Failures
Dear mother, Blaise reminded himself, as he wrote, that this could easily fall into “the wrong hands” – whatever that was supposed to mean; he wasn’t entirely sure, after last night’s fiasco what the hell he was doing, who’s side he was on.
“You’re not on any sides, git, you just do what you think works, you make options where they never existed before.”
He said it aloud, which was the biggest testament to the fact that he still needed to convince himself of this – and perhaps get his brain checked.
I find myself looking forward to our meeting on Christmas like I haven’t in quite a while. Well that much was entirely true, he could not remember when a time when he just wanted to throw himself in her arms and bloody cry, but of course that wouldn’t be happening any time soon, life just wasn’t that simple anymore, and what problems would that solve?
My studies have been going well and I hope to keep improving and although Hogwarts is not the best place to be a Slytherin these days I have managed to keep my head held high and it has been, on the whole, a better term than I would have expected. That meant he wasn’t giving up, of course when she read it all she would see would probably be a bunch of inconsequential fluff, but at least she would know he was well enough to write and even to write lies. Yes, that would reassure her.
I will be taking my second Careers exam later this week so it is probably best that I go study some more now.
Your ever-loving son,
Blaise
He scanned the short letter and wondered how many times you could use the word probably before being a certifiable Hufflepuff. He decided to leave them in there, mainly because he was too tired to bother and partly because he had this crazy half-hope that she might be satisfied with this clear mark of indecision and not press him too much to admit his error when they did meet.
Standing up Blaise realized that he was still not ready to admit that he really was royally messing up his life and had no way out of this hole he’d dug for himself. He still saw a small pebbled road leading to his glory, his chosen path, himself. It was not, however, clear enough an image to work with, not at the moment anyway, so he decided it would be best to concentrate on his studies for now and ignore everything else.
Over the next few days he kept himself as busy as possible with his essays and classes. He allowed his mind and curiosity to run in classes and put in his best for each subject. Well, theoretically anyway. Realistically, you had to prioritize and he was finding it very difficult to resist pushing the stupid careers lessons down to bottom priority. This is why he had no patience for Weasley when she cancelled flying that Wednesday night to study.
“You’d think we were the ones taking bloody NEWTs, not the seventh years!” she complained from a stiff-backed chair in the Room of Requirement. Her books were all around her and parchment seemed to be flying around for no apparent reason.
“Stop complaining, Weasley, it can’t be that bad, I don’t recall anything so stressful lat year.”
Blaise sat himself down in front of the fire and took out his books. She was wrong if she thought she was keeping this quiet room all to herself when he was the one with the Careers test tomorrow night. And now he had no excuse to put off reading that last chapter on Identity Enchantments for a few more hours. And what was she on about canceling the stupid lesson, these days flying kept him sane.
He had to forgo another meeting with Weasley that weekend when McGonagall called him to her office to “discuss his career classes”. The last thing he needed right now was another meeting with the Headmistress. And he knew this could only mean one thing: despite his efforts he had failed the second test. Oh, the Dark Lord would certainly be pleased about this. He could just imagine the conversation: “Oh, I’m sorry, Master, but your plan for me to spy at Gringotts after I graduate isn’t really going to work because I failed a couple of tests.”
“Come in, Mr. Zabini.”
He shook his head and walked into the office. McGonagall had a couple of leaflets on her desk as well as something that could only be his test paper. “Now, I think we’d better get right to it, your grades have seen a decline this year and although I see that you’ve been putting an effort these past few days the improvement is not sufficient to quell my worries for your future.”
For a few moments Blaise stared back at the Head of Gryffindor transfixed. The last Slytherin to neglect his schoolwork had ended up being a Death Eater as they both knew very well…what other conclusion could her mind come up with at this point? Had she noticed his absence the other night or detected his escape from the school?
“Now I hope you agree with me that it is rather silly for all this to be happening just because of a simple thing like a career class that you never wanted to take in the first place.”
Relief shocked his body like a good strong stinging hex. He was vaguely aware of muttering something stupid along the lines of “the right choice”, “well paying” and “mother.
“If your mother had ever wanted you to pursue such a career I am sure she would not have sent me this letter asking me to find a way to force you out of this ‘silly desk job’ in any way I could.” Blaise just snatched the letter from his Headmistress, eliciting sniffs of disapproval from most of the photographs in the room and read it quickly to confirm that his mother had, indeed, said such a thing. Aveline Zabini was not a stupid woman, maybe she knew a way to make it ok for him to study something better without displeasing the Dark Lord.
“But-” he began.
“No buts, Mr. Zabini, I am afraid I cannot allow you to remain in this class knowing its detrimental effect on your school grades and knowing that you would be much happier in a different program. Your NEWTs classes leave you a wide option of careers, you are doing very well in Charms, Ancient Runes, and Professor Sprout has been telling me that although you have a certain unwillingness you are doing quite well in Herbology.”
She shoved a bunch of pamphlets in his face and a list of alternate Careers Classes that he could take. Ancient Runes was very interesting, he had to admit, and he wondered if being able to translate Ancient Runes would be sufficient to put him in a position to spy at Gringotts, solving part of his Dark problem.
“Mr. Zabini,” the professor said, “A word of advice. Your seventh year will only get more and more stressful from here on so I would suggest that you choose something you truly enjoy, something that will not be an added chore.”
Blaise stared down at the list, if it was really that simple he would not be hesitating; he knew exactly what he wanted to study, but this career was not an option for someone like him no matter how you looked at it. He knew, however, that pursuing Ancient Runes would be tough, so, if he could think of a good way to explain this to the Dark Lord, the best option would be to choose a subject very important to his ‘dream job’ and pursue that one. Something that wouldn’t add more stress to his life, but would leave the option open in case things changed and he was able to do it.
“Might I suggest the advanced Charms Classes, Mr. Zabini?” she said as gently as McGonagall could possibly manage without it being worrying, “You have a great aptitude for the subject and it would leave many options open, not excluding research careers.”
Blaise briefly considered the research option. That was an interesting though he had never dwelt on, but he knew now what he was going to choose. “Herbology, Professor.”
McGonagall raised an eyebrow so he decided to give a little more explanation: “I want something where I don’t have to think too much or figure complex equations out, Herbology was always good for letting off stress.” And out of the requirements for my real career path of choice this is the one that needs the most improvement, even my Potions grades are better than Herbology, and getting close to Longbottom will be the best excuse to tell the Dark Lord, he added in his head.
“Very well, Mr. Zabini, this will, in fact give you a good background for what I am about to offer you.”
“Offer?”
“Yes, Mr. Zabini, the Professors have been planning for a four-week Spell-Invention course with a variety of guest-lecturers to begin a week or two after the holidays. It was one of Professor Dumbledore’s last plans. Needless to say this chance is a rare one and will only be offered to the most promising students in the year.”
Blaise refrained from finishing off with “the ones that are left anyway” as she handed him a small green leaflet with a sign-up sheet attached to the back. “You will have until the day you get back from the break to sign it and return it to me, but I urge you to consider this seriously no matter what your career choice is. You will, of course be exempted from some of your other work during that time.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
Blaise’s main thought, with regards to the spell-invention gig as he walked back to his dormitory was that there was no way she suspected him of anything. You didn’t just hand the enemy a chance to develop their skills in such an advanced field and, basically, teach them how to invent spells to use against you that you may never hope to find counter-curses for.
As it turned out the Dark Lord was very pleased with the Herbology thing because Blaise received a book on plants that night with a letter that now bore the familiar Mark and an order to pay special attention to any information he could glean from the Longbottom boy.
Blaise wasn’t really too interested in Longbottom, he was much more interested in what Ginny was asking Longbottom about and how far they had gone in the research into what the Golden Trio were up to. But even this information he would eventually get from Weasley herself…eventually. What he really wanted to know, with every bit of his Slytherin curiosity was why Slughorn interested the Dark Lord.
Blaise spent the next few days concentrating his energies on Slughorn, this was something of a relief because he wasn’t sure he actually wanted to know any more of what the Guards Tonks and Kingsley were saying to each other. He was, as the Dark Lord had sneeringly informed him, hopeless as an Occlumens. It had saved his life, yes, he was sure the Dark Lord trusted him because of this fact, but that didn’t mean he was going to let himself be responsible for things bigger than he was willing to handle, let himself lose control. He wasn’t going after more Order information until it was absolutely necessary.
After a few days of watching the man it was quite obvious that he was very afraid of something, well he had been ever since the beginning of the year, but Blaise hadn’t cared too much about it then. He was also making sure that it was completely impossible for anyone to catch him alone. Blaise was assured that it wasn’t just him Slughorn was avoiding when Ginny showed up on the roof seething. It was Sunday night and she apparently had a tough Potions Essay due the next day, but Slughorn might as well not have been in the Castle at all that weekend. The man was really very good at hiding.
“Just drop it and get in the air, Weasley!”
“No, Zabini, I’m finishing the damn essay if I have to stay up all night and if I have to sneak into the restricted section to do it!”
“I’ll help you with the essay when we’re done, just get in the air.”
“No.”
Blaise watched her disappear under the trap door and then got on his broom and got to flying by himself. It wasn’t as if he was completely incompetent or something, he could practice by himself, without help from a stubborn Gryffindor. And he didn’t have any homework due anytime soon so he could relax completely. For the first time in a very long time he could relax and enjoy the serene calm of the winter’s night without a million essays to worry about. It wasn’t as if the homework load had lightened, but the fact that he didn’t have a few hours of torture every week in those Gringotts classes really helped improve his mood and lift most of his stress.
He saw the Weasley again next morning when he was leaving the Great Hall after breakfast. She was walking with one of her little friends from Gryffindor, but there was something wrong with her. Her face was very pale and she kept clenching and unclenching her hands in an alarming way.
She must have found something out in the Restricted Section, he thought as he walked in to the Charms classroom, It must have to do with our little “research project” she won’t be able to resist telling me everything now.
She proved to be very able to resist, however, and after a whole twenty four hours expecting a letter from her and receiving nothing, he cracked and sent her his own letter. The answer came to him at the beginning of his next Careers Lesson in Herbology. She had wasted no words, the answer was simply No, and although it wasn’t written on the parchment he also read from her response that she would be very willing to share as soon as he shared his identity with her.
He slammed the pot in place on the table and began to dig into the soil angrily. Longbottom twitched beside him, but contained his curiosity and remained silent. Sprout really had known what she was about when she paired the two. Longbottom not only helped Blaise improve his method, he was also less talkative than the other students taking this course, for which Blaise was very thankful.
“Watch your left hand, Zabini!”
He pulled his hand back from the dangerous spot it had been hovering at beside the Snapping Daffodil and gave Longbottom a little nod. If she didn’t crack after the Holidays Blaise would try to get at the information she had through Longbottom, but he was sure a few days being treated like a fragile little thing by everyone she came in contact with would drive her nearly mad and push her to answer his questions and ask about his own progress. This didn't stop Blaise's curiosity from increasing tenfold everytime he saw her concerned or thoughtful.
