WHO: Blaise Zabini, his mother WHEN: Late May 2/Early May 3 WHERE: The Zabini Manor SUMMARY: Even Blaise has feelings or Fuck You SPOILER this seating chart took months to perfect WARNINGS: Battle Spoilers
"Blaise, darling. It's the middle of the night, what are you doing?" Noëlle Zabini asked her son, an expensive night cream slathered over her face and a yawn politely hidden behind a hand. Despite the affectionate term, Noëlle's tone was harsh. Blaise knew she valued her beauty sleep, especially with the wedding approaching. What was he doing causing noise at this hour?
"It's all wrong," Blaise explained, gesturing at the to scale seating plan that took up most of one of their spare rooms, a minature chair now broken in the corner of the room, Blaise forcefully flinging it off the venue model the cause of the offending noise. "This table has one less on it now. Which means I have to choose someone else to invite." Because it was one of his two tables that had been affected. He hadn't even wanted two tables, but then he couldn't sit them together so he'd lowered his standards, invited a few more acceptable acquaintances. But how far in the friendship barrel was he going to have to scrape now? He couldn't have Millicent or Goyle at the wedding, they would throw off the whole aesthetic, not to mention would likely try to eat a whole tier of the cake each. He couldn't even invite Midgen anymore, not worthy of a first or second round invite but someone he would have considered to take this place. Especially now she had Daphne's seal of approval. He couldn't just scrap his second table either, it was classless to take back invitations and he would still have the problem of not being able to put Daphne and Draco at the same table.
He explained all this to his mother as he examined the pieces, words tumbling out of the mouth that he usually kept so controlled.
"Blaise."
He ignored his mother and started moving the chairs around. The Malfoys all together? But now he had to kick someone off that table. Except most of the adults came in pairs. Which two could he move? Which solo guest could he add to round it out?
She'd had such a well placed chair too. Right near the wedding party table, so all Blaise needed to do was lean forward slightly to whisper a snide remark about a guest's outfit. Prime position. Not just anyone got that spot.
"Darling," his mother tried again, placing her hand on his arm to stop him from making a further mess of her seating chart. He leaned into her touch, for once craving the affection and comfort. "Stop frowning, you're going to give yourself wrinkles." And just like that her hand was gone, reaching up to cover another yawn. Death wasn't uncommon in Noëlle's life, and so Blaise had also experienced more than his fair share. She didn't understand how he could possibly be so shaken.
"You can sort out what to do about your friend in the morning," she told him, "And then sort out this mess you've made," she waved her wand at the discarded chair, the broken leg righting itself then flying back onto the model. One more swish of her wand and the 'Pansy' label disappeared. "Go to sleep, Blaise." Another wave of her wand and the lights were out, Noëlle already on the way back to her room. Blaise picked up the no longer assigned chair and sunk down against the wall. He hadn't cried since he was a child, but even he couldn't stop the tears from escaping now.