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Night Flight	By : Massanie Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 77567 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 30
Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I'm not making any money with this story

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
CHAPTER 26: The Unforgiven (Part 2)

CHAPTER NOTES:

Hey you guys!
I'm sorry I haven't updated in quite some time. I have some serious family problems currently, since right before Christmas, and long story short, I really couldn't get my muses to come out of hiding.
I've dragged them out of their holes now and hope they won't desert me again anytime soon.
Thank you all so much for your patience and the wonderful reviews! You guys are just awesome!
I hope to get your reviews for the last chapter answered within the next few days, once they are, you can read the replies here:
ANONYMOUS REVIEW REPLIES: http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/35382-night-flight-review-replies/page-2
Now I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter!

Once Blaise had ascertained that there was no help to be found within the boundaries of Italy, at least not from people he could contact without immediately being arrested by the guardia for breaching the terms of their house arrest, it was a depressingly easy decision who to go to for help. There were not exactly many powerful families in Britain that could be trusted to believe Draco and him over the word of the guardia or the Aurors (who might have been informed of the situation by now) and that at the same time possessed enough influence to get a hold of a portkey to Italy in the middle of the night, since most allies of the Malfoys and Zabinis had had ties to the Dark Lord and therefore had recently fallen into disgrace. Even less would willingly go against these authorities, and of those who might, only a vanishingly small fraction would not turn their back and betray them to their parents the moment Harry was safe.
There were actually only two persons Blaise could think of that fitted all these categories and who might be able and willing to answer a call within the next few hours. One of them was Severus Snape who at this very moment resided in Malfoy Manor which could be called a not exactly ideal location in the best of cases: If Blaise contacted his former professor and headmaster there directly, both his mother and Draco's parents would be alerted and Amalyne and Narcissa might come to Italy to force Harry into mating with them once he was brought back home from the Lanais, or worse, lie in wait for Harry at the safe house where the emergency portkey would send the submissive to once Blaise and Draco got him to use the one he had been gifted with, or, if it was lost, the one Draco still carried.

And that was the goal they were headed for: getting Harry out of Italy as quickly and safely as possible, out of reach from both the guardia and Blaise's relatives and any other dominant who might be after him.
No. Severus, while a powerful wizard and ally, could only be contacted as a last resort or via an intermediary. Which left merely one other person and she was not quite so well-disposed towards former Death-Eaters nowadays after she had seen her best friend being killed in the battle of Hogwarts where the both of them had joined the light side in their last stand: Daphne Greengrass.
Honestly, the short list of allies was a bitter reminder of how naïve they had been throughout their lives, how many bad decisions they had made over the years, depending solely on their parents and wealth. Oh, he could imagine that Harry would have had such loyal friends en masse had the situation been reversed. Friends that Blaise couldn't contact now because he had no mirror connections established with them and no other means of contact available on such short notice. Thus they were of no use, at least until Blaise could find someone willing to act as a messenger. How pathetic was this, the entirety of their deficiencies, foremost the fact that their submissive would have been much better equipped for protecting them than they, the dominants, were for protecting Harry?
But once this was over, once Harry was safe, Blaise swore he'd build up a network of informants and allies that were loyal to more than his money, people he could trust to take risks for him and those he loved. He'd never again allow himself to become so helpless through inaction, having to listen to Harry being taken away, because he couldn't even move his fucking eyes to see him go!

That determination stirred his magic and it felt like a burning, living entity within him, grim and unyielding, churning in his veins as if it wanted to split him open and burst forth so that it could take over.
It couldn't, though, not without Harry; and even if it was within the bounds of possibility, nothing would come of it as long as they weren't close to Harry and his kidnappers. No, Blaise had to concentrate on and work with the allies that he had, or might gain, and he was utterly determined to sway the Greengrass heiress to their side: while there was a single person left within reach who could help them rescue the Golden Trio without their submissive having to mate any dominant, including Draco and Blaise, he would beg them, bribe them, threaten them! Whatever was necessary.
And so he found himself waiting for his fellow Slytherin to grace him with her attention, brooding restlessly over all the things he should say, lines he could open with, treasures to offer her. But the one fact remained: Daphne's best friend Tracy, one of their own Slytherins, a girl Blaise had spent almost seven years of school with, had died among too many fellow students in the corridors of Hogwarts, fighting on the side of Draco's enemies while Blaise had long since fled the castle; and this was the first time they would be speaking to each other after that fateful day.
It was not as if he expected a warm reception.
Even the House Elves' behaviour echoed their mistress's grief and resentment: It had taken over five minutes for one of them to answer the mirror call, even though the runtish male that finally opened the connection had to have been alerted almost immediately by the incisive chiming Blaise knew Daphne used as a signal for an incoming two-way mirror call. And the brat argued with him – most politely, mind – for another few minutes about whether or not his concern was important enough to warrant waking up his 'mistress Daphne'. If he had to guess, Blaise would say that the girl had been quite open with her aversion towards Draco (and Blaise by extension) and her servants had picked up on it. Oh, of course the Elf was never really discourteous towards him, but he was anything but obliging.
In fact, Blaise had been uncharacteristically close to shouting at the little miscreant, the Italian lilt in his voice worse than ever, when at last he had relented: with a final, almost disdainful sniff and a violent jerk of his oversized head that just might have been a nod, the Elf had asked him to wait and shuffled out of the room, leaving Blaise to stare restlessly at the undoubtedly tasteful décor of Daphne's study that did nothing to distract him from the dark anticipation of Daphne's reaction to his plea, or prevent his thoughts from drifting towards Harry like grimly gleaming iron filings towards a magnet, and to what he'd be forced to do soon or – Merlin forbid – right now.

Surrounded by enemies leering at him, coveting eyes trained on his elegant markings, those playful feathers ruffling up his raven hair, those gorgeous wings with too many shades of green to name. Assessing him with the glee and greed of a cat that had already caught and incapacitated its prey, searching some kind of cruel amusement in slowly bleeding it out, bleeding Harry out of the defiance and inner strength that was so uniquely him.

And one of Blaise's uncles or cousins – Nerio perhaps, the bastard, or Taide who had been in charge of leading Blaise through his own inheritance – they would touch him gently, teasingly, intimately as they pushed magic into that golden skin while dazzling Harry with a display of their power in the attempt of enticing him to establish a mating bond.
How much could Harry endure until he broke? With the continued attempts at mind control… and Harry was so young still – all of them were – so inexperienced in all things Vykélari; They had only had a few short days together and their Gryffindor, their colibrí couldn't be expected to throw off the mesmerizing influence of a dominant… he'd be helplessly at their mercy and oh, Blaise knew most of his relatives had little of that to spare.
And they would dangle the perfect bait in front of Harry as well: the freedom and safety and the very life of his best friends. Just in case that the submissive was strong enough to withstand the dominant's advances…
The very thought was excruciating and Blaise got up from the conference table, had to, unable to sit still even a moment longer yet reproaching himself for this blatant show of weakness at the same time. He knew that he should break free of the hellish, endless circle his thoughts were slowly falling into, knew that he needed to calm himself, lest he offended Daphne even further with a careless remark – Harry depended on them for help, depended on them not to alienate whatever allies they had. But it wasn't easy.
The soft sound of a door handle being pressed had him whirl around towards the open two-way mirror, watching in anticipation as first a narrow shoulder and then the rest of Daphne's willowy form, clad in a pale, richly decorated dressing gown, slipped through the crack of the barely opened door. Gracefully and with barely a sound she entered the room, throwing Blaise a penetrating, assessing glance from perceptive hazelnut brown eyes, before she turned her back on him to close the door behind her as silently as possible.
There she stood, just that one tiny moment longer than necessary, creating an ominous pause like the calm before the storm; a pause that Blaise knew was absolutely deliberate, meant to unsettle him. But at least Daphne had come, willing to meet and hear him out. Hopefully.
Releasing a deep breath as silently as possible, Blaise relaxed his posture and lowered his shoulders, softening the tenseness oozing from every pore of his being.

He couldn't be haughty, couldn't present his opponent with a superior, aloof front, or else Daphne might just outright deny them her help entirely or even close the connection on him before he had a chance at voicing his request. She was a very proud woman and disliked being looked down upon just as much as she disliked people grovelling in front of her.

But Daphne was also mostly just and a true believer of reason and logic, the traits of Ravenclaw almost as dominant in her as the Slytherin qualities and Blaise knew that keeping a levelled head was essential to swaying the elder Greengrass heiress. And acting the part of an equal asking for a favour and not a petitioner pleading for help. Even if that was exactly what he was.
When she finally turned, he was prepared to not react to the hostility meeting him in the expression of someone he'd have called a close acquaintance if not a friend, before the war. But the twinge of regret at their decaying relationship couldn't quite be ignored, like the continuous throbbing of a festering wound.
And still it was but a dim sparkle against the burning determination to use her ruthlessly and milk her for all her worth, if it only meant Harry's freedom.
Blaise was a man of priorities, the first one right now being Harry – it was another point Daphne could not be allowed to learn of, and Blaise might have even felt somewhat guilty at deceiving her, had he not known that this particular snake's bite was more vicious and deadly than could be surmised from her sweet smile and lovely features. No, the Greengrass heiress could very well take care of herself. Besides, Blaise felt as if he had never been more justified: after all, this was not even to further his own selfish goals but to save Harry.
"Daphne." He greeted her calmly, watching as she walked towards the arm chair set up in front of the mirror and lowered herself onto it gracefully, her lean fingers curling into the open mouths of the lean, wooden vipers forming the arm rests. A formidable woman like queen Medb on her throne, tall and upright and strong.
"Have you any idea what time it is, Zabini?" She asked coolly without returning the greeting.
Blaise almost grimaced at the use of his last name. It was worse than he had thought, then.

Feigning nonchalance, he calmly returned her piercing gaze. "Four…"
"Five." She corrected him tersely, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "I'm in England. It is five o'clock in the morning here in England. What do you want at this inhuman time, pray tell!" It was more a threat than a question, her voice vibrating with a dangerous undertone.
"I'm sorry to disturb you so early." Blaise said as diplomatically as he could, pressed for time as he was, and forgoing a direct answer, with a narrow inclination of his head as the only concession to this act of discourtesy. "I wouldn't have if time wasn't of so fundamental importance."
"I suppose." Daphne gave him a tight, humourless smile. "After all a dominant Vykélari wouldn't have revealed his and his chosen submissive's location for some bagatelle." And she waved towards the pair of two-way mirrors between them that was a clear indication of their respective whereabouts, as if there was no deeper meaning to that seemingly careless remark.
Blaise nodded slowly, refusing to clench his jaw and instead balling one hand to a fist behind his back, his lengthening nails leaving sharp, angry indents in his dark skin. Of course Daphne had to have read that defaming article in the Daily Prophet, he'd expected that; but he had hoped for a little bit more sympathy, some sign that she – as a Slytherin and the heiress of one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight Families – had at least regarded the words printed by that paper with the proper amount of scepticism. Or maybe the core of her grievances rather lied in the problems the pureblood society as a whole now faced as a direct result of their alleged mistreating of the Golden Boy, Britain's very own darling hero, in which case he would find himself fighting a losing battle with Daphne.

Or was this simply one of the war's burdensome legacies, the lingering strife between the opposing sides of a civil war? While possible to overcome, it would probably take far too much time…
"I know I haven't been the best of friends to you, Daphne." He began, trying to feel his way around cautiously and appeal to the familiarity they used to share and to the esteem they used to hold each other in. This mutual respect couldn't have been erased so quickly, and maybe it was enough to make her re-evaluate her opinion on the no doubt awful rumours surrounding him and Draco. But Daphne remained the image of uncooperativeness in her silence and stillness, her lips pursed as she regarded him.
Not allowing himself to be discouraged, Blaise continued nonetheless, steeling his resolve. Five minutes, he said to himself. If he couldn't convince her within five minutes, he'd have to turn to Severus for help and deal with his mother and Lucius and Narcissa once they became a problem. Even so, the passing time seemed to pierce him and force its way through his body in rapid, raging currents, filling him with urgency and making his skin crawl.
"We have known each other for years, and I have come to trust you a great deal… I need your help Daphne. My family here in Italy blackmailed Harry and took him away to mate him off to someone else and made the local Aurors believe that they rescued him from me and Draco…"
"Don't, Zabini!" Daphne snapped, her hands clawing into the wood like the talons of an eagle about to leap off a ledge towards its prey or an enemy, grim and outraged as if his words were a personal affront against her intelligence. "Save your charm and lies for someone more gullible!"
The increasing possibility of failure pierced Blaise's stomach then, like an electric shock, the firming notion that he might not be able to sway her, that he might be wasting even more precious time that he didn't have in the first place. Blaise's intent gaze hushed from one of Daphne's hazel eyes to the other, as if he could find the answers to vague, misty questions in her delicate features – what had made her so bitter and hostile in so short a time? Could he change her mind quickly enough for Harry? Should he rather give up, apologize for the inconvenience and go crawl back to Severus and, by implication, his mother and Draco's parents?
But as the moments passed with the two of them locked in some surreal staring contest, the time continuum frozen to a standstill around them, instead of the spontaneous suggestion he had hoped for only a sense of loss overcame him. He didn't want Daphne to think so low of him, didn't want to lose the regard of someone he respected. But moreover, he didn't want to include his and Draco's parents if not absolutely necessary and therefore couldn't afford losing another ally right now.

"I don't know what you have been told," Blaise pressed on, allowing a hint of righteous indignation to enter his voice "but I assure you, it isn't true!"
Huffing out a trenchant laugh, Daphne leaned forward, her fingers pressing down on the long fangs of the decorative snakes on the arm rests of her chair. "But it is, Zabini. I personally verified the facts because I didn't want to believe it, or rather, because Astoria didn't want to believe it. The silly thing still clings to any and all scraps of news of Draco." She huffed a snort in which disgust and anger strove against each other. "I had hoped that her infatuation would wane after the announcement of your engagement… well, maybe now it will."
Blaise frowned, shifting his weight from one foot to the other with a hint of annoyance piercing his movements, making them harsh and abrupt. "The article was the usual Prophet nonsense, Daphne! We didn't mistreat him, we never attempted to force him to mate – Merlin, we didn't even intend to mate him in the first place when we brought him to Lanai Manor! Not really. All we did was bring him to my manor here in Italy and yes, we kept him from leaving, for Merlin's sake! But that was…"

Blaise halted for a moment, realising the lie that had almost effortlessly rolled off his lips just in time. He had sworn to do right by Harry, and telling the truth about what had happened just a few days ago was just as much a part of that vow, as saving and protecting Harry was at this moment. Moreover he didn't want to lie about their relationship with the Gryffindor; besides, Daphne wouldn't have believed it anyway.
"Fine," he said, his voice fraught with tension, and defiant defensiveness "to tell you the truth, I'd say it was about 40% appeasing our parents because they insisted we take him to Italy, 30% worrying over our own reputation, 20% protecting Harry and 10% …" Blaise took a deep breath, letting his eyes rush unseeingly over the wall behind Daphne, wanting so much to just rake his hands through his hair and over his face in frustration and not able to in front of this woman. "10% was an eventuality we didn't even believe in at the time."
Deceptively, Daphne relaxed back into the soft cushions of the arm chair, looking more like a spider pressing back into its hideout to wait for prey than the well-bred pureblood heiress she was. She pursed her lips thoughtfully, but the painful stiffness of her fingers, as if they had been clenched for hours, belied her tenseness.

"So he didn't write a letter to Weasley and Granger, asking them to free him because of you and your House Elves holding him captive? He didn't attack you in particular, Zabini, because he felt threatened? And you didn't manipulate him with magical impulses?" One corner of Daphne's full lips twitched into a mockery of a grim, disdainful smile.
"Don't bother denying it, Zabini." She whipped up a hand to halt whatever protests Blaise might throw at her, even though the dark skinned Italian was too staggered at that moment to come up with anything plausible, a sense of being trapped gripping his chest as if he were a wolf cut off from its pack and surrounded by forest fire.
"You have no idea how furious I was when a friend of mine who works at the prophet told me about the new development in the Malfoy-Zabini-Potter scandal, just to warn me in advance that my foolish little sister is ruining her reputation, still stubbornly declaring her loyalty and affection to your idiotic fiancé to whoever bothers to listen. It's going to be all over the Prophet in less than four hours, Zabini!"

Daphne snarled, her chin raised aggressively, and her hand cut through the air to encompass all their alleged idiocy and depravity. "I still gave you the benefit of a doubt and made sure to verify all the facts. The guardia sent that letter to the Aurors to confirm the magical signatures. There is no doubt about it: Potter wrote it, his magical signature is all over the paper, which bears the heraldic animal of your family! How stupid could you be, Blaise? How moronic? Kidnapping the Boy-Who-Lived is one thing, but giving him access to letter paper with your family's emblem? You Hufflepuff!"
Blaise groaned internally, closing his eyes for a short moment. By Merlin, that damned letter! Wasn't it enough that the guardia thought them guilty of abusing Harry, now the entire British wizarding community would as well as of the following morning? Couldn't fate leave them with something, anything to fight back?

No wands, no possibility of leaving the manor without being dragged right into the Italian wizarding prison by the guardia, no allies…
And now he also understood Daphne's irrationally furious behaviour, because in her eyes theirs was the worst offence of all: unknowingly and unintentionally Blaise and Draco had involved the one Daphne loved the most: her little sister Astoria. Blaise knew the girl had had a major crush on his lover for quite a long time, had hoped to catch his attention when the two of them had broken up before the war… and those feelings had never really faded, even though the smart young girl knew quite well and should already have accepted that she stood no chance with the Malfoy heir, especially now after Draco was officially engaged.
It hadn't exactly endeared the girl to him, but nonetheless Blaise felt touched that Astoria was trying to defend them. At least someone was.
However, the woman in front of him was far from finished with her tirade. Rising to her feet she stepped closer until her harsh breath misted up the mirror between them for a second like the poisonous breath of a Lernaean Hydra.
"I don't care for your problems right now!" She stated with an air of finality. "And they won't even remain your main ones for much longer. Just you wait and see, Zabini." She said, much too calmly for comfort, her smooth voice dripping with grim satisfaction as she folded her hands in her lap as if she was doing nothing more than discussing her picnic plans for the next day. "After that article is published tomorrow, I will watch your family fall, and the Malfoys as well. And I'll make sure that you won't pull any Greengrass down with you!"
With that, she raised her wand, about to close the connection and Blaise couldn't allow that to happen…
"Wait, Daphne!" Blaise called out, rushing to his feet and towards her, only stopping when it appeared as if they were standing right in front of each other, barely two handbreadth between each of them and the reflective surface of the two-way mirror.
"Yes, Harry wrote that letter, I won't deny it." He rushed to speak. "But he didn't attack me because I threatened him, but because I was trying to make him accept his inheritance, despite him being agitated over the whole 'submissive' thing. It was an accident that surprised him as much as it did us, and afterwards he agreed to have us teach him how to control his magic. And we only used magical impulses on him during his first transformation, when he couldn't hear or see or speak. He was hurt and afraid; it was the only possibility to calm him down!"

Blaise licked his lips, interrupting his speech to take a much needed, deep breath. In front of him, Daphne had tilted her head, her face having closed off. It was still grim in its cold beauty, still free of compassion, like the harsh surface of a frozen and snow covered lake. But at least she was listening.
He opened his arms, lifted his hands palms up in a gesture that might have been misunderstood as a surrender.

"Regardless of what you believe, regardless of what you think is true, I swore a Tiwaz oath to Ron Weasley, only this very morning, that I would do right by Harry. And I will."
There it was, a tiny fissure in the polished granite of her façade. Her eyes unerringly lowered themselves to his forearms, where the unblemished robe he was wearing would not have been able to hide a bleeding Tiwaz rune.
But Daphne narrowed her eyes, probably doubting his words. It wasn't as if he could prove even having made that vow without the benefits of a wand. Daphne pursed her lips warily. "If that was the case, why didn't he speak up for you by now? Why not go to him for help? Apparently you were able to contact him in some way or another."
"I think he and Granger were used to blackmail Harry into leaving the manor." Blaise answered with a hint of hesitation, knowing that what he said sounded more like a spontaneously spun lie than the truth it actually was, an unsteady card house build in a rush and unfit to survive even the slightest hint of breath.
Taking a step back to re-establish a more polite distance between them, Daphne regarded him pensively, seemingly calmer than she had been during the whole meeting. "To my knowledge, they were not reported missing and I'm sure it would have caused a great stir if they had been. I think I have even seen them around the Prophet around midday yesterday."
Blaise frowned. That meant that the blackmailers had to have taken Harry's friends only a few short hours before contacting the submissive…

In any case, that was only of minor importance right now, paling in the face of Daphne's scepticism.
Blaise leaned in closer, holding her gaze intently and letting her see his graveness, the anxiousness. "We are not sure what happened," he conceded, "but his behaviour led us to believe that the blackmail was about Granger and Weasley, maybe even Weasley's sister. He has been forced to leave, of that there is no doubt. And even if I lied, Daphne, even if I wanted to use you to get Harry back and force him to mate – don't you think I know that I would never get away with suddenly reappearing in London with the Golden Boy as my mate, now that the public is already thinking us to be his abusers? The Wizengamot would probably just allow someone, most likely Harry himself, to put a compulsion on me and Draco so that we could not use Harry's power. Even mated Vykélari are not invincible and Harry would manage the impossible somehow; he always does. Then they'd probably take all our possessions and money and gave it to him as well. We'd be ostracized! What power a mating would potentially bring would become useless in the torrent of hate the wizarding community would heap on our heads. He is their hero and they will not stand for him being taken advantage of. I have no illusions about that."
Huffing, Daphne turned aside, pushing her chin forward defiantly. But that she wouldn't continue to hold his gaze, the little spark of insecurity right before she had faced away – it gave him hope. "And that is why we need to get him out of Italy back to Britain as soon as possible. I have one emergency portkey left, and Harry is wearing another one, if they haven't discovered it and taken it away from him by now. But I need someone there at my safe-house to make sure he stays safe."
Slowly, Daphne's eyes found his, disbelief written all over her delicate features. "You would send him away from your side?"
"Of course." Blaise nodded and pressed on, rushing through his words now that Daphne was listening while the relief of finally telling someone who could actually actively help swallowed him whole, siphoning off the tension and adrenaline that was keeping him working even through his tiredness. "You need to send an owl to Severus and tell him to go to my safe house and wait there for Harry. He'll complain viciously, but protect him nonetheless."

Draco's godfather was the only wizard able to fight off both Narcissa and Amalyne and could be trusted not to expose them to the Aurors afterwards. And Severus was also the only one besides their parents, who knew the exact location of the safe house.
"He is at Malfoy Manor But Draco's parent's and my mother can't learn of it! It is imperative for Harry's safety. I need you to also contact Pansy and some of Harry's allies: McGonnagall has the connections and power to get portkeys to Italy for a few of them." After all, the woman knew the minister and while Blaise was aware that both had been Harry's allies, he could imagine that the headmistress was by far easier to convince. She might even be the only one who might be able and willing to get them help in time, now that the public and probably the ministry had been utterly turned against them and everyone sharing their last names; she was known to be fair and practically a war hero herself. Everybody who had stood behind Dumbledore, stood behind McGonagall as well.
"That Werewolf Lupin is a good fighter and he'll come to Harry's help no matter what." Blaise continued, remembering what their Gryffindor had told them about his father's friends only a few hours ago.

"And the Weasleys will most assuredly help us, Harry spoke with them less than twenty-four hours ago and they know we didn't mistreat him. You especially need to see whether Granger and Weasley are safe and well and what happened to the two-way-mirror that we had Pansy give them so that Harry could converse with them if he wanted to. It is most likely the method the blackmailers used to get to Harry in the first place. But Draco is currently trying to find out more… and if someone could perhaps get hold of wands for me and Draco; ours were confiscated by the guardia."
For a moment, Blaise went over his words, assessing eyes raking over Daphne's unreadable, unblinking eyes and parted lips. "And when that is done, the Aurors should look over the letter again. I'm pretty sure that there will also be magical signatures on it that shouldn't be there: From the time frame I suspect that one of my Italian relatives currently in Britain intercepted Harry's letter before it reached his friends and then sent it to Italy so that the Vykélari council could pretend in front of the guardia that they were tipped off by some anonymous source that we mistreated Harry."

They probably had used the portkey shipment to get the letter back to Italy. It was a ministry operated business that used portkeys to ship parcels and letters between countries. Quick but expensive.

Narcissa herself had used it to send Adler's and Ives' paintings to them.
"Weasley and Granger probably never received it, which means that someone stalked their home and intercepted their letter. It should raise enough suspicions that we may convince the guardia to look into the matter again or even return our wands."
Daphne huffed and tapped with the tip of her wand against her thigh as silence fell between them, and Blaise waited with baited breath for the Greengrass heiress' verdict, not daring to interrupt her thoughts now that he had done everything he could, now that she needed to process his words and decide.
Of course Daphne would have to realise that Blaise had primarily requested help from Harry's friends, from Gryffindors, who would be able to directly interfere if Draco or he should try to force Harry to mate. It would be nigh impossible to coerce the submissive to initiate the bond under the watchful eye of his long-time allies, men and women as powerful as headmistress McGonagall and minister Shacklebolt.

And if they were indeed innocent of the crimes they were accused of, and someone managed to prove it, Astoria would be known as the brave, loyal, insightful young woman who had an admirable sense of character instead of the naïve, foolish girl that couldn't let go of a childhood crush, even if the boy in question was a monster, an engaged monster. So Daphne would have a profound interest in proving them innocent, if it was at all possible.
Now she only needed to come to that realisation as well.
Which she did, not even ten seconds later – the longest and most agonizing ten seconds in Blaise's life so far and he couldn't help slumping a bit, as his tensions transformed into sudden relief. Daphne was a powerful ally, her family was, and his spirits lifted with her at their side: they'd get Harry back to Britain and to safety and they'd smash his uncle for what he had done, ruin him until he was either in prison, or shunned by the public, or, if it couldn't be avoided: dead.

Barely half an hour after Daphne had relented and agreed to help them, a large barn owl had been sent on its way to Severus Snape though they were yet to receive an answer from the former Professor, and the Greengrass heiress herself was speaking to headmistress McGonagall while Astoria, who had been summoned by a House Elf, was on her way to the Lupins and Weasleys with the usual efficiency that seemed to be an inherent Greengrass treit.
Draco had returned to the conference room not much later and told his lover the essentials of his findings in hushed voices so that no other would know of the means they had used to come by that information (if anyone learned of the spying potion, questions were bound to arise, questions about where else it had been deployed and that might lead to a reconsideration of Narcissa's and even Draco's cases, not to mention the almost sure conviction of Lucius).
Blaise had been horrified and outraged over what Draco had told him, the knowledge of his own family having tortured Weasley and Granger in front of the submissive making his heart race in his chest with the need to crush them and ache for the Gryffindor at the same time.

More than ever his current helplessness threatened to burn away his reason and he found himself pacing up and down the conference room, waiting for news from Daphne, or from Draco – because, to add to his agitation, his blonde fiancé had almost immediately left the room again so that he'd be able to continue monitoring Harry via the Pensieve that was fed by a steady stream of the submissive's experiences, watching over him.
It was not something that sat well with Blaise, for his lover was even paler than usual, visibly shaken by what he was seeing in those silvery depths; and he was clearly holding back from telling him some details that might be irrelevant to their task of finding and saving Harry, but obviously important enough to chip at Draco's very being, shattering his nerves like waves over waves of earth quakes did with the foundations of a house.
But right now it was not something that could be avoided: someone had to go through this, suffer the same visions and emotions that Harry went through and Draco, having already seen those of the past day, was better equipped to understand what was going on. They didn't have the time for Blaise to go through Harry's memories that the spying potion had collected, as well…
That still didn't make it any easier, knowing his fiancé was undergoing such torture, knowing that Harry was living through it, without being able to help. It was aggravating and making him fidgety, chapping away at his concentration, something that he just couldn't afford…
Suddenly the door to the conference room was pushed open, bouncing off the wall with a loud, resonating bang that pierced Blaise to the core, the too fast beating of his heart stuttering and stumbling as if the pacemaker cells had lost their rhythm like an interrupted music ensemble falling silent one after another.
Blaise whipped around to face the door, seeing just in time as Draco rushed in, his movements so agitated that he practically fell into the room rather than walked, and his erratic steps seemed more random than anything. It was a wonder he managed to stay upright.
"Draco!" Blaise called out, appalled, and with a few quick steps he was in front of his lover, clasping his arms to steady him and to be able to look at him properly. He was a sight to behold and Blaise felt his stomach drop as he took in the rumpled hair that appeared as if Draco had pulled at it viciously, the bloodless skin, paler as any vampire's. His eyes were… troubled was too weak a word. Not haunted, not horrified, or not only… determined, yes, determined and … hurt, glistening suspiciously. But that might have something to do with the sour stench of vomit.
And when Draco panted out Harry's name, Blaise almost felt sick to that level as well. Something horrible had happened, and a sudden fear gripped him. This was a reaction far more severe than Harry being forcefully mated would warrant… Was he dead? By Merlin, had he refused and been deemed a liability? A witness and enemy who couldn't be swayed and couldn't be turned loose, what with the danger of him mating someone else and coming back for revenge? "Draco! By Morgaine, what happened?" he asked, already dreading the answer.
"We need to get to him. Now, Blaise! Now! We cannot wait!"

CHAPTER END NOTES:

So there you go… I hope you enjoyed the chapter! In any case, I look forward to hearing your opinions. But I'm already ducking behind my cover in case you want to throw stones at me for another mean cliffy…
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Night Flight