Chapter 10

Zoe

The first quidditch game of the year takes place on an unfortunately cold day.

The air is as chilled as a stony winter day, and the wind is even colder. I've layered on a gracious amount of tops - a tee, a sweater, and an overcoat, along with my Slytherin scarf, which is concealed by that of a Ravenclaw one.

I've decided to sit with Stevie for today's match, so the look fits well. There's nobody for me to hang with in Slytherin, because Flint is playing, and it's not like Pansy Parkinson and I are friendly. Blaise is playing, too, and him and I have only been able to share one rare moment in which our conversation contained slight compassion. I try to shake the thought of him from my mind as soon as it pops up - I'm not even sure why I thought about him in the first place.

"Have you seen Seamus today?" Stevie asks as we pick our way through the packed bleachers. This should be a big game, so most of the students have shown up to watch.

I give a heavy sigh. "No, not yet."

I've told her about Seamus's reaction to the party last night. She didn't get quite as angry as him when she found that I was considering going - just a little concerned. I can imagine that the next time I see him, whatever words we do exchange will be tense. 

"I mean, it's not exactly the safest place to be, Zoe. Gryffindor throws parties that are just as fun and way more safe." She says, leaning left to avoid an enchanted eagle sign waving in the air. Up ahead, a group of boys have removed their shirts, each with a letter painted on their stomachs to spell out RAVENCLAW in dark blue. "Anyways, let's just focus on the game. We can talk about dangerous parties later."

I nod in agreement. We manage to find two open seats a few rows in front of the shirtless boys, and settle in just as the game begins.

***

"FIFTY-TWENTY! TAKE THAT, YOU BLOODY, CHEATING BI-"

"Jordan, if you can't control yourself-"

"Sorry, professor! Anyways, the quaffle goes to Davies - he dodges a fumbling Goyle and passes it to Brady - Brady, down the stretch - but no, intercepted by Warrington..."

The Ravenclaw student section gives a unified cry of horror as Cassius Warrington passes the quaffle to Blaise, who has clearly proven himself as one of the most reputable chasers on the Slytherin team. He weaves his way in between Ravenclaw beaters, speeding towards the goalposts at the other end of the pitch.

"Zabini, bloody speeding towards the Ravenclaw goal - as much as I hate him, the guy has style - throws the quaffle - AND IT'S IN! I see what he did there, that sneaky bastard...ten points to Slytherin..."

Blaise circles back around, not bothering to joyride above the Slytherin student section like Flint and Pucey do whenever they can get the quaffle past Duncan.

"Do you see the snitch?" I ask Stevie, leaning in to her but not taking my eyes off of the game. So far, the small golden ball is nowhere to be found. She shakes her head, silent, as I watch Cho with sheepish hope. I'm not even rooting for my own team.

"Ravenclaw's Serena Cole with the quaffle - she's easy on the eyes, that one -"

"Jordan, this is your last warning - " McGonagall growls.

"I'm just saying, professor. Anyways, Cole with the quaffle - she passes it to Chambers - oh, but look! Look at that! Higgs of Slytherin has spotted the golden snitch, and he's zooming straight towards it!"

Cho Chang has just caught onto Higgs' pursuit of the snitch, but it's too late - she's many feet behind. The Slytherin student section is erupting with roars of euphemism, while the other three houses are shouting with horror.

Higgs' fist closes around the tiny golden ball, and it's all over.

"Slytherin wins, one-eighty to fifty...a pure stroke of luck from their average seeker, Higgs..."

Higgs parades around the quidditch pitch - a one-lap victory circle during which three-quarters of the crowd boos ferociously.

I let out a sigh of disappointment as the players descend to the field. I was really hoping that Ravenclaw would pull off the win and knock down the egos of my fellow Slytherins a few notches.

"Well, we better head down there real quick." Stevie says, her voice deflating like a popped balloon. "I need to talk to Cho - she'll be feeling guilty."

I nod in agreement, and try to understand what it'd be like to have the weight of the entire game on your shoulders. I know I couldn't handle it.

The field is flooded with students decked in green and silver, celebrating obnoxiously and taunting the players of the opposing team, especially Cho.

"I don't understand why they have to act like that." I say, gazing over at my housemates in general distaste. Even Flint has partaken in the mocking of the Ravenclaw team.

"Well, I've met a few rare Slytherins who are somewhat kind." Stevie says, and a grin crawls onto her lips. "Like you."

I laugh half-heartedly, wishing that I'd stumble across these people, too.

It's then that I see Blaise, missing from the Slytherin quidditch team, who are piled together and boasting loudly. He's a few feet back, standing next to a Ravenclaw chaser and carrying on what looks like an actual conversation.

I watch, dazed, and wait for him to lash out and downcast the face of his opponent. It never happens. He gives the blue-clad boy a pat on the shoulder, and turns back to his team. For a moment, our eyes meet from across the field, interlocking for just one second, and the rest of the world disappears. But he looks away, and I find myself brimming with confusion at what I'd just witnessed. Blaise and kind - the two words just don't fit together.

"Stevie Renshaw."

The cold, mocking voice comes from a few feet to the left, and both my friend and I turn in the direction of it, startled.

It's Julian. He holds a taunting, sinister look on his sharp face, and his lips are curved slightly with malice. He's dark, still holding his slick broom, and flocked by a few fellow teammates in silver and green.

"What are you doing down here?"

Stevie swallows, and I can tell that she's unnerved by him. I am, too, as I recall what Julian did to the little boy Theodore no less than a week ago.

"I'm just coming to say hi to Cho." She barely whispers.

"Well, you'd better hurry on with it, mudblood. I don't think they allow your kind on this field."

I lose it.

"Julian, you leave her the hell alone - "

I am storming towards him, blind with fury, cocking my fist back as Stevie begins to leak tears behind me. Mudblood - it's the same thing he called Theodore the other day, and I know it doesn't mean good. My curled fist is swinging forward and he's leaning back when I feel a hand clamp around my wrist.

I whip around wildly, fury coursing through my veins.

"Cool it, Zoe."

Blaise is inches from me, preventing me from hitting the cruel boy. His eyes contain a clear message - for me to shut up and back down before I make Julian angry.

"Let me go, Blaise." I say, writhing in his grasp as Stevie continues to cry behind us. He doesn't budge, his hold on me tight as iron. "Let me go." I am wriggling more forcefully now, becoming more frustrated with each passing second that he grasps onto me. I push against his chest, and his fingers wrap around my other wrist. He forces my hands down to my side.

"Don't." He breathes. His eyes are calm as they meet mine, speaking more words than his tongue. I fall motionless under his gaze.

Blaise glances over my shoulder once, and releases me gently. When I whip around to confront Julian, he's gone. I feel my blood boiling.

"Great." I fume. "You let him go. Now he gets away with this."

Without waiting for his response, I turn, grab Stevie, and march the both of us off the quidditch field.

***

After consoling Stevie in the girls' room for an hour, I return to my dorm and isolate myself in anger for the rest of the day until I have to see Blaise again.

Blaise - he's tutoring me tonight, which isn't something I'm looking forward to. He stopped me from finally giving Julian what he deserved, and I want to give him hell for it. Julian is way darker than your average run-of-the-mill asshole - he's proved that much. But I find myself even more angry at Blaise right now for enabling him.

The pit of aggravation forming in my stomach only doubles when Blaise is late for tutoring. So far, he's missed fifteen minutes of the lesson, which is just past the dash mark of fashionably late. I feel like blowing up on him, right up until he walks into the room.

Blaise looks as good as dead when he enters the library. He appears so exhausted that he can barely keep his eyes from sagging shut. He's just come from some sort of work out - his body is slick with a sheen of sweat, and above his waist, he wears a cotton gray tank that defines each bulge and hardened rope of muscle on his body. I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling strange in my own skin.

"You're late." I snap, but avoid his eyes. Though he may be tired, I don't plan on taking it easy on him just yet. I'm still frustrated that he stopped me from slapping Julian into next week.

"I know." He says. "Flint wanted to have an extra practice. That's his thing this year - extra practice every time we lose."

"Oh."

"Okay, let's get started, then. I want you to go over the - "

"Why did you stop me from hitting Julian today?" I ask, interrupting him before I can stop myself.

Blaise's eyes slowly turn upwards. "You're kidding, right?"

I shake my head, my blood beginning to boil at recollection of the memory. "No. He deserved it. Why did you stop me?"

Blaise sighs. "Because he would've given you hell if you hit him."

"I know that." I snap. "He gives everyone hell, every day. Someone had to hit back, eventually."

"But not you, Zoe." He says. His eyebrows are furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line - the look he gets when he's trying to explain a concept that I just don't understand. "Listen, I know what he said was wrong, but you just need to let it go."

I push a breath of air out past my lips in frustration. Julian isn't right, that's for sure - he tried to attack a young boy with a knife. That doesn't mean that nobody should show him what he deserves, though.

"Fine. Can we just get started? I'm tired."

"That's what I wanted to do in the first place." Blaise says coolly, causing a bubble of frustration to float up in my chest. I flex my hands and rest my chin in my palms, grinding my teeth together.

Despite my itching desire to focus on my work and get the hell out of the library, I am able to do nothing but the exact opposite of that. The words that Blaise are saying sound like white noise, and the image of Julian's sly face keeps floating through my mind. The more I try to avoid thinking about what happened, the more it hammers itself into my thoughts like a stubborn nail.

"Zoe, fuck." Blaise says. His eyes are clouded with impatience. "That's the third piece of parchment you've tore through in the last ten minutes."

I look up, dazed, and discover that I've torn my note sheet in three different places. I'm clutching my quill so fiercly that cramps have begun to plague the muscles in between my fingers.

"Sorry. I'm frustrated. I'm having a hard time focusing."

Blaise scratches at the nape of his neck. "It's fine. Let's just finish up, okay?"

I nod in agreement.

Blaise points toward a small phial of maroon powder. "Now, put that in the cauldron. After it reacts, write down any observations of physical changes in the potion."

Still touchy about this afternoon's events, I rip the cap off of the phial harder than I intend to. It flies across the room and bounces against the floor a few times like a skipping stone. Only half of the powder makes it into the cauldron, due to the aggressive stabbing motion I use to empty the phial.

"Jesus, Zoe." Blaise sighs. "Can you do this right now, or no?"

"Yes." I answer. "I just don't understand why Julian has to be so horrible to everyone he knows, including those who've never done a thing to harm him - "

"Just leave it be, will yo - "

" - and Stevie is such a nice girl. I was the one who threatened him earlier this week - if he was going to insult anyone, it should've been me - "

I reach for a phial and mistakenly grab its neighbor, dumping its contents into the cauldron and creating a bubbling substance that would normally concern me. Blaise is officially lost - he looks defeated as he watches me, but I hardly notice.

" - I truly don't understand how someone can be so rude, I mean there's got to be something - "

"Zoe!"

And the next thing I know, Blaise is grabbing my wrist and shoving me out of the way so forcefully that it hurts, and the contents of the cauldron are bubbling over the top and then bursting into flames, bits of steaming liquid flying this way and that. I throw my hands in front of my face, letting out a shriek as the substance sticks onto the backs of my palms.

Blaise rushes around the edge of the table, his eyes wide and fearful.

"Damnit, you can't be reckless like that - you have to watch what you're doing - "

He takes my hand in the two of his, turning it over twice. My flesh is sizzling, burning up with a searing heat that makes me wince.

"What did I do?" I ask, my voice raising an octave as Blaise examines my swollen skin. "Did you get hit, too?"

"No, doesn't matter. You weren't paying attention - damnit, you can't do that - "

He sighs - a forceful breath of air pushed from the bottom of the lungs - and gently drops my hand back at my side.

"Don't let that hand touch you anywhere else, and follow me. You need to get cleaned up."

I follow him out of the library and into the hallway. The corridors are dark - only lit by moonlight cut into strange shapes. We take a few lefts here, a right there, and I no longer recognize where I am. I flex my fingers a few times, hoping that the circulation will get rid of the torrid heat on my hands. It doesn't.

Blaise finally curves to the right, whispers a password, and a magnificent door swings open to reveal a grandeur bathroom. The stained-glass windows, the ceramic pool of a bathtub - I recognize that this must be the prefects' bathroom, which is something that Eric had told me about a few years back.

Blaise pulls me over to a sink beneath one of the taller windows. He turns on the faucet, and guides my afflicted hand beneath the running water.

We stand for a minute or two, him hard at work washing the substance from my flesh, me wincing as the pain slowly dissipates. His digits trail across the backs of my hands, going up and down as they run over frail knuckles and criss-crossing veins. They're gentle - dancing in the dips between my fingers, tracing the faint lines on my palms.

"I didn't know you were a prefect." I say when the pain passes, gazing at Blaise's fingers as they delve down past my thumb.

"Surprised?" He props my other wrist up with his hand, and though he is standing close behind me, I can feel that he is smiling, just a little bit. I think that I've never really seen him smile. "I became one in my fifth year."

"Can't say I would've expected it from you."

"Well, I'm full of surprises."

Another moment passes by, and it's clear to both of us that the remnants of the potion had been washed from my skin awhile ago. I remain silent, watching intently as the movements of Blaise's hands over my own grow slower, more gradual. My lungs feel like they're shrinking. Tingles run up the backs of my arms, down the nape of my neck, in the pit of my belly. And then his hand isn't moving anymore, but rather just hesitating over mine beneath the steady flow of water, and I can feel his breath hitting the back of my neck.

I turn around to face Blaise. He's closer to me than I'd thought. His lips are slightly parted.

I look down at my feet, slowly releasing a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding in.

"I'm going to go get my stuff from the library and go back to my dorm."

I step aside him, and then forward, and begin to quickly pace out of the prefects's bathroom. My heart is beating much faster than I'd thought as I walk away from him. I don't turn around to see if he's followed, and he sure doesn't make any noise as I leave. Not a single sound.