear Oma and we'll have direct conversation. But I also think you should try writing a few things to yourself as well. It could help." Blaise balked silently at the idea.

"Don't roll your eyes like that, Blaise Ophelia. Albus has told me that your new Defense Instructor is sadly Dolores Umbridge. Yes, the same swine-faced bureaucrat in the Wizengamot. She'll no doubt try to tap her wand into all sources of communication at Hogwarts. This journal is the best and simplest way to pass information to each other. Only you can see and read the ink in the journal. I charmed it with the Zabini blood."

"Yeah, that is charming." She noticed Oma wring her hands together. Blaise raised a brow. "Out with it, grandma. You're looking peaky."

Oma leaned in, her violet eyes alit. A look Blaise recognised whenever her grandma was about to go against better judgment. Its effect was a drug for her.

"You said you wanted to do something … this is your chance."

Payback is a Bitch

"What did I do to deserve this? Just strike me down now God."

Blaise massaged her temples imagining with envy her other friends enjoying themselves at Three Broomsticks. In the meantime, she's stuck here with Mr. Goodbar in the hellish reincarnation of Umbridge Haven.

"Lovely place, isn't it?" Roger Davies said mistily. "It's appropriate for Valentine's."

Mustard, paisley-printed wallpaper lined the walls which were moist from the vapors emitting from the potpourri jars. They both ducked their heads as a portly cherub zipped past them to strum an off-key harp over a couple. In fact, nothing but snogging couples littered the parlour.

Blaise blew pink confetti off the bridge of her nose.

"Whoever gave you that idea ought to be flogged."

"You're so cute," he tittered nervously. He pulled at his collar as Blaise tapped her fingers on the tiny table. "Umm, how 'bout we order some tea? It's relaxing and … yeah, I'll do that."

Blaise stared longingly out the window while Roger waved his hand towards Madame Puddifoot. He ordered their tea in a loud voice. As if boasting to the whole room that he ordered something for her. She almost could see the humour in the whole situation. Almost.

She had torn several tissues and had formed a small pile on the windowsill when their tea finally came. So far, her dates on Valentine's never came out the way she envisioned them. She always saw herself engaged in lively banter, among friends, and drinking butterbeer. With a bloke she truly found interesting. Her reasons for dating never fit the bill. She shouldn't have a reason at all, except she liked the boy.

Roger stole her hand just as she reached for her drink. She let her palm rest in his like a dead fish. It was wrong to lead the bugger on this date. But she wanted to prove herself to Chang. The girl's words on the train and her behaviour all through the term annoyed the piss out of Blaise.

The wind chimes tinkled on the door and, to Blaise's dismay, Cho strode in dragging Harry Potter. Her stomach twisted into knots as Madame Puddifoot sat the two right next to their table. For a split second, Potter locked eyes with Blaise. She suddenly stared at her and Roger's entwined fingers with mock endearment.

"Two coffees please," Cho said lifting her chin up defiantly at Blaise. Just like Roger, Cho's voice carried over the room, showing she ordered for the both of them. Like ordering coffee for Harry Potter made her Miss Big.

"Give me a bloody break."

"Say something, love?" Roger cooed. "I ordered us the chamomile. Try it."

She caught Cho giving her the evil eye as Potter began rearranging the spoons and napkins in front of him. She stared at a small crack on the wall slightly above Roger's head. "Anything you say, dear," she said sweetly, hating herself, but what the hell.

Cho threw another sneer her way as Roger mumbled quickly over Blaise's head.

"Really? How 'bout a kiss then? To celebrate our first date?"

Blaise laughed inwardly. She had just given Cho the two-finger salute. Roger tugged on her hand. "Uh-huh, that's nice." Brag as much as you like, Davies, she sighed to herself.

Suddenly, Roger's lips smothered themselves on hers. Blaise was too shocked to react. If it weren't for the look of contempt on Cho's face, she'd beat him unconscious. But she closed her eyes instead. Trying desperately to feign teen bliss …

"How can you tell when you're in love?"

She rolled her eyes as Cedric ruffled her hair. They were walking away from the Quidditch field. There was no Quidditch because of the tournament, but it didn't stop him from flying around the pit. Blaise tagged along. He tried to pass more flying tips to her. She tried again to learn.

"I don't know. But I'm sure we'll know it when it hits us." She shrugged.

"But what do you think it'll feel like?" She snickered at the goofy look on his face.

"Frankly, I don't think it's any different than how people feel about … family and friends."

"What do you mean?"

"Well … when people truly care about each other, they'd do anything for them. Even if it means dying for them. Maybe if you're willing to die for that person, maybe that's when you can say you love them."

Cedric paused and pulled Blaise's hand. She stared up at him with a raised brow.

"Then I'm not there yet." He looked worried, almost heart-broken.

"That's just a theory, Ced." She stammered.

"I dunno. It's confusing, huh?"

"Yeah, but one day … you'll be there."

Cedric smirked. "So will you, Blaise. So will you."

Well, today wasn't the day anything like that would happen. Her fist shook as she kept her eyes closed. Roger smelled strongly of his infamous cologne. And his lips felt mushy and too wet. Like a slug just spread itself over her mouth. He finally broke away with a triumphant grin. Blaise forced a smile. He leaned forward again, but Blaise blocked his face by lifting the teacup to her face. Then she doused her lips in the piping hot liquid.

Roger proceeded to snog the knuckles on her free hand. If he didn't quit soon, her boot will soon be in his mouth.

"So, Roger," she began. "Tell me about … yourself."

Blaise winced inwardly as he nattered on, filling the space with his flippy voice. She glanced at her watch. She figured this date lasted long enough. The small satisfaction she felt from annoying Cho had been cancelled out by that kiss.

"You're meeting Hermione Granger? Today?"

Blaise arched her brow, noting the icy expression that Cho usually reserved for her was now focused on Potter. Why? Can't a bloke have friends, Cho?! She snapped inwardly. Talk about insecure. Wasn't this the same Cho that threw herself on the boy during one of those DA meetings Susan attended?

Roger unstuck his lips from her hand. He turned to the couple beside them. "Oh, don't be jealous of them, love. I only have eyes for you."

Blaise turned her head as he lunged for her again, leaving Roger to snog her cheek. She pushed him away soon after she noticed Potter watching them. Great, just what she needed. Now he probably thinks I'm a trollop. By all rights, she behaved close enough.

She watched Potter from the corner of her eye. There was something rather cute about how uncomfortable he looked sitting across from Cho. He didn't look so aloof from this perspective. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. And when he reached for Cho's hand only to clutch the sugar bowl, Blaise snorted loudly into her drink.

"Yeah! She thought it was funny too," Roger drawled, assuming Blaise was still hanging on to every word he said. She rested her chin on her hand, keeping her tea propped in front of her face.

"I thought you'd understand! I need to talk about it!"

Blaise snapped her head back to Cho and Potter. She knew exactly what Cho needed to talk about, regardless if it puts off the rest of the world. Blaise tried to lock eyes with Cho, send her a warning. The girl can harass Blaise about Cedric, but when she imposes the topic on someone who endured the trauma of watching Ced die … Cho has to get off her soapbox. This pity party of hers was going too far.

"I don't know why you asked me out in the first place if you're just going to make arrangements to meet other girls right after me …"

Blaise rolled her eyes as Potter sputtered for words. Once again, Cho makes herself the poor, grief-stricken victim. Not only did big, bad Harry Potter deny her the RIGHT to mourn for Cedric, he's also stringing her fragile heart into one of his flings. Yeah, everyone knows Potter's a real ladies' man.

"I'll see you around, Harry," she said soberly turning in such a way that everyone in the room had a good look at her tear-stricken face. Someone give the woman a BAFTA. Blaise would've laughed if she wasn't so annoyed.

When Potter followed Cho out the room, Blaise knew this could be her one and only chance. He could either feel relieved that she delayed him from chasing after Cho, or annoyed. He could tell her to bugger off and not listen to a word she said. Blaise narrowed her eyes. No … she'll make him listen. Even if she had to sit on him to get the message through.

"Where're you going?"

"Sorry, Roger. This date's not working for me." She tossed some coins on the table.

She dashed out the door to see Potter splashing through the rain. She cupped her hands and called to him. The rain drowned out her voice. Blaise pulled the cloak over her head. She'll catch him before he enters another pub.

"Are you barking mad, Zabini?" Roger growled twisting her arm behind her back. He dragged her to the side of the building, in a small footway. He held her under the water pouring down the roofs. Unable to breath or see, she spun around and stomped on his foot. He released her with a yelp as Blaise gasped for air.

"You're lucky I'm in a hurry. Or I would pummel your arse." Blaise snarled.

"Pummel my arse? That seemed the farthest from your mind just a few minutes ago."

"How would you know what I thought? You were too busy trying to stick your slimy tongue down my throat. And don't think I enjoyed it. Unlike your housemate earlier, I won't make a scene. I'll just crush you later."

"Oh, I see. Cho's not your style. And what is? Snogging blokes for the heck of it?"

Blaise pulled up her sleeves. "Keep denying how things really went down, Davies. You're still nothing but a mediocre snog-monger."

"You little slut," Roger hissed. He grabbed Blaise and pushed her against a wall, pinning her arms at her sides. She tried to kick him, but he used his knees to press her legs together. His once handsome face twisted into a trollish scowl. "You think I'll just let you walk away? Let you go to your little Slytherin mates and trash me behind my back? Call me what you want, Zabini, but I NEVER had date where I didn't score more than a snog. And I'm not about to let some slut like you ruin my record."

"Get off me," she growled. "You make me sick! Now I know why Cedric stopped talking to you."

"Oh, fuck you and your precious Cedric. He's dead, Zabini. He's not here to rescue you like he did at the Quidditch Cup. I knew you were nothing but a tease when I first met you. You're putting out, whether you want to or not. And even if you hex me unconscious, I'll still tell the whole school what a whore you are."

"Tell the lie then. Because I will die first before you get your pecker in me." Her stony glare made him step back.

"Like I'd stoop that low, Zabini," he scoffed darting his eyes down the alley. "Look at you. Bitter little girl. You're not worth a shag." Coughing nervously, he released her only to slam her against the wall again. Blaise clenched her fists. "You'll wish I just shagged you when I get done telling the whole school--"

"What's going on here?" Another voice broke through the pounding rain.

Roger jogged away with a lazy smile. "Nothing, Malfoy. Just bidding adieu to my date." He left the alley as Blaise sunk to the cement. Her clothes soaked to the skin. Too late to warn Potter now. After Roger's finished smearing her across campus, no one will believe anything she says. She closed her eyes. Why can't she just have normality in her life for once?

"Do you want the mates to stuff Davies in a toilet or something?" Draco grinned. He pulled Blaise to her feet. She wiped her nose with a wet sleeve.

"I could've handled it. Don't look so smug. You did me no favors." The relief in her voice betrayed her.

Draco handed Blaise an immaculately white handkerchief. "He had you against the bloody wall, Zabini."

"That's when my bite is fiercest."

"Oh, I don't doubt you'd be fierce … Take the damn handkerchief, Zabini. It's not a binding contract for Merlin's sake."

Blaise dabbed the cloth on her face as Draco conjured a tarp over them. She almost said thank you, but she remembered this was Draco Malfoy standing in the rain with her. Not a properly sweet, humble boy like Neville.

"What are you doing here anyway? Where's your posse?"

He shrugged. "I needed space. The other two cramp my style, literally."

Blaise imagined Malfoy squished by Crabbe and Goyle. He always did look like his arms were locked at his sides. She snorted.

"Aha, she apparently laughs."

"It was a sarcastic guffaw." She blushed.

"I'll take it."

He didn't seem in any hurry to leave her there. Blaise felt a tremor creep in her spine. Her lips felt numb. Her clothes were drenched, but she simply stood there waiting for Malfoy's next move. When none came, she wondered aloud.

"What ARE you doing here? Be off with you. I'm f-fine." She shuddered.  

He shook his head. "Please, stop the act, woman. It's painful to watch. Although seeing your scammels poke through is amusing."

With a tap of his wand, her clothes dried, as did her hair and the rest of her body. She grimaced as she patted down her frizzed mane.

"I could've done that myself, Malfoy." He held up her wand. It must've dropped when Roger dragged her into the alley. "Or not." Draco snickered.

"You're impossible."

"Look who's talking!" She mumbled taking back her wand. "You are aware that Snape doesn't approve of this Inquisitorial Squad you've involved yourself in?"

"Not this again. Look. Umbridge is bent on ousting Dumbledore from the school. There's no way around it. I'm just covering my arse. And you know, maybe this school does need to mix things up. Nothing's changed. No big upsets. I think it's disgusting how Dumbledore blithers on about the Dark Lord."

Humility quickly gave into exasperation. "Oh, you think he's blithering now?!"

"The man's blaming Diggory's death on a ghost."

"WHAT?!"

He raised a hand to Blaise's wand. "Hear me out first, witch. The only way the Ministry will listen is if they see the Dark Lord themselves. If all the evidence Dumbledore has is Potter's word and the words of others, then it's easy to dismiss. They must see the man in the flesh. Words are too easy to explain away."

She narrowed her eyes. "You know something, don't you?"

"I probably know as much as you do," he drawled. "And I tell you … Potter's no help. He's only proving he IS an idiot."

"He's only ignorant." She sighed. "Stupid and oblivious are two different things."

Draco stood directly in front of her. "Why do you defend him?" He asked in a quietly controlled voice.

"Why call it defending? It's the truth."

Draco sighed loudly. "Everyone thinks he's the hero of our generation. So he survived the Dark Lord, he was fortunate. Does that make the rest of us incapable of greatness? I can name hundreds of people more intelligent, more interesting than him. But everyone just focuses on Potter. The true geniuses are nameless. If Scarhead is so great, then why did he let Diggory – Never mind." He turned away, avoiding Blaise's eyes.

"I guess this's where you step off your soapbox, eh?"

He kicked a rock into a puddle. "Don't you just want to get back at him?"

"For what? Just because he came out alive?"

"Yeah! Err, well … I guess No. But what I want to know is … where's the big apology? He owes us an explanation. But he just stomps around the castle wearing this I Suffered badge on his sleeve. If it's such a bloody burden then why doesn't he talk to people about it?!"

Blaise stiffened. "Yes, that does frustrate me. But … it's an awful, traumatic thing to talk about. I … I wouldn't be comfortable talking about it. It's like … some part of me has to die before I can even begin to discuss. That struggle alone is rough. And then to mix it up with an audience who may or may not believe you. Not everyone sees the truth the same way." Draco bit his lip.

"Bullocks," he finally said. "Anyone can handle honesty. It's the truth after a lie that's hard to swallow." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Yeah, now I'm off my soapbox."

They stood under the tarp, listening to the rain. Their breath came out in vapors. For once, she didn't mind his company. This was probably the most honest she's been with someone aside from Cedric. But Blaise did want to ask Draco Malfoy something. Something that bugged her since the night she closed her brother's eyes.

"You know, Malfoy … there's no secret between us about your father and his connections, right?" He nodded carefully. She wondered how quickly he would snap. "So if you heard him talking about … the Tournament …" She trailed off awkwardly.

"I would've told you … Don't look so surprised. Diggory was a good man."

She could only nod. If she spoke, she might've blubbered on his shoulder. Like hell, she'll fall to Cho's level. His ears grew slightly pink as he checked his watch.

"The mates might be looking for me. I'm heading back to the castle. Have a butterbeer for me, won't you?" He winked as he left the tarp. The rain had stopped.

"Hey, Malfoy!" She called and joined him at the corner of High Street. "Thanks for helping me back there."

He smiled smugly. "Aha, so now you're in my debt? Are you comfortable with that? Or do we have to bring out another mistletoe? Davies can watch."

Blaise howled with laughter, in spite of herself. "Leave now. While I'm in a good mood."

Draco smirked. "By the way, you're welcome, Zabini. You're a pain in the arse, but I still find you bearable."

She watched him walk away. The little monster in her had the urge to kiss him again, as she had done in Durmstang two years ago. Only because she knew he'd remind her of this moment for as long as it entertained him.

Now why would she prefer kissing the bugger instead of simply owing him a favour? Like hell, I'm attracted to the brat.

She glanced at the pubs and shops lining High Street. Through the windows, she saw friends gathered at tables over pints of drinks, girls trying on dress robes, boys pointing at gadgets, couples emerging from the tea parlour. And then there was her. Blaise turned back to the lanky silhouette striding toward the carriages.

"Hey, Malfoy, wait up!"

He held open the door and they climbed into a carriage. On the way back, they talked about Professor Trelawney, complained about Defense, and joked about Mill's infatuation with Crabbe. For once, Blaise forgot the burdens pushing down on her head. They were back to the usual routine: annoying the piss out of each other.

The Maverick

Once the bell rang, Blaise quickly flattened her exam on her desk and skipped to the back of the room where the rest of the students milled to the exit. She saw a familiar redhead in the crowd and grabbed the owner's sleeve.

Ron Weasley raised a brow as he smiled hesitantly at her. "Uh, lost your balance there, Blaise?"

"Where's Hermione?" She asked quietly, trying not to draw attention to herself. "I need to tell her something." Ron frowned.

"She might be already checking up on Harry. I don't know. All I know is that they took him away. You heard it yourself."

The crowd shifted and Blaise lost sight of Ron. No matter. She knew Hermione would have the most credibility. If she could tell Hermione the message, surely the girl could help Potter.

When she heard Potter screaming across the room, saw him twitching on the ground, clutching his forehead, all of Oma's warnings cramped inside her stomach. She suddenly saw the connection Oma implied. The torture. And without Padre, Hagrid, and Professor McGonagall in Hogwarts, there was no one there to give him some clarity.

"Hermione!" Blaise called. A very pale face turned to hers. "Hermione, I have to tell you something."

"Can it wait, Blaise? I just heard what happened to Harry …"

"I know. And it's about him." The brunette focused on her with wide eyes. Blaise spoke quickly. "I saw what happened during the exam. You have to make sure that whatever triggered that pain in his mind … just make him understand it's all in his mind."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think I understand." The crowd pushed against them. Blaise saw Malfoy approaching.

"Hermione, whatever Harry's seeing isn't real." The Gryffindor's eyes widened. "Please, tell him to clear his mind. His frustration only feeds the images faster. You and I both know that there's someone out there that can pull your friend's heartstrings."

"Blaise," she switched her weight on her heels. "What you're saying sounds a bit far-fetched. Harry has been acting peculiar but it's just stress." Her stomach sunk to the floor. Hermione gave her a small smile. "But if there's any truth to what you're saying--"

"There is, Hermione. You have to believe me. Don't let Potter out of your sight. And whatever happens, don't let him … go anywhere." She bit her lip suddenly feeling very stupid. She couldn't think straight, not with everyone brushing past them.

"Uh, okay. If you say so." The crowd began to pull them apart. Blaise made one last effort. She gently pulled on Hermione's robe.

"Be the voice of reason!" She whispered hotly. "If it sounds unlikely, it probably is. You know Harry will do anything to prevent the past from repeating itself." She could see her reflection in Hermione's dark eyes. "Even I see that in him, Hermione. His compassion for people is a virtue and a weakness."

She couldn't tell if Hermione heeded her words. The rest of the 5th years finally swarmed around them and Blaise lost herself again in the crowd. She elbowed her way into the courtyard. She sat down on the grass and pulled out the journal as Morag and Susan sat beside her.

"How did you do?"

"Alright, I guess," Susan mumbled. Blaise scrawled Dear Oma onto the page. "How 'bout you, Blaise?"

"I managed," she waited for Oma's script to appear on the page. Not a single blot of ink bled through. Blaise scribbled down Dear Oma again.

"I'm glad exams are over," Morag sighed resting on her side. Just then all three looked up as the crowd they just escaped began to gather onto their courtyard. Morag called over to her dorm mate. "Hey, Lisa! What's going on?"

Lisa Turpin shrugged. "Someone let off some Garroting Gas in the corridor. The line to get past it is too long so the rest of us are waiting out here."

Blaise shoved her journal in her cloak pocket. "Garroting Gas? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Well, I guess. Some 4th years told us. They blocked everyone from passing."

"What are you thinking?" Susan whispered to Blaise.

"Garroting Gas is no laughing matter." Blaise muttered under her breath. "If it was in the corridor, everyone would be choking to death. Even the so-called watch outs."

"Wanna check it out?" Morag grinned. Blaise cringed.

"Not really."

"Come on, Blaise. Snape didn't reassign Prefect to you for nothing."

"If he had any true conviction behind it, he would've told that to the other two. It's probably nothing anyway." She considered ducking by Hagrid's hut so she could talk to Oma in private. Suddenly, a small figure came stumbling out a pathway and bumped straight into Susan's hip.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" A young boy squeaked. Blaise noticed the camera dangling from his neck and recognised one of the Creevey brothers.

"What's your hurry?"

"I can't find a Professor anywhere!" He sniffed. "Malfoy just passed me and he bragged he had Harry Potter's wand and Potter was going to be expelled. And Weasley and Granger too. And McGonagall's left and--"

"Whoa, wait, Creevey, slow down," Morag sighed. "Who's expelling them?"

"Umbridge," Blaise sighed. "But why does Malfoy have Potter's wand?"

Creevey turned to Blaise. She braced herself. "Please, can you help us? I can't find any of the other Prefects anywhere. And you're probably the most neutral among them anyway. Please, Zabini? Please?"

Blaise bit her lip. "I don't know how I can stop Umbridge from expelling people."

Potter, though, loomed over her head, like a personal storm cloud. His face has been drifting in and out of her thoughts so often now that she was close to pulling her hair out. Of all the favors Oma could ask of her, why must she ask this one?!

"There is a prophecy in the Ministry of Magic that Voldemort thinks is essential to his survival," Oma told her back in the castle. "It was very well-protected in there, until Fudge modified the orbs protecting the prophecies. Now anyone can activate these prophecies after safe retrieval … And as I told Albus, Voldemort will not lay a foot in the Ministry, but he will try to take this."

"Sirius and I both agree that Harry Potter's ignorance makes him extremely vulnerable. But as long as the likes of Molly Weasley continue handling him with those smothering oven mitts, the boy will never be prepared. I'd rather not involve you, Blaise. But aside from Potter's friends, who I doubt have the same degree of intelligence and maturity you have, I see that you must tell Potter."

"Tell him to avoid the Ministry of Magic, no matter what he hears or sees. Tell him about the prophecy. Tell him about Voldemort's attempt to take it. Tell him that Voldemort's resurrection will have strengthened the connection. The boy will understand."

"Yeah, then Potter will think, who is this daft apeth? She's barking as fuck," Blaise mumbled under her breath. Oma had good intentions, but Draco Malfoy stood a better chance impressing Potter with this prophecy shit.

Her eyes darted from her friends' faces to Creevey's watery eyes. She did her part, didn't she? She told Hermione. No … that was just lip service. Potter could face expulsion. Or perhaps something much worse. But why should she care? Maybe if she told Cho to relate the message, he'd pay attention. Blaise gave her head a violent jerk.

"I hate this place."

Morag grinned. "That means she'll help." Creevey nodded and sped back to the castle. Blaise followed him with Morag and Susan close behind.

They almost reached the corridor where Ginny and Luna had stood when a loud group of students blocked their way. Blaise scowled when she caught not only the sneering faces of Cho and Marietta but also of Roger who pushed to the front of the group.

"Look who's here," he snickered. "The wannabe do-gooder and her band of misfits." Several girls scowled at Morag who narrowed her eyes. "I don't blame Bones for having poor judgment but you MacDougal … you're a disgrace to our house."

"Tell it to someone who cares, Davies," Blaise snapped. "You apparently have nothing to say to us, so let us pass."

Both groups tensed when Blaise stepped forward. A mild wind stirred around them, making her cloak billow softly around her. Something about the wind and the gleam in her eyes made the 6th years take a step back.

"You're not even a real Prefect," Roger scoffed with widened eyes. But still, he pushed past them without another word. The rest of the group followed. Marietta glared at Blaise who stared back angrily. It was because of Edgecombe that Padre had been ousted from the school. Blaise had her at the top of her list.

Marietta jutted her elbow out just as she passed Blaise. Before she could react, her journal slipped out of her cloak, and Roger dove for the book. Blaise tried to grab it back but both groups tussled and Roger managed to scramble to the end of the hall.

Over a dozen wands appeared, more than half aimed at Blaise.

"Hand that back, Davies," she said quietly. Some people pressed themselves against the wall, white as rice.

"Why, love?" He chuckled, flipping the pages over. "Seems you have nothing written down here anyway."

"That's probably because she can't write." Someone snickered from the crowd. Blaise narrowed her eyes. Said by-stander squeaked and ducked behind a gargoyle.

Susan steadied Blaise's wand. "Go and help Potter," she whispered. "Morag and I will handle these fools."

She bit her lip. "Susan, they're doing this to pester me. You don't have to--"

"I'm your friend, Blaise," she smiled. "Besides, they think we're all Mavericks anyway."

"Actually, he said Misfits, but I like your term better," Morag drawled.

"Are you both sure about this? They're many."

"We can take 'em," Susan said. "Potter taught me well."

"And you taught me well, Blaise," Morag winked.

Blaise hesitated, casting looks from her friends, to Davies' group, to Creevey trembling against the wall. It was only her journal. Yes, but she HAD to tell Oma what happened. And it puzzled her that her grandmother wasn't responding promptly.

"Thinking about running, Zabini?" Marietta jeered. Blaise closed her eyes. And she made her decision.

"Kick their arses. I'll be back," she said to her friends. She nodded to Creevey who sped away.

She ran down the opposite end of the corridor amidst shouts from Davies and the other 6th years. She wondered if placing complete faith in Susan and Morag was the right choice.

"This way!" The boy called.

She chased after Creevey who stumbled his way through the stream of students until he stopped at a familiar door. Blaise's lip curled sharply at the memory of pink duvets and tea dollies that Umbridge fancied. Talk about over-compensation.

"There!" Creevey whispered eying the door as if it'd devour him. She strode straight for it as Creevey made some garbled excuse and ran back down the hall.

"You're welcome," Blaise muttered.

Just then, the door flew open and two massive figures charged out followed by a strangled scream.

"Get the bloody feckers! Don't let them get away! Umbridge will have our hides. Or worse, I'LL HAVE YOUR BLOODY HIDES!"

Blaise squeezed against the wall as Crabbe and Goyle scarpered down the corridor and into the courtyards that led into the Forbidden Forest. Sighing deeply, she strolled inside the office. With a simple wave of her wand, she cancelled out the hexes on Pansy and Mill. Then she veered on Malfoy.

"Well? Get these bogeys off of me!" He snapped.

"Bogeys? I don't see any bogeys. Unless you're referring to the snarl on your lip. Want me to hex that off too?"

Pansy brushed Blaise aside and tried to unto the hex. Instead, she ran out of the office chased by the booger bats.

"Where are they?" Blaise demanded over Pansy's distant wailing. "Where's Umbridge?"

Malfoy pointed at his bogey-stained face and shook his head. Millicent cleared her throat.

"Umbridge took Potter and Granger to the Forbidden Forest. And I'm sure the other idiots followed." Blaise grabbed his collar.

"How could you let her get away with that? You said yourself Umbridge was a sketchy character. What makes you think she won't drag your arse into a dark place so she can have her way with you next?!"

Draco blushed as he straightened his hair. "You know Umbridge is just as intimidated by my father as she is with your family and Dumbledore. I don't like her, I have no respect for her, but if you haven't noticed, she's got this school by the balls."

"Then why do you encourage her?!"

"Because it's fun."

Blaise clenched her fists as she stared Draco down.

"You don't understand, do you?" She hissed. "You still think this is all a game. People died from a game, Malfoy. Lives were ruined. And you're just wandering around looking for a good laugh."

He shrugged. "Well, yeah. More or less." Grimacing she turned away. "I'm only playing the part, Zabini."

"You just don't get it."

"What do you want me to say, Zabini?!"

"Nothing! I don't expect much from you to begin with! Carry on as you always, ALWAYS do." She stomped out of the office.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" He snapped jogging beside her. "You think Potter will do us any good? You think he'll get your family out of their sorry state?" Blaise stiffened and glared at him. Draco folded his arms. "The git's as selfish as I am. People just empathize with him because he's a sorry orphan without a clue."

How long will you keep your mind closed over a stupid childhood spat? She circled him slowly, like a lioness eying her prey.

"You know why you hate Potter so much? It's not because he's got all the attention or he's a hero for doing little. You hate him because he rejected your friendship. For a son of a Death-Eater to even consider such a thing, it's blasphemous. But … I'm not surprised."

"He was your attempt at a different path from your father's. But when you tried to grab for that dream, to break away, he said no to you. And now you're cursed to follow your daddy's footsteps. And as much as you think you enjoy playing the part, you don't. You hate it. And you hate yourself for it."

Her words hung heavily in the air. Millicent fidgeted in the stony silence.

"Umm, I reckon that's Pansy's still screaming out by the courtyards. Yeah, I'll look into that." She ducked away as Blaise glared down her nose.

"Can't say anything now, can you?"

His face flushed bright pink. "You're full of shit, Zabini."

"Aren't we all, Malfoy?"

"I'm not a minion to my father or to anyone."

"You have yet to prove that, kid."

Speechless, Draco stormed off. She watched him with a heavy sigh. She should feel satisfied that she put him in his place. But she had hoped he'd try just a little bit harder to prove her wrong.

Then with a vigorous shake of her head, Blaise spun around and ran to the Forbidden Forest.

She noticed Pansy and Millicent standing by a cluster of crooked trees. These bent over a slightly worn path that circled within the forest's perimeter. Blaise remembered Draco talking about this path. He had to follow it in their first year for detention. She suddenly frowned.

"Where's Crabbe and Goyle?" She asked as she neared the two girls. Pansy looked up and, against Millicent's efforts, charged towards Blaise.

"What are you doing here?!" She snarled, waving her wand close to Blaise's head. "You've meddled enough already, Blaise!"

"Meddled!" Blaise barked. "I just got here! You got yourselves into this mess! You're better than this, Pansy. You too, Mill. What are you two doing here following some old bag's cause?"

Pansy's lip trembled. "Who's side are you on, dammit?!"

"None. I actually pave my own path. You should try it sometime."

Pansy grabbed her arm as she pushed past her.

"Blaise, don't go after them. Let Umbridge handle it."

"Pansy, that sadistic bulldog could easily torture any student here. Even you're not immune. No matter how many times you kiss her arse."

"Fine! Go on and help those gits!" Pansy blurted. "You think they'll accept you after you help them, is that it? Do you seriously think that you can single-handedly change the opinion of this school about our house and us? Why do you try, Blaise? Why do you care?"

Blaise bit her lip. "I'm only doing what my grandmother requested of me. And … it's the right thing to do. Don't roll your eyes at me, Pansy. I only wish someone did this for Cedric." She stopped suddenly. The tightness in her chest began to swell. She turned her back to the two girls. "I'm going in there. And if you don't want to help, then leave. I'll go alone. It's nothing new to me."

As Blaise walked away, Pansy called after her. "If the house hears about this, Blaise, there's nothing I can do to stop them from turning against you! You'll lose the little respect you managed to gain. You'll be back at zero, Blaise! Do you hear me?!"

The vines dangling from the tree pulled away as Blaise approached the forest's entrance. The moss gathered behind her, closing her within the foliage. With Pansy's warning echoing sharply in her mind, Blaise stalked down the path. There was no turning back now.