Who: Blaise, Daphne What: Testing the waters When: 27 November Where: Slyth common room
Rating: G
The silence of the common room had grown overwhelming by the time Daphne decided to take a seat at the ill-used (but highly polished) piano in the corner. Thin fingertips hovered above shiny keys and she peered keenly up toward the 7th year boys dormitory as she brought them down into a full, crisp chord. She knew Blaise hadn't gone to lunch yet; his distinct absence noted as she passed the Great Hall in avoidance of lunch, she sought to lure him from his den with a proper melody. Daphne did, in fact, know how to play the piano, even if her eccentricities overrode her musical sensibilities, and she summoned what (small) bit of talent she possessed into the cold fingertips which moved, quickly, over the notes.
The potions bottles given to Blaise by Parvati sat in their box, still, untouched except for the one he removed to inspect. Surprise was the dominant emotion over the gift. That, and a touch of bewilderment. He wasn't concerned about her having made a fool of herself, as he thought it amusing and vague thoughts about future blackmail had circled briefly in his mind. All of that was moot, however, as he lay on his bed. Composing a letter to his grandmother was never a task he took lightly, and so solitude was often needed to accomplish it. His concentration was broken, however, by a chord resounding from the direction of the common room. He frowned, it was off slightly, but only by the miniscule misplacement of fingers, and the tune that followed was decent. In key, and in time. Curious, he left the letter, quill, and ink on the bed as followed the sound to find Daphne at the piano.
"Mr. Zabini." Four excessively grave syllables punctuated by arched fingers and dramatic notes. "We converse so little these days."
A mental shrug, and his demeanor is equally as grave as Daphne's. "Quite. Shall I assume, then, that you have missed my company?" Blaise arched an eyebrow and moved to lean against the piano. "You wished to speak with me, Miss Greengrass?"
"I have indeed; girlfriends are very important, but hopefully you haven't forgotten the rest of us." Rapid finger wriggles across the piano in accompaniment, and then she stopped and turned to him. "It's not as if it's anything of importance;" lies slipped so easily from her tongue, Daphne almost forgot why she had wanted to see him. "If you haven't the time to spend..." And a sigh, one fingerpad settling on a key and playing a single dejected note.
Blaise smiled then, strolling easily around to sit beside her at the keyboard. "Oh dear," he said, playing the same note, two octaves lower. "It sounds as if you are having problems. Tell me, Daphne, is it a boy?" Laughingly, he rested his elbow on the ivories, creating a cacophony of notes as he supported his head with his hand, giving her an entirely interested look.
Daphne raised her eyebrows and smiled with a look that told all. "A boy?" She laughed, skittering notes in response to the wreckage his elbows produced, somehow making them work; "Meeee?" A laugh then, entirely too cheerful for someone of Daphne's disposition, and then she peered back, with that same interested look. "No problems, actually. I'm quite content. Although..." she glanced away now, each action and facial expression well-thought out and deliberate - a flawless performance, "... I've been thinking about the future," nervous laughter, on cue, "and that's where my problems lie."
"I see," he answered, leaning back and studying her. It was a good performance. She should be proud because, despite his penchant for studying others quietly, and learning through observation what made them tick, he was drawn in. "Do tell."
As if nervous, perhaps, to delve too deeply into her thoughts, Daphne hesitated, tapping her fingers atop an ivory key without depressing it into a note. "Well, I mean... everyone just sort of expects me to get married and that's it, you know?" Another pause, as if searching for the right words. "But I mean... with everything going on..." trailing off now, she glanced back to him. "I don't know if that's what I should do. If that's what any of us should do."
It struck him as odd, really, that any of his female Housemates would show any hesitation for the life set out for them seemingly from birth. Early marriage and the propagation of Pureblood witches and wizards had always been of utmost importance. Blaise, however, let not a bit of his doubt show through, only evidencing proper concern for his friend. "What are you thinking you should do, then?"
Daphne wrapped her fingers into the long wisps of hair that trailed down between them, a barrier of sorts; "I dunno. Join up?" She looked up at him, expecting him to understand, a look of resolution visible. "It -is- the right thing to do; I just wonder if, as a woman, my place would be better spent at home." A sigh. "I just don't know. I did say it was a problem..."
A sinking feeling negated any hunger pains he might have been feeling. Join up. A bloody army, wherein he would be the lowest rank and respect would not be high, simply because of his birth. He did not, however, forget Draco's admonishment to stay as far away from the Dark Lord as he could. Face still impassive, there was only a small gleam in his eyes -- interpreted by those who truly did not know him as something akin to approval. "Perhaps he would need every able-bodied person to work for him," Blaise suggested idly, meeting her eyes for a moment before allowing them to drift to the keyboard. His fingers spread, he started a somber tune.
Daphne slid aside slightly on the bench, an invitation; "I believe so." Her fingers matched his at the opposite side of the keys, accompaniment almost hopeful. "Have you given any thought to it, yourself?" There, at last, the real question, but Daphne's years of manipulating, of lying, made the question natural, nonchalant.
"Who hasn't?" he asked. "I expect this to be my last holiday at my Grandmother's." If he were lucky, it wouldn't be until well into the new year when his father wrote him with expectations of becoming a Death Eater. And if he were luckier still, by then he would have thought completely what he wanted.
"It was just a question." Daphne had an aura of disguised hurt about her, and her fingers fell from the piano to her lap. "It's not as if I have many people to talk to about this, really." Another sigh. "Just wondering if I'm alone in my considerations."
He quelled an eyeroll. Daphne was extraordinarily touchy lately. "And I answered it in kind," he responded lightly. "Who hasn't given any thought to joining, Daphne? If one doesn't..." Blaise trailed off, moving to tap his fingers along the edge of the wood.
"If one doesn't... we're lost." Pessimistic words, but lightly spoken. "That was all I wanted to know." She turned, a smile hovering at her lips. "We need allies in these times, after all." After a moment's hesitation, she reached out a hand to squeeze his, a very brief, affectionate gesture; rejection was a possibility, but she risked it.
He allowed it, and even smiled a bit in return. "We do, indeed," he agreed. "Allies, and friends."