Team: Kenmare Kestrels
Position: Chaser 1 (Reserve)
Season 10, Round 6
Prompt: The Bear and Fair Maiden
[Suggested Themes: …Beauty and the Beast trope, {falling for someone unexpected}, going to a fair, humorous love story, don't judge a book by its cover, a meet cute, spending time with friends, accidentally saving the day, it was a good day, happily ever after…]
Additional Prompts
(4) - "You stab them with the pointy end."
(10) - Marcus Flint/Blaise Zabini
(12) - Fred Weasley
Betas: Thank you to Ikuni and Sapphire402 for being a beta!
Trigger Warnings: Mild Vulgar Language; Lightly Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
"Weasley."
Blaise stared at the twin, Fred, seeing as he had both ears, and glanced down at the counter he was next to in silence. Weasley broke the silence first.
"Zabini, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Blaise rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter, fiddling idly with one of the trinkets at the front of the prank shop. Fred Weasley was staring at him intently and Blaise could almost feel flattered to be the subject of such an intense gaze.
He smirked slightly. "I was just curious, Weasley. No need to get your knickers in a twist." He put down the box and stretched. "In any case, I came here for an actual reason. The DMLE needs your help — well, yours and your twin's."
Weasley raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Right… And you're a representative?"
"Technically? Yes. Officially? No. I'm a Hit Wizard, so I'm just a backup in case the Aurors get in far over their heads. Which happens staggeringly often, to a rather large number of them — you would think that after the war they would train them better. Instead most of them look like fucking ducks in a pond." Blaise scoffed. Then he sighed at seeing Weasley tense even more, looking offended and ready to argue. He did not have that sort of time in his life.
"It's a yes or no question, Weasley. I don't need, or want, a lecture on morals. Are you going to help?"
Weasley shrugged. "I'll ask George and we'll get back to you." He gave a large, mischievous grin. Blaise eyed him warily. "Keep an eye out for our message. Also you might want to move your foot."
Blaise looked down immediately. "What—?"
The floorboard he was standing on caved, and something imploded underneath his feet. Blaise took in a large breath. Pink fluff was swallowing his legs.
Silently he wondered if his advisor would be angry if he murdered one of their prospective consultants.
"Weasley — one of the twins — is now my partner."
Blaise collapsed onto one of the chairs that was proffered out for him, losing all the decorum that he prided himself in. Marcus chuckled.
"Which twin?"
"Fred, apparently."
"How does that work? Is the Department so desperate they have to recruit business owners to do a Hit Wizard's job?" Marcus asked absentmindedly, pouring Blaise a drink.
Blaise took the offered glass and took a sip of the potent liquid. It scorched his insides and he hummed. "He's one of the consultants for a case. The prank things that he sells closely resemble the cursed artifacts that our newest target leaves around."
Marcus lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? How does that work?"
"He uses the same form of disillusionments and works the prank spells the same way as the target does, only the perpetrator's happens to be dangerous rather than trying to turn somebody's hair green." Blaise took another sip of his drink. "I was first called on this case because I have extensive knowledge of these things. Weasley has been made my partner because apparently I can bounce off him well enough."
"You… bounce off Weasley?" Marcus questioned, looking bemused.
"Yes," Blaise bit out, tapping his finger against the arm of the chair. "It was absentminded too. He was just rambling aloud to try and figure out what the runic sequence for the jar was. Of course, with my childhood habits, I began listing off possibilities which helped him to figure it out quicker."
Marcus snorted. "Your mother's drilling was the whole reason you are a Hit Wizard."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Learning how to murder somebody from childhood isn't a very normal thing, Marcus; I'm fairly sure they hired me, not for my skill set, but because they wanted to make sure a suspicious Slytherin like me doesn't go on to lead a life of crime, murdering his enemies." He downed the rest of his drink. "They're still leery of me despite the fact that I trained with them for two years and have been working with them for just over a year."
"They should be," Marcus shot back. "You are dangerous, you know it and they know it, but you're an alright person too, so their loss I suppose. They're the blind ones."
Blaise raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress the smile that was twitching on his lips. "I'm… alright?"
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You're a good friend and your company is tolerable." Blaise snorted and Marcus grinned sharply. "How long are you going to be partners with Weasley, anyways?"
Blaise shrugs. "However long it takes for us to find the target and capture her. The more artifacts that we find — they seem to be a puzzle of sorts — the more information that we have to decode. It could take anywhere from two weeks to two years." Blaise paused before adding: "Let's hope it doesn't take that long though — my sanity might not last that long."
Marcus snorts. "Not that you have much to begin with."
It took eight months to find their target.
Eight months of being partners with Weasley, and Blaise hated it.
What Blaise hated even more was how quiet the Department suddenly was every time he walked in and went through his day. There were no loud ramblings and experiments from the twins as they tried to solve the puzzle; no raucous laughter that came specifically from Fred Weasley as opposed to his twin's snickers; nobody willing to come chest to chest with Blaise and debate with him with blazing eyes.
Blaise's life suddenly went very quiet and he found himself yearning for the loud burst of chaos that came in the swirl of Fred Weasley. He hated it and he almost hated Fred Weasley.
Marcus, after Blaise had showed up to his house uninvited and proceeded to dump his new problem on him, said that Blaise had fallen for the prankster.
Blaise called bullshit but couldn't ignore the fact that his subconscious knew that Marcus was right. He wanted to hate Marcus too, but he figured that nobody else would put up with his uninvited visits quite as well as Marcus did.
"You've fallen for him. What you do with that knowledge is entirely up to you."
Blaise snorted as he rubbed his face in exhaustion. This was pathetic; he couldn't allow himself to wallow like this.
Carefully he steeled himself, affirming within his mind that he wouldn't lash out if Weasley — Fred — reacted negatively. That would be shameful, and he would not act shamefully around the object of his… affections.
He apparated outside of the prank shop, eyeing the hideously vibrant exterior. It correlated very well with Weasley's lack of style and spontaneous wardrobe.
Blaise entered the shop and frowned. Nobody was there. He went through the door in the very back, wondering if Weasley would be angry with his trespassing. Maybe, maybe not — Gryffindors were terribly unpredictable sometimes.
He went to the door that he knew led to the living room, having been there twice after Weasley had apparated them blindly out of a dangerous situation, and gripped the doorknob nervously. His palms were sweaty from nerves and Blaise found himself displeased with the outward reaction. His mother had trained him out of such things when he was a child.
When he opened the door there was a whistle in the air, a very familiar whistle, and Blaise went slightly cross eyed to look directly at the spinning knife in his face. Though when it settled, it was actually the handle that pointed his way.
There was a stammer, red flushing through Weasley's face, and Blaise raised an eyebrow.
"Typically," he intoned coolly, as though he hadn't been caught utterly off guard by the floating knife, "you stab them with the pointy end."
Weasley shrugged. "I seem to have been losing out on some very important — even life-changing — tips in the time I haven't been under your tutelage, O' Bladed One." Blaise grimaced at the horrendous nickname, something Weasley stuck him with during their second week working together.
He plucked the hovering knife from the air and nodded. "Of course, you have, Weasley. You do not respect the art as you should."
Weasley laughed and raised an eyebrow at Blaise. "So, what brings you to my humble abode?"
There was a glimmer of something – hope? – and Blaise took a deep breath.
I'll sell my soul for your thoughts? Feel free to comment? :D