Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: Average Everyday Sane Psycho
Rating: PG-13, R-lite for minor drug references
Disclaimers: In real life I manage a Mrs. Field's Cookies and my initials are most decidedly not JKR. You do the math.
Archiving: List archives, Girls Dormitory and the Realm. The series in its entirety can be found at http://www.realmoftheshadow.com/morte206.htm
Feedback: Well now I know that I find it particularly helpful. Therefor feedback in any and all shapes and sizes can be sent to me at email@example.com
Author's Notes: Tons of thanks to Rebecca and even more to Blyss. Great observations and even better questions helped shape this into the best installment yet, I think.
The knock on the door shattered Blaise’s concentration and the plant she’d been working with withered instantly. She yanked the gloves she was wearing off, threw them down on the table in front of the now beyond recoverable plant and stomped to the door without opening it. She traced the sigil on the door that deactivated the wards she’d placed on her room as she spoke. "What," she growled out still not opening the door.
Millicent’s voice drifted through the barrier of the door. "Snape wants to see you."
Blaise jerked the door open, "He say about what?"
"No just that you should come see him as soon as you get this message." Millicent tried to peer past Blaise standing in the doorway blocking the other girl’s view into the room. Blaise stepped out into the hall closing the door behind her as she did so. She traced the outline of her family crest on the nameplate that identified her room and murmured a security charm one of her cousins had taught her over the summer holidays. "Okay. You supposed to escort me or what?" she said to Millicent who seemed to be waiting for her.
"Uh no. No not at all." Millicent tore her gaze from the door, where the faint outline of Blaise’s tracing could still be seen glowing softly. "How do you do that," she asked in an awed voice.
They began walking down the corridor, Millicent taking two steps to every one of Blaise’s in an effort to keep up. "It’s a simple security charm, nothing special. You could do it. Don’t listen to Parkinson and Malfoy, you are quite capable Millicent."
"No not like that. I need a wand."
"So do I most of the time. I have to be really angry or really concentrating to do anything without one."
"Like with Draco the other day," Millicent’s voice dropped to a whisper, "That was just brilliant. Served him right." Her voice returned to normal volume. "I hope Patil appreciated it…appreciates you."
Blaise was saved from having to respond by their arrival at Snape’s door. She knocked and waited for permission to enter. "Thanks Millicent. I’ll see you later."
"I thought you said," she was interrupted by Snape’s voice instructing her to enter, "Nevermind thanks." Blaise slipped into the room. Snape was sitting in a massive leather armchair facing a roaring fire, stretched out so that his feet were as close to the fire as he could get them without moving the chair. "You wanted to see me Professor."
"Yes. Have a seat Zabini." He indicated the chair to his left, a companion to the one he sat in, and Blaise sat. There was a small ornate table, upon which sat a decanter filled with a clear liquid and two glasses, filled the small space between them.
"Thank you sir."
"For what Zabini, it’s not as if you really want to be here." Blaise stared at him in confusion, unsure of what to make of his tone. He didn’t sound hostile just put out somehow.
"Have I – have I done something wrong Sir." She thought of the plant in her room, the magic she had been practicing.
"No. Though I am concerned about the strength of the wards on your room."
"You’ve been following the course of study outlined for you by the Headmaster?"
"Yes Sir. If this is about what happened with Malfoy I promise it won’t happen again."
Just then a small Yorkshire terrier came bounding into the room from what Blaise supposed was Snape’s bedchamber. The little dog danced on its hind legs in an effort to cajole Snape into picking it up and Blaise laughed.
"What’s his name?"
"Little rat bastard," Snape muttered, as he tried to shoo the intrepid little dog away with a well placed foot. "My mother, she breeds them. He has some impossibly long name, Champion something. I call him Anklebiter." Snape, for all the irritation his voice held, smiled fondly down at the little dog and scooped him up into his lap. Reaching into his pocket he withdrew a doggie treat, which he fed to Anklebiter who then curled into a small circle in his lap. "About the wards on your room," Snape appeared to ponder his words as he absentmindedly stroked the small dog’s back, "Tell me what gave you the idea to use Silencio in such a fashion on Malfoy?"
"It took Pomfrey some time to figure out what you had done, causing the vocal chords to become necrotic rather than just stilling them to achieve silence. If she hadn’t realized in time…" Blaise interrupted him quickly.
"It was a necrobiotic spell not a necrotic one per se, the cells comprising his vocal chords would have regenerated in a day or two. Similar to hair and nails really."
"So you did do it on purpose," Snape sighed. He shot Blaise a look of such intense disappointment it made her feel two feet small. "When did you learn, what have you been practicing on?" He felt responsible somehow; it was his duty as Head of Slytherin House to keep an eye out for this sort of thing, this reprehensible use of power Slytherin’s were famous for. Blaise, though, had never seemed the sort to do such a thing, if Malfoy had been the bearer of power such as hers he’d have known to watch more closely. Malfoy was a club, Zabini a scalpel; a very sharp scalpel. Blaise had never obviously tried to abuse her power. She’d never jockeyed for position or seemingly played the games her housemates, even Bulstrode, who for all her bullying and posturing with the other Houses was rather meek and unassuming amongst her own, were so keen to indulge in. But then perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised by that given Blaise’s background, her family with their rumored Muggle tie! s. He should have guessed, should have known that if any one of his students would know about the subtle accumulation and display of power, magical and otherwise, it would be Blaise. Her mother had been the same way, at least that was how he remembered her; she’d been a sixth former when he was sorted into Slytherin.
"I’ve been following the course study outlined for me by Professor Dumbledore," Blaise shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "And of course I’ve helped out in the prep room when I’ve been home."
"You’ve been practicing though, the wards on your room are almost at their limit if you were only doing what you say you’re doing then they shouldn’t be in the state they are in. Do you understand what I am saying? I need you to be honest with me for your own safety."
"In the castle I’ve only practiced on plants."
"In the castle," he quirked an eyebrow at her. "And on the grounds?"
Did he know she wondered was it possible he’d found out, sensed somehow what had happened with MacMillan and that Hufflepuff third year in the Forbidden Forest not long ago? She’d done what she thought was right under the circumstances, certain neither would dare to breathe a word. She couldn’t have left them there like that, near death, too drug addled to even call for help. Besides there would have been questions if they’d died. She couldn’t afford questions.
"Small animals that were injured. A deer once, it was still warm, the centaurs were hunting it."
"And were you successful?"
"Not with the deer."
Snape considered this for some time. "We’ll have to strengthen the wards around your room. I think perhaps your practice should be moved to one of the classrooms, something not so near to the dormitories, this way you can have some privacy. I’ll speak to Dumbledore about revising your course study. Of course we’ll have to contact your parents. They need to be informed of what transpired with Mr. Malfoy. You will serve a month’s detention." Her protests were forestalled by his hand in the air, "I understand from Miss Parkinson that you were simply being, shall we say, overly gallant but that is no excuse."
Blaise smiled inwardly, her father had some rather old-fashioned ideas about respect and honor, he would understand about Malfoy. He might even applaud her restraint. Certainly he would admire the technique, the finesse she’d employed. Her mother now would be a different story. She would be furious at what she would consider Blaise’s over reaction to the situation. Doubly so because she’d done so publicly, indiscreetly and in such a manner as to bring notice to the type of magic Blaise employed.
"Of course Sir I understand."
"Very well. Tomorrow morning after breakfast you and I will go see the Headmaster. Until we install new wards in your room please limit your extracurricular studies to the printed page. This means no practicing outside either understood?"
"Yes sir," Blaise stood. The little dog in Snape’s lap looked up at her, startled, and began to yip. "Sir?"
"Why are you still here Zabini?"
/ / / / / / / / / /
"Ernie wait up." Harry caught up with Ernie MacMillan, the Hufflepuff prefect, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey," Harry said breathlessly.
"Rumor has it your organizing a little get together this weekend."
"Interested I take it."
"Yeah how much?"
"Five galleons a head includes liquid happiness. Anything else will cost extra."
"Of course. Speaking of which," Harry passed Ernie a small pouch that clinked as Ernie tucked it into his pocket, "That ought to clear things up with you and Ron."
"And this weekend?"
"We’ll be there."
"See you then."
"Yeah. Thanks Ernie," Harry clapped him on the shoulder once more then loped off to join Ron who was talking to Hermione off to the side.
"All set then Harry?" Ron asked eagerly.
"What were you talking to Ernie about Harry?"
"I just wanted to know where he’d gotten his new trainers."
Hermione looked down at his feet pointedly; "You have new trainers Harry."
"Yes but I really like his." He turned to Ron, quickly turning the conversation to Quidditch, a topic sure to bore Hermione to tears, in the hopes she’d take the hint and get off the topic.
/ / / / / / / / / /
"You’re short a hundred galleons."
"I know but…."
"No buts you asked me to provide you a service and I did. At considerable risk and inconvenience to myself I might add; now it’s time to pay up."
"I’ll have it tomorrow I promise."
"By tomorrow it’ll be a hundred and twenty."
"A hundred and twenty!"
"Not a penny less or…." The implication was all to clear.
"A hundred and twenty," he said meekly. He recalled, all to well, the one and only time he’d failed to pay up on time. It hadn’t been physically painful but it had been creepy beyond belief. He still had nightmares. It was not something he wanted to repeat that slow eerie feeling of losing all sensation in his body. It reminded him of the time he’d accidentally numbed his hand with formaldehyde from handling a sheep brain for a science project in grammar school.
/ / / / / / / /
The air was sickly sweet with the odor of marijuana and something else that vaguely reminded Blaise of the opium den in Bangkok she’d done a removal at that summer. The music was loud, Padma wondered how it was that they hadn’t heard it until they’d entered the room and Blaise pointed out the sound dampers strategically placed throughout. They found Parvati in a corner sitting with Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. Justin was freshening up their drinks from the flask of firewhiskey he’d brought with him while Hannah rolled what appeared to be a cigarette.
"Padma hey it’s about time you two showed. Blaise," Parvati held out a cup, "what have I told you about having your way with my sister?" she asked teasingly. She was obviously well on her way to being three sheets to the wind Blaise thought.
"As I recall it was to do so as often as possible," she teased back. Slipping an arm around Padma’s waist she drew the shorter girl to her and leaned down to kiss the top of her lover’s head. "I like to think I’ve managed", she whispered in Padma’s ear. Padma laughed and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"I think we manage." Padma took the proffered cup and drank. "Ugh What is this," she spat the mouthful she’d taken back into the cup. "It tastes like," Blaise peered into the cup which Padma still held, "an ashtray."
"It should," Blaise pointed to the ashes floating in the cup.
"Oooh sorry ‘bout that Pad," Parvati shot her sister a grin and snuggled closer to Justin. "Justin be a nice boy and get my sister a drink would you. Without the ash." Justin nuzzled Parvati’s neck before going to get their drinks. "Sit," Parvati patted the space Justin had so recently vacated, "Hannah how hard is it to roll up for Merlin’s sake."
"Done," Hannah showed off her creation with a flourish. She lit the hand rolled cigarette, taking a long hit before passing it on to Blaise. Blaise took a hit. She held it in as long a she could before and passed the joint to Padma who refused.
Blaise exhaled, "You sure?"
Padma nodded, "I don’t like how it makes me feel. I get all sleepy." Padma took the joint from Blaise’s hand passing it to Parvati who drew on it and then passed to Susan.
Justin returned brandishing several bottles of butterbeer and a bowl of crisps. "I thought you ladies might have the munchies by now," he said setting his haul down on the table. He took the joint Blaise held out and took a drag, "Morag McDougal is looking for someone to go in on some X if any of you are interested."
/ / / / / / / / /
Monday morning everyone was talking about Saturday. Several students, Parvati among them, ended up in the infirmary after someone, no one was sure just who, spiked the punch. Ernie had been suspended and stripped of his Prefects badge and privileges. The halls were ablaze with gossip, everyone speculating, as to just how it was he’d managed to smuggle in various ‘party favors’.
Blaise watched as Padma fussed over her twin, fluffing her pillow, getting her a glass of water and generally being solicitous. Hermione’s voice at her elbow startled her.
"I told you something like this would happen one day."
"Shhhh!" Blaise grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her across the room. "This is not my fault," she hissed. Drawing her wand from its pocket in her robe Blaise murmured a privacy charm.
"You think I don’t know how Ernie got…You’re the only one who could have."
"I had nothing to do with that punch. He didn’t get anything like that from me. You know I wouldn’t…Pot is one thing, Mione, you know that. Believe me I had nothing to do with anything else he might have had there."
"But you know who does," Hermione accused, "Or at least you have a good idea."
"And what I should go to Dumbledore? What good would that do? I’m not about to get expelled because some idiot spiked the punch."
"Be reasonable Hermione, think about it what am I supposed to say. ‘Hypothetically Headmaster it’s possible MacMillan used the secret Floo Network connection in my room to meet up with some unsavory types in Muggle London. And hypothetically, of course, he might have returned with some, indeed several, items that were contraband in nature.’ Is that what I’m supposed to say?"
"I don’t know." Hermione raked her hand through her hair in frustration. "You don’t think it will occur to her," she nodded at Padma who was now perched on the edge of Parvati’s bed. "She knows about the connection."
"No she doesn’t or rather she does but she doesn’t."
"What does that mean?"
"She thinks it only goes to the funeral home and can only be activated by my father or one of the other directors when they need me. She thinks I only just got it because of my apprenticeship at the funeral home."
"She actually believed that?"
"You know how it is; people believe what they want to believe."
"This is true, my parents are prime examples of that, still you don’t think she’ll figure it out eventually? Because believe me she’s going to be furious when she does."
"If she does."
"When she does."
"And who, pray tell, is going to tell her. Certainly not me."
"Fine," Hermione sighed, "I won’t either but mark my words this sort of thing comes back to haunt you."
"I’ll keep that in mind," Blaise said wryly.
"I’m serious Blaise. You need to lay low for a while."
"You should get back over there it looks like Parvati’s finally with it enough to talk."
Blaise looked over her shoulder than back at Hermione. "Thanks Mione."
"You’re welcome I think." Blaise undid the privacy charm surrounding them.
"You’re the best Hermione."
"Which would explain my single state."
"Well Miss Priss if you weren’t such a stickler for protocol you could be spending time with that…"
"I refuse to date a fourteen year old no matter how stacked she is."
"Who said anything about date?" Blaise waggled her eyebrows lecherously and Hermione laughed.