The Parting of the Ways
***WARNING: DH SPOILERS***
Challenge Fifteen: Deathly Hallows Missing Scenes
Title: The Parting of the Ways
Author: somigliana
Wizard/Witch: Blaise Zabini/Susan Bones
Rating/Warnings: PG-13/R
Genre: Romance/Drama
Word count: 1500 exactly
DH Chapter: 33 - The Prince’s Tale
Summary: I closed my eyes against the destruction and silence and a dishevelled-looking Susan.
Dust drifted down from the roof beams and filtered into the new silence which hung in the air. I held my breath for a moment, waiting for the next thunderous assault on Hogwarts to shake the foundations of the Three Broomsticks.
My headache pounded against my temples, throbbing in tandem with my heartbeat. The pain had intensified with each terrified, high-pitched scream of the evacuating students, until it had etched my lips into a permanent snarl.
“Baddock, Harper, you’re next. Get over here,” I commanded impatiently. “Are you two the last Slytherins?”
They nodded.
Slughorn buggered off a while ago. He was probably hiding in some luxury Muggle hotel, quaffing those little bottles of alcohol and hoping that the war would go away by the time he finished his bubble bath. I have to admit that he had the right idea; I’m an idiot for staying behind.
I pushed them into the fireplace. “The Leaky Cauldron,” I reminded them. “You can contact your parents from there.”
I leant against the mantelpiece and sighed as the verdant flare subsided.
The expectant silence stretched on. Was it over, then? I had my preference for victor, of course, but I’d deal with whichever outcome. I was never going to wear the Dark Mark, though. The hideous tattoo-proof that Voldemort was wizarding trash-was no more subtle or controlling than a choke chain on an animal.
“Where’s Colin? I’m not going without Colin!”
I grimaced and turned to scowl darkly at Nigel Creevey. He was worse than his happy snappy brother, I swear. He’s the type that makes me think they have a point about the Muggleborn students.
“He’s probably at the Honeydukes evacuation point, Nigel. You can meet him in Diagon Alley,” said Susan Bones.
She sounded far less pleasant and patient than she usually did; it had taken forever to evacuate the junior students. Susan and Brocklehurst had the Gryffindors to deal with, too. Not one of the brave and noble house had stayed behind to help with this “lesser” task. I snorted with disgust.
“No. I want to wait for Colin-”
“Get in there now, Creevey!” I snapped.
A cold, high-pitched voice slithered from dark corners and under the door.
“You have fought valiantly.”
I wasn’t afraid of the snake-faced half-blood, but his voice was eerily dramatic, I had to admit. A chill chased down my spine.
”Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery.”
My sneer had frozen in place for a singular moment before I processed his next words, and I rolled my eyes. Now the delusional, psychopathic bastard was referring to himself in the third person. I shoved a handful of Floo Powder into Creevey’s hand.
“Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste.”
“Honeydukes.”
“No!” shouted Susan and Mandy in unison, rushing towards the fireplace.
I lunged forwards to grab the little idiot. My fist closed on the wisp of green smoke, and it dissipated between my fingers. “For fuck’s sake!”
“Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.”
I longed to punch something - all my pent up frustration and annoyance was beginning to leak around the edges of my control. I swear to Merlin the Gryffindors deserve their pigeonhole. I don’t think I’ve met one who didn’t fit the “doesn’t fucking think before they leap” bill. I closed my eyes and fought for control. Susan Bones’ perfume danced on the air, and my lips parted in minute relaxation. I ignored Voldemort’s rhetoric. Time enough for me to leave, though. Good.
“I’ll go get him,” Mandy Brocklehurst said.
“I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself.”
I turned on my heel and walked to the bar, crunching glass shards into rivulets of alcohol under my boots. Madam Rosmerta was busy Banishing all the shattered glass behind the bar. I picked up a surviving glass from the counter, and I dug into my pocket for a handful of Sickles.
“ I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences.”
“Bottle of Firewhisky, please.” Detached and polite was all Rosmerta got from me. I’d given up being charming to her. It was a waste, because she’d held a grudge against all of Draco’s friends since spending her days under Imperio.
”This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour.”
Rosmerta stood frozen in place as she listened, her hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. She shook her head slightly and slid the bottle across the bar.
“Oh, dear Merlin,” Rosmerta murmured, and she hurried up the stairs, presumably to pack.
I sat down at a table near the fireplace and poured a shot of Firewhisky. I sipped slowly and leant back against the wall, closing my eyes against the destruction and silence and a dishevelled-looking Susan.
“Oh, good idea,” Susan said. I opened my eyes minutely, and I watched her dig around in her robe pockets. Her smile faded as she brought out that DA Galleon of hers. Her lips pressed together slightly, and she sighed softly as she put it back into her pocket.
“Get a glass,” I said.
The look of surprise on her face was priceless. I supposed my reputation as a selfish bastard was rather widespread. She slid into the seat across from me after retrieving a glass from the bar. I poured a liberal shot of Firewhisky for her.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
I pretended to ignore her. I drained my glass and grimaced slightly as the burn seared down my throat. The claws of tension in my stomach loosened slightly, and the spikes of pain that hammered at my temples eased somewhat.
“Where are you going now?” Her soft voice broke into my silent calm, and I slitted my eyes open slightly.
I lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “Home.”
My answer sent a frown chasing across her brow. “Aren’t you going to stay and fight?”
I snorted. “No.” She was seriously going to go back up to the castle, wasn’t she? Idiot girl. “What the hell for?”
Her nostrils flared slightly. “To fight for what’s right. To fight against Vol-” She swallowed the middle syllables, but lifted her chin defiantly, “-mort.”
I smirked at her and poured another shot. “I thought I was an evil Slytherin,” I reminded her. “Shouldn’t I be fighting for him?”
She hesitated for moment, giving me that inscrutable look that she’d been giving me since Easter. “The thing is, Blaise...” She leant forward across the table. Her fingers curled around her neck, and she licked her lips nervously. “I don’t think you want him to win,” she said quietly. Her words and her closeness disquieted me. Susan Bones had a way of creeping under my skin, seeing through my guarded impassiveness. It was like she knew what I was thinking sometimes.
I leant forwards until our faces were so close that I could see myself mirrored in her eyes. I struggled to keep focus. Her scent made me imagine things - like why she still smelt like that when she’d been fast asleep in bed an hour ago. I lifted my hand and pressed my fingertips against her fluttering pulse. “You don’t know what I think, Susan,” I drawled. She shivered slightly at the darkness underlying the silken tones of my voice.
“Coward,” she whispered.
“No. I’m a pragmatist.”
I gazed at her for a moment, and then, because I wanted to kiss her, I did. I tilted my head and brushed my lips against hers, smothering her little gasp of surprise. As my tongue slid along her lower lip, she pulled back, eyes wide and startled. I smirked at her. “Every dying woman needs a good last kiss,” I told her as I slid from the bench. “I’d make it a good fuck, but I’m afraid I have to be going.”
“Bastard,” she said, staring at her glass.
“I know.”
I took a handful of Floo Powder. Rosmerta came back down the stairs, decked out in jeans and combat boots.
“Wait for me,” Susan called as Rosmerta headed for the door.
She glanced over her shoulder when she reached the door. Heatless flames spiralled around me, and the inexorable spin of the Floo Network started to pull at me. She looked regretful in that moment, and a crooked smile quirked my lips. “Ciao, bella,” I murmured, and the Three Broomsticks blurred from sight.
Author's Notes: Lord Voldemort’s speech is quoted directly from chapter 33 of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Proof-reader: Thank you very much to gelsey.