#Blaiseree

[obsidianarchives]

The Dragon Leather Jacket

Blaise Zabini was glad to get out of the castle, but was annoyed it had to be alone. He hadn't cared much for Valentine's Day years before, despite the loads of chocolate frogs that ended up in his bag. Even this year, two second year Slytherin girls sent him cards that projected a magical ballet they thought he’d like and he'd cooly refrained from sinking into the floor at the embarrassment when he’d opened them in the Great Hall that morning.

But while Valentine's wasn't his thing, a certain Hufflepuff girl was. He'd tried asking her to spend the day with him — only to be rejected. The resulting discontent was a feeling only she could give him, as he’d learned when she rejected him for the Yule Ball last year. She'd said it was because he had some growing to do, and he knew he did, but that didn't make it smart any less. Something about Desiree Warbeck’s insistence that he could rise above the stereotype of his house was both annoying — and really attractive.

He hadn't even wanted to spend the day with her as a Valentine's date, that was just a convenient coincidence. Her birthday was coming up and he knew her sweet tooth probably couldn't resist a private basement reservation at Madam Puddifoot’s (he'd never be caught dead eating in the general seating area) or a trip to the balcony in Honeydukes where they sold their most expensive chocolates. But he'd asked her at the end of last BSU meeting and she'd said no. She claimed it was because her friends had something planned for her birthday, but he suspected she just wasn't ready. Which really meant he wasn't ready.

He was trying. People like Umbridge made it easier for him to see the flaws in his upbringing when she not only recruited people like Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle for her Inquisitorial Squad, but used that group to try to bust up his club just based on the color of their skin. Blaise didn't fight for much, but the BSU had come to mean more to him than he really knew how to express. Come for them and get on his shit list. But Des had caught Blaise smirking at a joke Malfoy had made about the Creevey brothers — Malfoy had done a decent mouse impression, okay? — and she’d refused him her weekly meeting cookies for two weeks.

So Blaise wandered Hogsmeade alone. He tried not to hang with Malfoy’s crowd much anymore, not least of which because Malfoy and Parkinson just started hooking up and he didn't feel like gagging while Crabbe and Goyle pigged out on the chocolate frogs they’d “stolen” from him that morning. (He let them have the chocolate. He’d considered giving them to Desiree, but knew it wouldn’t help his cause to give her chocolates given to him by other girls.) The rest of the BSU had either paired up or squared up and Blaise wasn't in the mood to be anyone's third or fifth wheel. It was times like these that he almost regretted not having more friends. However, a quick look around at the students laughing obnoxiously as they walked out of Zonko’s made him figure it was definitely for the best.

All he could think about was Desiree, wondering where she was, what she would do if he randomly showed up where she was, and how to figure out just how to...do that. It was cold outside, though, and he didn't want to just wander alone. It looked pathetic. So he shook off his stalker inclinations and looked at the shops on his left and his right. His choices were Zonko’s and Gladrags. He typically owl ordered his joke products on the occasion he found some whimsy, to avoid stepping in that madhouse, so he gladly chose Gladrags.

It was quiet inside. Being a shop on the high-end side, not too many Hogwarts students frequented it. Some of the Slytherin well to do and families like the Abbotts frequented, but he knew he'd never spot a Weasley in here.

Blaise didn't buy much for himself. His mother sent him whatever he needed and a few extravagances he usually didn't even ask for, but were the result of whatever dalliances she was working to profit from (and then eventually end). So as he looked around the shop, he found himself looking at the ladies wear, imagining each item on Desiree's curvy form. With her grandmother being a world famous songstress, she didn't want for much either, but he couldn't recall her in a Gladrags original. Her style was practical, with classic silhouettes, and neutral color palettes, but usually with a pop of color. He also knew she liked to wear cutesy dressing gowns (last year’s end of lessons BSU slumber party told him that) and that she liked to bake. Maybe an apron? He went over to the house-wears, but nothing called to him.

“Need any help?” The shopkeeper, a small mousy woman with wide eyes and a nervous manner approached. “Ah, Mr. Zabini. How are you? How is your mother liking that yeti’s fur stole she purchased?” Blaise bit his lip, not wanting to admit the stole disappeared with husband number five. “She's doing well.” He kept it curt, never interested in enduring meaningless small talk.

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Uh, just a gift.”

“For? A special someone perhaps?” The shopkeeper wiggled her very thin eyebrows.

Blaise hated this. It's why he so often owl ordered. But he was stuck on a gift and Desiree would find it hilarious that he had endured what he joked was his boggart: small talk. “It's for a friend. A girl.”

The shop worker’s already large eyes lit up. “Oh, we have a special new makeup collection just in time for a late Valentine's gift!“ She grabbed Blaise by the arm and led him to a display near the front of the shop. “These foundations change their shimmer with the wearer’s mood,” she said, holding up a palette of pale foundation.

Blaise looked at the palette, and the surrounding equally pale mixtures and vials, and looked at the woman. He knew what he wanted to say, but imagined Des as an angel on his shoulder, telling him to be nice to the woman, he said, “That wouldn’t work. Her skin’s about my complexion.”

“Ah,” said the shopkeeper shortly, gingerly putting down the foundation and moving away from the display, looking around the room for where to drag Blaise next.

Blaise turned his head, his eyes falling on a section across the store. It was almost like someone had cast a Lumos charm on a jacket at the far end of the room. He headed straight for it, leaving the shopkeeper to keep up behind him. The jacket was black dragon leather, with a hint of gold shimmer. It was cropped short and had gold swirling embellishments on the collar. It was perfect.

“Oh, I'm not sure this would be of any interest to an acquaintance of a family of your caliber. It’s from a new designer we’ve been trying to work with. But they’re Muggle-born, so their style is a bit…eccentric.”

Blaise smirked. Yeah, it would be perfect for Desiree. “I’ll take it.”

“Sir, it’s going to be 100 galleons.”

“That’s fine,” he said, waving one hand dismissively while the other fingered the collar of the jacket. It was softer than it appeared and he could see the gold shimmer highlighting the yellow-toned brown of Desiree’s skin.

Blaise left Gladrags deciding he’d done enough lonely wandering for the day and started to head back towards the castle. But before he did, he felt the day couldn’t go without a bit of chocolate. He stepped into Honeydukes and got a chocolate frog to slip into the jacket pocket, a little surprise for later.

——

Desiree Warbeck regretted lying to Blaise. She’d said her friends wanted to do something for her birthday, but really they were just stalking the boys they had very distant crushes on. They were older recent Hogwarts grads who were working at nearby shops, so she was just flitting from store to store with them as they giggled over Grown Wizards. Desiree loved a good giggle over a boy, but the boy she wanted to giggle over sometimes ran with the wrong crowd and she couldn’t be with him if he maintained the same beliefs they did. So she’d shut him down when he’d asked her to hang out today and she wasn’t even having a good time without him. Rubbish.

She thought she’d seen him along the path as they all walked down to the village, but then she kept imagining she was seeing him everywhere she went with her friends. She knew he owl-ordered nearly everything, so there was no way he’d gone in Scrivenshaft's. He didn’t even like their quills. When she profoundly started to ache at his absence, she decided to call it a day and leave her twittering friends to their stalking, heading back to the castle to hole up in the kitchens with the house elves and begin her baking-to-get-her-mind-off-boys ritual.

Four hours later, she’d baked enough cookies to feed an army. I was really trying not to think about Blaise, wow, she thought, realizing with that thought that she’d already lost the game. In front of her were dozens of cookies she’d made without even using magic.

“Ms. Desi, what are you going to do with all these cookies?” asked Dobby, who was always the least fearful of the house elves and liked talking to Desiree and asking her questions. The rest just let her do whatever she wanted and kind of left her alone.

“I’m not sure Dobby. I can take a few to tomorrow’s BSU meeting, but the rest…I definitely can’t eat all those cookies,” she said with a laugh.

“Should we decorate them for the Valentimes Day and give them out?” Dobby could never get the name of the holiday quite right.

“That’s a great idea, Dobby!” With a snap of his thin fingers, dozens of Desiree’s cookies had pink and white frosting in the shape of hearts. Desiree liked experimenting with decorating spells herself, but house elf magic was second to none. She insisted Dobby eat one and he nibbled at one before slipping it into his little apron pocket. Desiree wondered if house elves had very different taste buds because he just didn’t seem to enjoy it and she knew her cookies were good. After thanking him, she grabbed her tin of BSU cookies, and headed out the door.

Just as she was climbing out the portrait hole, she bumped into someone and nearly dropped the cookie tin. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh!” she said again when she realized it was the very boy she was trying to avoid thinking about all day. “Blaise, what…what are you doing down here?”

He looked startled at having run into her, and she noticed him move his hand, which held a package, behind his back. It took him a minute to speak and Desiree flashed back to when he’d asked her to the Yule Ball last year. He hadn’t even been this nervous asking her out for her birthday.

“I was looking for you,” he said finally. Then…nothing.

“So why do you look so shocked to see me?” She arched an eyebrow at him which, from the way he continued to stare at her, she realized didn’t help put him back on his guard.

“Sorry,” he said, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’ve been looking for you since before dinner and I just realized I hadn’t thought of what to say when I actually found you…”

He motioned for her to walk with him and they headed to a little nook under the staircase leading to the Great Hall. There was a ledge and he invited her to sit.

“I know it’s not your birthday yet, but I got you something in Hogsmeade today.”

“Oh Blaise, you didn’t have to get me anything.” She smiled softly, though, at knowing he’d been thinking about her all day too.

“I know, but I saw it and couldn’t walk away without getting it for you.”

He placed the package in her lap. She opened it, finding the black dragon leather jacket, the light gold glimmering softly at her. Her mouth dropped open.

“Blaise, I can’t accept this, it’s too much. Literally. This had to cost a fortune.” But she couldn’t help but stare at the jacket, finally putting her hands on the soft leather.

“You know that’s not an issue,” he said, sitting next to her, vanishing the wrapping with his wand to let her hold the jacket in her hands. “And look, it’s perfect for you. You once told me you wished your Hufflepuff came with a little more ‘badass,’ so…here you go.”

Desiree felt like her heart was growing four sizes in her chest, and it already took up way too much space. She clutched the jacket to her chest, squeezing it as she forced the incoming tears back into her eyes. She refused to cry in front of this boy! But not only had he been thinking about her today, he’d listened to something she’d said off-hand months ago, maybe even last year.

She looked at the boy to her right. The boy who was a Slytherin (which wasn’t a bad thing), dormed with members of the Inquisitorial Squad (which wasn’t his fault), and had some regressive views about Muggles and Muggle-borns (which she’d refused to tolerate). But she thought, from their BSU meetings and personal conversations, he was working on that last one. And here he was. His usual stony face more open than she ever saw it in public. The faint flush on his chiseled cheekbones a very brown distraction from the thought that had been niggling in her mind for a minute. Which was...

“Wait, did you…go to a store for this?”

Blaise laughed, a full blown cackle, which she’d definitely never seen him do before, and she couldn’t help herself. She kissed him on the cheek.

He stopped laughing, his breath caught in his throat. Desiree smirked and stood.

“Thank you, Blaise. I love it. I’ll have to save it for just the right occasion. Maybe you’ll even be there to see me wear it.”

She winked and walked away towards the Hufflepuff common room, with an extra sashay in her step. Her grandmother, the great Celestina Warbeck, had always told her to  “always leave ‘em wanting more.”

[obsidianarchives]

Lambency

lambency, adj. Having a gentle glow.

[Book Year Seven]

Desiree Warbeck stopped abruptly as she made to turn a corner, escaping the kitchens. She was trying to get to the Hufflepuff common room without being detected, but it seemed that the Carrows had just as much of a hankering for midnight snacks as she did. She’d only just made it out of the kitchens with the help of the house elves, but Alecto had alluded to her brother Amycus being on his way down as she demanded the house elves make something for them to eat. Apparently, they’d worked up an appetite.

Desiree had been baking, as she was wont to do when she was stressed. This had been the most stressed she’d ever been at Hogwarts and it was only three weeks into her seventh year. The Carrows were awful and Snape, of course, was doing nothing to stop them from reigning terror on all the non-Slytherin houses.

She quickly darted around the corner, somehow just now realizing how far Hufflepuff was from the kitchens. She usually didn’t dare stay out until after curfew, but she’d gotten distracted while baking a three-tiered cake. She gotten into such a daze, icing it green and yellow, and she was going to practice magicking letters on the top when Carrow had come in screaming about food, startling the house elves, who were dozing in their back chambers. Two came out to help Alecto and distract her while another, Misty, helped her out of a side exit she’d never known about. It dropped her off farther than usual, making Des realize just how big the kitchens and the house elf quarters truly were.

But now she didn’t know these corridors and had to keep alert for Amycus; she kept thinking she was hearing his footsteps around every corner. And indeed, as she made another turn, she saw him sauntering down a far corridor — he couldn’t see her where he was — whistling and waving his wand at an object that glinted softly in the candlelight and bounced in the air with every swish. A knife. He was magically juggling a knife. And Desiree could tell it had recently been used. Her stomach turned at the sight of the stained blade and she felt against the wall, trying to softly tip toe away. Her hands came across a doorknob and when she tried it, it quietly (thank, Merlin!) swung open. She slipped behind the door and it snicked shut. She rested her head, dizzy and faintly sweating, against the door.

“Turn around.” The voice was meant to be threatening, but it sounded out of breath. Des could feel the tip of a wand poking through the thick hair at her neck.

“Can’t if your wand gets stuck in my hair,” Desiree said. She intended to sound brave, but her shaking voice matched the out of breath one she’d just heard.

“Desiree?” The voice came out clearer, and its owner, so familiar even after months apart, withdrew his wand.

Desiree almost didn’t want to turn around. But she did, still unable to see Blaise’s brown face in the dark of what she could tell, from the smell, was a cleaning cupboard.

“Blaise,” she whispered back, her heart thumping in her chest from the adrenaline of almost getting caught — and his nearness. They hadn’t spoken since a letter early in the summer after Dumbledore’s funeral. Things went left very quickly and they both had to play their parts to protect themselves and their families. They’d made a mutual, though unspoken, decision to not speak this year, Blaise dropping out of the BSU entirely due to the new scrutiny from Snape and the Carrows.

Frustrated at not being able to see him, she pulled her own wand from her dressing gown and started a soft “Lum—” but Blaise hushed her.

“They might be able to see the light beneath the door.” Instead, he muttered a spell and a small golden orb rose from his wand tip and rose up, just in front of his face, right above her head. It gave off just enough light so she could see his face, but not so much that she could see his feet. She nearly sputtered as her eyes roved back up to his face — but for his own dressing gown, he was shirtless. She was not prepared to deal with all these feelings at once. She closed her eyes, trying to center herself. When she opened them again, she noticed that his breathing was still shallow and he was leaning against some shelves, his own eyes closed.

“Are you okay?” she asked with concern. She wanted to reach out for his hand, remembering how he’d held hers at the end of last year, when she was freaking out about singing at Dumbledore’s funeral. Of course, that had been his fault to begin with, but him holding her hand had made it all a bit better. She figured they could both use that about now. But when she looked for his hand in the dim outer edge of their light bubble, one was still clutching his wand, the other balled tightly in a fist. He didn’t speak for a moment. Desiree saw this thick swallow from the movement of his Adam’s apple.

“I can’t do this with you, Desiree,” he whispered, pained. He shook his head, his eyes still closed.

“What…what are you talking about?” Outside, she could hear the distant, but oh-too-close, raucous shouting of the Carrow siblings in or near the kitchens. It was too soon for either of them to leave back to their respective corners. Desiree felt three weeks, maybe even three months, worth of exhaustion come down on her as she waited for Blaise to pick a reply. She slid down the length of the door to the floor. Blaise, at the sound of her sliding and landing, opened his eyes and followed suit. The light floated down with him, still remaining high enough as to not reveal their location to anyone passing by.

Blaise sat with his knees to his chest and wrapped his long arms around them. Across from him, cross-legged, Desiree mourned the lack of sight she had to his pecs. Blaise dipped his head against his knees and sighed deeply.

“They tortured Alex today.”

At that, Desiree’s slowing heartbeat sped up once again, at the thought of their friend, President of the BSU with Blaise and Dean gone, being tortured by the Carrows. The siblings had taken to setting detentions nearly every day and they were becoming more and more violent, and more and more exhibitionist in nature. Desiree heard that they’d taken to allowing Slytherin students to watch and were joking about letting them join in on the “fun.” And the offenses were getting more and more undeserving.

“What…what did he do?” she asked, trying to resist the prickle of tears that were forming in the corner of her eye.

“Barely anything. Ravenclaws and that acerbic wit of theirs. Got mad about the BSU ban and said something. I don’t know what. I was dragged up there by Nott and the rest after they’d already…started. Once I got in there, I couldn’t leave.” Blaise was speaking to his knees still, his voice becoming more and more strained.

“What did they do to him?” Desiree almost didn’t want to know, but she remembered Carrow’s knife and the nausea from earlier returned.

“They carved ‘Muggle-lover’ into his chest,” he paused when Desiree gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. “It’s not permanent, and it healed right away. But…It hurt.”

Silence sat in the room with them, contrasting Amycus loudly and condescendingly praising a house elf for the “best treacle tart I’ve ever eaten from a non-human!” in the far corridor.

“I think he’s fine. He gave me the coldest look I’d ever seen as he was pushed out the room,” he said with a scoff, “But no lasting damage. This time. I…wasn’t quick enough to school my emotions and Crabbe said something, but I honestly didn’t even hear what. I just knew from his tone I wasn’t quick enough, so I got outta there. Came down here.”

Des could tell he was no longer shaking, but his voice was still tight in his throat and he also sounded exhausted. Desiree knew it was tough here being a pure blood who was considered a “traitor” — and who Snape and the Carrows were trying to make see “sense” — but she didn’t know how hard it was for Blaise, a pure blood who was both sympathetic to Half-bloods and Muggle-borns and also Black. (It was a sympathy she’d instilled in him the best she could, with the help of the BSU. But she refused to give into the feelings of regret knocking on the door of her mind at the sight of his discomfort.)

She bet Parkinson had told Nott to go get him. Parkinson was always eyeing Blaise, especially since her break up with the missing Malfoy. She liked to make weird comments about his race and “turning” him from the “dark side.” She then laughed her shrill laughter, because of how funny it was that she was on what was considered the dark side. And Blaise’s mother was dating Theodesius McNair, Walden McNair’s brother. The McNairs came from a long line of executioners, magical butchers, and other relatives associated with the Dark Arts. Nicola could take care of herself, Desiree knew from Blaise’s stories, but with things this tense, Blaise was balancing his true feelings and playing a part that would keep his only true family safe. It didn’t help that Nicola’s last two husbands did business with the Malfoys and Lestranges. It was a wonder men continued to be put under her spell…

Desiree shook herself from her wandering thoughts. It had eased the immediate fear she’d felt for Alex. She’d have to check in on him tomorrow, perhaps at breakfast.

“I’m tired, Des,” said Blaise softly.

She sighed sadly as her pitiful answer. She knew there wasn’t much they could really do. Resist in small ways. Don’t give in. As a Hufflepuff, Desire knew where her strengths in resistance lie. Encourage her friends. But she wasn’t sure Blaise knew the same. Rather than spiral about his split — well, more fractured — personality, Desiree thought about how she could embolden him.

“I made you a cake,” she said, with a new lightness to her voice. This is what made Blaise look up from his slumped position.

“What?” His gaze was strong, they were eye to eye after not having been for months, and it made her neck hot. She glanced up at the soft light bubble above them. It was just soft enough where she could look into it and see the swirling light waves without hurting her eyes.

“I didn’t realize it until just now, but I made you a cake. It’s why I’m out here, running from the Carrows. I was in the kitchen, making this decadent three-tiered cake. Oh you should have seen it, Blaise. I did chocolate on the inside, but dyed it black. Then yellow and green icing. Like a canary and a mint. Then I magicked some silver leaves. I was about to write something on it when I got interrupted. I hadn’t been sure what I was going to write — you know how I get in my baking stupors — but now I remember.”

When she paused and looked back at him, his expression had softened to a light smile and a twinkle in his eye. The light glinted off his baby browns and Desiree thought it might be working, even if she hadn’t been sure of what she could say to make it work. She was still trying to get used to the idea that with Blaise, it was just her.

“I was going to write ‘Happy Birthday Blaise.’”

“My birthday was two weeks ago.”

“And clearly my baking brain felt guilty about missing it.”

They both smiled. The sound of the Carrows headed slightly closer, then farther away, up the stairs toward the entrance hall and whatever quarters were forced to endure their madness.

Desiree knew it was time to go, but wanted to sit here just a moment longer. It seemed Blaise did too because he moved ever so slow as he extended his long legs and stretched his back. His dressing gown slid off his shoulder and Desiree found herself unable to blink. Or breathe. He rose to his feet and adjusted his robe, holding out a hand to help her up. The light rose with them and Desiree followed it with her eyes.

“You gotta show me how you did that.”

“I promise I’ll teach it to you someday.” Desiree realized he was still holding her hand. “This never happened, right?” He looked sadly around the small room and squeezed the three fingers he was still holding, before letting them go.

“Yeah, I know,” she said just as gloomily. Her hands felt cold. He then extinguished the light, leaving them in pitch blackness.

Desiree wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself, before holding her wand aloft and peeking out the door. Blaise held it open for her and let her go first. She tiptoed down the hallway, but not before looking back at Blaise, his face once again stony, but more resolute. She wondered if she’d ever get to see him smile again.