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smirkingcatTitle: Chapter 18 El Intermideo II
Author :smirkingcat
Rating: PG-13
Word Count : 1.640
Notes:i know Senzafiona will divide my readers, but i hope that more of you can appreciate the amazingness she is, because i had a LOT of fun writing her
find part onelj, dw
many thanks and gratitude tothemightyflynn all the beta!
used for![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hp_bunintheoven March prompt 2: Fear
Summary: What happens in Spain, does not stay in Spain. Part Two
Warnings: fluff, flangst, mpreg, D/s- subtext, OOC, heavy future angst planned this chapter: present tense
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 18 El Intermideo II
He is greeted by a house-elf, who, at least to Blaise, looks a bit puzzled at his trunk. "Just put it in my room," he orders. And then with a sigh he adds a "please".
The house-elf bows, and the trunk disappears with a snap of it’s long fingers.
"Signora Zabini is being waiting in the Orangeries, waiting for young Signor Zabini."
It always feels odd to Blaise, to visit the other estates and be confronted with the house-elves there. While technically they are in service of his family, he rarely sees them, and it freaks him out how they act as if he is simply always there.
It is even worse when he visits estates he has never been before, and they act as if they have know him since birth. But, then again, that might be house-elf magic at work. They are, after all, trying to always be useful.
"Mother," he greets as he enters the Orangeries.
His mother is lounging on a comfortable diwan, a palm fan slowly going up and down in front of her. She is dressed in a dark red tunic and looks every part the femme fatale that she is rumoured to be. She likes to change her style, to resemble that of the ancient times, but only when she is at the Adrian Sea. She has a flare for the dramatic, he can grant her that. And he is aware that he certainly has inherited at least part of that trait.
"There you are, darling. I was growing impatient," she says, and gets up slowly.
Blaise can't help the smile that tugs on his lips. Sure, many would be offended with such antics from their mother, when she is the one who ordered the portkey in the first place. Or would be scandalised by having a parent move in a rather seductive way in front of them.
But to him, this is normal. This is how it always was, and he hopes how it always will be. Certainly, his mother would never qualify for any mother of the year prizes, but that is not what she is going for anyway. And for all the rumours, and all the gossip, nobody would openly go against his mother. She is a force of nature, dangerous when provoked, and Blaise can't help himself. He loves her. For all the weaknesses and faults she has, she is still his mother, and she always is there for him, in her own ways. Though sometimes her antics mess up his plans; a trait he could do without.
"I see you are living comfortably here? No desire to come back home yet?" he asks, as she puts her hands on his cheeks and looks him over, before brushing a kiss on his left, then on his right cheek.
"Oh no, dear, the weather there is ghastly. Also, the sun and the seaside do wonders for my complexion. Besides, Flaminio needs to stay here for his business. You are lucky that I am here right now, and not helping him." She smiles politely, before hooking her arm into his.
Blaise repeats the smile back at her, ignoring the blatant lie. No matter what she says, his mother had never worked a day in her life. She knows how to scheme, how to write the right letters to the right people and how to make sure nobody would ever dare to slight her. But she, so much like him, has no clue what real work is.
"Come, we shall sit down on the southern terrace; the view over the ocean is so calming."
"So will you and Flaminio have the wedding soon or are you enjoying the engagement phase?" he asks politely.
At least now he knows why she called for him. She is bored, and apparently Flaminio has not succumbed so far to her charms as to ignore his duties. Yet.
"Oh, we are planning to wait. There are many things to consider. Especially with you all alone in Britain, and other things. As I said, Flaminio is rather involved in his business. At the moment there is nobody else to run it as efficiently." She sighs as they take a seat.
He suppresses his snicker. So, Flaminio would like to have kids. Not an unreasonable request, when one was the pure-blood heir of what, he can only suppose, is an old family here in Spain. However, his mother would never agree to such an outrageous request. At least she had told Flaminio that she has a son. There was this French husband he wouldn’t have even known existed, if it hadn’t been for the news of his death making the Daily Prophet. And he works too much for his mother's taste. Not that he can't relate to that. It is difficult when one has too much free time and the other is always so damn busy.
"I presume you still like a classical Daiquiri?" She reaches for the cocktail glass on the small table to hand it to him.
Drinking before noon, it's a wonder he hasn't any more bad habits then the few he has.
"So, you have been to Italy on a cruise? You never mentioned in the letter, but I take itFlaminio took you there? Did you show him the old grounds? How is the estate doing? I haven't been able to go there myself for quite some time," he asks politely. What he doesn’t mention is that he doesn't dare go there because he could never be sure when his mother would be there as well. And it was not always acceptable to drop in on her without permission or invitation.
"Oh yes, the cruise was lovely. And Flaminio was very accommodating. You would not believe the yacht he has. We went to the estate, and I showedhim the main buildings, but there wasn't much time left before we had to be on our way back. And besides you, darling, nobody finds the piles of ruins that interesting anymore," his mother says while taking a sip of her ridiculously colourful cocktail.
"As to how the estate is doing, I made sure that the reports and everything would be sent to you. This is why I called you, but it is so loathsome to do business in the morning, let's talk about this after lunch," she says. Then she lays back on her sunbed, putting sunglasses over her eyes. "First we shall enjoy some sun, and tonight I shall show you around Madrid, though we have to apparate there first."
Blaise takes a sip from his drink, before standing.
"While you do some sun bathing, I shall make myself comfortable as well, and do some unpacking," he says, trying to get away without hurting his mother's feelings.
"You came with luggage? That is a first? But certainly, unpack. And some more comfortable clothes won't hurt you either. Though I dare say you have grown into a right handsome man, a Zabini through and through. Your grandmother would be proud," his mother replies, and waves him away with a negligent handmovement. Before he is completely gone, he hears a: "And Blaise, I did notice that you changed from black to blue. It suits you better."
Blaise rolls his eyes. Black is a perfectly good colour on him. It makes him look distinguished, and a bit older. And if Severus is anything to go by, black has a uniquely imposing effect that other colours do not possess. Though he is willing to admit, it might be partly Severus himself who creates that effect.
Still, clothing in general, would be an issue this week, considering that has been ordered to wear his tight-fitting trousers. After this week, he will most likely be very efficient with cooling charms.
At least the house, being built with the climate and the landscape in mind, has a nice breeze to it. And his rooms, being on the north side, stay cooler than the house. He often wondered why cooling charms all over the house are so rare here in the Mediterranean, considering that it is a common thing in Britain to cool down at least one room. But then again, different cultures have different traditions. And mostly it might be that his Spanish part of the family simply learned to live with the heat, and were not as dragged down by it as Blaise himself feels.
He closes the door to his room with a heavy sigh. It isn't his mother; he actually enjoyed the chat with her. She is rather amusing to him. But thinking about what he could be up to with Severus, in a nice cool room, where it would be the body heat which would make him sweat, talking with his mother is a rather small substitute. He fears that it's going to be a long week, and no matter what Severus promised, it will never be as good as what he would have gotten if he were home, with his Master, where he belongs.
As Blaise walks further into the room towards his trunk, he notices the silver tray on top of his desk, which carries a small package. Surprised, Blaise opts to open it first, especially as his curiosity is getting the better of him.
On the one hand, nobody but Severus is going to send him anything. But on the other, it is highly unlikely that Severus would already have been able to send him anything. Not impossible, though, just rather expensive. Blaise simply has to know.
Without much care for the wrapping he tears into the packet, only to uncover a letter, which clearly is in Severus’ handwriting, and a crystal ball. Not that he is certain what he ought to do with such a strange gift, so he has to open the letter first.
Chapter 19: on lj | on dw
Author :
smirkingcatRating: PG-13
Word Count : 1.640
Notes:i know Senzafiona will divide my readers, but i hope that more of you can appreciate the amazingness she is, because i had a LOT of fun writing her
find part one
lj, dwmany thanks and gratitude to
themightyflynn all the beta!used for
hp_bunintheoven March prompt 2: FearSummary: What happens in Spain, does not stay in Spain. Part Two
Warnings: fluff, flangst, mpreg, D/s- subtext, OOC, heavy future angst planned this chapter: present tense
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter 18 El Intermideo II
He is greeted by a house-elf, who, at least to Blaise, looks a bit puzzled at his trunk. "Just put it in my room," he orders. And then with a sigh he adds a "please".
The house-elf bows, and the trunk disappears with a snap of it’s long fingers.
"Signora Zabini is being waiting in the Orangeries, waiting for young Signor Zabini."
It always feels odd to Blaise, to visit the other estates and be confronted with the house-elves there. While technically they are in service of his family, he rarely sees them, and it freaks him out how they act as if he is simply always there.
It is even worse when he visits estates he has never been before, and they act as if they have know him since birth. But, then again, that might be house-elf magic at work. They are, after all, trying to always be useful.
"Mother," he greets as he enters the Orangeries.
His mother is lounging on a comfortable diwan, a palm fan slowly going up and down in front of her. She is dressed in a dark red tunic and looks every part the femme fatale that she is rumoured to be. She likes to change her style, to resemble that of the ancient times, but only when she is at the Adrian Sea. She has a flare for the dramatic, he can grant her that. And he is aware that he certainly has inherited at least part of that trait.
"There you are, darling. I was growing impatient," she says, and gets up slowly.
Blaise can't help the smile that tugs on his lips. Sure, many would be offended with such antics from their mother, when she is the one who ordered the portkey in the first place. Or would be scandalised by having a parent move in a rather seductive way in front of them.
But to him, this is normal. This is how it always was, and he hopes how it always will be. Certainly, his mother would never qualify for any mother of the year prizes, but that is not what she is going for anyway. And for all the rumours, and all the gossip, nobody would openly go against his mother. She is a force of nature, dangerous when provoked, and Blaise can't help himself. He loves her. For all the weaknesses and faults she has, she is still his mother, and she always is there for him, in her own ways. Though sometimes her antics mess up his plans; a trait he could do without.
"I see you are living comfortably here? No desire to come back home yet?" he asks, as she puts her hands on his cheeks and looks him over, before brushing a kiss on his left, then on his right cheek.
"Oh no, dear, the weather there is ghastly. Also, the sun and the seaside do wonders for my complexion. Besides, Flaminio needs to stay here for his business. You are lucky that I am here right now, and not helping him." She smiles politely, before hooking her arm into his.
Blaise repeats the smile back at her, ignoring the blatant lie. No matter what she says, his mother had never worked a day in her life. She knows how to scheme, how to write the right letters to the right people and how to make sure nobody would ever dare to slight her. But she, so much like him, has no clue what real work is.
"Come, we shall sit down on the southern terrace; the view over the ocean is so calming."
"So will you and Flaminio have the wedding soon or are you enjoying the engagement phase?" he asks politely.
At least now he knows why she called for him. She is bored, and apparently Flaminio has not succumbed so far to her charms as to ignore his duties. Yet.
"Oh, we are planning to wait. There are many things to consider. Especially with you all alone in Britain, and other things. As I said, Flaminio is rather involved in his business. At the moment there is nobody else to run it as efficiently." She sighs as they take a seat.
He suppresses his snicker. So, Flaminio would like to have kids. Not an unreasonable request, when one was the pure-blood heir of what, he can only suppose, is an old family here in Spain. However, his mother would never agree to such an outrageous request. At least she had told Flaminio that she has a son. There was this French husband he wouldn’t have even known existed, if it hadn’t been for the news of his death making the Daily Prophet. And he works too much for his mother's taste. Not that he can't relate to that. It is difficult when one has too much free time and the other is always so damn busy.
"I presume you still like a classical Daiquiri?" She reaches for the cocktail glass on the small table to hand it to him.
Drinking before noon, it's a wonder he hasn't any more bad habits then the few he has.
"So, you have been to Italy on a cruise? You never mentioned in the letter, but I take itFlaminio took you there? Did you show him the old grounds? How is the estate doing? I haven't been able to go there myself for quite some time," he asks politely. What he doesn’t mention is that he doesn't dare go there because he could never be sure when his mother would be there as well. And it was not always acceptable to drop in on her without permission or invitation.
"Oh yes, the cruise was lovely. And Flaminio was very accommodating. You would not believe the yacht he has. We went to the estate, and I showedhim the main buildings, but there wasn't much time left before we had to be on our way back. And besides you, darling, nobody finds the piles of ruins that interesting anymore," his mother says while taking a sip of her ridiculously colourful cocktail.
"As to how the estate is doing, I made sure that the reports and everything would be sent to you. This is why I called you, but it is so loathsome to do business in the morning, let's talk about this after lunch," she says. Then she lays back on her sunbed, putting sunglasses over her eyes. "First we shall enjoy some sun, and tonight I shall show you around Madrid, though we have to apparate there first."
Blaise takes a sip from his drink, before standing.
"While you do some sun bathing, I shall make myself comfortable as well, and do some unpacking," he says, trying to get away without hurting his mother's feelings.
"You came with luggage? That is a first? But certainly, unpack. And some more comfortable clothes won't hurt you either. Though I dare say you have grown into a right handsome man, a Zabini through and through. Your grandmother would be proud," his mother replies, and waves him away with a negligent handmovement. Before he is completely gone, he hears a: "And Blaise, I did notice that you changed from black to blue. It suits you better."
Blaise rolls his eyes. Black is a perfectly good colour on him. It makes him look distinguished, and a bit older. And if Severus is anything to go by, black has a uniquely imposing effect that other colours do not possess. Though he is willing to admit, it might be partly Severus himself who creates that effect.
Still, clothing in general, would be an issue this week, considering that has been ordered to wear his tight-fitting trousers. After this week, he will most likely be very efficient with cooling charms.
At least the house, being built with the climate and the landscape in mind, has a nice breeze to it. And his rooms, being on the north side, stay cooler than the house. He often wondered why cooling charms all over the house are so rare here in the Mediterranean, considering that it is a common thing in Britain to cool down at least one room. But then again, different cultures have different traditions. And mostly it might be that his Spanish part of the family simply learned to live with the heat, and were not as dragged down by it as Blaise himself feels.
He closes the door to his room with a heavy sigh. It isn't his mother; he actually enjoyed the chat with her. She is rather amusing to him. But thinking about what he could be up to with Severus, in a nice cool room, where it would be the body heat which would make him sweat, talking with his mother is a rather small substitute. He fears that it's going to be a long week, and no matter what Severus promised, it will never be as good as what he would have gotten if he were home, with his Master, where he belongs.
As Blaise walks further into the room towards his trunk, he notices the silver tray on top of his desk, which carries a small package. Surprised, Blaise opts to open it first, especially as his curiosity is getting the better of him.
On the one hand, nobody but Severus is going to send him anything. But on the other, it is highly unlikely that Severus would already have been able to send him anything. Not impossible, though, just rather expensive. Blaise simply has to know.
Without much care for the wrapping he tears into the packet, only to uncover a letter, which clearly is in Severus’ handwriting, and a crystal ball. Not that he is certain what he ought to do with such a strange gift, so he has to open the letter first.
Chapter 19: on lj | on dw
