Mission Insane: Black Fades to Gray (Weather Series Part 2/5)
Title: Black Fades to Gray
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Mrs. Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint
Pairings: none, pre-Pansy/Blaise
Era: May 3, 1998
Word Count: 1076
Prompt: mission_insane Weather: 2.Fog
Summary: The aftermath of the Final Battle of Hogwarts
Warnings: Minor character death
Blaise watched as Marcus Flint walked through the doors with some Gryffindor girl at his side. The older boy seemed immune to all that was going on around him, probably because he had been smart enough to choose the winning side and he wasn’t friendly enough to had made connections that stung when the other person died. Marcus always seemed to have that sense of superiority that Blaise could not achieve. His mother would have liked to meet the older Slytherin, but now was neither the time nor the place to get Flint tied up in his mother’s schemes.
“Auror Jones, I really do think there’s been a mistake.” Mrs. Zabini began again, refusing to struggle against the binds that kept her from reaching for her wand. If there was one thing Loretta Zabini believe in it was pride, something painfully Gryffindor of her in Blaise’s mind. She would not reduce herself to pleading in front of these half-blood scoundrels, nor would she allow her only son to do so in her place. He knew she would rather rot in Azkaban than submit herself to even the slightest bit of defamation. Blaise only wished he could be that strong.
“I’m going to roll up you sleeve,” Jones stated, moving towards his intended target. Blaise did not want the dirty half-blood to touch his mother’s flawless skin, but a single sound of protest could get them both killed. Unable to watch his mother as she was caught in the act for the first time in her life, Blaise turned to see how Pansy Parkinson was making out with her investigation. Many nights spent under her covers assured him that she was not branded. However, there were many female Death Eaters who refused the mark because of how hideous it was.
Pansy was just as graceful as his mother under pressure. She preened against the restraints, checking that her nails were not chipped while pointedly ignoring the dirt so blatantly stuck beneath each nail. Her mouth remained curved upwards slightly, assuming a mask of innocence very few others could rival. “Auror Bailey,” she said, her voice like satin as it smoothly permeated the room, “I assure you neither I nor anyone in my family has joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s forces. Honestly, just because I am a Slytherin does not mean that I am a slave.” There was the unspoken implication of hypocrisy in her tone, as if she were mocking them for having the audacity to prejudge her after loosing half their forces in a fight to end prejudice. For a moment, Blaise stood enthralled, wondering if his mother and Pansy ever had a conversation before.
Upon checking her arm and her wand and finding both innocent of any horrendous crimes against mudbloods, Auror Bailey undid the spell that held Pansy in place and moved on to the next suspect. Pansy ran haphazardly into Flint’s arms upon noticing him and hugged him tight. “I didn’t want to go to Azkaban,” she whispered, but the voice carried to Blaise due to his vicinity. “They’d eat me alive in there.” He heard Flint whisper words of encouragement and comfort in a way that was much more filial than it was romantic. Blaise knew, of course, the Marcus and Pansy were first cousins, but in the pureblood world that never gave cause for disgust where breeding was concerned.
By the time Pansy’s name was cleared, Blaise’s mother was being magically restrained by three Aurors while a fourth one read her rights aloud. She looked so beautiful in that moment, her blue eyes wild and roaming, always such a contrast to her dark, ebony skin. “Te amo, amore mio!” she called out, catching her son’s eye just as they pulled her through the doors. The Italian was a confession of fear and desperation, but Blaise knew there was no way to get them both out of this one unscathed. Six dead husbands had made his mother ruthless, especially since five of them were caused by her hand. However, with seven eye witnesses and the mark branded mockingly into her left forearm, Blaise could do little other than respond in kind.
“Te amo, Mama!” his Italian never sounded as polished as his mother’s, but that was understandable considering she lived there for half of her life and he had only been there once. He watched her leave and felt a piece of his heart break. His mother was the only person in the world Blaise would ever love. He knew that with a certainty incomparable to ocular or tactile proof. As she left the room, every color seemed to leave with her, producing a foggy mockery of the sight her son just had. There was grayness to every aspect of the room, save for Pansy’s eyes.
“She’ll be back,” the innocent girl promised, her eyes just as blue, just as cold as his mother’s. They did not clash violently against her skin as Mama’s did, but they held the same contempt for the world that could not be matched or disproved. As she grabbed his hand, Blaise felt some of the color return and the fog began to lift. Grabbing Pansy’s hand, he followed after the Aurors and his mother, hoping to wave goodbye as they took her away.
The slight reprieve from the monochrome world did not last long, however, as the moment they left the castle they were greeted by layer upon layer of opaque cloud covering. Blaise could not see his mother through the fog that blanketed the bloodstained earth, but he knew she would hear him if he called. For a moment, Blaise racked his brain for something to say; eloquent words that would make up for the fact that he was not following her to hell on earth. Finally, he found the perfect one.
“Tell father I say hello, Mama,” he called out, his voice carrying where his sight could not, “Tell him he owes me a Kneazle when he gets out.” He hoped that seeing her one true love again would be enough to console his mother as she entered a prison of isolation. Mr. Zabini was the only man his mother had ever loved; he was also a cold-blooded murderer who had taught her everything he knew. Blaise hoped they would have a nice reunion despite the shadows of Azkaban. He hoped that, when his mother arrived, she’d be able to recognize her lover through the fog.
Author: Liliths_Requiem
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Blaise Zabini, Mrs. Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint
Pairings: none, pre-Pansy/Blaise
Era: May 3, 1998
Word Count: 1076
Prompt: mission_insane Weather: 2.Fog
Summary: The aftermath of the Final Battle of Hogwarts
Warnings: Minor character death
Blaise watched as Marcus Flint walked through the doors with some Gryffindor girl at his side. The older boy seemed immune to all that was going on around him, probably because he had been smart enough to choose the winning side and he wasn’t friendly enough to had made connections that stung when the other person died. Marcus always seemed to have that sense of superiority that Blaise could not achieve. His mother would have liked to meet the older Slytherin, but now was neither the time nor the place to get Flint tied up in his mother’s schemes.
“Auror Jones, I really do think there’s been a mistake.” Mrs. Zabini began again, refusing to struggle against the binds that kept her from reaching for her wand. If there was one thing Loretta Zabini believe in it was pride, something painfully Gryffindor of her in Blaise’s mind. She would not reduce herself to pleading in front of these half-blood scoundrels, nor would she allow her only son to do so in her place. He knew she would rather rot in Azkaban than submit herself to even the slightest bit of defamation. Blaise only wished he could be that strong.
“I’m going to roll up you sleeve,” Jones stated, moving towards his intended target. Blaise did not want the dirty half-blood to touch his mother’s flawless skin, but a single sound of protest could get them both killed. Unable to watch his mother as she was caught in the act for the first time in her life, Blaise turned to see how Pansy Parkinson was making out with her investigation. Many nights spent under her covers assured him that she was not branded. However, there were many female Death Eaters who refused the mark because of how hideous it was.
Pansy was just as graceful as his mother under pressure. She preened against the restraints, checking that her nails were not chipped while pointedly ignoring the dirt so blatantly stuck beneath each nail. Her mouth remained curved upwards slightly, assuming a mask of innocence very few others could rival. “Auror Bailey,” she said, her voice like satin as it smoothly permeated the room, “I assure you neither I nor anyone in my family has joined He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s forces. Honestly, just because I am a Slytherin does not mean that I am a slave.” There was the unspoken implication of hypocrisy in her tone, as if she were mocking them for having the audacity to prejudge her after loosing half their forces in a fight to end prejudice. For a moment, Blaise stood enthralled, wondering if his mother and Pansy ever had a conversation before.
Upon checking her arm and her wand and finding both innocent of any horrendous crimes against mudbloods, Auror Bailey undid the spell that held Pansy in place and moved on to the next suspect. Pansy ran haphazardly into Flint’s arms upon noticing him and hugged him tight. “I didn’t want to go to Azkaban,” she whispered, but the voice carried to Blaise due to his vicinity. “They’d eat me alive in there.” He heard Flint whisper words of encouragement and comfort in a way that was much more filial than it was romantic. Blaise knew, of course, the Marcus and Pansy were first cousins, but in the pureblood world that never gave cause for disgust where breeding was concerned.
By the time Pansy’s name was cleared, Blaise’s mother was being magically restrained by three Aurors while a fourth one read her rights aloud. She looked so beautiful in that moment, her blue eyes wild and roaming, always such a contrast to her dark, ebony skin. “Te amo, amore mio!” she called out, catching her son’s eye just as they pulled her through the doors. The Italian was a confession of fear and desperation, but Blaise knew there was no way to get them both out of this one unscathed. Six dead husbands had made his mother ruthless, especially since five of them were caused by her hand. However, with seven eye witnesses and the mark branded mockingly into her left forearm, Blaise could do little other than respond in kind.
“Te amo, Mama!” his Italian never sounded as polished as his mother’s, but that was understandable considering she lived there for half of her life and he had only been there once. He watched her leave and felt a piece of his heart break. His mother was the only person in the world Blaise would ever love. He knew that with a certainty incomparable to ocular or tactile proof. As she left the room, every color seemed to leave with her, producing a foggy mockery of the sight her son just had. There was grayness to every aspect of the room, save for Pansy’s eyes.
“She’ll be back,” the innocent girl promised, her eyes just as blue, just as cold as his mother’s. They did not clash violently against her skin as Mama’s did, but they held the same contempt for the world that could not be matched or disproved. As she grabbed his hand, Blaise felt some of the color return and the fog began to lift. Grabbing Pansy’s hand, he followed after the Aurors and his mother, hoping to wave goodbye as they took her away.
The slight reprieve from the monochrome world did not last long, however, as the moment they left the castle they were greeted by layer upon layer of opaque cloud covering. Blaise could not see his mother through the fog that blanketed the bloodstained earth, but he knew she would hear him if he called. For a moment, Blaise racked his brain for something to say; eloquent words that would make up for the fact that he was not following her to hell on earth. Finally, he found the perfect one.
“Tell father I say hello, Mama,” he called out, his voice carrying where his sight could not, “Tell him he owes me a Kneazle when he gets out.” He hoped that seeing her one true love again would be enough to console his mother as she entered a prison of isolation. Mr. Zabini was the only man his mother had ever loved; he was also a cold-blooded murderer who had taught her everything he knew. Blaise hoped they would have a nice reunion despite the shadows of Azkaban. He hoped that, when his mother arrived, she’d be able to recognize her lover through the fog.