Miss Moony would like to say that she doesn't own Harry Potter and that she had no help with this story from Miss Wormtail, Miss Padfoot or Miss Prongs.
This story is supposed to emphasise the completely pointless maliciousness of most of the Slytherins, as well as the irony of the statement "familial love", as Slytherin is supposed to house the pure of blood, and all pure-blood families are related to each other in one way or another.
Pairings: -Potter/Zabini slash
-Parkinson/Malfoy
------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------
'The pure-blood families are all interrelated,' said Sirius. 'If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited; there are hardly any of us left.' – Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Chapter six, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Page 105 (UK, Hardcover)
------- I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good -------
Love You, Every Bit
'Where are you going?' Parkinson asked as Zabini stepped out of the seventh year boys' dormitory in his favourite outfit.
'I have a date.'
Parkinson looked repulsed, as did Malfoy, whose arm she was currently hanging off.
'Has anyone seen my boots?' Zabini enquired absently, his dark eyes scanning the room, and brightening when they lit upon the large black cargo boots that he'd bought during one spontaneous trip into Muggle London with his fifth-year Ravenclaw sister, Émile.
He summoned them with a flick of his wand, and then sat down on the staircase and began to tug them on.
'Faggot.'
The insult was particularly hypocritical, coming from Malfoy, and Zabini paused in tying his laces.
'You've never had any objection before, dearest cousin. Is this new founded maliciousness merely because it's Potter? Or perhaps it's for a completely different reason altogether? Hmm?'
A vein was twitching in Malfoy's jaw, and the common room was silent, listening to the dispute.
'You chose the loosing side, Zabini,' Nott declared, speaking up from his seat in the corner. 'The Dark Lord will kill your beloved Potter, and then he'll kill you, too, for your treachery.'
'I'm not listening to this,' Zabini snapped, standing up and marching out of the room with his left boot still unlaced.
Both Malfoy and Nott stared after him contemptuously.
'Pathetic,' Parkinson spat in the direction of the portrait hole, sneering. Crabbe and Goyle nodded dumbly.
'What about you?' Nott asked, turning to face Bulstrode. 'Have you chosen yet?'
Bulstrode ignored him, as she always did, until their stares started burning holes in her back. She lowered her book slowly.
'Give me 'till the end of the weekend, Nott,' she said, 'then you'll have your answer.'
Life was the same, in Slytherin house, as it had been last year, and the year before that. Since the Dark Lord rose, in fact, this had been routine. Zabini had been the first to go to Dumbledore and offer his allegiances, and no one had yet followed suit, though it was rumoured that Bulstrode was probably going to.
When Zabini and Potter had started dating a few months earlier, was when the general unpleasantness of the house had reached its pinnacle. Zabini could no longer associate with any of his former "friends"; not even the few who had decided to remain neutral in the war.
He'd been found in the hospital wing five times already from unfortunate run-ins with Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, and once Nott. Parkinson and Moon were more accustomed to throwing words at him, rather than hexes or punches, though. Overall, the situation was getting so awful that apparently Dumbledore was considering giving Zabini a re-sorting, in the hopes of separating him from his housemates.
Everyone in Slytherin was related in one way or another, which only made things worse, and for everyone, not merely Zabini and Bulstrode.
Moon approached Bulstrode, who lowered her book again. 'Why are you even considering joining Potter and his Muggle-loving devotees, cousin?'
For once, she didn't sound malevolent, but curious. 'Happy endings,' Bulstrode answered vaguely.
Moon laughed disbelievingly, making Bulstrode snap her book shut and head towards the girls' dormitory.
'There's no such thing, idiot!' she called after Bulstrode's retreating back. 'There are no happy endings in the real world!'
Parkinson nodded her agreement, and joined in with her half-sister's laughter, but apart from the slamming of the dormitory door, there was no response.