February prompt: Picture.
Title / Prompt: Picture Prompt. Here.
Character: Blaise Zabini (AU)
Rating: 15+
Pairing: Blaise/Tom
Disclaimer: I don’t own nor pretend to own any of the characters, locations, etc. I’m just playing in the sandpit.
Word count: 950
So many years of waiting after travelling back in time to be with Tom Marvolo Riddle; so many years of having his essence live inside Blaise’s head and now, with one ritual in a forgotten cemetery in the village of Little Hangleton where the Riddle House loomed above them, Blaise and Tom were back in their respective bodies. As ever, Blaise remained at Tom’s side, the silent protector as he had been since that day he had tumbled out of the spinning whirl of colour that the Time Turner’s magic made of the world and landed in 1945 with the object of his fascination staring at him in surprise. Neither had ever looked back.
Tom was meeting with his followers now; or rather, Lord Voldemort was meeting with them, and Blaise remained at the Riddle House by himself. He had protested, but Tom had simply lightly touched his cheek and promised he would not be gone long. Blaise understood that the Death Eaters needed to see their lord and to ask questions, but he did not trust them - any of them. When Tom had gently pointed out that no one in their right mind among the throng that flocked to his cause would try anything unless they wanted to spend the rest of their life as a radish or perhaps a turnip, unless he was extremely vexed, in which case, it was death, Blaise had sighed. And reluctantly concluded that Tom was right and let him go.
He’d spent the morning inside the Riddle House, magicking away dust and wandering around with Nagini slithering beside him. Although he couldn’t speak Parseltongue, that didn’t stop Blaise from carrying on a conversation with the large snake. Just how much she understood, he didn’t really know, but she did add her own points in various toned hisses and the occasional affectionate rub of her blunt head against his calf. Nagini showed no one else but Tom himself any affection and Blaise, as he idly scratched her head and gazed out at the overgrown garden from a third floor window, mused, “It’s not too bad out there, ‘Gini. Maybe we should go sit outside for a while, hm?” There was a contented hiss of agreement and Blaise bounced down the stairs with his companion slithering beside him and went out into the garden.
Accio’ing chairs and a rusty table along with the book he’d been reading before the ritual that had taken place to restore his lover - his lord - Blaise settled comfortably beneath a warm sun that peeked out occasionally from fluffy white clouds and Nagini slithered through soft grass as she moved about the garden, examining things with her forked tongue. Hours passed, and the day grew darker, until, gazing upwards, Blaise saw the white clouds had become grey; the colour of steel, and the sun was low in the horizon. He frowned - it was getting late, and his senses and magic told him that Tom was not yet back. Nagini reared up beside him, her tongue brushing over his cheek and he nodded. “Yeah, we’ll go in. ‘s getting a bit cold.” Young man and snake left the garden together, the chairs and table forgotten, and returned to the interior of the Riddle House.
Blaise went back upstairs, to the room that had been made habitable and sprawled by the fireplace in an old armchair. A lazy flick of fingers and a quiet “Incendio!” and the fire lit in the grate. Nagini approved of that, curling up right beside the warming flames, her large eyes closing as she dozed. Blaise smiled slightly, pushed his hair out of his face and returned to reading - and waiting.
For anyone who looked at him, Blaise resembled nothing more dangerous than a young man in his late twenties - magic and the theft of a certain stone had ensured the secret to everlasting life and youth would be his and Tom’s, and it had been the 1960’s when they had enjoyed the fruits of their pilferage. Now, his face pale and lit by the golden glow of the fire, Blaise tried to concentrate on his book. He couldn’t. The day was becoming night, and Tom had been gone for hours.
Reading soon did not help to pass the time, and rain began to fall, the staccato sound on the roof urging Blaise to move. He paced back and forth, scowling, imagining all sorts of horrors that could have occurred, and when his nerves were strung so tightly he thought he would explode, Tom, wet and weary stepped through the door.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” Blaise exploded. Before the Dark Lord could reply, Blaise had grabbed him, and kissed him hard. After a moment, he pulled back, his dark blue eyes full of concern. “I was worried,” he said softly.
Tom smiled slightly. “I’m sorry, Love. They had questions. I had to provide some object lessons.”
A raised eyebrow met that statement. “Are we having radishes or turnips for dinner then?”
“What? Oh, no. Just the usual sort of dark lordly things one has to do to prove things to a legion of idiots.”
Blaise sighed and held Tom close, and in that moment they were not the Lieutenant and his Dark Lord, but simply Blaise and Tom, two lovers.
After a very long while, Blaise pulled back, his eyes dark. “You really fucking worried me. We really need to do something about this lack of shared brain thing. I don’t like the silence and I don’t like not knowing where you are.”
Tom nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t like the silence, either. We’ll fix it.”
Blaise nodded in response. “Well, good."
(18+ Continuation can be found here.)
Character: Blaise Zabini (AU)
Rating: 15+
Pairing: Blaise/Tom
Disclaimer: I don’t own nor pretend to own any of the characters, locations, etc. I’m just playing in the sandpit.
Word count: 950
So many years of waiting after travelling back in time to be with Tom Marvolo Riddle; so many years of having his essence live inside Blaise’s head and now, with one ritual in a forgotten cemetery in the village of Little Hangleton where the Riddle House loomed above them, Blaise and Tom were back in their respective bodies. As ever, Blaise remained at Tom’s side, the silent protector as he had been since that day he had tumbled out of the spinning whirl of colour that the Time Turner’s magic made of the world and landed in 1945 with the object of his fascination staring at him in surprise. Neither had ever looked back.
Tom was meeting with his followers now; or rather, Lord Voldemort was meeting with them, and Blaise remained at the Riddle House by himself. He had protested, but Tom had simply lightly touched his cheek and promised he would not be gone long. Blaise understood that the Death Eaters needed to see their lord and to ask questions, but he did not trust them - any of them. When Tom had gently pointed out that no one in their right mind among the throng that flocked to his cause would try anything unless they wanted to spend the rest of their life as a radish or perhaps a turnip, unless he was extremely vexed, in which case, it was death, Blaise had sighed. And reluctantly concluded that Tom was right and let him go.
He’d spent the morning inside the Riddle House, magicking away dust and wandering around with Nagini slithering beside him. Although he couldn’t speak Parseltongue, that didn’t stop Blaise from carrying on a conversation with the large snake. Just how much she understood, he didn’t really know, but she did add her own points in various toned hisses and the occasional affectionate rub of her blunt head against his calf. Nagini showed no one else but Tom himself any affection and Blaise, as he idly scratched her head and gazed out at the overgrown garden from a third floor window, mused, “It’s not too bad out there, ‘Gini. Maybe we should go sit outside for a while, hm?” There was a contented hiss of agreement and Blaise bounced down the stairs with his companion slithering beside him and went out into the garden.
Accio’ing chairs and a rusty table along with the book he’d been reading before the ritual that had taken place to restore his lover - his lord - Blaise settled comfortably beneath a warm sun that peeked out occasionally from fluffy white clouds and Nagini slithered through soft grass as she moved about the garden, examining things with her forked tongue. Hours passed, and the day grew darker, until, gazing upwards, Blaise saw the white clouds had become grey; the colour of steel, and the sun was low in the horizon. He frowned - it was getting late, and his senses and magic told him that Tom was not yet back. Nagini reared up beside him, her tongue brushing over his cheek and he nodded. “Yeah, we’ll go in. ‘s getting a bit cold.” Young man and snake left the garden together, the chairs and table forgotten, and returned to the interior of the Riddle House.
Blaise went back upstairs, to the room that had been made habitable and sprawled by the fireplace in an old armchair. A lazy flick of fingers and a quiet “Incendio!” and the fire lit in the grate. Nagini approved of that, curling up right beside the warming flames, her large eyes closing as she dozed. Blaise smiled slightly, pushed his hair out of his face and returned to reading - and waiting.
For anyone who looked at him, Blaise resembled nothing more dangerous than a young man in his late twenties - magic and the theft of a certain stone had ensured the secret to everlasting life and youth would be his and Tom’s, and it had been the 1960’s when they had enjoyed the fruits of their pilferage. Now, his face pale and lit by the golden glow of the fire, Blaise tried to concentrate on his book. He couldn’t. The day was becoming night, and Tom had been gone for hours.
Reading soon did not help to pass the time, and rain began to fall, the staccato sound on the roof urging Blaise to move. He paced back and forth, scowling, imagining all sorts of horrors that could have occurred, and when his nerves were strung so tightly he thought he would explode, Tom, wet and weary stepped through the door.
“Where the fuck have you been?!” Blaise exploded. Before the Dark Lord could reply, Blaise had grabbed him, and kissed him hard. After a moment, he pulled back, his dark blue eyes full of concern. “I was worried,” he said softly.
Tom smiled slightly. “I’m sorry, Love. They had questions. I had to provide some object lessons.”
A raised eyebrow met that statement. “Are we having radishes or turnips for dinner then?”
“What? Oh, no. Just the usual sort of dark lordly things one has to do to prove things to a legion of idiots.”
Blaise sighed and held Tom close, and in that moment they were not the Lieutenant and his Dark Lord, but simply Blaise and Tom, two lovers.
After a very long while, Blaise pulled back, his eyes dark. “You really fucking worried me. We really need to do something about this lack of shared brain thing. I don’t like the silence and I don’t like not knowing where you are.”
Tom nodded. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t like the silence, either. We’ll fix it.”
Blaise nodded in response. “Well, good."
(18+ Continuation can be found here.)