blaise (bzabini) wrote in plagued_logs, @ 2015-10-05 23:55:00 |
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Blaise tended to fly below the radar in comparison to some of his housemates. As such, he hadn't really weighed in with the general populace about the myriad of things they seemed to want to bitch and moan about. He didn't really care about Bole. He didn't see what the big deal was. He'd met Lucius Malfoy on numerous occasions, and he seemed like a perfectly acceptable gentleman who'd suffered an acute reversal of fortune. Of course, him being the father of one of Blaise's best friends might have had something to do with his opinion.
He was pleased to see the theory floating around that the virus was only infecting muggleborns and half-bloods. He hoped that was true, because then most of the people he knew would be immune, and who wouldn't want that?
He was musing upon such things as he thumbed through his Potions text, reading the next chapter on poisons and antidotes. He'd managed to appropriate his favourite deep leather arm chair in the center of the common room, and the roaring fire made the place perfectly temperate. But for all of the strangers who were gradually becoming all too familar, it was a decidedly cozy situation.
"Have you started your Transfiguration project, Parkinson?" he asked without looking up.