#I feel like a broken record but I really miss blaise and writing and talking to people

[obsidianarchives]

Umoja

Blaise Zabini sat in the back of History of Magic and looked at his parchment. He’d been writing furiously for the last ten minutes, but it wasn’t about whatever Professor Binns was droning on about. It was a list.

A list of every Black student at Hogwarts he could name, or even identify, by house.

-Lavender Brown. G.

-Dean Thomas. G.

-Hermione Granger. G.

-The fine Hufflepuff.

-The annoying Quidditch announcer. G.

The list went on and on. He’d written it small in the margins of his parchment, so that the Slytherins nearest him wouldn’t see, but he thought he had a complete list now. He would send the notes tomorrow evening.

The past couple of years of Blaise’s magical education at Hogwarts had been… interesting to say the least. Blaise knew that if he was sorted into Slytherin house, it would be tense, but he hadn’t been ready for the immediate pressure to conform to their views and the swift rejection that came when he’d hesitated. He was cool with Malfoy and his cronies, but when Blaise stared at Malfoy’s hand after his offer of being “the right kind of friends,” Malfoy had walked away in disgust. Blaise didn’t really think about it again, but Malfoy had a way of running his smug little mouth in ways Blaise knew was about him.

So Blaise stayed away from Malfoy’s crew and the Slytherin sycophants. Even older students, probably due to Malfoy’s dad’s influence, genuflected to the pointy nosed first year. It was so stupid.

Blaise, then, kept to himself. And while it felt like a better choice than choosing Malfoy, who just last week was nursing a fake broken arm with whiny aplomb, it was still a lonely place to be.

Second year was only slightly better. Blaise and Dean had been paired together more than twice in Snape’s double Potions, probably because Snape was racist, and loved to separate Dean and the kid who somehow made all his potions explode. Dean and Blaise would constantly give each other the look whenever something ridiculous would happen with Potter and his friends, but it was the near end of the year that really sparked the idea for Blaise.

Hermione and Penelope were petrified. While none of the Slytherins cared — Malfoy reenacted their petrified faces with glee to anyone who would listen — Blaise felt a sickness in his chest. They weren’t his house, but they were two of his people. He’d spoken to neither one of them, but there was an ache in his chest whenever someone talked about them in the corridors.

One night, he slipped into the hospital wing and just stared at the girls’ petrified forms. He wasn’t in there for more than a minute, but something about that ache eased seeing them really ok. He didn’t even like these girls! They were both Mudbloods, but listening to Malfoy’s trash talk made Blaise want to reject even that notion that he’d grown up being taught. Who cared about blood when even what was on the outside, their skin color, was hit upon first?

He saw the way his mother’s white suitors treated her sometimes. She chose terrible people (he suspected on purpose… as they all met their ends and few people were sorry about it), so it was part of their nature and not reflective of most wizards, but… But Blaise, despite loving Slytherin house and it’s ambitious nature, did not feel at home with the whiteness around him. He still felt uncomfortable in his dormitory. He was still overlooked by the teachers, despite having better grades than Malfoy. (He could probably stand to speak up more in class, but who would with Malfoy and Granger yapping away?)

So Blaise began thinking of a group. He couldn’t be the only Black Hogwarts student who felt this way. Before the school year ended in his second year, when instead of exams, the Hogwarts students were lying about on the lawn or poking the giant squid, Blaise was in the library looking at old school club records.

Had previous Black students felt this way? Had they done something about it? There definitely wasn’t a current club for Black students (there was for the Asian and Indian students. But part of that was to share their cultural magic they’d learned from immigrant parents and relatives. Many Black British wizards were far removed from their ancestors who had magical cultural differences.)

Records showed three different incidents of Black Hogwarts student groups, but they each phased out with varying degrees of Black students walking the halls of the school. But now, with his year being so heavily diverse, and the smattering in other years, maybe now was the time?

Blaise almost told Dean about it, but he didn’t know what the other boy would say. That it was dumb? That it would be impossible to get the Black Slytherins and Black Gryffindors to cooperate? That Blaise was the wrong person to lead the group? Blaise rarely felt this much doubt. He was confident in everything he did, from school, to girls, to his impeccable wardrobe. He didn’t need the validation or support.

Okay, so maybe he did. And that’s why he needed something more. He didn’t need the esteem from his white peers, but he needed something… He needed a project and this could be it. And he wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing. Founding a club, running it, and excelling at it were obviously in Blaise’s interests. He had eyes to run a department in the Ministry, so it would look excellent on his school records.

Blaise spent an early October day magically duplicating invitations.

This here note invites you to the first meeting of the Hogwarts Black Student Union on the seventh floor corridor next to the old Astronomy classroom.

As he waved his wand to send them forth to their recipients, Blaise felt a rare feeling of both nervousness and accomplishment. Today could be the beginning of a community he’d realized was missing from Hogwarts.

It was time to feel whole.

---

“You?” Lee Jordan spat. He'd been shocked to see Blaise at the front of the room, and had sat down anyway, but that didn't mean he was going to play nice about it.

“Yeah, me,” Blaise responded, starring Jordan down defiantly. Blaise exhaled heavily, however, at the already tense and exasperated faces in the room. He'd expected this. He wasn't exactly a person who played well with others, and the spirit of school-wide unity wasn't a Slytherin strong suit. He now wished that he had consulted Dean, who was looking at him with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue.

“Yes, me,” Blaise said with more confidence and less hostility. “I called you all here because I wanted to gauge some interest.”

“In?” Asked Bradley, one of the Slytherins who'd shown up.

“In us. Forming a community,” Blaise replied.

“Us as in…”

“Us. Black folks.”

“Folks?” Jordan said incredulously.

“I can code switch like the rest of you. Maybe even better.” He left it at that, not wanting to get into how he was beginning to think his politics were different than that of his mother and fellow housemates.

Jordan kept it shut, as did everyone else. No one had stormed out at the sight of him and a majority of the Black students had shown up. Already more than he had expected. Notably missing were Granger and Brown but Blaise felt, from their classes together, that maybe Brown a lot of identity work to do. And Granger kept having to save that Potter kid and take, somehow, every single class the school offered, so he hadn’t expected her

“Ok. So. You're here. I'm here. Let's talk about it. Do we think we need a group for us, just us, inter-house and all, to make it… Somewhat more bearable here?”

“You're in Slytherin,” Johnson said, speaking for the first time, “and you think it's unbearable? Your housemates have called Granger a Mudblood (“me too,” Dean interjected) numerous times and Pansy Parkinson has called me and Lee the Medusa twins no less than five times since term started. She said I should wear makeup more often because she keeps getting us confused. But you find it hard? No one's ever said anything about you.”

“You're right. They don't say anything to me in public, and rarely in private either. But just because I’m a Slytherin doesn't mean I'm with them — as they more than make it known.”

The other two Slytherins nodded.

“My dad was a Slytherin and a pureblood and he was still killed by The Dark Lord's supporters back in the day because they didn't trust him. That pureblood nonsense doesn't always apply to us either,” said Bradley.

Everyone looked at Bradley somberly, some remembering their own losses from the Dark Lord's reign.

“You still call him the Dark Lord though,” Johnson said back.

“Code switching right?”

Blaise felt a tension in his shoulders. He'd have to sneak into the prefects' bathroom for a hot bath. Worst kept secret password in the whole castle.

“Alright, that's enough. We're here to come together and forget some of that --”

“I can't forget what I am, Blaise. I can't forget what your housemates call me,” said Dean. “The terrible things they called Hermione and Clearwater when they were petrified last year. If we're here to forget the everyday injustices, you don't want a Black Student Union, you want a fan club.”

Blaise stared back at Dean for a long time. Dean didn't flinch. He never had. From that first awkward moment on the platform ‘til now, Dean Thomas never took Blaise’s shit. And he was usually right.

Blaise looked to tell other Slytherins, who were looking like he felt, cowed.

“Ok. Then we don't forget. You're right, if we're determining to do this, we should probably do it for real. And that includes challenging the crap the members of our house perpetuate.”

Several of the others relaxed, looking around at each other with lighter expressions.

Lee Jordan didn't look too pleased, and he said, crossing his arms, “I still don't much like the idea of it being you in charge. You might need someone to check your behavior.”

Blaise rolled his eyes, but an idea hit him. He would hate this, but...

“Fine. I nominate Dean for Vice President. All in favor, say ‘Aye.’”

The entire room burst out in “ayes” faster than Dean could give him the finger.

---

Connie (@constar24) is a Hufflepuff who keeps getting sorted into Ravenclaw. She is not about that lofty tower life. If she’s not sorting characters from every single source of media (TV, books, the founding fathers via Hamilton the Musical, the Bible, her co-workers, etc), she’s writing about television and all sorts of nerd stuff all over the internet.

#Harry Potter #Blaise Zabini #HogwartsBSU #Black Wizard History

[probably-lucifer]

Scenes I've written to fics I'm trying to write

Draco stood there next to his mother, both covered in dirt, grime, and blood. He was still in mild shock at bring hugged by The Moldy Egg, could you blame him? It was then however that he would find out that life doesn't wait for the shock factor to fade, she doesn't give a singular flying fuck in any honest observation. So when he notices his mother trying to gain eye contact he's really not as surprised as he should be when his mother uses her legillmens to say what she does. It does surprise him though, that he's being given a choice, to be given a chance to do what he, in proper hindsight, really should have done ages ago. Probably would have if they didn't have mother, but alas, they did, and he didn't. At least, not before. It wouldn't be hard to put the wand where Harry can see it, and get to it. As a matter of fact, if you were to ask Draco Lucius Malfoy he would very honestly tell you that if you where to hold this wand where Harry could see it Harry could leisurely stroll past The Moldy Egg and make polite small talk he could still get the wand in time because in all honesty there is nobody more prone to bragging without having anything to even brag about then The Moldy Egg. It's actually a bit of a running joke between the not entirely terrible death eaters, who funny enough, are none here by choice this war around. Perhaps though this is what will surprise you, his mother, Narcissa Malfoy has broken a vow, and unless that creature that is... 'Still ranting oh my Morgana x Merlin!' unless it, because it has certainly lost even that way of identification, if the fact that he never went to the bathroom or even around it is anything to go by. 'I wonder why anyone would- wait wrong thought process. To help the guy who is obviously going to win, or not to help. Hmm, well that's a hard one. Ah look Harry's dramatics would make Salazar Slytherin himself proud. Godric to if I'm honest.' Harry isn't as surprised as he should be when he notices me, matter of fact when I shout his name it seems he already knows my plans. When he catches the wand there is a barely noticeable smile, probably meant for reassurance, but it's entirely to soft to be such. The Moldy Egg is in shock when I sit on the ground and watch as my friend that I'd been very secretly, and quietly reporting to for his sanity, shows the, or nearly the wizarding world that Tom Marvalo Riddle Jr. is just that. A name, and a man. When it's done, when he's probably, hopefully, dead I stand up, get closer, and poke him with my boot. "I hope no one is surprised you did it, honestly it should be expected by now. Should've been expected in 4th year really." I say to the calm, yet powerful presence behind me. I can always feel Harry's magic when he's near, must be a result of our "loving" relationship previous to That Night at The Manor when this all really began. "Fair enough, do you know any hiding spots Remus won't find us in, I think the four of us should have a nice, long sleep. And you're still unnaturally comfortable for such a pointy git. Hey where's Pansy, I heard she actually used her acting for good." I point to the girl who is leaning into a Luna, Ginny, and Neville pile on like she's passed out. Come to think of it she might have. Their problem. When we start walking back into the castle she's already began repairing herself, and me and Hermione are not at all surprised, because we read. 'I mean Harry got an excuse, sort of, but Ron doesn't, he should read more, I bet I can challenge him to it.' Honestly it's in the first chapter of Hogwarts A History. Regardless of my musings I lead Harry to the room we got trapped in for an hour last year that was probably the actual turning point just before school let out. Harry nods when he gets it, and hisses out "Open" in parsletongue, probably one of the only words I know, and that's only because it's obvious, and he told me. It'll be nearly three days before we wake up longer then it takes to eat, and use the bathroom, and by then we've all been given nutrition potions by madam Pomfrey, and strict instructions to rest by McGonagall, which means our families know we're fine. Fred and George dropped off clothes as the only ones they told about the room, Pansy and Blaise have brought me my dragon chess set, the only ones I trusted with the location of our safe place. It became as such after That Night at The Manor, he sent me a recording of him hissing open and I started furnishing the rooms past just the library's entrance. If anyone is surprised Salazar created several hidden rooms, some that you don't even need parsletongue for, they're not that intelligent. We've all been laying around in a bed roughly the size of a dormitory for days on end, exhausted, though I tend to wonder why I'm so tired, i barely did anything I'm sure of it. Harry and Ron say it's just what happens after saving the day, and it's best not to question it. Me and Harry don't talk about the barriers put on him by Dumbledore, nor that they were broken by the currently comatose Severus Snape, nor do we bring up my father locking away my veela instincts this summer. We just lay in bed, and rest, and make random observations that one would think means we're high. We're not. Trust me I'd know. Once three days pass, we take turns showering, and then I run the bath, big enough to be a pool, and add the infinite bubbles specifically designed for intersex bathing, or in our case splashing, I've teamed up with Hermione to charm the bubbles to hide "those bits" so we can relax and splash each other, we've done so good even underwater they stick. When we're done making a mess we get dressed, and I send for Crabbe, and Goyle. Goyle, gentle soul he is, is so happy to see me he nearly squeezes me to death, I'm not surprised, I missed him too. They're not the most intelligent, or cunning, or ambitious really, but they're still some very close friends of mine, we did after all grow up together. "How was the infirmary then?" Ron asked slight awkwardness to it, not surprising all things considered. Crabbe was as oblivious as always as he said "The only difference is the amount of people there, the headmistress wants you in her office by the way." Things from there went by easily, me and Harry got married with a one month difference, him to Ginevra (if I can't call her the Weaslette then I've got to annoy her somehow), me too Astoria. He had two kids before I had my first, which he quickly followed by a third, James and Lily were certainly the devil incarnate. Remus on the other hand was an angel. I sometimes wonder if that's literal. Him and Scorpious grew up together, and finally attended Hogwarts together (though me and Harry nearly wanted them sent off to Beauxbaton, Durmstang is just to military minded for them. Now James Sirius Potter on the other hand, let's just say his mother is the only reason Harry was convinced not to send him there.) which means the only child left for us to spoil new exactly how to milk it. Lily Luna Potter will rule Slytherin mark my words. Even I spoil the girl. Life was good as a curse breaker for me, and an auror for Harry, we ended up working together very often, though it does take a toll. It wasn't until after we'd been divorced by the girls "It's nothing personal love, we're just better as friends is all." and Harry had been told to quit his job a month after we moved in to our condo that McGonagall came to us with a proposition. We'd work at Hogwarts Harry as the DA professor, and me as the ancient runes professor. It wasn't difficult for either of us to say yes, though it was surprising that I'd end up as Head of Ravenclaw considering I was only there for a year, more surprising that Harry ended up Head of Slytherin actually. Our sons all blanched at seeing us in class their first day (James bought charmed beans from a fellow classmate and long story short they all spent the first weekend speaking various animal sounds, though Remus and Scorpious were fine talking to each other in Snake tongue, Harry said it was about whether there was a way to make it permanent without taking away the ability to speak in human tongue. The student who made it was incredibly enough the offspring of Greg, his nack for potions makes him very popular, Greg's son Henry is a very brilliant Hufflepuff, and me and Harry are determined to introduce him to Severus, the man needs an apprentice whether he admits it or not.) It was magnificent. A few years passed, Harry and I were enjoying our jobs, but we'd come to embrace our summer break with love.

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry x draco #alternate ending #workinprogress