As We Fall (Blaise Zabini Fanfiction)

Chapter 15

Blaise

Much later that night, I find myself dealing with an unusual amount of trouble falling asleep. I turn this way and that - I'm on my stomach once, then my back, my arm extended beneath my pillow, my legs outstretched and then folded. My body is tired, but my mind is restless. I can't stop thinking about the quidditch auditions that occurred earlier that evening and I don't know why. Sleep comes to me in the form of twenty minutes intervals - I'm able to manage a light rest for not much longer than a dozen minutes, and then I'm awake again for just as long. It's a vicious cycle that plagues me until I finally manage to get some rest in the middle of the night.

***

When I wake up again, I can tell that a couple of hours have passed.

My eyes slowly pry open, and the first thing I notice is that the other beds in the room are no longer occupied by my dorm mates. Crabbe, Goyle, Draco, and Flint all seem to have disappeared. This is especially odd - Crabbe and Goyle usually don't leave their beds until at least ten hours from now.

It's then that I hear a faint noise, reaching my dorm from down in the common room. Between my sleepy haze and natural confusion, it takes me a second to realize that something must be wrong. But when I'm finally able to make out the panicked cries and yells, I pull on a shirt and race down the stairs.

The common room is in complete chaos.

A sea of students are rushing towards the portrait hole, shrieking at and even trampling one another in desperation to get outside. Both Snape and the head boy and girl are standing towards the front of the room, shouting directions that go unnoticed by the frantic students. I see Dumbledore disappear up the stairwell to the girls' dormitories, wand at the ready.

"Zabini, down here, quick!"

Pucey pulls me into the crowd before I can push him off. The other Slytherins are squeezing past us, pushing in on all sides as they scramble for the portrait hole.

"What the hell's going on?" I ask.

When he speaks, his voice shakes.

"They found a man standing outside of the 6th year girls' dorms with a knife."

I feel like I black out for a moment, and then return to consciousness when I make sense of what Pucey's just told me.

"Wait, what the fuck? Are you serious?"

A man in the Slytherin dungeons, armed with a knife, standing outside the dormitory of the 6th year girls. There's only several 6th year girls in Slytherin, and one of them just arrived this year. Zoe.

I whirl around, trying to shove my way back towards the dorms, but the opposing flow of the crowd and the force of Pucey pulling me towards the exit are too difficult to fight. Eventually, I am pushed past the portrait hole and out of the Slytherin common room, my chest spasming with panic and mind racing a million miles an hour.

***

Hours go by, and I, along with the rest of the school, have ended up on the floor of the great hall, enveloped by flimsy sleeping bags while the professors search for the man with the knife. As I lay upon the floor, I can feel the hard stone pressing into me from beneath. I know it must still be early in the morning, because the enchanted ceiling is still dark and spattered with thousands of vivid stars.

If my mind was not busy before, it sure is now. Each minute that goes by only allows for more untamed thoughts to gather in my mind, forming a cancerous mass of questions and ideas. Where is Zoe? Is she okay? Why was there a man with a knife outside of the girls' dormitories, and who was he? What was he after?

I toss and turn, beginning to feel claustrophobic in the tight sleeping bag that is sticking to my skin with sweat.

It's then that I hear a rustling noise on my right. A small figure is slipping into the bag next to me, quiet and unnoticed by almost everyone else in the hall. It takes me no more than a second or two to determine that it's Zoe.

I don't know what to do - she is being so incredibly silent and still that I think she might've fallen asleep already. But with tonight's circumstances, I know that that can't be true. Several professors are gathered in a tight group at the rear of the room, whispering with the indications of fear. The rest of the students around us fell asleep hours ago. Before I can decide against it, I reach out and touch my index finger to her shoulder.

She turns around, and although there's no prominent evidence of fear or distress on her face, I can sense the slightest hint of panic buried within her features - the wideness of her eyes, the lines wedged in at the top of her forehead. She is so tense that she has a difficult time moving.

"Are you okay?"

***

Zoe

When Blaise asks me if I'm okay, I don't know how to respond.

No, I'm not hysterical, my body is not trembling with fright. Rather, I feel dread, inevitably closing in on me from all sides, crawling up my spine and provoking numbness in my body's most sensitive nerve endings. It's a cold, unwelcome feeling, and to me, it is much more frightening than any intense fear or pain.

All I do is nod, my lips set into a tight line. I am determined to keep them that way. I begin to wonder why Blaise has even asked me this, especially with how tense it's been between us the past week. It's out of character.

My feeble nod must not have been convincing enough. Blaise's eyes slightly narrow as he looks deeper into my own, searching for the truth that I hadn't told. The feeling is foreign and makes my heart jump, so I fess up.

"I mean, not really." I admit. The sound of my quivering voice surprises me. Am I denying my own fear? "I just don't understand why there was a man outside of my - of our dorm. I mean, I guess I just don't get it. Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest place in the wizarding world, and somehow, somebody got in with a knife."

I cannot decipher the look on Blaise's face as he takes in what I've said. Once again, he is looking into my eyes rather deeply.

"I'm sorry."

This is all he says. But his voice is so genuine and pure that I don't question his intentions for one second.

"Just turn over and lie down, Zoe. You really need some rest."

I take his advice simply because in the dark, cold room, his voice is the only thing bringing me feelings of tranquility. I'm not fond of this fact, but I allow it to lead me like a wax candle in the darkness.

I turn on my side, so my back is facing him, and allow an arm to stretch out above my head. A few moments after my eyes close, I feel warm fingers slip in between mine and gently curl over the back of my palm.

My heart instantly feels lighter.

Blaise is holding my hand.

***