The Sleeping Beauty Curse

Chapter 7

"Draco!" Zabini said. "Would you like a cup of tea? Three sugars, right?"

Malfoy shot Harry a sidelong look, as if to point out that while Robards had turned his wand on him, Zabini had offered him a perfectly tailored hot drink. Harry bit his tongue, hard, against the urge to point out that Pansy had offered him a hot drink too, and look where that had got them.

"Tea? Will I have to drink it in a broom closet?" Malfoy asked, like a dick.

Zabini blinked. "No?" he said, clearly thrown. "My office is just along here. Come through." He led the way to a small but neat room packed with pot plants. There was a desk, comfy green-leather armchairs, and a small window, framed by chintz curtains, with a cheerful view of the sky. Which sky, Harry wasn't sure, given that they were nine levels underground. He wondered who'd approved the budget for the redecoration of Zabini's office. The décor in the Department of Mysteries tended towards dark and mysterious, rather than Slytherin common room crossed with an old-lady's front room. "Sit where you like," he said warmly to Malfoy, ignoring Harry, who sat down anyway.

When Zabini had pointedly repeated his offer of tea again to Malfoy only, and been turned down, he gave Malfoy a slightly patronising smile. "So, how can I help you?" he said, which made Harry sad that Malfoy had turned down the tea. He'd have liked to throw it at Zabini's head.

Malfoy took this arsiness pretty well, Harry thought, grudgingly impressed. He didn't flinch. Instead, he relaxed back into his chair and laughed. "Very funny," he said lightly.

Zabini grinned. "Sorry, Draco, couldn't resist. Who'd have thought we'd end up like this, eh? You, in your situation, and me – here."

"Who indeed," Malfoy said, his voice a little bit tight. He forced a smile. "I presume this is just a formality, Blaise?"

"What do you mean?" Zabini asked, clearly enjoying this.

Zabini really was a tosser, Harry thought. He'd spent some time after the war was over battling with himself over his instinctive dislike of Slytherins. They hadn't all been on Voldemort's side, despite what some people had said. There had been calls for Slytherin House to be abolished, when Hogwarts reopened after it had been rebuilt. After careful consideration, though, Harry had decided this was stupid. Being a Slytherin didn't mean you were evil, or that you wanted to take over the world. All it meant, he thought, was that you were a dick in some way. Snape, Slughorn, Zabini, Malfoy – they might not have turned out to be evil, in the end. But they were all, undeniably, dicks. It wasn't a hanging offense to be a dick, though. Ergo – there was no need to abolish Slytherin House. It was a useful method of telling who the dicks of the future would be, Harry thought, glad to have got it straight in his own head.

"I'm in charge of a small team here who specialise in investigating the magic of the heart," Zabini explained, as if he wasn't a dick after all. "We look into unusual spells, where the Aurors and the Healers can't help – they're more used to regular magic, you see," he said, insulting swathes of people in one breath. "I'll continue to be in charge of you, Draco." He smiled widely.

"Don't we get a Healer?" Malfoy asked, clearly irked by this patronising tone. "Surely you're far too busy and important to be wasting your time with our little problem."

"Nonsense," Zabini said, matching sarcasm for sarcasm. "It'll be my pleasure."

The two smiled at each other in a way that suggested they were about to tear each other's noses off. Harry felt confused; he'd presumed the pair of them were friends. They'd always seemed friendly at school. Well, as friendly as Slytherins ever got, he supposed. They'd sat next to each other occasionally, and supported each other in ganging up on other people.