Update: Cross Purposes II
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling and her various publishers. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended
Title: Cross Purposes
Author: Caleythia
Summary: As a new year begins at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini finds himself caught in between Draco Malfoy’s plot for revenge and Harry Potter’s attempts at espionage.
Rating: R, to be safe.
Warning: This contains slash, that is, pretty boys kissing. Please don’t read if you don’t like that sort of thing.
Author’s Note: This is unbetaed, so feel free to point out any errors. ConCrit is always welcome. Dedicated to moonshadow_nal, who would like to see less smut. Hopefully I can suppress my inner smut-fiend.
Chapter 1 and 2 also here
II .
The Feast, and What Came After
The students were assembled in the Great Hall, awaiting the arrival of the post-Sorting food. Ron relayed his tale of the confrontation with Malfoy to Dean, Seamus and Neville. “I’m telling you, you should have seen it. When I grabbed that slimy little rodent by the throat and squooze…”
“Squeezed, Ron,” Hermione corrected absently, one eye on the newly sorted Gryffindor First-Years and the other on the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History, which, to her disappointment, still made no mention of the enslavement of the House Elves.
“Right, squeezed. Anyway, it was great, whatever you call it,” he said, throwing an exasperated look at Hermione.
“Describe it in perfect detail, Ron. Don’t leave the tiniest little thing out. I want to keep this image in my head forever. It will go right next to Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret,” Seamus said.
“Alright, then. Let’s see. Well, he turned a lovely shade of …hmm, what would you call it, Harry?”
“Oh, plum, definitely, plum.”
“Plum. And then, he started making these choking sounds, ‘bak…bak…,’” Ron demonstrated, waving his arms in the air in his impression of Malfoy.
Hermione slammed her book down onto the table. “Ron, that’s enough. Do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in for that stunt? Imagine, a prefect assaulting another student. Really.”
Harry smiled and patted Ron on the hand. “Let him have his fun, Hermione. There’s really no better way to start off a year than threatening a Slytherin, you know.”
“Oh, and did you threaten a Slytherin, Harry?” she asked, peering at him suspiciously.
“Well,” he replied, looking over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy, still in high dudgeon, was relating his tale of woe to his goons. Zabini sat next to him, pretending to listen. Feeling Harry’s eyes on him, he turned, a smirk on his face. Zabini rolled his eyes at Malfoy, then lifted his glass in a mock toast to Harry. He threw back the liquid inside in a way that suggested what was inside was not as innocent as pumpkin juice. Harry couldn’t help but smile. So, there was dissention among Malfoy’s ranks? Interesting.
With the arrival of the food, most conversation had ceased, although here and there could be heard students discussing the Sorting Hat’s song. Peril and cooperation seemed to be its theme for the second year running. Right, he thought, cooperate with the Slytherins. Like that’s going to happen.
“Yeah, especially after Malfoy’s little threat,” Ron said, startling Harry, who hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. “‘This will be a year none of you will ever forget.’ What do you think he meant by that, Harry?”
“Oh, Ron, you know Malfoy, he’s always talking. He’s just trying to scare you.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Ron said to Hermione. He gave Harry a look that clearly said they would talk about this later.
Harry had to admit to himself that he was curious about Malfoy’s threat. To him, it didn’t sound like Malfoy was just blowing hot air. No, it sounded like he was planning something, something specific. If only he could find out what. He glanced back over at the Slytherin table. He would have to think of something.
“Mr. Potter,” a voice said behind him, starling him from his study of Malfoy. He looked up to see his head of house standing behind him.
“Hello, Professor McGonagall.”
“Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office after the feast is concluded. You are to go right there. Don’t tarry.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Did something happen, Harry? Something you’re not telling us, perhaps?”
Harry was annoyed at the question, but tried not to let it show. Hermione meant well, after all. He was just getting awfully sick of all the questions. Has your scar acted up, Harry? How are you doing, Harry? Do you need to talk about Sirius, Harry? He knew that everyone honestly cared, but he didn’t want to burden them with the truth (All the time. Awful. Only if you can tell me how to bring him back.).
“Harry,” Ron called, elbowing him in the side. “Halloo, you in there?”
Harry grinned at Ron. “’No, sorry, Harry’s out right now. But if you would like to speak to Voldemort, please hold’ would be a bad answer, wouldn’t it?”
“Harry!”
“Right, right. It was a bad answer. I know.”
“You’re avoiding the question, mate.”
“You really want to know what happened this summer?” They nodded. “The same thing that happened last summer.” Harry smirked and continued, “Of course, minus the Dementor attack, and nearly getting expelled, and going to headquarters. A big fat nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.”
“You know,” Ron said around a mouthful of food, “what you consider ordinary would make most people wet their pants.” Harry smirked again. “And would you knock that off. You’re starting to remind me of Malfoy.”
“Ron, really. There’s no call to insult Harry.” Both boys turned to stare at Hermione, surprised that she was the one to say it.
“Why thank you fair lady,” Harry intoned seriously, catching hold of her hand. “Thank you for defending my honor from this uncouth knave.”
“Knave! I’ll give you knave. Have at it!” Ron challenged, brandishing a teaspoon.
“Enguarde!” Harry replied, picking up his own spoon.
“Boys,” Hermione muttered, disappearing behind her book. Still, she couldn’t help but smile.
The remainder of the feat passed with more silliness and more dueling. Ron succeeded in disarming Harry, only to face a new opponent in the form of Neville, who was armed with a loaf of bread. Seamus and Dean tried to help the cause, although whose cause no one was quite sure of, by letting loose a barrage of pea-sized cannonballs, pea-sized because they were, in fact, peas.
Their game ended when McGonagall, who had turned a blind eye to their antics, stood and announced it was time for the prefects to lead the students to their dorms.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Harry said as Ron and Hermione went to collect the First Years.
Hermione paused and looked back at him. “Harry…”
“Don’t worry, Hermione, I’m sure it’s just the usual.”
She nodded, although she didn’t look convinced. “Alright. We’ll talk later, okay? Oh, and the password is ‘Codswallop.’”
“We’ll talk later,” he repeated. “I promise. Now go on. Ron’s swamped with First Years. You better go save him.”
Hermione smiled at him and dashed off to help a very disgruntled Ron.
As Harry began his trek to Dumbledore’s office, he reflected on how good it was to be back. Threatening to sick Mad-Eye Moody on Dudley was all well and good, but it really had been a terrible summer. He hadn’t been lying when he said nothing unusual happened. It had been unbearably boring, leaving him with nothing but time on his hands. Time he used to play the events at the Ministry over and over in his head.
However, being back at Hogwarts, being with Ron and Hermione again, and Neville, and Seamus…it made him feel almost whole again. He could face anything in the world with such friends at his side. He could…
BAM!
He really should watch where he’s going. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t see the person in his path. The impact knocked him on his rear, hard.
“Ow,” he mumbled, reaching under himself to rub at the sore spot on his bottom. He looked up to apologize to whomever it was he had plowed into, praying it wasn’t Snape.
The face above him as far from Snape’s in appearance as it was possible to be. The boy had warm, golden brown eyes, dark skin and sharply chiseled features. The smirk was the same, however.
“Zabini,” Harry said. “Tell me, is it some weird Slytherin rule that one of you ahs to ruin my day?”
“Hmm, didn’t you know it’s rule number one in the Official Slytherin Handbook? It says, ‘All true Slytherins must make it their duty to stand in plain sight to impede the path of The Boy-Who-Is-Oblivious, thereby causing great damage to his’, ahem, ‘derriere.’ I must say I enjoy the rule. It certainly puts you in you your place…at my feet.”
Harry jumped to his feet, ready to pull out his wand. “How dare you!”
“Oh, relax, Golden Boy. It was a joke,” Zabini said, reaching out to pull Harry’s hand away from his wand.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Harry growled, backing away from the other boy.
Zabini sighed. “You Gryffindors are so tiresome. No sense of humor what so ever. Or, as far as I tell from your little spectacle at the feast, nothing beyond the level of a bunch of eight year olds. Food goes in you mouth, you know,” he said, crossing his arms nonchalantly.
“Why were you watching me? What are you up to?” Harry asked suspiciously as Zabini began to circle around him.
“Watching you? God no. I was calmly eating my dinner when I heard you idiots start acting up. Far be it for me to miss an opportunity of seeing you bunch of airheads making fools of yourselves,” he replied, coming to a stop directly in front of Harry, and entirely too close for his liking.
“This is about the train isn’t it? Going to get your revenge? What exactly are you doing here?”
“Are all of you this suspicious? Or are you just special?” Zabini asked, scorn dripping from his voice. “For that matter, I was here first. Maybe you’re the one following me. What are you doing here?”
“For your information,” Harry said, prodding Zabini in the chest and causing the other boy to take several steps back, “I’m supposed to be meeting with Dumbledore.”
“Really? Then why are you talking to me?”
“I…Oh bugger off.” Harry pushed past the boy and headed for the gargoyle.
“Oh, and Potter…” Zabini called.
Harry spun on his heel, exasperation clearly written on his face. “What?”
“We really must do this again sometime.” And with that, the Slytherin sauntered down the hall and out of sight.
“I hate Slytherin,” Harry grumbled and continued on to Dumbledore’s office, wondering what Zabini’s interest in him was.
Title: Cross Purposes
Author: Caleythia
Summary: As a new year begins at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini finds himself caught in between Draco Malfoy’s plot for revenge and Harry Potter’s attempts at espionage.
Rating: R, to be safe.
Warning: This contains slash, that is, pretty boys kissing. Please don’t read if you don’t like that sort of thing.
Author’s Note: This is unbetaed, so feel free to point out any errors. ConCrit is always welcome. Dedicated to moonshadow_nal, who would like to see less smut. Hopefully I can suppress my inner smut-fiend.
Chapter 1 and 2 also here
II .
The Feast, and What Came After
The students were assembled in the Great Hall, awaiting the arrival of the post-Sorting food. Ron relayed his tale of the confrontation with Malfoy to Dean, Seamus and Neville. “I’m telling you, you should have seen it. When I grabbed that slimy little rodent by the throat and squooze…”
“Squeezed, Ron,” Hermione corrected absently, one eye on the newly sorted Gryffindor First-Years and the other on the latest edition of Hogwarts: A History, which, to her disappointment, still made no mention of the enslavement of the House Elves.
“Right, squeezed. Anyway, it was great, whatever you call it,” he said, throwing an exasperated look at Hermione.
“Describe it in perfect detail, Ron. Don’t leave the tiniest little thing out. I want to keep this image in my head forever. It will go right next to Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret,” Seamus said.
“Alright, then. Let’s see. Well, he turned a lovely shade of …hmm, what would you call it, Harry?”
“Oh, plum, definitely, plum.”
“Plum. And then, he started making these choking sounds, ‘bak…bak…,’” Ron demonstrated, waving his arms in the air in his impression of Malfoy.
Hermione slammed her book down onto the table. “Ron, that’s enough. Do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in for that stunt? Imagine, a prefect assaulting another student. Really.”
Harry smiled and patted Ron on the hand. “Let him have his fun, Hermione. There’s really no better way to start off a year than threatening a Slytherin, you know.”
“Oh, and did you threaten a Slytherin, Harry?” she asked, peering at him suspiciously.
“Well,” he replied, looking over at the Slytherin table. Malfoy, still in high dudgeon, was relating his tale of woe to his goons. Zabini sat next to him, pretending to listen. Feeling Harry’s eyes on him, he turned, a smirk on his face. Zabini rolled his eyes at Malfoy, then lifted his glass in a mock toast to Harry. He threw back the liquid inside in a way that suggested what was inside was not as innocent as pumpkin juice. Harry couldn’t help but smile. So, there was dissention among Malfoy’s ranks? Interesting.
With the arrival of the food, most conversation had ceased, although here and there could be heard students discussing the Sorting Hat’s song. Peril and cooperation seemed to be its theme for the second year running. Right, he thought, cooperate with the Slytherins. Like that’s going to happen.
“Yeah, especially after Malfoy’s little threat,” Ron said, startling Harry, who hadn’t realized he had spoken aloud. “‘This will be a year none of you will ever forget.’ What do you think he meant by that, Harry?”
“Oh, Ron, you know Malfoy, he’s always talking. He’s just trying to scare you.”
“Thanks, Harry,” Ron said to Hermione. He gave Harry a look that clearly said they would talk about this later.
Harry had to admit to himself that he was curious about Malfoy’s threat. To him, it didn’t sound like Malfoy was just blowing hot air. No, it sounded like he was planning something, something specific. If only he could find out what. He glanced back over at the Slytherin table. He would have to think of something.
“Mr. Potter,” a voice said behind him, starling him from his study of Malfoy. He looked up to see his head of house standing behind him.
“Hello, Professor McGonagall.”
“Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office after the feast is concluded. You are to go right there. Don’t tarry.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Did something happen, Harry? Something you’re not telling us, perhaps?”
Harry was annoyed at the question, but tried not to let it show. Hermione meant well, after all. He was just getting awfully sick of all the questions. Has your scar acted up, Harry? How are you doing, Harry? Do you need to talk about Sirius, Harry? He knew that everyone honestly cared, but he didn’t want to burden them with the truth (All the time. Awful. Only if you can tell me how to bring him back.).
“Harry,” Ron called, elbowing him in the side. “Halloo, you in there?”
Harry grinned at Ron. “’No, sorry, Harry’s out right now. But if you would like to speak to Voldemort, please hold’ would be a bad answer, wouldn’t it?”
“Harry!”
“Right, right. It was a bad answer. I know.”
“You’re avoiding the question, mate.”
“You really want to know what happened this summer?” They nodded. “The same thing that happened last summer.” Harry smirked and continued, “Of course, minus the Dementor attack, and nearly getting expelled, and going to headquarters. A big fat nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.”
“You know,” Ron said around a mouthful of food, “what you consider ordinary would make most people wet their pants.” Harry smirked again. “And would you knock that off. You’re starting to remind me of Malfoy.”
“Ron, really. There’s no call to insult Harry.” Both boys turned to stare at Hermione, surprised that she was the one to say it.
“Why thank you fair lady,” Harry intoned seriously, catching hold of her hand. “Thank you for defending my honor from this uncouth knave.”
“Knave! I’ll give you knave. Have at it!” Ron challenged, brandishing a teaspoon.
“Enguarde!” Harry replied, picking up his own spoon.
“Boys,” Hermione muttered, disappearing behind her book. Still, she couldn’t help but smile.
The remainder of the feat passed with more silliness and more dueling. Ron succeeded in disarming Harry, only to face a new opponent in the form of Neville, who was armed with a loaf of bread. Seamus and Dean tried to help the cause, although whose cause no one was quite sure of, by letting loose a barrage of pea-sized cannonballs, pea-sized because they were, in fact, peas.
Their game ended when McGonagall, who had turned a blind eye to their antics, stood and announced it was time for the prefects to lead the students to their dorms.
“I’ll see you guys later,” Harry said as Ron and Hermione went to collect the First Years.
Hermione paused and looked back at him. “Harry…”
“Don’t worry, Hermione, I’m sure it’s just the usual.”
She nodded, although she didn’t look convinced. “Alright. We’ll talk later, okay? Oh, and the password is ‘Codswallop.’”
“We’ll talk later,” he repeated. “I promise. Now go on. Ron’s swamped with First Years. You better go save him.”
Hermione smiled at him and dashed off to help a very disgruntled Ron.
As Harry began his trek to Dumbledore’s office, he reflected on how good it was to be back. Threatening to sick Mad-Eye Moody on Dudley was all well and good, but it really had been a terrible summer. He hadn’t been lying when he said nothing unusual happened. It had been unbearably boring, leaving him with nothing but time on his hands. Time he used to play the events at the Ministry over and over in his head.
However, being back at Hogwarts, being with Ron and Hermione again, and Neville, and Seamus…it made him feel almost whole again. He could face anything in the world with such friends at his side. He could…
BAM!
He really should watch where he’s going. He had been so lost in thought that he didn’t see the person in his path. The impact knocked him on his rear, hard.
“Ow,” he mumbled, reaching under himself to rub at the sore spot on his bottom. He looked up to apologize to whomever it was he had plowed into, praying it wasn’t Snape.
The face above him as far from Snape’s in appearance as it was possible to be. The boy had warm, golden brown eyes, dark skin and sharply chiseled features. The smirk was the same, however.
“Zabini,” Harry said. “Tell me, is it some weird Slytherin rule that one of you ahs to ruin my day?”
“Hmm, didn’t you know it’s rule number one in the Official Slytherin Handbook? It says, ‘All true Slytherins must make it their duty to stand in plain sight to impede the path of The Boy-Who-Is-Oblivious, thereby causing great damage to his’, ahem, ‘derriere.’ I must say I enjoy the rule. It certainly puts you in you your place…at my feet.”
Harry jumped to his feet, ready to pull out his wand. “How dare you!”
“Oh, relax, Golden Boy. It was a joke,” Zabini said, reaching out to pull Harry’s hand away from his wand.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” Harry growled, backing away from the other boy.
Zabini sighed. “You Gryffindors are so tiresome. No sense of humor what so ever. Or, as far as I tell from your little spectacle at the feast, nothing beyond the level of a bunch of eight year olds. Food goes in you mouth, you know,” he said, crossing his arms nonchalantly.
“Why were you watching me? What are you up to?” Harry asked suspiciously as Zabini began to circle around him.
“Watching you? God no. I was calmly eating my dinner when I heard you idiots start acting up. Far be it for me to miss an opportunity of seeing you bunch of airheads making fools of yourselves,” he replied, coming to a stop directly in front of Harry, and entirely too close for his liking.
“This is about the train isn’t it? Going to get your revenge? What exactly are you doing here?”
“Are all of you this suspicious? Or are you just special?” Zabini asked, scorn dripping from his voice. “For that matter, I was here first. Maybe you’re the one following me. What are you doing here?”
“For your information,” Harry said, prodding Zabini in the chest and causing the other boy to take several steps back, “I’m supposed to be meeting with Dumbledore.”
“Really? Then why are you talking to me?”
“I…Oh bugger off.” Harry pushed past the boy and headed for the gargoyle.
“Oh, and Potter…” Zabini called.
Harry spun on his heel, exasperation clearly written on his face. “What?”
“We really must do this again sometime.” And with that, the Slytherin sauntered down the hall and out of sight.
“I hate Slytherin,” Harry grumbled and continued on to Dumbledore’s office, wondering what Zabini’s interest in him was.