Blaise Zabini had always been a vain sort of person, finding himself above all others. It was no surprise, considering his mother was a very rich and beautiful woman. It also, then, was no surprise that Blaise had been sorted into the Slytherin house at Hogwarts way back in his first year.

His mean-hearted vainness was showing its ugly head once more, in this particular potions class. Blaise was now in his sixth year, and he knew what he did and didn’t like. There were very few things he did like, and Gryffindor’s were definitely not on that list.  It should come as no surprise that if one made a mistake, he would definitely make a remark. Yet to one Ron Weasley, it was incredibly infuriating to see his dark eyes and his cool and calm composure as a sneering remark slipped through his lips.

“Calm down Ron,” Harry hissed, grabbing onto Ron’s forearm to prevent the red head from jumping up and attacking the dark skinned boy. It was a stupid thing to do, and no offense to his friend, it was a fight Ron was sure to lose.
“Did you hear what he said to me?!” Ron snapped, though making sure to keep his voice low enough as to not attract the attention of Slughorn.
“Yes,”
“I am not a regurgitated weasel from a dragons belly…”
Harry sighed and shook his head. Zabini had never said that Ron was that, only that his potion looked so, adding the weasel part to strike a cord in Ron’s heart. Of course, Ron’s temper had flared and he had misunderstood the entire insult and was much angrier than he should have been. This in turn, gave Malfoy and Zabini something more to laugh at than had originally been intended. Harry shot a nasty glare Malfoy’s way, and the blond immediately shut up. Zabini continued his sneering smile, but followed suit in the silence. Harry’s hand remained on Ron’s arm till his breathing returned to normal, and he seemed slightly less ready to kill.
“You better?”
“Yeah,”
“Don’t go getting ready to jump him anymore Ron, you’re going to get yourself hurt one day.”
“Thanks Harry.”
And that was that, the subject was not brought up again, and Hermione knew well enough not to ask what had happened when Ron was still around.

oOo

It was breakfast time, and everyone was sitting in the Great Hall. The whole room buzzed as per usual with chatter. The previous day’s events had been wiped from Ron’s mind with the night’s sleep, and Draco had told Blaise not to bug the boy with any weasel remark again. The Slytherin could take detentions and scoldings from professors, but he could not take the silent treatment from his lover…especially since the silent treatment included no touching or snuggling, which was something that Draco was fond of, though if asked he would hex you with a mixture of hexes that would take three days to cure.
Harry was smugly silent as he ate breakfast with his two friends. Hermione saw that look but didn’t ask about it. She may have been the only one who knew about Harry’s relationship, and although she did not approve of Malfoy as a lover for one of her dearest friends, she remained silent as Harry had wished.
“What are you looking so smug about then mate?” Ron finally asked.
Harry had just opened his mouth to answer when the mail came in. Promptly his mouth was shut as he noticed a red envelope among the others.
“You haven’t done anything to make your mother cross again, have you Ron?”
“No, why?”
“Someone’s gotten a howler in the mail.”
Those who noticed the red envelope watched the owl holding it float above the Slytherin table. Then it landed with a plop in front of someone who was least expecting it. Blaise Zabini.
The owl ruffled it’s feather’s and hooted indignantly at the boy, as it released the envelope in its mouth, and took off. Blaise recognized it as his mother’s favorite beautiful great horned. A howler…from his mother. It wasn’t possible, not at all. He just stared at it, thinking it couldn’t be true.

It wasn’t true in fact. The envelope was cleverly disguised as a Howler so it could pass through without an inspection. But Blaise recognized his mother’s curt writing, in a small print in the far corner. The Hall buzzed curiously as this thing that looked like a Howler didn’t explode.
“Blaise…” Draco said in a questioning tone, staring at the envelope. He got no reply. Stiffly, Blaise stood and snatched the envelope and left the hall as quickly as he could without loosing his composure. No one was allowed to see his emotions, not now, not when he expected he knew was in the letter.

oOo

It was the first time anyone would find the dignified Blaise Zabini in a broom closet…alone…crying. He had assumed he knew what the letter was about, and he was horribly wrong. What he guessed as something to be an announcement of an engagement to the Dark Lord, or maybe one of his closest Death Eaters, knowing his mother, was actually a deeper, darker letter. He had scanned it over several times, in the hopes he had missed a ‘surprise’ or ‘just kidding’, though he knew deep in his heart that those words were not something typically uttered by his mother.

It had been horrid enough growing up, wondering if you had actually ever known your father, if he had actually been one of the seven men your mother had ever married, but this…this tore his already fragile heart in half. Disowned. Not good enough. Don’t come home.

His mother had always surrounded herself with precious and beautiful items, always claiming Blaise, her precious baby, to be the most beautiful. He remembered growing up a happy child, care free, spoiled and pampered. It wasn’t until his mother got remarried did this stop. The first fine line appeared then in his heart, the finest of pencil lines. For years it was like an artist slowly, and almost with a bored manner, went over the line again and again, making it thicker and deeper. It was like when you run over the same line too much on a piece of paper and it rips, Blaise’s heart was tearing.

Now it was torn.

He was a lost boy, with no where to turn, and no home to go to.

oOo

“Blaise.” Draco’s voice was quiet, but the snap was enough to make anyone flinch. Blaise hardly blinked.
“Go away Malfoy…”
Blaise never called Draco by his last name. He shook his head, and continued.
“Get up.”
“No, I think I’ll stay here.”
“Blaise,” Draco’s voice had softened, become more pleading.
“I go to class, that’s all we’re here for right? So I do what I have to, can’t you just leave me alone?”
Blaise wasn’t even looking at Draco, but the blond could see in his mind that Blaise was crying. Had it been anyone else, Slytherin or not, he would have laughed at them. But Draco knew the threat of being disowned, and that was painful enough. To actually have it happen, well, that was a whole different story.
“It’s time to move on Blaise, it’s been nearly a month now. Don’t you think---”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Then why haven’t you moved on?”
“I have!” Blaise snapped. Draco was silent for a moment, then shook his head.
“It looks to me as though you’ve hardly moved at all,” Draco said. His voice was almost a whisper, but the hurting sting was felt. Blaise heard the swish of Draco’s robes, followed by the slamming door.

“Has he decided to get up?” Pansy asked almost timidly. Draco had been very aggravated since Blaise’s depression, considering he was the only one who knew the reason for it.
“No, let’s go.” Draco snapped. He scooped up his book back and stormed from the Slytherin common room. Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle were close on his heels.

With a heaving sigh, Blaise Zabini finally pushed himself up. He looked at his reflection in the mirror across the room. He looked horrible. His hair was a mess, his robes were wrinkled, and his eyes were swollen from the tears that had flowed from them so often in the past month. He sighed a second time, and he stood.

oOo

Blaise felt refreshed after his shower. He pulled on some clean robes over his head then went to straighten his hair. After he finished everything, he just stood and stared at himself. He took in the details of himself, deep eyes, fine features. He had a powerful and muscular body that drove girls crazy. He was beautiful, he knew it. He touched the reflection of himself, amazed at the exotic look of his own skin. His mother had gotten by on her good looks, why couldn’t he. He stood a little straighter. He would be fine. He flashed himself a smile that made girls melt and others feel compelled to do as he wished. It was time to face them again, all of them. Blaise Zabini was back.

oOo

Ron was rushing through the halls, never neglecting his duties as prefect to shoot others dirty looks for no reason. He was running behind. He had been trying to finish his homework in the library when he suddenly remembered a meeting he was supposed to have with Professor McGonagall. Of course, by the time he had reached her office, she was gone, tired of waiting for him. He was rushing back to the library to ask Harry for the Marauder’s Map to find her when he seemed to hit a solid, yet fleshy and soft-ish wall as he was giving a small Hufflepuff girl a nasty look for giggling in his presence. Ron was always sore about girl’s giggling.
“Oof,” Ron said as he fell on his behind. He rubbed his nose and looked straight up into the smirking face of Blaise Zabini, who had just turned around to see what had hit him.
“Ever hear of eyes Weasley? They come in handy more often than not.” He said. Ron was taken aback by the cheeriness of Blaise’s voice. Slytherins, even when taunting, never seemed this happy. All Ron could do was stare dumbly, not quite sure how to react to this.
“Close your mouth, you idiot.” Blaise said, in the same happy voice. He turned and headed down the hall and vanished in the library. Seconds later found Hermione poking her head out of the doorway, and Ron still sitting stupidly on the floor.
“Ron, are you okay?” she asked, rushing over to him. He finally snapped out of it and stood up.
“Yeah…no, yeah I’m fine.” He stated, looking down wearily at Hermione. He wasn’t quiet sure why he had been so dumbfounded.
“I saw Blaise coming in looking all smug, and you weren't back yet, so I worried.” Hermione stated in her matter of factly way. Ron couldn’t help but smile at her. She may have been an annoying brainiack nag sometimes, but she was still the most caring girl he had known, well, other than his mother of course. She sighed and returned the smile.
“Come on, Harry’s waiting for us.” Hermione said, “So how was your meeting with Professor McGonagall?”
“I missed her,” Ron said with a sour hint to his voice. Hermione opened her mouth to make a remark, but changed her mind and shut it again. She simply sat back down at her place beside Harry and Ron took up the seat next to her.

Harry and Ron began to talk again, Ron pulled out his ignored Transfiguration homework and Harry decided he would help him. They talked over Hermione’s head as she bent over and was scribbling furiously, as she usually did when she had an essay due in the morning. But she smiled still. Okay, so sure Harry was dating Draco -- she paused, she didn’t like that word dating, it still made her uneasy, but as long as Harry was happy -- but she and Ron were on good terms. The three of them were happy, a rarity now a days. She heaved a great sigh and the boys stopped and looked at her.
“You okay there Hermione?” Harry asked.
“Yes, just this bloody essay,” she informed them with a happy grin. Harry and Ron exchanged looks, like they usually did when Hermione continued to perplex them.

Across the library the Slytherins were all gathered at a single table. The small group consisted of Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle -- who were really there just for show -- and Theo who had just decided to join them, though he wasn’t necessarily their friend. Pansy was talking, though she was mostly doing it to hear the sound of her own voice. Crabbe and Goyle were, of course, transfixed by this ongoing speech she seemed to be making. Theo was simply there because he could be, and thus he began to work, bored of the company already -- a true Slytherin state of mind. Of course the others let him stay because there was an absence of Blaise. Birds of a feather, as the saying goes.
Draco had been working on a Potions essay, his quill hovering above the paper. He of course had given up this for a much worthier cause, staring at Harry across the room. His eyes had almost completely glazed over when he noticed a dark shape in the corner of his eyes. He blinked a couple of times to get his eyes back in focus then stared at Blaise who was approaching the table, looking as smug as he had ever. Draco smiled; it was a slow smile, almost sinister, though the intentions were not that, it was just how Draco smiled. You couldn’t be a Slytherin and not look evil, it just wasn’t done.
“Blaise, you’ve moved.” He said.
“I have,” Blaise replied.
“Good.” Draco said, and pointed with his quill to an empty seat between him and Theo. Blaise sat down, casting Theo a curious look. The other boy looked up.
“You weren't here,” Was all he said, and he made to move. Another thing about Slytherins was that they knew how the others thought. Theo had sat here, knowing he would be moved eventually, and the thought had never really bothered him. The boy always seemed to have a bored air about him.
“Ah, stay, who cares.” Blaise shrugged and turned to Draco.
“My, you’re in a good mood.”
“Am I? I haven’t noticed,” Blaise said with a smirk. The timing was perfect too, because even if he didn’t see, it was at the exact moment Hermione came in with Ron. Draco chuckled, then looked down at his parchment. His composure changed with a deep sigh.
“I hate essays.” He stated simply. Blaise pulled out his own, already partially completed. Draco, not to be outdone, began to write furiously and Blaise leisurely made looping and elegant letters form words across the page.