Guilt was nearly as foreign to Blaise as apologies. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what they were, it was that he never had to deal with them. He had grown up in a society that taught him nothing was ever his fault and that other people should be apologizing to him. It was a toxic society to grow up into but he never knew any better.
He never really felt guilt until this past summer. Everything he had done during the year had kept him up for days. First he had thought it was the trauma from the Battle but then he learned how frightening guilt could be. Even in a crowded room, Blaise could hear the screams of his victims. Thing were worse when he was alone. It was as if he was a spectator in his own life. He replayed memories in his head of him torturing innocent people. Though innocent was a subjective word. He was told they were guilty but now he knew better. He was just another pawn in the Dark Lord’s cruel, cruel game.
Another pawn in the twisted game they all played was Laura. Prior to the reprise of the Dark Lord, she was just another classmate. Maybe more of a friend than just an acquaintance. One he had grown distant from but one he knew from his past. When he had first been in the torture chambers with her, it was during a group “exercise” where loyalties were tested. He wasn’t sure if they had chosen her to test his loyalties or purely because of her blood status. All he knew was that if he didn’t do as asked he was putting his entire family in danger. The flashbacks played like a silent movie in his head as he waited outside in the courtyard. He knew she passed this place often on her way to and from places and he wanted to properly apologize to her. Not whatever shitty attempt of one he had given her days prior.
A familiar flash of blonde caught his eye. Seeing her brought relief that he could ease his guilt by saying sorry but it also invoked fear. What if the bubbly person he used to know was crucio’d out of her? What if he was the person to turn her heart ice cold? He pressed on because there was only one way to find out.
“L-Laura! Hey hold up,” he approached her with both hands held up, surrendering any power differential he held over her. “You owe me nothing, that much is true. But I owe you an apology, or rather quite a few for what I have done. Could we talk? For old time sakes?”
During the last two hours Laura had been sitting under a tree, most of her suffering and memories disappeared. This time, there wasn't an instrument in her hands or a song muttered by her lips, but rather pencils and papers and some of her favorites other types of instruments to work with - the ones related to drawing, not music. For example, she had a thing her father gave her just to correct the shadows on the paper, and because of it her right hand was now full of pencil lead. But the result of the drawing she just did made up for it; she couldn't hold a smile while analyzing the sunflower capture on paper.
It reminded her of Isabela, her mother.
Before the war, way before the return of you-know-who, in a time when Laura's nightmares were all in account of an irrational fear rather than a rational one - more than one -, she used to have a lot of bad dreams for no reason. Isabela and Brian knew about it, of course, and both of them found their ways to help their daughter. Brian would usually stay awake with her for longer hours, playing music, teaching her more and more about instruments and songs and all the wonderful things related to a world which belonged not to the wizarding or the muggle one. Isabela, though, would tell her stories - great stories, full of adventure and hope, and sometimes even some other fears. Some of them were tales. Laura's favorite was about a sunflower.
That's why she felt so in piece with the piece of paper in her hand, and so carefully bent it, making its way to her bag. She had a few things to do before the day ended, but decided to go to the hufflepuff's common room first. There, she would at least be able to pick up her guitar or cello; if anything bad happened, it made her happy to know one of her favorite things was close to calm her.
She wasn't counting on Blaise's approach. She would be lying if she said she wasn't counting on her reactions either, though. They were the same, no matter the apology - her mind wasn't at easy with his presence, of course, there was still a lot of fear, but she knew now there was a chance he actually meant his apology. After all, Blaise Zabini wasn't someone to say "sorry" out loud. But her body, the one who had been hurt and tortured and too many bad things for the better part of last year, that same body could only react with the normal reactions of fear. She waited until things calmed a little, looking at his pose, and decided to carry her wand for good. That would give her a sense of control, at the very least.
"Yes." She said a few seconds later, holding her breath, trying not to seem too terrified. Laura had promised herself not to cry today, and she was stubborn enough to try her best and keep up with that promise. "I guess so..." She looked around, checking if there were people around, and noticed there were.
"Can it be here, though?" She didn't want to go anywhere with him, that was true. Not now, maybe not ever, or at least not for long unless he proved himself to be truly sorry. The thing is, she was someone to easily trust, but one thing was to be hurt by a joke, the other thing was the usage of an unforgivable curse or any spell close in terms of pain. She wasn't as naive as the girl she used to be, no matter if that change was for better or worse. "What do you want to talk about?"
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