RP and Owls to Hermione and Terry
Date: 4th March 2005
Characters: Blaise Zabini
Location: Antiquity
Status: Private
Summary: Blaise receives a disquieting owl from his mother.
Completion : Complete
Blaise hadn’t long returned from his Sunday morning run when the letter from his mother arrived. He had just managed to grab a quick shower and had lowered the wards on his study with the intention of getting some work done before seeing Terry that evening. He still had a bit of translation work to do for Cedric and had collected some notes he’d made on the texts to work on while when he’d been at the museum the day before.
He stepped inside his study and dropped some papers onto his desk, moving some plans for the basement level of the library to one side.
Blaise was about to sit down when a tapping disturbed him, and he looked up to find his mother’s elegant owl rapping impatiently on one of the study’s window.
He grimaced slightly at the sight of the owl. It was a reaction he was far too used to. Even though it had been a while since a letter from his mother had disturbed him in quite the way it once had, Blaise was still unable to shed the response or the trepidation that accompanied receiving one.
Blaise pushed the reaction down and made his way to the window.
In the past few months and with the lack of any bad news from his mother since the end of the war, Blaise had almost convinced himself that his mother was finally content and that whatever it had been that had drove her actions during his childhood was in the past.
It was probable, he considered as he unlatched the window and waved the bird in, that he was permitting her far more trust than she deserved. Actually, he was certain he was. But given how she’d seemed at Christmas with Luc he couldn’t help but hope, foolish though that clearly was.
Blaise wasn’t a child anymore. Nor was he naïve in the slightest. Part of him realised that his current actions were edging into denial. Except, it was hard to stop loving a parent entirely, and Blaise had never quite succeeded, though sometimes he wished he had. He’d spent years trying to understand his mother, to find some way to deal with everything he’d been forced to acknowledge as her son. But, despite his carefully created facade, part of Blaise just wanted to go back to the naïve child he’d been at age six. Maybe that was one of the reasons he found Terry so appealing - in many ways the wizard still was.
Isis, Nefertari’s owl, landed upon the perch Blaise kept beside his desk for Prometheus when he was corresponding. She ruffled her feathers and looked appraisingly at him as he made his way over to her.
Blaise stretched out his hand and the owl obediently dropped the letter she had been holding into his hand before turning her back on him and seeking the bowl of treats attached to Prometheus’ perch.
Blaise circled his finger over the black wax seal on the back of the folded parchment, his breath catching in his throat. He closed his eyes and cautioned himself against the irrational behaviour. This was not how he’d trained himself to act and there had been nothing to suggest that she would… this time. Because if there had been Blaise would have done something.
Luc was different.
He sat down and opened the communication from his mother, his eyes scanning it quickly as his blood ran cold.
Apparently not that different.
Blaise,
I hope this letter finds you well and that the projects you told me of at Christmas are progressing to your liking.
However, I’m afraid I shall have to pull you away from them for a brief interlude. Luc was taken ill early Thursday afternoon with chest pains. He insisted on being taken to the main Muggle hospital in Cairo and though they did their best, his heart gave out Saturday morning.
I’m taking him back to France to be buried in his family’s plot and would desire your help and support at this time.
I’m sorry to have to interrupt you when I expect, from what I’ve heard, you are quite busy personally and privately, but you understand that your appearance is expected and given how well you and Luc got on I’m sure you will wish to say your goodbyes.
Awaiting your arrival,
Nefertari.
Blaise crumpled the letter in his fist, half tempted to throw it across the room. He couldn’t believe she had done this. That he hadn’t seen it coming. That he’d almost trusted her to -
Blaise dropped his head into his hands as he considered Luc’s last day’s. The events leading up to them.
And that last line. To know he liked Luc, to admit it even in this letter, yet to still commit such a crime.
And Blaise knew without a doubt that she had done it. Heart failure, respiratory failure in general was her tag.
The oversight he had made was unforgivable.
Perhaps if he had still been in Cairo he would have seen it coming and been able to warn Luc
He should have warned him anyhow.
Blaise had been foolish to allow his mother even a modicum of trust when it came to her relationships just because of how different Luc was. When in the past had she ever proved herself deserving.
And he had been different. Clever, with a great deal of integrity and generally a nice person. Blaise would never have said the last two about any of his mother’s previous husbands, though the first had applied to one or two.
His mother had truly seemed to enjoy his company and not just the prospect of the inheritance than came with it.
But now he was - And it was partly at least Blaise’s fault.
He growled low and gave into temptation, throwing the crumpled letter across the room, scaring Isis with the sudden movement and causing her to start.
“Go back to her,” he snarled at the bird, standing and turning from the desk.
He was tempted for a moment to ignore his mother’s summons and only attend the funeral. He didn’t want to see her, to have to deal with the feelings such a meeting would raise in him. But he owed it to Luc to make sure he had a dignified send off. Besides, as angry as Blaise was at his mother he couldn’t help but worry that this time would be the time she got caught. As much as he disapproved of her actions, as hard as he found them to comprehend he couldn’t quite come to terms with casting her aside to the possible repercussions. Blaise wasn’t sure if that was selfishness on his part. He didn’t want anything else to be his fault.
Summoning Prometheus, Blaise sank back down at his desk and pulled a stack of parchment towards himself, wrapping and locking his emotions away in the bonds of necessity and procedure. If he was to be gone for a week then he would have to make certain people aware. The problem was what to tell them.
He picked up his quill and stared at the parchment for a few moments before putting pen to paper.
Simple and understated was often best.
Terry,
I’m sorry, but I’ll have to cancel our plans for tonight. My stepfather, Luc, has died, and I have to travel urgently back to Cairo and then France to help with the arrangements.
I’ll let you know when I’m back. Can you look after Prometheus?
Yours,
Blaise
Hermione,
I’m afraid circumstances require that I travel back to Cairo for a short period. I’ve received word that my stepfather died yesterday morning, and I’m needed to help with the arrangements for his funeral.
Take care and I’ll owl you when I get back. Can you let Roger and Cedric know that I won’t be available?
Blaise.
Blaise noted down a further letter to Tracey and Mandy, before sealing all four and handing them to Prometheus. “I might be in Cairo when you’ve finished with those,” he explained, lifting the bird and carrying it to the window. “Terry should be able to look after you if I am.”
Blaise watched his owl fly off with the cool sense of detachment that had settled over him as he’d written the messages. He’d get through this. He just had to make sure he didn’t let anything show. He could do that. He’d done it before. Underneath this wasn’t much different to all the other times he’d had to act the concerned son.
Turning from the window, Blaise started to head upstairs with the intention of packing, raising the wards behind him.
Characters: Blaise Zabini
Location: Antiquity
Status: Private
Summary: Blaise receives a disquieting owl from his mother.
Completion : Complete
Blaise hadn’t long returned from his Sunday morning run when the letter from his mother arrived. He had just managed to grab a quick shower and had lowered the wards on his study with the intention of getting some work done before seeing Terry that evening. He still had a bit of translation work to do for Cedric and had collected some notes he’d made on the texts to work on while when he’d been at the museum the day before.
He stepped inside his study and dropped some papers onto his desk, moving some plans for the basement level of the library to one side.
Blaise was about to sit down when a tapping disturbed him, and he looked up to find his mother’s elegant owl rapping impatiently on one of the study’s window.
He grimaced slightly at the sight of the owl. It was a reaction he was far too used to. Even though it had been a while since a letter from his mother had disturbed him in quite the way it once had, Blaise was still unable to shed the response or the trepidation that accompanied receiving one.
Blaise pushed the reaction down and made his way to the window.
In the past few months and with the lack of any bad news from his mother since the end of the war, Blaise had almost convinced himself that his mother was finally content and that whatever it had been that had drove her actions during his childhood was in the past.
It was probable, he considered as he unlatched the window and waved the bird in, that he was permitting her far more trust than she deserved. Actually, he was certain he was. But given how she’d seemed at Christmas with Luc he couldn’t help but hope, foolish though that clearly was.
Blaise wasn’t a child anymore. Nor was he naïve in the slightest. Part of him realised that his current actions were edging into denial. Except, it was hard to stop loving a parent entirely, and Blaise had never quite succeeded, though sometimes he wished he had. He’d spent years trying to understand his mother, to find some way to deal with everything he’d been forced to acknowledge as her son. But, despite his carefully created facade, part of Blaise just wanted to go back to the naïve child he’d been at age six. Maybe that was one of the reasons he found Terry so appealing - in many ways the wizard still was.
Isis, Nefertari’s owl, landed upon the perch Blaise kept beside his desk for Prometheus when he was corresponding. She ruffled her feathers and looked appraisingly at him as he made his way over to her.
Blaise stretched out his hand and the owl obediently dropped the letter she had been holding into his hand before turning her back on him and seeking the bowl of treats attached to Prometheus’ perch.
Blaise circled his finger over the black wax seal on the back of the folded parchment, his breath catching in his throat. He closed his eyes and cautioned himself against the irrational behaviour. This was not how he’d trained himself to act and there had been nothing to suggest that she would… this time. Because if there had been Blaise would have done something.
Luc was different.
He sat down and opened the communication from his mother, his eyes scanning it quickly as his blood ran cold.
Apparently not that different.
Blaise,
I hope this letter finds you well and that the projects you told me of at Christmas are progressing to your liking.
However, I’m afraid I shall have to pull you away from them for a brief interlude. Luc was taken ill early Thursday afternoon with chest pains. He insisted on being taken to the main Muggle hospital in Cairo and though they did their best, his heart gave out Saturday morning.
I’m taking him back to France to be buried in his family’s plot and would desire your help and support at this time.
I’m sorry to have to interrupt you when I expect, from what I’ve heard, you are quite busy personally and privately, but you understand that your appearance is expected and given how well you and Luc got on I’m sure you will wish to say your goodbyes.
Awaiting your arrival,
Nefertari.
Blaise crumpled the letter in his fist, half tempted to throw it across the room. He couldn’t believe she had done this. That he hadn’t seen it coming. That he’d almost trusted her to -
Blaise dropped his head into his hands as he considered Luc’s last day’s. The events leading up to them.
And that last line. To know he liked Luc, to admit it even in this letter, yet to still commit such a crime.
And Blaise knew without a doubt that she had done it. Heart failure, respiratory failure in general was her tag.
The oversight he had made was unforgivable.
Perhaps if he had still been in Cairo he would have seen it coming and been able to warn Luc
He should have warned him anyhow.
Blaise had been foolish to allow his mother even a modicum of trust when it came to her relationships just because of how different Luc was. When in the past had she ever proved herself deserving.
And he had been different. Clever, with a great deal of integrity and generally a nice person. Blaise would never have said the last two about any of his mother’s previous husbands, though the first had applied to one or two.
His mother had truly seemed to enjoy his company and not just the prospect of the inheritance than came with it.
But now he was - And it was partly at least Blaise’s fault.
He growled low and gave into temptation, throwing the crumpled letter across the room, scaring Isis with the sudden movement and causing her to start.
“Go back to her,” he snarled at the bird, standing and turning from the desk.
He was tempted for a moment to ignore his mother’s summons and only attend the funeral. He didn’t want to see her, to have to deal with the feelings such a meeting would raise in him. But he owed it to Luc to make sure he had a dignified send off. Besides, as angry as Blaise was at his mother he couldn’t help but worry that this time would be the time she got caught. As much as he disapproved of her actions, as hard as he found them to comprehend he couldn’t quite come to terms with casting her aside to the possible repercussions. Blaise wasn’t sure if that was selfishness on his part. He didn’t want anything else to be his fault.
Summoning Prometheus, Blaise sank back down at his desk and pulled a stack of parchment towards himself, wrapping and locking his emotions away in the bonds of necessity and procedure. If he was to be gone for a week then he would have to make certain people aware. The problem was what to tell them.
He picked up his quill and stared at the parchment for a few moments before putting pen to paper.
Simple and understated was often best.
Terry,
I’m sorry, but I’ll have to cancel our plans for tonight. My stepfather, Luc, has died, and I have to travel urgently back to Cairo and then France to help with the arrangements.
I’ll let you know when I’m back. Can you look after Prometheus?
Yours,
Blaise
Hermione,
I’m afraid circumstances require that I travel back to Cairo for a short period. I’ve received word that my stepfather died yesterday morning, and I’m needed to help with the arrangements for his funeral.
Take care and I’ll owl you when I get back. Can you let Roger and Cedric know that I won’t be available?
Blaise.
Blaise noted down a further letter to Tracey and Mandy, before sealing all four and handing them to Prometheus. “I might be in Cairo when you’ve finished with those,” he explained, lifting the bird and carrying it to the window. “Terry should be able to look after you if I am.”
Blaise watched his owl fly off with the cool sense of detachment that had settled over him as he’d written the messages. He’d get through this. He just had to make sure he didn’t let anything show. He could do that. He’d done it before. Underneath this wasn’t much different to all the other times he’d had to act the concerned son.
Turning from the window, Blaise started to head upstairs with the intention of packing, raising the wards behind him.