Fic: "Where do we go from here?" for captain_jen
Title: Where do we go from here?
Author: paradise_loved
Recipient's name: captain_jen
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson
Warnings (if any): Slightly OOC, a bit angsty, post-battle, mentions of character deaths
Author's notes (if any): The poem at the beginning doesn’t really have much to do with the plot except for the fact that children grow older and time moves on - leaving some people behind. Beta-ed by Heidi, who doesn’t have a livejournal at this point in time.
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers and they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt for forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
- from E.E. Cummings’s “anyone lived in a pretty how town”
“It’s about time you showed up, you know,” Pansy sneered to Blaise. “I nearly thought that I was to be the only one here tonight.”
The lighting in the Leaky Cauldron was less than adequate, but the meeting had continued nonetheless. It had been a little over a year ago that Draco Malfoy had made them promise - that is, Pansy, Millicent, Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle - to come to the Leaky Cauldron the night after the Final Battle. Whoever was alive, whoever was still breathing and not in jail, was to arrive at 8 o’ clock the night after. Blaise and Pansy sat now at a table in the corner, shielded from light, each sipping a butterbeer that was now tasteless.
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” Blaise muttered. “You look so much older.”
This was somewhat of an exaggeration. Pansy felt that she looked no different. Her bodyless, black hair had grown at bit, but her eyes were dead compared to their usual bright brown form. Her chest remained nearly flat as usual and her loose clothing did not accent any part of her thin form. Pansy sipped her butterbeer warily, never taking her eyes off of Blaise - as if a little more than one year’s time had changed both of them dramatically.
“Not really,” Pansy scoffed. “If you had returned to Hogwarts, you probably wouldn’t have noticed a change at all.”
Blaise hadn’t returned to Hogwarts - but had instead been transferred to Durmstrang. His mother had sent him in as a transfer student where he felt like an outsider. Most of the other students were still very highly trained in the use of dark arts, where he was the only student who had been trained in defense. Blaise never had much of an interest in using the dark arts against other students; he considered this a waste of time. Why risk going to Azkaban over a petty feud when he could get nearly as far with verbal insults? He lost contact with any old friends at Hogwarts and returned home to find his mother in a desperate hurry to pack her bags and leave London. Mrs. Zabini claimed that the Death Eaters had tried to recruit her before the Final Battle which was to come in a few weeks. For those next weeks, Blaise sat at home, constantly hearing updates from the Prophet about the growing armies. It wasn’t until yesterday, or that morning, at around two in the middle of the night, that it was announced the battle had ceased and Lord Voldemort was dead.
“Oh,” Blaise muttered, “well, sorry then. My mother transferred me to Durmstrang.”
“I’m sure that was a right bit better than Hogwarts,” Pansy snapped with a scowl.
Pansy had spent time at Hogwarts, although she had been contacted by the Auror Moody during that summer. In that time, he had sent her many letters asking her the location of where Draco was hiding. Again and again, she told the old Auror that she didn’t know and didn’t have any interest in helping an Auror for that matter. Before long, the letters sent became more and more frequent and finally, Pansy sent him a letter back saying that if he wrote again - she would tell the Headmistress that he was harassing her. Nearly a month later, she received yet another letter, but not from Moody - but in fact, from Draco. The letter had asked her to come visit him in the location that he was hiding with Professor Snape. She didn’t know exactly where it was in Britain, but she would hopefully be able to Apparate there. Pansy had reread the letter from Draco over and over again, each time with a slightly different reaction to it. Sometimes, she was joyful to hear from the boy she had spent time loving. Other times, she was furious with him for leaving. On the day that she was finally supposed to Apparate and see him, Pansy found herself writing a different letter, with nothing but the address of where Draco was. Blinking back tears as she did it, she had sent the letter to Moody.
Blaise took a sip of butterbeer, pondering all meanings of what she had said, but simply assumed that Hogwarts would probably be chaos without Dumbledore.
“So you’ve finished all of your years at school as well?” he asked her.
Pansy nodded.
“What do you plan on doing as an occupation?” Blaise inquired.
Blaise had (before the Final Battle) wanted to work in the Ministry to keep a steady income and pay. However, with new laws that had been set forth that morning by Scrimgeour, it seemed nearly impossible for him to get a job in the Ministry. New laws announced that anyone who had been in Slytherin would require long background checks along with recommendations from past instructors and would have to go through three interviews with the Wizengamot. Despite the fact that he had never participated in Death Eater activity, he was a suspicious man nonetheless.
“I don’t know,” Pansy said, slamming down her butterbeer with a sudden anger. “I just don’t know anymore. Look at where we are, Blaise! We’re sitting here, in a place where everyone else around is celebrating - “ she pointed to the hoards of drunken witches and wizards, “- and the two of us are sitting here and starting to realize that all of our friends are dead!”
“You don’t necessarily know that - “
“I do!” she added. “I do know. I can feel it, Blaise.”
“Draco’s probably just recovering from yesterday. Hell, he faced a whole battle as a Death Eater. You can’t expect him to just bounce back and recover. I’m sure he’s got to have seen some awful things,” Blaise told her.
“No,” Pansy said, with a shake of her head. “He’s dead. Draco didn’t even fight yesterday.”
Too many things had happened; too many things had been done; too many people had been killed; too many things that should never had occurred had. While it was going to be all right for those who had sided with the Order, it was difficult for a losing side to pick up the pieces after such things had happened.
After a long moment of silence - perhaps even a moment to mourn Draco - Blaise simply muttered, “Where do we go from here?”
Author: paradise_loved
Recipient's name: captain_jen
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson
Warnings (if any): Slightly OOC, a bit angsty, post-battle, mentions of character deaths
Author's notes (if any): The poem at the beginning doesn’t really have much to do with the plot except for the fact that children grow older and time moves on - leaving some people behind. Beta-ed by Heidi, who doesn’t have a livejournal at this point in time.
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers and they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt for forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
- from E.E. Cummings’s “anyone lived in a pretty how town”
“It’s about time you showed up, you know,” Pansy sneered to Blaise. “I nearly thought that I was to be the only one here tonight.”
The lighting in the Leaky Cauldron was less than adequate, but the meeting had continued nonetheless. It had been a little over a year ago that Draco Malfoy had made them promise - that is, Pansy, Millicent, Blaise, Theodore, Crabbe and Goyle - to come to the Leaky Cauldron the night after the Final Battle. Whoever was alive, whoever was still breathing and not in jail, was to arrive at 8 o’ clock the night after. Blaise and Pansy sat now at a table in the corner, shielded from light, each sipping a butterbeer that was now tasteless.
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” Blaise muttered. “You look so much older.”
This was somewhat of an exaggeration. Pansy felt that she looked no different. Her bodyless, black hair had grown at bit, but her eyes were dead compared to their usual bright brown form. Her chest remained nearly flat as usual and her loose clothing did not accent any part of her thin form. Pansy sipped her butterbeer warily, never taking her eyes off of Blaise - as if a little more than one year’s time had changed both of them dramatically.
“Not really,” Pansy scoffed. “If you had returned to Hogwarts, you probably wouldn’t have noticed a change at all.”
Blaise hadn’t returned to Hogwarts - but had instead been transferred to Durmstrang. His mother had sent him in as a transfer student where he felt like an outsider. Most of the other students were still very highly trained in the use of dark arts, where he was the only student who had been trained in defense. Blaise never had much of an interest in using the dark arts against other students; he considered this a waste of time. Why risk going to Azkaban over a petty feud when he could get nearly as far with verbal insults? He lost contact with any old friends at Hogwarts and returned home to find his mother in a desperate hurry to pack her bags and leave London. Mrs. Zabini claimed that the Death Eaters had tried to recruit her before the Final Battle which was to come in a few weeks. For those next weeks, Blaise sat at home, constantly hearing updates from the Prophet about the growing armies. It wasn’t until yesterday, or that morning, at around two in the middle of the night, that it was announced the battle had ceased and Lord Voldemort was dead.
“Oh,” Blaise muttered, “well, sorry then. My mother transferred me to Durmstrang.”
“I’m sure that was a right bit better than Hogwarts,” Pansy snapped with a scowl.
Pansy had spent time at Hogwarts, although she had been contacted by the Auror Moody during that summer. In that time, he had sent her many letters asking her the location of where Draco was hiding. Again and again, she told the old Auror that she didn’t know and didn’t have any interest in helping an Auror for that matter. Before long, the letters sent became more and more frequent and finally, Pansy sent him a letter back saying that if he wrote again - she would tell the Headmistress that he was harassing her. Nearly a month later, she received yet another letter, but not from Moody - but in fact, from Draco. The letter had asked her to come visit him in the location that he was hiding with Professor Snape. She didn’t know exactly where it was in Britain, but she would hopefully be able to Apparate there. Pansy had reread the letter from Draco over and over again, each time with a slightly different reaction to it. Sometimes, she was joyful to hear from the boy she had spent time loving. Other times, she was furious with him for leaving. On the day that she was finally supposed to Apparate and see him, Pansy found herself writing a different letter, with nothing but the address of where Draco was. Blinking back tears as she did it, she had sent the letter to Moody.
Blaise took a sip of butterbeer, pondering all meanings of what she had said, but simply assumed that Hogwarts would probably be chaos without Dumbledore.
“So you’ve finished all of your years at school as well?” he asked her.
Pansy nodded.
“What do you plan on doing as an occupation?” Blaise inquired.
Blaise had (before the Final Battle) wanted to work in the Ministry to keep a steady income and pay. However, with new laws that had been set forth that morning by Scrimgeour, it seemed nearly impossible for him to get a job in the Ministry. New laws announced that anyone who had been in Slytherin would require long background checks along with recommendations from past instructors and would have to go through three interviews with the Wizengamot. Despite the fact that he had never participated in Death Eater activity, he was a suspicious man nonetheless.
“I don’t know,” Pansy said, slamming down her butterbeer with a sudden anger. “I just don’t know anymore. Look at where we are, Blaise! We’re sitting here, in a place where everyone else around is celebrating - “ she pointed to the hoards of drunken witches and wizards, “- and the two of us are sitting here and starting to realize that all of our friends are dead!”
“You don’t necessarily know that - “
“I do!” she added. “I do know. I can feel it, Blaise.”
“Draco’s probably just recovering from yesterday. Hell, he faced a whole battle as a Death Eater. You can’t expect him to just bounce back and recover. I’m sure he’s got to have seen some awful things,” Blaise told her.
“No,” Pansy said, with a shake of her head. “He’s dead. Draco didn’t even fight yesterday.”
Too many things had happened; too many things had been done; too many people had been killed; too many things that should never had occurred had. While it was going to be all right for those who had sided with the Order, it was difficult for a losing side to pick up the pieces after such things had happened.
After a long moment of silence - perhaps even a moment to mourn Draco - Blaise simply muttered, “Where do we go from here?”