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He remembered one of the House-Elves screaming. He'd assumed it was his mother or his new stepfather berating one of them. Once one of them had scrambled into his bedroom and begged for the Young Master to come and help, however, he'd gotten worried.

He'd run to the library and there he'd found a very grisly sight.

His mother, young and beautiful still (he'd always see her like that), hair in complete disarray, blood on her robes and bruises darkening on her face. She was grinning maniacally as she brandished her wand and chanted under her breath.

Blaise winced, he recognized the curse. It was one of the darker ones, a voudoun one. His mother would pay for using it like so. There was always a price for these spells. He looked at his stepfather twitching on the floor, already beaten to a bloody quivering mess.

He'd messed with the wrong woman. Blaise's mother might look sweet and innocent and demure, despite tales of her wild past...but she was a strong witch and a deeply vindictive one.

He hadn't liked the man, but he didn't deserve this. No one Few did.

So he intervened, may Legba look kindly on him for it. Managed to subdue his mother and set the Elves to watching her and tending her. There was nothing left hardly of his stepfather's sanity much less his body, so Blaise did the most merciful thing he could.

He retrieved a pain reliever potion and then a dreamless sleep potion. Helping the man drink them, he then healed up all the outward signs of injury and placed the man in his bed. Arranging it so it looked like an accidental Dreamless Sleep overdose. Then he carefully took another potion and fed it to the sleeping man. This potion was mostly harmless, however when mixed with other things, it had the unfortunate side effect of making a person's heart stop. Untraceable, broke down quickly in the system. There'd be no investigation or evaluation of the body. They'd been through this before. It'd be in his will that he wanted to be cremated and fed to the sea.

He ordered the Elves to take care of the mess in the library. He'd handle the rest of it and perhaps sleep for an hour before his mother woke and the mourning process began.

It wasn't the first mess he'd cleaned up for her. He wished it would be the last.

Blaise Zabini
Harry Potter
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Blaise Zabini

February 2010

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