Troll: 43. Winter Gala II

Chapter 43: Winter Gala II

Blaise Zabini
Longbottom Manor, Great Britain

Alas, my plans were foiled before I could put them in motion. Rather than permit me to flee, mother pinned me in place with a careful stare. She twitched minutely towards my new “cousin.” I didn’t need to be a mind reader, though I was one now, to know what she was getting at.

Lily was… Well, calling her grumpy would have been like calling Violet just a little danger-prone. My classmate was still glaring like a mad dog, with tears at the corners of her eyes. She probably thought my mother had magically mind-fucked her great-granduncle or something, that we were after their family wealth and were happy to murder him for it.

Truthfully, I couldn’t blame her for that. Nor could I blame her for feeling frustrated and helpless. She was a Gryffindor, but no amount of courage and daring would fix this kind of relational trouble.

I saw her and I… sympathized. She was hardly the first relative who hated mother, my late Aunt Carmen came to mind, but she was the first I’d interacted with who was also my age. Seeing the raw helplessness in her eyes made me feel deeply uncomfortable; someone our age shouldn’t have to worry about anything but late assignments.

Mother, apparently, agreed. Whether in a bizarre show of compassion or a simple desire to keep the peace for tonight, her instructions were clear: She wanted me to take Lily and smooth things over as best I could.

“Well, this has been lovely,” I said, loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. I pulled back my chair and stood. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to dance. It helps me digest, you know.”

“What a wonderful idea, Blaise,” mother smiled indulgently. It was like this atmosphere didn’t bother her at all. Hell, she probably reveled in it. “You’ve always been a charmer.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind, mother, I’d like to take my soon-to-be cousin for the first dance.”

Lily gripped her knife tighter. Her mother saw and tried to intercede. “Now, I don’t know abou–”

“That sounds like a great way for them to get to know each other,” Lowell cut in. He eyed me with a look I could not decipher. “Blaise is a wonderful young man. Go on, Lily. I think you two have more in common than you’d think.”

Under her elder’s scrutiny, Lily had no choice but to take my hand. Her fingernails wrapped around mine with all the insistence of a raptor clutching a mouse, almost but not quite breaking skin. I didn’t make an issue of it; she deserved a freebie, this time.

We were some of the first to walk to the dance floor. People our age tended to be a bit more hesitant and the adults were still largely chatting over glasses of wine. This gave us an isolated space to speak that was both seen but private. Perfect. Mrs. Moon would never have let me out of her sight with her daughter.

My left hand went to the small of her back as my right hand held her left. Her right was reluctantly over my shoulder. And as we began to step and sway, I was bombarded by visions of my poor, mangled toes.

“You look lovely this evening,” I told her even as I deftly dodged her most definitely on purpose “missteps.”

She scoffed, cheeks ruddy with anything but joy. “Get bent, Zabini.”

“I’m serious. You look great.”

And, it was true. Lily wasn’t especially pretty, nothing like Daphne, Lyra, or my mother. That didn’t mean she didn’t have her charms.

She had auburn hair that refused to be tamed. Even now, several strands had made their escape from her ribbon to frame her face. Her gray eyes were sharp and piercing, giving her an almost feral look. A smattering of freckles dotted her cheek like constellations.

“Shut up. Just… shut up. Take your stupid dance and we’ll be done.”

“You know, I didn’t choose this, either.”

“Yeah? Am I supposed to feel bad for you? Don’t play the bloody victim.”

“I live with her. I think many would call me a victim,” I replied dryly. “But you’re right. I’m not the one with a year left to live. A year and three months, max.”

Her foot crashed down where my toes were supposed to be. She’d gone for pumps, with a hefty bit of weight below her heels that I didn’t want anywhere on me. “Are you making fun of this? Is this a joke to you?”

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry if you think that’s how I feel, but I get it. Believe me, I’ve been through this song and dance six times before. He’ll be stepdad number seven.”

“How does she keep getting away with this? Breaking families and…”

“Most times, she picks people who are lonely, people who think they have a chance, that they can be the special exception.”

“She’s a gold-digger. Your mother’s a whore,” she spat with angry tears in her eyes.

“Not strictly true,” I replied softly. “It might have begun that way, but she’s more interested in prestige than gold now. Now, it’s more about being wanted by men who matter, the thrill of the chase, if you will.”

“That makes me feel so much better, asshole. You… You don’t even care, do you? You’ve seen this so much that it’s nothing to you.”

“I care. I care enough to take you away from there.”

“And I’m so grateful,” she bit back sarcastically.

I held her gently, letting her sway with the music. “Moon–Lily, let me ask you one thing.”

“Piss off, Zabini.”

“Does he look upset?”

The question caught her off guard. “What?”

I gestured with a tilt of my chin. “Your great granduncle, or whatever he is. Does he look upset by this arrangement?”

“What the hell is your point? She probably drugged him on the happy pills.”

“She has not. She doesn’t, not to charm. It’s actually a point of pride for her. The hunt would lose its meaning if she ‘cheated.’”

“And I’m supposed to believe you?”

“You’re supposed to investigate. I get it. You hate me. I admit, for good reasons. You have more reason to hate me than most ever do.”

“I… You… Why do you let this happen? You’re a seer. You can–”

“Do nothing,” I finished for her. “For starters, I awakened my seer bloodline this summer. It was when my late aunt tried to torture me to death. She wanted to get revenge for her brother, stepdad number six, see?”

“Is that what this is? You covering your ass in case I come after you?” she accused. “Coward.”

“I’m not in the habit of suffering for the actions of others, even my mother.”

“Then help me. Help me break up this engagement.”

‘No.”

“You’re a seer now. You could–”

“Do nothing,” I said again. “You give me far too much credit. I’m not omniscient, and most certainly not omnipotent.”

“There has to be something we can do.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But Lily, she’s my mother. For all her flaws, there will always be a part of me that cares for her. I never help her on her ‘hunts,’ but I won’t ever act against her plans, either.” Not least of which because then, she’d be more willing to act against mine. I had enough tact to not say that part out loud.

“You have such a fucked up family,” she scoffed.

“I do, but she’s the only one I’ve got. Look, all I’m saying is that you should talk with Lowell.”

“You… You think I’ll find something.”

“I think you might begin to understand, just a bit. Not approve, you’d never approve, but understand.”

“I… I’ll kill her.”

“I’ll have to stop you. Gently, I promise.”

“And if I can get Uncle Lowell to break things off?”

“Then you win. I won’t stop Lowell. Mother would be cross with me if I helped her bag her catch. It wouldn’t feel ‘real.’”

“That’s fucked up. You’re both fucked up.”

“Welcome to this fucked up family, niece,” I replied with a rueful chuckle. “You can come to Uncle Blaise for anything.”

And this time, I didn’t dodge the heel that crashed into my toes. I remained smiling through the pain even as I gently ran my thumb up her ribs and into her armpit. Just as the song ended, Lily leapt from my arms with a squeal of surprise.

Her face burned as dozens of eyes focused on her. I bowed at the waist, claiming my victory. Ticklish people shouldn’t pick fights on the dance floor.

She returned to our table, still pissed, but now looking more contemplative than homicidal. It was progress.

X

I walked off the dance floor as soon as Lily did. If anyone asked, I was not bitching out of there. I was a young, pureblood wizard with poise and dignity who simply had better things to do than use his Sight to protect his poor, little toes.

Now that the formal events had passed, the attendees naturally pilled out into the garden. They sought out business partners, political allies, or simply one of the several floating platters of desserts or drinks that bobbed around like lilypads on a lake.

I found myself turned off by the live music. Music in Magical Britain tended to be an odd mix of Victorian-era ballads and modern-ish instruments combined with the odd muggle inspiration.

The live band that had been invited to Longbottom manor had a cabaret jazz vibe that made me wonder where the hell they even could have encountered such a thing. Aggressive jazz needed a certain mood from me to enjoy and ballads just didn’t work with the style in my opinion.

Funny enough, I was in good company there. The musical stylings were obviously nontraditional. Even those who had never heard it before couldn’t mistake it for anything but a muggle-inspired style. It was one more way Augusta Longbottom was showing her support for the progressive elements, a declaration that was heard but not spoken.

I was much more interested in the exhibition duel going on. A section of the garden had been set aside for the event, with seats strewn about for those who cared to watch. The match was between a top auror, one of Mad Eye’s older pupils, and a former dueling champion.

I sat alone, up and away in a lonely nook that was invisible from the garden path. It was a nice way to enjoy the night air. One of those floating platters drifted by so I got myself a cup of butterscotch and rice pudding. It was rich, decadent, and the elves really could have eased off a bit on the cinnamon. Still good, just a bit heavy.

Down below, the duel commenced with a strict, formal bow. The auror was immediately put on the back foot by a blisteringly fast piercing spell. He sidestepped it, but the former champion simply chained one spell after another in a steady stream that kept him dancing.

The former champ seemed to favor the fast, chain-casting school of magical combat while the auror was more selective in his spell choices. I wondered if that was a function of their jobs. A duelist didn’t have to concern himself with things like collateral damage or bystanders.

“You aren’t sitting here waiting to scam poor sod, are you, Zabini?” I heard behind me.

I turned to find Lyra Malfoy dressed in a gorgeous, blue dress with gold accents. I rolled my eyes but made room for her next to me. “Hello to you, Malfoy. Bucking the trend, aren’t we? I would have thought you’d shoot for green or silver.”

“I would, but blue matches my eyes better.”

“So it does. You do look beautiful, by the way.”

“And you look handsome.”

“Thank you. To answer your question, no, I have made no wagers with anyone about this duel.”

“How boring. Why are you idling here? People are talking about you, you know.”

“Are they, now?” I tilted my head curiously. “You’d be more plugged into the gossip than I, Malfoy.”

“There are several men who want to speak with you.”

“I’m sure. Have you considered that I am avoiding them? Talking to them wouldn’t hurt, I suppose, but it wouldn’t advance my own objectives.”

“They’re likely to take offense.”

“And what about you, Malfoy? How is it that you have found me here? Could it be that you’re also avoiding someone?”

She made a face, that one with a raised nose and a pinched, constipated expression. “Don’t remind me. How do you put up with Parkinson?”

“Believe it or not, he’s not awful.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m still trying to wipe his slobber off my shoes.”

“Oh? I would have thought you’d be the type of lady who enjoys a bit of pampering.”

“As it turns out, I have a limit. That limit is my so-called peer humping my leg like a mutt. Really, can you believe he’s a part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight?”

I winced at that. I wasn’t too invested, but I’d been somewhat supportive of Heath’s efforts. Clearly, Lyra didn’t appreciate the attention. “Sorry to hear that.”

“Are you? Are you sorry? Or are you amused by my suffering?” She scoffed. “Whatever. Come on, father wants to speak to you. It’s about that.”

“That?”

“That.”

I snorted. “You’re adorable.”

“Shut up, you never know who might be listening.”

“Of course, Malfoy. Lead the way.”

X

We found Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy in a quiet gazebo at the edge of the Longbottom estate. It overlooked one of the many greenhouses the Longbottoms had and practically sang with magic to my Sight. There was a silence here that was unnatural, a magically enforced tranquility that almost reminded me of the pond where I’d met the unicorns.

I bowed politely as we entered. I couldn’t afford to forego manners. Lucius Malfoy was scum, but he was competent scum. He was cunning, ruthless, and not terrible with a wand if the rumors were right. Out of all Death Eaters, he was probably the most vital to their organizational goals.

Lucius was a handsome man, tall and pale with an aristocratic sharpness to his features. He kept his hair slicked back, just long enough that it didn’t form a ridiculous mullet behind him. He barely acknowledged his daughter as she took a seat beside him.

Next to him was Narcissa Malfoy. She was a gorgeous woman, with raven-black hair and shocks of white highlights. On anyone else, the hairstyle probably would have made them look like a skunk. On her, the highlights provided enough distinction to make her noticeable without clamoring for attention other bright colors might have.

“Mr. Zabini,” Lucius said. His voice was soft, spoken with quiet expectation. This was a man who expected to be heard regardless of the volume of his voice. “Please, take a seat.”

“Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy. How are you this evening?” I replied politely as I took a seat across from them.

The table was laden with refreshments that were untouched. Lyra looked like she was considering grabbing a cookie, but took one look at her father and restrained herself. It was probably some silly discipline thing to not nibble while we talked.

I looked him in the eyes and filled my plate. It was petty, but I didn’t want this discussion to devolve into too much stiff posturing. Besides, I wasn’t a noble so noble decorum could fuck right off.

“It has been a fruitful evening,” he replied. Seeing my plate, he offered Lyra the slightest of nods, permission for her to join me. “I suspect it will be more fruitful still.”

“Yes, that’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“My daughter speaks highly of you.”

I raised an eyebrow in silent doubt. “I am flattered. Miss Malfoy is doing quite well for herself in Slytherin.”

“She is; I am satisfied with her performance.” Next to him, Lyra preened as much as decorum allowed. It was a little funny, like watching a swan puff herself up while holding a cramped pose. “But we are not here to discuss academics.”

“No, I suppose not. Please, allow me to be blunt: Lord Black’s return is going to shake the Wizengamot.”

“Cousin Sirius never had any interest in politics,” Narcissa scoffed daintily.

“That is unimportant, as you well know, Lady Malfoy. His mere presence will mean the revival of the Black seat within the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“And what? It’s a little late to protest his return. Dumbledore managed to acquire Pettigrew, somehow.”

“Yes, that caught me by surprise as well,” I said with an innocent smile. “Who could have guessed that a dead man would walk again?”

“Quite. I’m sure you understand that we have our own thoughts on my dear cousin’s return.”

“Of course, he is your family, after all. I’m sure you are making plans for the future. Miss Malfoy’s generation of the Wizengamot is certainly shaping up to be interesting.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Oh? It is no secret that Lyra has a claim to the Black seat. Are you saying you have a plan? Being a seer does not make you more cunning, especially seeing how you did not see Dumbledore's manipulations.”

“No, I have no plans of that nature,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s quite the opposite. I am not here to offer you the Black seat. I am here to convince you to forfeit it.”

“Explain,” Lucius said, one word that reeked of danger. “You could not have joined Black’s faction so swiftly. He has not had the opportunity to promise you anything.”

“He’s not savvy enough to form a faction in the first place,” his wife sniped.

“Then we can only conclude that Mr. Zabini saw something. What is it that you have seen? Why would I give up a Wizengamot seat when my daughter has the strongest claim?”

“Because I can tell you now that Lord Black will never name her his heiress.”

Silence filled the space. Across from me, Lyra shuffled nervously, caught between instinctive denial and worry. She’d learned over the semester that betting against me was unwise, but she wasn’t the one I needed to convince.

Lucius and Narcissa mulled over my words. They traded glances that contained an entire conversation. It made me feel a little jealous; I wondered what it’d be like to have a partner who knew me so well.

“My daughter seems to take you at your word, but I am not fully convinced,” he said. “Let us presume that you are here to advise me for the benefit of my house. What do you get out of this?”

I smiled placidly. “You can learn a lot about a man by what he values. And you can learn what a man values by how he spends his time.”

“This is so. What do you value, Mr. Zabini?”

“I value stories, Lord Malfoy. Not wealth, for I have plenty of my own. Nor political influence, for I am not of this nation to begin with.”

“You speak in riddles. Why is it that everyone who claims to pierce the veil of time prefers riddles to truth?” Narcissa scoffed.

“I don’t know about any other seers, for there is only Madame Trelawney in Magical Britain, but I was being quite forthright with my desires. I value stories. I therefore seek out stories. This is why I advertised my services to my schoolmates, and why I befriended Miss Potter.”

“The Girl Who Lived. You believe her story is not yet over.”

“Her parents' stories certainly are, but hers? I don’t know,” I lied through my teeth. “I suppose I could peek ahead, but that would be rather boring.”

“You seek excitement. Is that what we are? Entertainment? You’ve seen it all and so you want something new?”

“No, not quite. Miss Potter is entertainment. I would love to see what becomes of a girl of such legacy. She is akin to a comedy skit. As for House Malfoy, your story is an epic.”

“Flattering, but you have yet to give us a reason to trust your abilities.”

I pulled out my crystal ball and set it on the table next to the teacakes. It caught the eye, glimmering like an eye that stared them down. “I can narrate the most significant moments of your lives if you wish. Shall I tell you your own wedding vows? Or the day you got that interesting little tattoo?”

Lucius stiffened at that. It was admittedly a bit of a faux pas on my part. Everyone knew that Lord Malfoy was a Death Eater. Everyone knew he’d been coerced via imperius.

Everyone knew. It was rude to point out the obvious.

“The past is meaningless save for sentiment, Mr. Zabini,” he replied cooly. And, he believed that. If there was ever a time when he would have died for Voldemort’s cause, that time had passed. I suspected that he was the last person who wanted his master’s return.

“Of course. Unfortunately, the future is equally meaningless, for you have no way of validating anything I might tell you. Would you prefer that I guess the number of fingers you have behind your back?”

“No, such a trivial show of your talents is beneath you. I believe in my daughter’s testimony.”

He was a liar. He believed in what he saw, and what he saw was a man far too confident to be lying. Oh well, it made Lyra happy.

I nodded graciously, ignoring that he’d been testing me from the beginning. “As I was saying, House Malfoy’s tale is an epic. However, it is not an epic of House Malfoy-Black. Miss Malfoy will never hold the Black seat. Lord Black prefer anyone else, anything else.”

“There is no other,” Narcissa said with a dismissive sniff. “Regulus died childless. Bellatrix is in Azkaban. Andromeda was disowned. Our Lyra is the only heiress he has.”

“That is irrelevant. Miss Malfoy will never be Lady Black for Lord Black loathes his house, his very name. You know this, Lady Malfoy. Lord Black would much rather burn his house to the ground and salt the ashes than permit its resurgence.”

“Even he would not dare–”

“He is a blood-traitor. He was part of the Order, you know the one. The legacy of his house means less than nothing to him. He sees his name, not as an honor, but as a millstone around his neck. He might even think he is doing Miss Malfoy a favor, saving her from having to carry the burden on his shoulders.”

“And what do you propose?” Lucius asked softly. He’d been angling for the Black lordship for a long time, ever since it appeared that Sirius was out of the way. “You would have us yield what is rightfully ours?”

“I would ask that you show grace, my lord. Rather than seek a prize that will see Miss Malfoy become a target at best, I advise that you claim the next best thing: the Black family wealth.”

“Yes, that is what you told my daughter. You believe you can get Lord Black to relinquish his family vaults. How? What do you know that I do not?”

“A great deal, most of it useless,” I replied with a flippant smile. “For example, Dowager Longbottom plans to acquire a new head-vulture for the trial because she wants one with a brighter plumage.”

He glared in silent warning. “And Lord Black?”

“I can offer him answers. More than that, I am not at liberty to say.”

“I know your type. You answer to no one but yourself. You are at liberty to speak of whatever you please.”

“A man is bound by his word, a seer doubly so. I do not share stories that are not yours to hear, not even for the Lord Malfoy. You will simply have to trust that I can speak to Lord Black.”

“Trust is far more valuable than mere galleons, Mr. Zabini.”

“At times, yes. But what do you truly lose if I fail? Either I convince Lord Black to give up the family vault, or I don’t. I then exchange the contents of the vault for a few tomes from your manor. Surely that sounds good to you, my lord.”

“It does, perhaps too good. Am I to believe that you will surrender the full contents of the vault? What is it that you want from my library that is worth a lord’s vault in your eyes?”

I met his gaze with a knowing smile. He already had a good guess; there was no point in pretending. “You know, Lord Malfoy. There is only one book that would be worth a king’s ransom.”

Author’s Note

Long-ish chapter. Blaise is used to Valencia’s shit. Lily is not.

I tried. I really tried to not leave this chapter at a cliffhanger, but it’s getting too long. This was the best (least worst) place to cut things off so I could start the next chapter with Lucius’ perspective.

Animal Fact: Over half the world’s fish species live in lakes, rivers, and other freshwater bodies. However, these freshwater bodies make up less than one percent of the total volume of water on Earth.

This is called the Freshwater Paradox. The conventional explanation for the increased biodiversity in freshwaters is that the smaller, enclosed areas allow for a great number of environments, presenting diverse stressors upon fish species.