Chapter 34

Zoe

***

"Don't try to trick me, Zoe. I know you - after all, I was the one who changed your diapers." He smiles. "Now, tell me what's bothering you. Is it something about Hogwarts?"

I stare at my soft yellow wall, internally torn. One part of me longs to tell my grandpa about everything that's happened to me at Hogwarts, and the other knows that if I do, it will hurt him greatly. Although I tried to keep everything a secret when I was owling him from the castle, it's much harder to do when he's right in front of me.

"Well, there is...one thing." I begin. "I met someone last term, and most of the times we just don't get along. Things were starting to get a little better with us, but then something happened that made everything worse again, and we haven't really talked since. I'm just nervous, I guess, to go back there and have to see him again. And I don't understand why I care about it so much."

Abraham looks at me quizically. "Why don't you two get along?"

I hesitate. "He's never been that nice to me and -- honestly, I don't know why."

My answer is truthful. I really don't know why Blaise and I have never gotten along, or why he's always been rude to me. 

"Well, Zoe, I've always taught you not to let anyone treat you unkindly. You deserve better than that." My grandpa says. "But you also know I believe that no one is born mean. People turn mean and cold because of  something - something they experienced, or something that happened to them."

I gaze down at my lap, my heart feeling both light and heavy at the same time. It seems as though my thoughts have been a puzzle the past few months, and my grandpa's words are the piece that completes them. I'm unsure of how I feel about that.

"Maybe you just haven't found out what his something is, yet."

--

The talk my grandpa and I had over winter break is replaying through my mind yet again. I've been thinking about that conversation a lot the past few days -- ever since Blaise opened up to me in the boys' lavatory a few nights ago. 

As usual, my grandpa had been right. 

Blaise wasn't born with the meanness and bitterness that he carries now, nor was he born with thick emotional walls that are almost impossible to tear down. He became that way because of something  that happened to him. 

It makes me sick to my stomach to think about what Blaise has been through. It makes me realize just how lucky I was to grow up with the guidance and care of an amazing man like Abraham -- even if I never did have a mother figure. It also helps me understand why it's so difficult for Blaise to trust me, or anyone for that matter. With the way his mother treats him, I doubt he's ever trusted anyone in his life.

I feel anger towards this woman that I've never met. How could she have done this to her own son? And how vain and merciless must she be to continue doing it today without ever having thought twice? What really scares me, though, is that I know Blaise still hasn't told me everything. There are likely many horrifying details that I still have yet to hear about. At this point, I'm not even sure if I want to hear them -- I don't know if I could handle it.

I try my best not to act concerned around Blaise now that I know what's been happening to him. If I did, it would probably piss him off, scare him away, or worse yet -- make him second-guess trusting me to know something so personal about him in the first place. 

This proves to be difficult, though, because every time he walks away from me in a corridor or goes up to his dorm for the night, I'm tormented by thoughts that he's going to leave the castle again and go back to that cruel woman. And every time we meet up again and I find out that he hasn't, I want to wrap my arms tight around him and never let go. But I can't do this, and I know that -- I must shove down my fear and worry and never let it reach the surface.

"Pass me that." 

Blaise's deep voice rings in my ears, snapping me back into consciousness.

I blink a few times, a little bit dazed, and place the curvy knife that I'm holding into his gloved hand. He curls his fingers over the handle, gently sawing back and forth on the green roots splayed out on the table in front of us. 

We're currently in Herbology, working with a nasty set of plants that require us to wear protective gloves and goggles in order to dodge being poisoned. And yet again, I'd been zoning out, distantly pondering what Blaise had told me a few days ago. I find myself thinking about it a lot, because I don't want to be the one to bring the subject up first. If he wants to talk about it to me again, he will. Until then, I refuse to pressure him to. 

The problem with this is that it leaves me with many unspoken thoughts and unanswered questions that I'm forced to deal with on my own. 

"How'd you sleep last night?" Blaise asks casually, still focused on dicing the roots. His question makes me tingle inside for some reason. 

"Good -- you?" I lie. 

Blaise hesitates for a moment. I notice his fingers twitch on the knife handle. 

"Alright." He finally says. His voice sounds stiff, though.

Blaise continues to chop up the roots in silence for a moment, the only noise besides the chatter of our classmates the steady slide, thunk, slide, thunk of his blade.

"Hey." He pipes up. "I was thinking you might wanna come hangout at my dorm during our free period."

I go still at his words. Is Blaise Zabini actually trying to make plans with me right now?

"It'll be fun." He's looking at me out of the corner of his eye. There's a goofy, yet sly smirk on his face.

"Is that so?" 

"Oh, yes." He says, still with that silly smile that makes me grow one of my own. "So you should definitely come."

I grin down at the pile of roots on the table, shaking my head. 

Smiling and laughing with Blaise is one of the best feelings. He's not someone I have to fake my enjoyment around. It all comes naturally, and with every grin that he puts on my face comes a light and euphoric feeling that I find addictive. 

"Well, we'll see." I finally say. 

I don't want to let him think he's got me that easy.

***

I spend the entire hour of Defense Against the Dark Arts anxiously awaiting my plans with Blaise. 

Why does he want me to come over? What will he even want to do in his dorm? A frightening thought then strikes me that makes my stomach swirl. 

What if he just wants to get in my pants, and that's why he's invited me over? Just thinking about this, especially in class, makes my cheeks glow red. I pull a few pieces of hair in front of them, praying that it will cover up the scarlet tinge. 

Honestly, I don't even think I'd be ready for anything like that. I know Blaise has been with several girls before me, but he's the only guy I've ever done anything with. The thought of going even further than we already have is nerve-racking.

My eyes stay glued to the clock, which seems to be frozen in time, the entire hour. When the bell finally rings, I shoot out into the corridor, sweeping my books into a messy clutter in my bag. 

When I make it up to Blaise's dorm, the fluttery feeling in my stomach has only intensified. I feel hot all over and shaky on the inside. I know he must be inside, so very nervously, I raise my fist up to the door and knock. 

It takes him just a few seconds to answer. When the door swings open, he's standing behind it, a big grin etched across his face. I think to myself that I like when he smiles -- especially when it's a smile that's impossible for him to hold back.

"Well, well." He rests a hand on the inside of the door frame, leaning in a little closer to me. "Look who decided to show up." 

"Oh, hush." I say. I'm starting to feel a little bit shy for some reason. "Let me in." 

Blaise raises an eyebrow at me, but steps aside. I pace through the doorway, still very aware of his eyes on me, but trying to pretend I don't notice them. I feel like holding my breath under his soft gaze. 

He crosses the room, sinking down onto his bed. 

"How was Transfiguration?" 

"It was alright." I answer honestly. "I couldn't really focus, though."

"Because you were thinking about me?"

I look up, startled, wondering if I'd heard him correctly. The mischievous smirk on his face tells me everything I need to know. 

I scoff. "What -- ? No. No, I was not thinking abou -- "

"Yeah you were." Blaise says smugly. He leans back against his pillows, letting out a deep sigh and crossing his arms behind his head. "Don't try to deny it, Fletcher. You think about me all day." 

My jaw drops into an open-mouth smile. I can't believe him -- even if he is joking, and even if he is secretly right. 

"You're ridiculous." I say confidently.  

"So you don't deny it?" Blaise is grinning up at me. 

"Don't deny what?"

"That you think about me all day." 

I roll my eyes at him. "Your ego is far too big for your own good, you know." 

"So I've been told."

I hear the smile in his voice, and shake my head at him. 

I'm still perched awkwardly in the middle of his room as it becomes quiet. I glance around for a moment. 

Blaise's dorm is just as plain as it had been the last time I was in it -- a white duvet adorns the bed, and the top of his dresser is clean and clear, besides a stack of schoolbooks and a small wooden chest that I can tell holds something personal inside. 

Blaise clears his throat. "So, when do you plan on coming over here to sit with me?"

The butterflies in my stomach flutter to life. I'd been too nervous to make the first move that I'd forgotten the possibility that he might make it before me. 

I pace over to his bed, and slide myself onto the very edge of it, my heart pattering in my chest. When I look up at Blaise, he's staring at me, his features scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. It's probably because of where I've chosen to sit.

"Zo, c'mon. Come over here." He says. He pats the space on the bed directly between his legs. 

Even more nervous now, I scoot myself over to him and settle in between his open legs. I don't understand why I'm so jittery; Blaise and I have done much more than cuddle before. Yet, my heart is still positively racing -- although not in a bad way. 

Blaise pushes himself into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close to him so that my back is fitted against his chest. At his touch, my nerves seem to tingle, and then dissolve. 

"You don't need to be so shy." He speaks the words softly into my ear, his chin resting against my shoulder. The feeling of his breath whispering down my neck makes my eyes flutter shut. "It's just me."

But he doesn't realize that that's just it. It's him. 

We sit there for a few minutes in silence. It isn't the awkward kind, though -- the kind where you're frantically searching for something to say because you can't stand the sound of nothingness anymore. It's the most peaceful kind, the kind where you can relax and enjoy the presence of the person you're with, because words aren't necessary and don't need to be forced out.  

Blaise keeps his chin resting against my shoulder, his arms folded comfortably around my middle, his slow and deep breaths whispering down the side of my neck. I feel his soft heartbeat against my back, and it is calming in ways I didn't know it could be. I realize how much I love being with him like this -- it must be one of my favorite places in the world. Eventually, with nothing but warm and fuzzy feelings radiating through me, I lean my own head against the side of his. I could stay like this forever. 

Blaise leans back against his pillows, flipping me around and pulling me against his chest like a teddy bear.

As he moves his hand towards my head, slipping his fingers in my hair, I see it. A large cut on his palm. His skin is already flecked with several other gashes, but they look as though they've been healing for a week now. What concerns me about this one is that it looks brand new. 

It's fresh -- like it only stopped bleeding last night. The skin surrounding it is red and blistered, and I can tell that it has nowhere near begun to recover. 

My throat turns waxy and closes up. 

Did Blaise go home again last night? Did he slip out of the castle without me even noticing? There's one part of me that's desperately urging me to ask him, and another that's strongly resisting the idea.

The euphoria that I'd felt only minutes ago has vanished, and been replaced by something cold, twitching, fearsome. 

"She's not the only one, you know."

Blaise's voice seems to come out of nowhere. He looks confused, as if he hadn't meant to say the words, but somehow they'd slipped out. 

"My mother, I mean." He says, more quietly this time. "She leads a group -- kind of like a coven -- with other witches who have unique powers like her. Ones that normal witches and wizards don't have."

I hold my breath. I don't know if I should say anything. 

"What kinds of powers?" I decide on a minute later.

Blaise sighs, toying uneasily with a loose string on his shirt. I watch his fidgeting fingers, waiting for him to answer. 

"I'm not sure of all of them, honestly. Um...telekinesis, telepathy, precognition. There are some seers in there, too -- my mother being one of them. She has the ability to create her own prophecies. If she wants something to happen, she can make it happen. She just makes a prophecy about it, and sure enough..." He trails off. 

"That sounds dangerous."

"It is dangerous, because she isn't a good person. At all."

Silence cuts through the air like a knife. I start to feel very unsettled over everything Blaise is telling me.

"Anyways..." He continues, "what I'm trying to tell you is that it's not just my mother who uses her powers against me. They all do it, together. They have been ever since I can remember. They needed something to experiment on, to practice on, and my mother offered me up. Didn't even think twice about it. She did it when I was really little, and that's been my life ever since." 

The air surrounding us is heavy with pain as he finishes.

"I'm sorry." It's all I can think of to say. I really do mean it, though.  

"Don't be sorry. None of this is your fault, so you have nothing to be sorry for."

His words don't comfort me in the slightest. No one should have to go what Blaise is going through -- has been going through, his entire life. For a moment, I wish selfishly that it was someone else. Flint, maybe. 

But no -- I wouldn't even wish this kind of pain on him. 

"I don't get it." I say. "Why do they do these...terrible things to you? What's the purpose? What are they trying to accomplish?"

Blaise considers this for a moment.

"Well, they do have their reasons. They aren't good ones, but they're still reasons. The group existed even before my mother did -- they started way back in the 1800s. My mother just took over as the leader when her successor passed away. But anyways, they've acquired a lot of enemies over time. It makes sense -- they're extremely powerful, but also very selfish, and that isn't a good combination. Like, for one thing, they have a really terrible rivalry with You-Know-Who and the Death Eaters. That's one reason why they practice on me -- so in case they ever have to go into combat, they'll be ready. Mostly, though, it's because they're just plain selfish. Whenever they make up new spells, new potions, anything -- I'm the one that they test it out on, because they want to see how far they can go with their magic before it gets dangerous for them. They have ritualistic stuff they do, too -- ceremonies that need to be performed at a certain time and stuff. I don't really understand why they do them, but they usually make me pass out for those, so I don't remember them too well."

"...Oh." 

I truly don't know what else to say. There's a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach because I can't bear to imagine these things happening to him. No one has ever told me anything like this, and I suddenly feel like I'm doing everything wrong. I wish I knew what to tell him, how to help him -- but I'm absolutely clueless. I feel like a fool for ever thinking that I could help him if he just let me in. I had no idea just how shocking and cruel this all was. 

"I..." His voice is trembling when he starts up again. "It's not easy for me to tell you this stuff."

"I know." I say quickly. The words rush out of me almost the second he finishes speaking.

"No -- " Blaise says in frustration. He forces out a breath of air. "Look, Zoe. I know I'm telling you about this stuff, but it doesn't mean that I'm sure it's the right decision."

A twinge of disappointment in my chest. 

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't want you to get involved in this too somehow. I don't want to bring you into this fucked up situation even the slightest bit, because it's incredibly dangerous. And I don't want you to start worrying about me all the time."

"I won't." I say quickly, even though that's a lie. "I'm not."

Blaise glances down at me like he finds that hard to believe. I try to appear as convincing as possible, peering up at him with my still cheek pressed against his chest. 

He snorts a little, biting back a grin.

"What?" I ask defensively, pushing my hands against him into a sitting position. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Because," he says, still smiling a bit, "you suck at lying."

I want to argue back, but I know I'll never convince him. 

Blaise's forearm curls around my waist and he pulls me back down to him, like he can't stand me being away for even a moment. He's quiet, and all I can feel is his chest slowly rising up and down beneath me. 

"I don't know." He sighs. "I just...don't wanna be another piece in their experiments anymore. I wanna be more than that. I want to find a way to show them that they don't own me."

"You should leave. Just never go back -- never talk to her again." I burst out. The very moment I suggest the idea, though, something deep inside me tells me that it would never work. 

"I wish it were that easy, Zo. But it isn't."

"I know..." I grumble. I'm somehow even more disappointed now that he's confirmed what I'd already suspected -- that my plan will never be a solution for him. 

"I wish I could help you more." I admit. Suddenly, I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. 

"Hey." Blaise takes my face in both of his hands this time, angling it directly upwards so I'm looking right into his eyes. "Hey. Don't say that. Don't put that kind of pressure on yourself. You've already helped me so much."

I try to swallow down the lump forming in my throat. "Really?"

"Yes. Absolutely, yes. Being able to finally talk to someone about this, and having that someone be you...it's more than I could've ever asked for."

His gaze is soft, yet serious, and I know right then from the way he's looking at me that he's telling the truth.

And then, the look in his eyes changes. The intensity slips away. He looks at me in a way that makes me shiver with warmth from head to toe, that makes my heart beat frivolously with passion. He looks at me like he's stuck in a dream, like I'm the only girl he's ever laid eyes on. 

It makes me go crazy inside. 

"I want to kiss you." He breathes. 

His words steal the wind from my lungs. They make my heart grow wings in my chest. On my cheek, his thumb drags gently and slowly from beneath my eyelid to the corner of my lips. 

"Then do it."

And so he does.

Blaise's lips press tenderly to mine. He's so gentle at first, like he's afraid to hurt me.  However, the strong arm he has wrapped around me holds me so tightly that I think he's afraid I'll somehow slip away.  

His hands are everywhere on me as our lips move together -- pressed to the side of my cheek, trailing softly down my neck and shoulder, gripping the fabric at the back of my shirt and using the heel of his palm to push me even closer to him. It feels as if every movement of his lips draws the most desperate and deep-rooted passion out of my heart, and I know that this is exactly where I belong -- in his arms, with his lips pressed against mine. 

I can think of nothing but him -- everywhere he touches me, I feel a delicate warmth like nothing I've ever felt before. I am entrapped, entangled, entranced by this boy in the most wonderful and beautiful ways possible -- and I never want to escape. 

***