Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use shere may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. There is also references to canon child abuse, including starvation of a child. Feel free to back out if need be.

Author's Note: This very strange fic is dedicated to Snowblaze, who likes "good" Slytherins and whose birthday is this month.

Vocabulary & Grammar Reminders: "Wix" is a gender-neutral equivalent to the HP witch/wizard. "Wixen" is its adjective & plural forms. "Hedge witch" is a follower of a magical tradition that falls under the umbrella term "hedge witchcraft". Like all non-HP versions of the word "witch", it is gender neutral. Proper nouns are always capitalized, even when the proper noun is only recognizable as such due to the capitalization. (Relevant primarily due to the pagan habit of simplistic naming.)

Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts (Term 12); MC4A
Individual Challenges: Slytherin MC; Magical MC; Rian-Russo Inversion; Ethnic & Present; Setting Sail; Zed Era; Old Shoes (Y); Coffee Life; Short Jog (Y); The Story Goes On; Two Cakes; Green Ribbon; Greatest Gift
House: Hufflepuff
Assignment No.: Term 12 – Assignment 6
Subject (Task No.): Floristry (Task#9: someone performing a ritual on themselves.)
Other Hogwarts Challenges: Insane Prompt Challenge [658]("Aquamarine" by Silverstein); 365 [22](Backlash); Crazy Cone Contraptions [17] Sensation (word); Hello Spring [13](Ritual); Spring Garden [All 15 Prompts!]
Other MC4A Challenges: Sp Bingo [2B](Rain/Drizzle); TrB [4B](Finagle's Law); Ship [Sp Big] (Blanket); Hunt [Sp Writing Diversity] (Black Character);
Representation(s): fem Blaise Zabini & Chronic Pain; Soulmate AU (Feels Each Other's Pain)
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: Pear-Shaped; Wabi Sabi; Persistence Still; Demo (Horrible Love); Demo (Machismo; shead of Perseus)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: T3 (Thimble)
Word Count: 1331

(^^)
You Win or You Pie
(^^)

The pain hit her all at once, with all the force of a Knockback Jinx, instead of the slow, building sensation that Blaise was used to from her unknown soulmate. Like waking from a nightmare, she shot upright in her bed. her blanket pooled around her waist. Her head swam with a myriad of feelings, both physical and emotional and all of them belonging to her soulmate. She was drowning in the sudden backlash, and she could barely cultivate the necessary calm to restore her mental walls.

"Just breathe," she ordered herself as she tried to focus on the colorful stain on the wall opposite her bed. She focused on the memory of how it came to be. "Just breathe through it."

Tracey had broken into her flat above the shop, too eager to wait for her to come downstairs, in order to show Blaise her newest creation, a honey-coated sticky bun with a dollop of blackberry jam in its center. Thankfully, Tracey was hardy enough that she was barely hurt by the hex that Blaise had reflexively thrown when she had opened her bedroom door. The same could not be said for the sticky bun, which had been mostly burned into the magical wallpaper. The dissonance as the different magics conflicted had made the vibrant stain that still remained.

Tracey had been all sweetness and heartfelt apologies about startling her. Daphne (her soulmate as well as her best friend from childhood) had been radiant in her protective fury, however, and Blaise had spent the six months afterwards routinely recovering from various mild jinxes as Daphne strove to help her unlearn that particular reflex. Most of it had not been painful—Daphne would never let Blaise's soulmate suffer a punishment meant for Blaise alone—but it had still been uncomfortable.

Another wave of pain pulled her from the memory, ripping at her in a way that couldn't mean anything good. Blaise hadn't felt anything from her soulmate like this in years. There had been a time, back before she had gone to Hogwarts, when such pain had been frighteningly common. For a few years, it had been unusual for Blaise to not feel some sort of pain from her soulmate. The most commonly recurring ache had gnawed at her bones, seeping out from a gut that felt more hollow than whole. Honestly, that constant hunger had probably been the reason that she decided to open her coffee shop after the war.

In desperation to stop her suffering, her mother had turned to the Order of the Briar Hedge for solutions that would help. The sisterhood had a certain reputation among European magi. During both wars, neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore had dared approach any of their known members. The Order followed the Once Ways, the traditions that predate the precarious taming of magic with foci like wands and staves. They had power beyond what any wix was capable of achieving and knowledge of things that the wixen had long forgotten.

A grumbly roll of thunder sounded in the distance as she felt another pulse of pain. This time, Blaise could feel something within herself responding, creeping out of the shadows of her soul like a troll from its subterranean lair. When the leader of the hedge witches had told her mother and her that she would know when it was time to use the ritual they had been given, she hadn't thought anything about what that might mean. She had only been ten at the time, and far more likely to think about ways to get the upper hand against Daphne the next time they sparred.

But now, with the pain and certainty crashing inside of her like the thunder did outside, Blaise understood what they had meant.

His legs felt weak under her when she stood. She stumbled as she made her way to the free-standing cupboard where she kept her altar. The scent of past offerings wafted from the space as she swung open the doors. No amount of incense and candle smoke would ever cover the delectable aroma of the pies and tarts she kept in a charmed drawer just for things like what she was about to do. With all the care of her mother creating a seating arrangement for one of her diplomatic events, Blaise looked over the selection of tiny pies before settling on a blackberry pie with a star and moon cut out of its crust.

Offering and focus chosen, Blaise picked up the charmed punk she used for lighting her altar. A quick twist of the tip between her dark fingertips had it bursting into a cheery little flame. She touched the flame to each wick solemnly, intoning the associated invocation with minimal waver due to the now-steadily growing pain from her soulmate.

"May the Maiden grant me peace," Blaise told the white votive as she lit it. Then she turned towards the red candle sitting right beside it. "May the Mother grant me strength." Finally, to the deep purple one set behind and between the first two, she said, "May the Crone grant me wisdom."

With all three aspects of the Goddess invited back to her sacred space, Blaise shook the punk out before setting it aside and took a deep breath to prepare for the ritual itself. She pictured roots growing from the bottoms of her bare feet, pushing through the wood and plaster and other whatnot that made up the floors of her little shop. At the same time, she pictured antlers growing out of her head and reaching into the infinite nether of the heavens.

And through it all, the weather turned nasty around her to match the pain lashing at her soul. Even safely tucked away inside, Blaise could taste the wildness of the storm, how unnatural it was in origin. Either someone nearby was having a very big bout of accidental magic or Magic itself was raging against something. She deliberately did not think about what either of those things might mean in concert with the pain from her soulmate.

"From within, I pull the bond unrecognized," Blaise intoned, visualizing the act alongside the words she had long ago memorized. She gasped as the pain shifted from something distinctly happening to her soulmate to something happening to her as the bond manifested in her cupped hands and immediately began to burn her skin. Quickly, she shoved the gathered magic towards the pie waiting for just this thing. "I set a part of me outside of myself and into this vessel in the hopes that they may unite and show me to the one I am missing."

The pie smoked a little as the soul bond settled into it. Even with the scent of burnt sugar, the blackberries were still the strongest note in the air. Blaise took a moment to breathe once her soulmate's pain was fully exorcised from her. Rain lashed against the glass of her bedroom window as if Magic was insistent on reminding her that hand-pies made poor containers for connections between soulmates and she would be forced to consume the pie eventually or lose the connection altogether.

"Okay, okay," she muttered as if the weather could shear her over its own grumbling and wailing. "I'm going—where am I going?"

As if in answer, the star twisted around the crescent moon on the pie crust until it was arranged with two points braced against the crescent's back. She turned the pie around a few times to see how the oddly shaped arrow moved to keep pointing in the same direction. She grinned despite the rough awakening and impending danger she was soon going to be facing alone.

"There you are, love," Blaise announced. "You stay strong. I'm coming." She looked down at herself, still clad in only the pajama bottoms she had slipped on before bed. "But first: pants."

The thunder crashed loudly and close enough to shake her windowpanes.

Everyone was a critic.