"I have learned some of what occurred," she declared and they both glanced at Blaise. "He's been brutalized, by several people."
                              
Neville bit his lip. "He said that... he allowed people to...."
                              
"Allowed is... not a very accurate description," she growled, looking at Blaise, again. "He's going to tell you eventually." 
                              
His lip trembled and tears started to form. It had been difficult for Blaise to open up and Neville realized that talking about what happened would shake Blaise to the core. "I'll... I'll be right there to help him. I promise."
                              
Mrs. Zabini nodded approvingly, but asked one other question. "And if he tells you what he did... you're going to be okay with it? Sex and games... it's not going to be pleasant."
                              
"I know. He never tried to hide what he did, what things they did to him. I won't judge him... or betray his confidence. I'll stay by his side, no matter what happens."
                              
"Very well. As I understand, what happened last night, the students who attacked him are the ones tormenting Draco?"
                              
"I guess. Dawlish took his wand and left him defenseless. I'm not sure who...." 
                              
"But they're the same ones messing with Draco, right? Who are they?"
                              
Neville looked at her, tense. She had a reputation. Blaise was one thing... she was different. Besides, this was Blaise's fight. If he wanted help, he would ask. But he probably wouldn't.
                              
"I'm sorry... I can't tell you that," he said, quietly. She tilted her head and took a step forward. Her eyes bore into his and he shook nervously.
                              
"I want those names," she said, with some coercion.
                              
Neville frowned. "If you want them, you can ask Blaise when he wakes up. I won't tell you anything and if he wants to you to know, he will tell you."
                              
She tried to stare him down, but Neville stood firm. He wasn't going to break so easily. "I can make them stop," she promised.
                              
"I'm sure you can. But I'm not going to be part of that. Blaise can decide what needs to happen, but if you are trying to make me squeal names, you're looking at the wrong place," Neville said, firmly. If he could stand up to Voldemort, he could stand up to Blaise's mother.
                              
She straightened up, analyzing him. "You seem timid, but there is strength in you," she declared.
                              
Neville swallowed with difficulty. He always had a hard time finding his courage, but it was there. 
                              
"I think that you are going to be a good man for my son," she said, giving him a small, knowing smile.
                              
He let out a breath of relief. "Thank you?"
                              
"Hmmm... when he wakes up, tell him I'll be back this afternoon. You seem to have him taken care of."
                              
"I'll do my utmost to help him... protect him," he whispered.
                              
"Good. Do remind him that you are there for him? He's not used to asking for help. That's my fault, really."
                              
Neville nodded and she left the room, without another word. He sighed and sagged down into the chair. He rubbed his eyes exhaustedly. That had been nerve-racking. He looked at Blaise, who was still asleep. He was going to be alright and when he wanted to talk... share his pain. Neville would be there, holding him... comforting him. He glanced at the window. There still were a few more hours until dawn. The potions would wear off soon.
                              
***
                              
There were trees all around Harry as he walked. His heart pumped quicker... already sensing where this was going. Dementors were gliding in the shadows, the stone was in his hand. Three times, three turns and they appeared. His family. His mother and father, who had died trying to protect him, his godfather, whom he had lost in front of his eyes, and Remus, the last of the Marauders, killed before his own son could know him. They all died, because of him, because of the prophecy.