7spells Fic: Merry Freaking Christmas
Title: Merry Freaking Christmas
Prompt: Cold hands, cold feet for 7spells
Characters/Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 657
Summary: The war ended, but the discord did not. Muggleborns have taken over the Ministry, capturing all Purebloods, taking their wands, and sending them to ghetto-style, enclosed camps. It's Pansy's first Christmas there, and it doesn't start out well at all.
A/N: The concept is taken from an old role-play game I was in that fell apart, although this does not follow the previous game-play.
Pansy Parkinson was having a terrible day, and it had only just begun. Not only did her entire body ache (she’d insisted Nicholas take the bed last night, and her mother had selfishly claimed the sliver of bed next to her little brother), but she was cold. Her toes and fingers were like icicles.
Their breakfast had been delivered (magically, so as to mock them), stale bread and a jug of water, just like every morning. One might think that they would be a little more generous on Christmas Eve.
Apparently not.
She heard the light tap on the thin door and hurried to answer it before it could wake her mother and brother, considering it was not quite dawn yet. Even though she opened the door slowly, it still creaked. Luckily, her mother slept on.
“Blaise?” she whispered, slipping through the open door and closing it behind her. “What are you doing?”
“I came to get you. We’re having a meeting,” he explained. He reached over, taking her hand in his. “Pansy! You’re freezing.”
“Well, it’s not as though our accommodations are anything to be thrilled about,” she sniffed, tugging her hand away. Yes, she was cold, but everyone was cold, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it.
“There are simple wandless charms you can use to help stay warm,” he chided gently. “I’ll teach you them after the meeting.” He took her hand again, rubbed it between his larger, warmer ones.
She was torn between feeling inadequate for not knowing any wandless magic and excited at the prospect of spending some quality time with Blaise. They’d been dancing around the prospect of more than friendship for months, but the camps weren’t exactly the place for budding relationships.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He tugged her hand. “We’ve got to get going or we’ll be late,” he reminded her.
“I didn’t know there was a meeting this morning,” she realized, even though she let him lead her. She became even more suspicious when they didn’t go to the only large room on their level of the camps, where they usually held their meetings, but instead to his room. She gasped when he opened the door, led her in. “Where did you get all of this?”
On his bed was a spread of breakfast foods, the warm foods still steaming, the fruit looking chilled and juicy. And there was juice and tea! “Oh! Sticky buns!” Her mouth watered at the sight.
Blaise closed the door. “I have connections,” he said with a smirk. “Help yourself.” He motioned to the spread, and she hesitated only a moment before picking up one of his bowls and filling it with food.
At the first bite, she sighed happily, her eyes closing in pleasure. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve had warm, fresh food.” There was a time when such a comment coming from Pansy’s lips would have made no sense, but she’d come to cherish all those little things she’d always taken for granted.
After Blaise put his bowl together, they sat on a blanket he’d laid out on the ground. They ate, mostly in silence, and Pansy didn’t question the fact that he’d apparently chosen to share this special meal with only her, she simply enjoyed it.
It did not take long for her stomach to ache from being filled, it had shrunk so much over the months of meager meals. She sat back and sipped her juice, feeling warm and full for the first time in months.
“Thank you, Blaise,” she said, genuinely appreciative of his kindness.
She smiled, but instead of responding, he leaned toward her, captured her lips in a kiss that warmed her in an entirely different way. She kissed him back, melted against him, lost herself in his embrace.
“Merry Christmas, Pansy,” he murmured against her lips.
“Merry Christmas, Blaise,” she replied, thinking that against all odds, it just might be one.
Prompt: Cold hands, cold feet for 7spells
Characters/Pairing: Pansy Parkinson/Blaise Zabini
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Word count: 657
Summary: The war ended, but the discord did not. Muggleborns have taken over the Ministry, capturing all Purebloods, taking their wands, and sending them to ghetto-style, enclosed camps. It's Pansy's first Christmas there, and it doesn't start out well at all.
A/N: The concept is taken from an old role-play game I was in that fell apart, although this does not follow the previous game-play.
Pansy Parkinson was having a terrible day, and it had only just begun. Not only did her entire body ache (she’d insisted Nicholas take the bed last night, and her mother had selfishly claimed the sliver of bed next to her little brother), but she was cold. Her toes and fingers were like icicles.
Their breakfast had been delivered (magically, so as to mock them), stale bread and a jug of water, just like every morning. One might think that they would be a little more generous on Christmas Eve.
Apparently not.
She heard the light tap on the thin door and hurried to answer it before it could wake her mother and brother, considering it was not quite dawn yet. Even though she opened the door slowly, it still creaked. Luckily, her mother slept on.
“Blaise?” she whispered, slipping through the open door and closing it behind her. “What are you doing?”
“I came to get you. We’re having a meeting,” he explained. He reached over, taking her hand in his. “Pansy! You’re freezing.”
“Well, it’s not as though our accommodations are anything to be thrilled about,” she sniffed, tugging her hand away. Yes, she was cold, but everyone was cold, and there wasn’t anything they could do about it.
“There are simple wandless charms you can use to help stay warm,” he chided gently. “I’ll teach you them after the meeting.” He took her hand again, rubbed it between his larger, warmer ones.
She was torn between feeling inadequate for not knowing any wandless magic and excited at the prospect of spending some quality time with Blaise. They’d been dancing around the prospect of more than friendship for months, but the camps weren’t exactly the place for budding relationships.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He tugged her hand. “We’ve got to get going or we’ll be late,” he reminded her.
“I didn’t know there was a meeting this morning,” she realized, even though she let him lead her. She became even more suspicious when they didn’t go to the only large room on their level of the camps, where they usually held their meetings, but instead to his room. She gasped when he opened the door, led her in. “Where did you get all of this?”
On his bed was a spread of breakfast foods, the warm foods still steaming, the fruit looking chilled and juicy. And there was juice and tea! “Oh! Sticky buns!” Her mouth watered at the sight.
Blaise closed the door. “I have connections,” he said with a smirk. “Help yourself.” He motioned to the spread, and she hesitated only a moment before picking up one of his bowls and filling it with food.
At the first bite, she sighed happily, her eyes closing in pleasure. “Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve had warm, fresh food.” There was a time when such a comment coming from Pansy’s lips would have made no sense, but she’d come to cherish all those little things she’d always taken for granted.
After Blaise put his bowl together, they sat on a blanket he’d laid out on the ground. They ate, mostly in silence, and Pansy didn’t question the fact that he’d apparently chosen to share this special meal with only her, she simply enjoyed it.
It did not take long for her stomach to ache from being filled, it had shrunk so much over the months of meager meals. She sat back and sipped her juice, feeling warm and full for the first time in months.
“Thank you, Blaise,” she said, genuinely appreciative of his kindness.
She smiled, but instead of responding, he leaned toward her, captured her lips in a kiss that warmed her in an entirely different way. She kissed him back, melted against him, lost herself in his embrace.
“Merry Christmas, Pansy,” he murmured against her lips.
“Merry Christmas, Blaise,” she replied, thinking that against all odds, it just might be one.