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amor_remanet
Recipient:royalty25
Title: Art Critic
Characters/Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Michael Corner (mentioned Terry Boot/Anthony Goldstein)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Oddly enough, Michael is genuinely curious about this matter, even though it should just be something to keep Zabini distracted while Terry and Anthony have their fun."
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta-reader, [S]. Rating is mostly for language and slash, but the slash is quite tame. Happy holidays,royalty25, I hope you enjoy this. I certainly enjoyed writing it. ♥
Michael can hardly believe his good luck tonight – just when he wanted, nay needed, a party, just when this new life of Ministry work had gotten to be too much for him, Christmas had to come and Terry's older brother had to get engaged. To a nice, Pureblooded girl, naturally. Granted, Michael doesn't know Philip Boot or his fiancée – the former had left school and gone into the Ministry just before Michael and Terry's first year, and the latter is just not someone who Michael would willingly associate with – but the party should be fun enough.
It's just awkward, to be a Halfblood in a collection of Pureblood elites that's only opened up because, unlike the rest of his family, Terry doesn't believe in any of that shite. Well. That and the undeniable fact that Terry's father now works under Minister Shacklebolt, who doesn't let that outdated blood purity nonsense hand around. The Purebloods are still hanging onto it, though. Lucius Malfoy might have made his public apology for being such a bastard to the world in general, especially anyone who's not a Pureblood, but Mary and Valerian Boot have Catholicism going for them too, and Michael knows quite acutely that the only reason Anthony's here is that Terry's parents don't know about him and their son.
As it stands, Michael's busy playing lookout for the two of them, standing outside of Terry's bedroom, making sure that no one can come along and discover his two male best mates rather going at each other. That'd be a brilliant way to celebrate Christmas. Someone finding Terry and Anthony, and then the inevitable part wherein Terry's parents find out that, not only is their youngest son gay, but he's a Blood Traitor too. Such labels, as far as the Minister's concerned, should and will be rendered obsolete, but Michael doesn't put it past Terry's parents to cleave to their precious labels for as long as they possibly can. After all, it's no bloody coincidence that Terry's middle brother, Jacob, ran off with Marcus Flint and cast their joint lot in with the Death Eaters. And, true enough, they're both dead by now, but that doesn't mean that the same sentiment that drove them there has met the same fate.
Drove them there. Michael smirks at how he used that phrase. Mostly because he knows better, and he's acutely aware of just how much he knows better. It's just wrong. Entirely wrong. Nothing drove Marcus Flint and Jacob Boot to what they did; they were just born rotten. Not that their parents helped or anything, but still. What became of them was no one's fault.
At least there's the art to look at. Of course Terry's room would be in one of the corridors with all the art in it. Even though most of it is family portraits and such, "art" is really the only right word for it. There's one of Terry's parents in their wedding dress robes, and, so help him, Michael knows what kind of people they are, but Terry's mum looks unbelievably pretty in her dress. Then there's a portrait of all three brothers, from when Philip came of age – Terry's only ten or so. Merlin, he was such a painfully proper little kid. Reminds Michael of when they met on the train. He'd been pretty sure that first time that they'd never be friends. Luckily, he'd been wrong.
Only two things really stand out amongst the collection, and that's because Michael's fairly sure that, being as Catholic and as anti-gay as they are, Terry's parents shouldn't have these paintings. One of them distinctly features an older man and a boy not much older than Anthony, or Terry, or Michael – and the other… Michael isn't sure about the other. One of the figures in it is definitely a man, in the classical Greek sense, all muscular and bearded and whatnot, but the other is hard to define. The facial structure's feminine, but it's bald, and it's wearing ambiguous clothes, and Michael can't figure it out to save his life.
"Aeneas and Dido," a voice explains coolly. Michael looks to its source to find Blaise Zabini looking up at the same picture. "He was a hero and prince of Troy. She was the queen of Carthage-"
"That's a queen?!" Michael huffs. The incredulous note in his voice is, perhaps, too strong, but it's rather shocking. Michael can't help it.
"Not simply a queen, Corner. The queen. At least, the only queen who was so important to Aeneas's story."
"What was Aeneas's story?" Oddly enough, Michael is genuinely curious about this matter, even though it should just be something to keep Zabini distracted while Terry and Anthony have their fun.
"He was one of the Trojan princes during their little war with the Greeks, over Helen – I presume that you know who Helen of Troy is-"
"Well, that's very presumptuous of you."
"And that is hardly funny. Anyway. He was a Trojan prince, and he actually managed to escape with his father, son, and Trojan soldiers. Now, he tried to get back to the Trojan ancestral homeland, but, at one point, they wound up in Carthage, and his mother – Aphrodite, your goddess of love and sex – had him and Dido symbolically married-"
"Still don't think that's a queen," Michael sighs.
"Well, she is. Do you want me to finish the-"
"She looks like a man," he says matter-of-factly.
"Yes, perhaps…"
Abruptly, Zabini's eyes look away from the painting and lock on Michael's eyes. He can't believe he's never really seen Blaise Zabini's eyes before, and he's sure that he has to be dreaming when Blaise's hand approaches his face. Smirking, Blaise runs his fingers through Michael's shoulder-length hair.
"But," Blaise concludes with surprising gentleness, "she does have to make up for all the men who look like girls."
That can't be a kiss… can it?
Michael isn't sure. But, whatever it is, he likes it.
amor_remanetRecipient:
royalty25Title: Art Critic
Characters/Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Michael Corner (mentioned Terry Boot/Anthony Goldstein)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "Oddly enough, Michael is genuinely curious about this matter, even though it should just be something to keep Zabini distracted while Terry and Anthony have their fun."
Author's Notes: Many thanks to my beta-reader, [S]. Rating is mostly for language and slash, but the slash is quite tame. Happy holidays,
royalty25, I hope you enjoy this. I certainly enjoyed writing it. ♥Michael can hardly believe his good luck tonight – just when he wanted, nay needed, a party, just when this new life of Ministry work had gotten to be too much for him, Christmas had to come and Terry's older brother had to get engaged. To a nice, Pureblooded girl, naturally. Granted, Michael doesn't know Philip Boot or his fiancée – the former had left school and gone into the Ministry just before Michael and Terry's first year, and the latter is just not someone who Michael would willingly associate with – but the party should be fun enough.
It's just awkward, to be a Halfblood in a collection of Pureblood elites that's only opened up because, unlike the rest of his family, Terry doesn't believe in any of that shite. Well. That and the undeniable fact that Terry's father now works under Minister Shacklebolt, who doesn't let that outdated blood purity nonsense hand around. The Purebloods are still hanging onto it, though. Lucius Malfoy might have made his public apology for being such a bastard to the world in general, especially anyone who's not a Pureblood, but Mary and Valerian Boot have Catholicism going for them too, and Michael knows quite acutely that the only reason Anthony's here is that Terry's parents don't know about him and their son.
As it stands, Michael's busy playing lookout for the two of them, standing outside of Terry's bedroom, making sure that no one can come along and discover his two male best mates rather going at each other. That'd be a brilliant way to celebrate Christmas. Someone finding Terry and Anthony, and then the inevitable part wherein Terry's parents find out that, not only is their youngest son gay, but he's a Blood Traitor too. Such labels, as far as the Minister's concerned, should and will be rendered obsolete, but Michael doesn't put it past Terry's parents to cleave to their precious labels for as long as they possibly can. After all, it's no bloody coincidence that Terry's middle brother, Jacob, ran off with Marcus Flint and cast their joint lot in with the Death Eaters. And, true enough, they're both dead by now, but that doesn't mean that the same sentiment that drove them there has met the same fate.
Drove them there. Michael smirks at how he used that phrase. Mostly because he knows better, and he's acutely aware of just how much he knows better. It's just wrong. Entirely wrong. Nothing drove Marcus Flint and Jacob Boot to what they did; they were just born rotten. Not that their parents helped or anything, but still. What became of them was no one's fault.
At least there's the art to look at. Of course Terry's room would be in one of the corridors with all the art in it. Even though most of it is family portraits and such, "art" is really the only right word for it. There's one of Terry's parents in their wedding dress robes, and, so help him, Michael knows what kind of people they are, but Terry's mum looks unbelievably pretty in her dress. Then there's a portrait of all three brothers, from when Philip came of age – Terry's only ten or so. Merlin, he was such a painfully proper little kid. Reminds Michael of when they met on the train. He'd been pretty sure that first time that they'd never be friends. Luckily, he'd been wrong.
Only two things really stand out amongst the collection, and that's because Michael's fairly sure that, being as Catholic and as anti-gay as they are, Terry's parents shouldn't have these paintings. One of them distinctly features an older man and a boy not much older than Anthony, or Terry, or Michael – and the other… Michael isn't sure about the other. One of the figures in it is definitely a man, in the classical Greek sense, all muscular and bearded and whatnot, but the other is hard to define. The facial structure's feminine, but it's bald, and it's wearing ambiguous clothes, and Michael can't figure it out to save his life.
"Aeneas and Dido," a voice explains coolly. Michael looks to its source to find Blaise Zabini looking up at the same picture. "He was a hero and prince of Troy. She was the queen of Carthage-"
"That's a queen?!" Michael huffs. The incredulous note in his voice is, perhaps, too strong, but it's rather shocking. Michael can't help it.
"Not simply a queen, Corner. The queen. At least, the only queen who was so important to Aeneas's story."
"What was Aeneas's story?" Oddly enough, Michael is genuinely curious about this matter, even though it should just be something to keep Zabini distracted while Terry and Anthony have their fun.
"He was one of the Trojan princes during their little war with the Greeks, over Helen – I presume that you know who Helen of Troy is-"
"Well, that's very presumptuous of you."
"And that is hardly funny. Anyway. He was a Trojan prince, and he actually managed to escape with his father, son, and Trojan soldiers. Now, he tried to get back to the Trojan ancestral homeland, but, at one point, they wound up in Carthage, and his mother – Aphrodite, your goddess of love and sex – had him and Dido symbolically married-"
"Still don't think that's a queen," Michael sighs.
"Well, she is. Do you want me to finish the-"
"She looks like a man," he says matter-of-factly.
"Yes, perhaps…"
Abruptly, Zabini's eyes look away from the painting and lock on Michael's eyes. He can't believe he's never really seen Blaise Zabini's eyes before, and he's sure that he has to be dreaming when Blaise's hand approaches his face. Smirking, Blaise runs his fingers through Michael's shoulder-length hair.
"But," Blaise concludes with surprising gentleness, "she does have to make up for all the men who look like girls."
That can't be a kiss… can it?
Michael isn't sure. But, whatever it is, he likes it.
no subject
Date: 2007-12-24 08:17 pm (UTC)