Legal disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.
Warning: Mentions of abuse and other violence against women from a survivor. Non-explicit. Bullying motivated by racism.
Author's note: I went from not caring about Blaise Zabini to caring a lot about Blaise Zabini. Additionally, because I'm a history and literature major and this stuff matters to me greatly, so you should know that the Homer quote at the beginning of the fic is from the 1996 Robert Fagles edition. Would have used Wilson's, but my copy is on loan.
Thank you, betas: Trish, Bailey, Aya
House: Hufflepuff
Role: Player (Second Year)
Category: Round 4, Drabble
Prompt: [Setting] Graveyard
Additional requirement: One character for each house (Blaise Zabini)
Word Count: 899
Stacked With: The Houses Competition; MC4A Starry Strums; Individual Challenges (Advice from the Mug, Creature People, Ethnic and Present, In a Flash (Y), Tiny Terror; Seeds; Yellow Ribbon; Yellow Ribbon Redux; Click Bait It); Fem Power Challenge (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; White Dress)
MC4A Spring Bingo
Space Address (Prompt): 3E (Flower/Blossom)
There are No Mourners for Men Like These
"'Come closer, famous Odysseus—Achae's pride and glory—
moor your ship on our coast so you can hear our song!
Never has any sailor passed our shores in his black craft
until he has heard the honeyed voices pouring from our lips…"
-Homer (The Odyssey, Book 12, 200-204)
Sometimes when the other children really hurt Blaise's feelings, Mama took him out for ice cream. Today, she brought him to the cemetery.
He wasn't sure how to react and simply held her hand. They reached the cemetery's quietest area and Blaise's least-favourite gravestone.
Maybe he should have hated his father's gravestone the most because it showed just how gone he was. But his father was laying at the Zabini Estate where the family members that had never accepted his parents' relationship lived. To avoid a scandal in pureblood circles they had insisted on sending Blaise to Hogwarts Preparatory Academy. In exchange, she had strong-armed the Zabinis into allowing them to visit Daddy's gravestone once a month. Even then, a house-elf had always shown them the way. Blaise brought flowers every time – red because that had been Daddy's favourite colour. Mama always told him stories about Daddy while Blaise's fingers traced his name and birthday on the gravestone. It was beautiful, whereas this one was for the others.
Their names had been carved on the gravestone and then filled in with copper. They glistened in the sun, and sometimes they looked gold against the white marble. Blaise couldn't remember ever seeing flowers there. He told Mama so.
"Do you know why?" Mama asked, kneeling next to the gravestone. He shook his head. "It's because there are no mourners for men like these."
She pointed to the first name, a stepfather Blaise had been too young to remember.
"Aquarian Nott," she said. "Blaise, when your Daddy died and I realized I would have to take care of you by myself, I swore I would do anything it took. At the time that meant marrying Aquarian Nott. I was alone, my family was so far away, and… he was rich. He had money, and I had to feed you. You don't remember him, thank God. He did awful things, Blaise. Things you don't do to anyone, let alone those you claim to love. Do you understand?"
Blaise nodded.
"You said that the other children were teasing you because your mother is a Veela who has been married three times, and never to your father," Mum said.
Blaise could add to that list easily, but he didn't want to hurt or worry Mama. Sometimes it was because of Mama's accent, the way the food in his lunchbox looked and smelled different, the texture of his hair, or any number of rumours circulating in The Daily Prophet… But today it had been about being half-Veela, so he nodded.
"Do you know why men dislike Veelas, sweetheart?"
"Because we trick others," Blaise said quietly.
"No," Mum said kindly but firmly. "It's because they can't control us. They don't dislike us sweetheart, they fear us, and have used lies and rumours to forget why. When we are hurt, Blaise, when we are betrayed, we… we change. We become powerful; stronger than we were before, even on the days and at the times that we don't feel it. We become Sirens."
"Like in the book of myths at day-school," Blaise said.
Mum nodded encouragingly and touched his cheek.
"There's my clever little reader. Except we are not myths, my love. Do you know what happened to Aquarian Nott?"
Blaise shook his head.
"One day, he hurt me. I was used to feeling powerless, but then he turned to you. I opened my mouth and meant to shout, but instead I sang. I always loved singing and this time, when I did it, he dropped dead," Mum said, her eyes cold.
She rubbed her hands up and down Blaise's arms. "You're young to hear this, my love, maybe too young... But this is part of our history and the blood in our veins, and I don't want to keep those things from you, because the world won't. We are not ashamed."
"You killed him?" Blaise asked, cocking his head.
"Not on purpose," Mum said. "Not Aquarian at least. After him…"
She turned back to the gravestone.
"Travis Bulstrode. Emilius Burke. Maybe I'll tell you what they did when you're older. Yes, nine is definitely too young for that…" She shook her head. "But they are bad men. Bad people. People who create so much pain that they do not deserve to walk this Earth. People who, if a Siren gets close enough and sings… will not survive the song."
Blaise looked at the gravestone again, at the three copper names glinting before him.
"This is difficult to understand," Mama said. "And it is our little secret. But you need to know just how beautiful you are, Blaise. You are so strong. Those other children have no idea who you are. They can't touch you."
"Will there be more?" Blaise said. He pointed to the names, and his mother's face darkened.
"I think there will be," Mama said. She pulled Blaise closer to her and held him in her arms, running her fingers through his hair. "There will be as many as I can take…"
Blaise had a feeling there would be no flowers laid at this stone then, either.