A/N: Written for Round 2 of the QLFC Season 7. I'm Chaser 3 for the Montrose Magpies and all the prompts used are listed at the bottom of the fic. Hope you enjoy x
Word Count: 1,465
Passion for the People
Blaise spoke five languages: English, Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese. Following the end of the war, he'd self-studied and sat for seven NEWTS, receiving Outstandings across the board. During his time at Hogwarts, before that fateful seventh year in which Voldemort's cronies had terrorised them all, he'd foundered mutually beneficial connections, and charmed his way into the hearts of his professors and peers.
In the summers his mother would often take him with her to the Ministero della Magia; she was a guiding hand on the minister's shoulder, a consultant never phased by the task at hand, and her name was spoken with both reverence and fear. While his mother conducted her business, Blaise chatted with politicians and played with their children and learned to seduce and manipulate at his mother's side.
"Hold your head high and act as if you belong," Mother would say. "And before they know it, you will."
The Zabini family motto was as followed: la passione è potere e potere è forza.
Blaise was eager, burning to prove himself. He'd spent all his life learning how to use his silver tongue and stunning good looks to get exactly what he wanted.
He'd never thought he'd fail.
"Piss off, Zabini."
Ginny Weasley was a firecracker of a woman, with hair like shining copper and blazing brown eyes. She hated his guts, which was unfortunate, as it was Ginny whom he had to persuade to give him a position in the newly forming Ministry of Magic. She was fingering her wand and looked to be a heartbeat from cursing him off the face of the earth. They were standing in her office, which was plain bar a hefty wooden desk and chair and piles and piles of paperwork.
Blaise cocked his head and smiled, placing his hands on his hips, close enough to draw his wand without being obviously threatening. Ginny caught the movement and narrowed her eyes.
"You are taking applications for positions in the New Ministry, aren't you?"
"Yeah. What's that got to do with you?"
"You can't reform the Ministry with nothing but Gryffindors," Blaise began. "Why, you may as well vote Potter Minister and be done with it."
"Harry doesn't want that!"
"I know. I know. I'm certainly not suggesting myself for the position. But look, Ginny, you need someone who understands how the government works. A little bit of cunning wouldn't go amiss, else the rest of the world is going to swoop in like vultures and tear us apart for scraps. What you need, my dear is a Slytherin's assistance."
Bang!
Blaise was flat on his back in an instant, head ringing, dazed from the spell. Ginny had drawn quicker than he'd imagined she would. She stood over him, eyes blazing once more.
"I'm not your dear!" she growled. Then she smiled sweetly. "Besides, we have a Slytherin. He understands how the Ministry works perfectly. Your so-called assistance is not needed."
With a groan, Blaise got to his feet, dusting off his robes. The old Ministry building had been decimated by Voldemort's presence and still reeked of Dark Magic. Instead, they were rebuilding the Ministry above ground in an old Muggle church. They'd yet to clean the place up and had simply erected offices with strange fabric partitions. He looked Ginny in the eye, ignoring the twitch of her wand.
"Two heads are better than one," he said. "Politics is my passion. Let me be of help, please."
"Like I said before, Zabini. Piss off."
Blaise limped away, ignoring the stares of the others working inside the church, determined to lick his wounds and form a new plan of attack.
Head held high, Blaise reminded himself as he walked back into the New Ministry. Someone had cast expansion charms in the eaves and they'd formed a second level above. It was sloppy work. They needed to get some magical building contractors in or the place would implode with the quantity of magic.
As he entered, he nearly ran into another man. He was tall, broad, skin as dark as Blaise's, and dressed in smart vermillion robes.
"My apologies, Minister," Blaise said, stepping back from Kingsley Shacklebolt. He'd read the announcement in the paper the day before. Shacklebolt was a Slytherin Alumni that had made a name for himself in the Aurors, before defecting to the Order of the Phoenix.
"Zabini, isn't it?" Shacklebolt scrutinised him. Blaise straightened his back, meeting his gaze.
"Yes, sir."
"Hmm. Have a good afternoon, Zabini." Shacklebolt strode away before Blaise could get a word in edgeways. He shivered. It was a peculiar feeling, meeting a politician that wasn't smarmy or blustering. Shacklebolt wasn't one to be impressed by smooth talking and misdirection; Blaise found it disconcerting.
He marched on toward the Recruitment Office. The moment Ginny's saw him, her eyes blazed with anger. How he wished they blazed with lust for him instead. At least then he might make some headway into his plan.
"Didn't I already tell you to piss off?"
Blaise scowled. "Yes. It was a mistake."
Ginny huffed. "Well, get in here, then. I'm not arguing with you in the corridor."
Blaise stepped into the room. The paperwork on her desk was piled even higher and there were ink smudges all over her hands. It was a shame she'd been dragged into this mess; he was pretty sure she'd been on track to being scouted for the Quidditch League before Voldemort's return.
"You'd be an idiot not to hire me," he said, aiming for blunt. It wasn't his usual tactic, but Ginny was another type of woman altogether. "I have connections, I have money, I have influence. The New Ministry needs me."
"The New Ministry isn't about power. Your family may be Italian but us Brits, even the Blood Traitors, still know your family motto: passion is power and power is might. Tell me, Zabini, why I should grant you a position in the Ministry when you're only looking out for yourself? Above all else, the New Ministry serves to protect the people, whether they be Muggle, Muggleborn, Halfblood, or Pureblood."
"You can't just ignore the old families and hope they'll go away."
Ginny grinned, teeth flashing white. "Almost all of the old families are in a cell, awaiting a trial to send them to Azkaban. People like Lucius Malfoy aren't going to be permitted to get away with murder anymore."
"That's why you need me," he insisted. "Without a voice, the traditionalists will feel downtrodden, disenchanted, and the whole process will repeat itself in twenty years time."
"It's something we're working on," Ginny snapped. "Now, I'm busy, Zabini. I've got twenty things to do, not least of all sort out this dump of a place, and I don't need you pestering me."
Blaise turned on his heel and stalked out the door. As he left the building, he glanced around, scanning all the architectural features to ensure he'd be able to replicate the place in a Pensieve. He'd prove to Ginny that he could help, even if she didn't want his assistance.
It took him two weeks, sleepless nights, and plenty of consultation with his connections from around the world, but Blaise had redesigned the New Ministry building and even found contractors that were willing to come over from Poland to complete the work. He strode into Ginny's office and placed the parchment on her desk. She was currently resting her head in her arms, eyes closed. He cleared his throat.
"What?" Ginny looked up and sighed when she caught sight of him. Her eyes were no longer blazing with hatred; she just looked weary. "Are you serious?"
"Renovations for this shit hole," Blaise said. He smirked as she sat upright and began paging through the plans. "The last page is a contract for a construction company that will be available in two days time to start work. I think you'll find the price they're asking for to be extremely reasonable."
"Zabini… this… this is really good work."
"I do care for power. But the passion I have for gaining power, it's fuelled by my passion for the people in our world. I want to help rebuild. Can't I have ambition without letting it rule me?"
Ginny chewed on her lip, still eying him with suspicion.
"Alright." She looked down at the parchment again, then nodded, a grin forming on her face. "Alright. You can hold your head high for this, Zabini. It's good, really good. You've got a job with us: overseeing the rebuild. And if it all goes well, if you impress Minister Shacklebolt… well, we'll just take it from there."
Blaise smiled, offering a hand to shake.
"Please, Ginny, call me Blaise. I'm willing to do what it takes to prove myself to you."
A/N:
Chaser Three Prompt: Write about a character who's always been fawned on finding themselves having to work for recognition and acceptance.
Optional Prompts:
- (word) blazing
- (word) passion
- (phrase) holding your head high