Millicent A. Bulstrode (millicent1981) wrote in trousersoftime,
Millicent A. Bulstrode
millicent1981
trousersoftime

Who: Blaise & Millicent
Where: Blaise's Nonna Vera's house
When: Immediately after Millicent's conversation with Beloved Uncle Evan.
What: Millicent heads to Blaise's house, demandind information, as he whinges about his Mark burning. They act civil to each other, believe it or not. GASP!

Millicent sits for a minute in her house after her uncle leaves, pondering. He was being too damned mysterious about the location of her father. She needed to know. Suddenly, a brilliant idea comes to her. She stands up, nearly sprints to the fire place and flooes away. She lands with a thud in the fireplace in Blaise Zabini's bedroom. She sneezes, dusts herself off, and looks around the room. Empty. Not wasting any time, Millicent sprints out into the hallway and downstairs, looking for that blasted boy. "ZABINI! ZABINI, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!" She calls throughout the house.

Pufftruchio the niffler was enjoying a nice nap in his bed on the landing -- until Millicent showed up, that is. Recognizing her, he bolted out of his bed and ran in fear, his claws making him skid all over the expensive wooden flooring of the house as he hit the ground level. Scrambling still, he darted for the study-slash-library, throwing his weight against the door enough to open in and dashing under a squashy chair to hide - which was occupied by Blaise. He was sitting in the dark room, trying not to think about the burning pain in his arm, but it wasn't easy. He breathed shallowly, laying his head against the back of the chair and groaning when he heard Millicent screaming. What now?

Millicent saw the bloody niffler scramble away from her in fear. She gave a sadistic smile as she considered kicking it. No, no, I'm here on a mission. Millicent followed the niffler into the study and there she found the exact person she was looking for. Zabini sat there on a chair in complete darkness, writhing in pain. He clutched his arm and whinged some more. "Zabini, shut your bloody mouth and listen to me. WHERE IS MY FATHER?" She demanded.

Normally Blaise would have asked her what the was on or who she thought she was just bursting in, but his mind was otherwise occupied, thanks. He gripped his arm just below the Mark, trying to lessen the pain or take his mind off of it, but nothing was working. He was obviously angry and Blaise wouldn't admit it but it scared him. Terribly. "I don't know!" he panted, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning again. A thin sweat broke out over his brow as he tried to concentrate not on the crazy bint, not on the burning, but just on something else. Pufftruchio made an unhappy noise, staring out at Millicent from underneath Blaise's chair.

Millicent sighed impatiently. Honestly, it was not that bad. She had grown up around Death Eaters, and no one had made quite a fuss about their Mark burning as Blaise was now. Millicent stepped forward and snapped her fingers right in front of his face. "Zabini. Look at me. It is not that bad. Quit being a bloody nancy boy and tough it out." She unwillingly coached. She would never get information about her father if he kept crying about a bloody achey arm.

Yes well perhaps he was never as angry about something back in the old days. For someone who wasn't used to pain at all and didn't have a perverse like of it this fucking hurt. "It fucking hurts!" he ground out, opening his eyes to look at her although his vision was swimming a bit from his watery eyes. Clearly on top of having a burning Dark Mark he was subject to a room filled with all kinds of mold he was allergic to.

"Zabini, are you bloody crying? SNAP OUT OF IT, IT'S NOT THAT BAD! I go through worse shit every goddamn month. Now just BREATHE and don't whinge, for once." Millicent said, picking up a random piece of parchment and fanning him off. 'Why the sod am I doing this?' She asked herself. 'For dad. Blaise knows where he is. If he can stop acting like his arm is about to fall off, I can get the info out of him.'

"I'm not crying you stupid bint!" Blaise snaps, blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. "You have no idea what this feel like," he hissed, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the chair again. Merlin. Millicent was so unsympathetic. His arm felt like it was about to fall off and she didn't care! "I don't know where your dad is."

Millicent backed away and rolled her eyes, which were also beginning to water. "Christ, does no one clean this room?" She commented before turning her head and sneezing. "I do know that bigger and better men and women haven't cried so goddamn much when their Mark burns. If any of your associates were to see this show, they'd be a skoach less than impressed. And I think you do know where my father is. Uncle Evan does, but he won't tell me. Do you know anything, Blaise?" Millicent pleaded.

"You're a right bitch," Blaise said flat out before opening his eyes to look at her in the dark room. Puftruchio made another unhappy noise, shifting from paw to paw and debating whether or not he wanted to go for the shiny parts of Millicent's shoes. "And I told you I didn't!" he growled, squeezing his eyes shut tightly when his arm surged again.

"Well, aren't you Mr. Bright Ray of Bloody Sunshine today? That cuts me deep, Blaise. Really." Millicent said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She sighed frustratedly as Blaise denied her request once more. "I should have known they wouldn't tell you anything important. Bloody hell."

If Blaise was up for it, he'd have rolled his eyes at this point. As much as it stung to admit, they didn't tell him anything important, of course. Why would they tell new people everything? Hello, Dark Lord running the show. Blaise cried out again when the pain in his arm swelled suddenly before tapering off to a light tingle. Whatever He'd been angry about had been rectified. Suddenly exhausted, he sunk bonelessly into the chair with a long sigh, staring up at Millicent with a glare. "Is that all?"

Millicent glared right back at him without blinking. "I suppose." She snarled as she turned to leave.

Oh Merlin. Puftruchio watched Millicent's shoes carefully, nearly wetting his proverbial Niffler Pants when he saw the shiny parts of Millicent's shoes move. He just had to have them. Puff sprang forward, attaching himself to Millicent's shoes and pulling backwards. Minemineminemine! Blaise raised his eyebrows at this, leaning forward a bit to see what was going on. Good Niffler. When in doubt, send out the Attack Niffler.

Millicent looked down at the disturbance taking place at her feet. Bleeding niffler had the nerve to mess with her again. Its teeth and little claws were furiously trying to pry the clasps from her shoes. Millicent picked up her foot and snapped it sharply, sending the niffler flying a few feet back. She still had the scar from where it bit her last time.

"OI, don't do that!" Blaise snapped, glaring when she sent the Puff flying. Living with a moody hormonal teenaged male had prepared Puff for this moment. After sliding back a few feet he regained his balance, his beady eyes still trained on Millicent's shoes. He scrambled forward again but never quite made it, as Blaise had reached down and grabbed the beast by the scriff of the neck. Puff made unhappy niffler noises, his tail whipping around and his paws flailing as he tried to reach around and bite Blaise's hand. With effort, Blaise carried the naught niffler out of the study and shut him in an unused broomcloset not two feet away. Not bothering to turn back to Millicent, he dragged himself to the bottom of the stairs and eyed them, wondering just how much he reaaally wanted his bed at that moment. Fuck, he was bloody tired.

Millicent's eyes followed Blaise. He did look awfully tired, but she didn't feel sorry for him in the least. He really was a bloody diva. "Well then, I see that I've clearly wasted my time by coming here." Millicent said as she strode over to the fireplace. "See you around."

He was not a bloody diva, he was bloody tired. He watched over his shoulder as she moved towards the fireplace, dismayed. No, she was supposed to help the wounded boyfriend up the stairs, dammit. "Wait!" Blaise moved away from the staircase, leaning against the wall and looking rather pitiful. "Help me get up the stairs, yeah? You can throw me down them if you like," he said, cracking a small smile. "But then you'd have to drag me up them again."

Millicent stood in front of the fireplace, arms crossed over her chest. She stared at Blaise like he just spoke in fluent Cantonese. "Blaise, your bleeding arm hurting won't hinder you from walking up some stairs. I'm not carrying your skinny ass up to your room."

Blaise was annoyed. She just didn't Get It, did she? His arm had hurt like hell and now he felt completely zapped. Also, she'd called him skinny which Blaise vehemently denied. He was just .. still growing. Blaise wobbled forward into the room, amazed at how knackered he felt. It was as if someone had decided his whole left side needed to run a marathon when he wasn't looking. "Fine, then. But look, Mills.. I'm sorry about your da and all, but I don't know where he is."

Millicent stepped forward and helped Blaise to settle in to one of the couched by the fireplace. And by 'helped' she means she grabbed his right arm, jerked him forward and practically threw him on a couch. "There. Happy?" She said, giving a short and very fake smile. "I appreciate your concern. Really I do."

Blaise let out a cry of surprise as he was bodily thrown onto the couch. Merlin, that girl was strong. Of course, it was one of her better qualities, it just meant that she had surprising stamina when.. anyways. He settled himself into a reclining position, resting his hands on his stomach. It was a very nice pose, he thought. "You're really making too light of all this, you know. It bloody well hurts."

"Oh, cry me a river. Was there anything else you needed, or do I have your permission to leave now, oh master of the house?" She asked, giving a dramatic curtsy.

"You can leave," he snorted, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms. Bloody frustrating woman. "..I wouldn't mind if you stayed, though," Blaise added almost as an afterthought, pausing only momentarily in his eye rubbing to look at her. Now that he thought about it, he didn't want her to leave, really. But he couldn't just tell her that, see. His brain and hormones prevented it.

Millicent had turned to the fireplace once again, but stopped. She eyes Blaise suspiciously. "Stay?" She repeated. "Now why the bloody hell would I do a thing like that?"

"Just for a bit," he protested, pulling himself up into a sitting position and swinging his legs to sit on the floor, leaving ample space is Millicent decided to, you know, sit down. "I mean, it's not like we've talked about.. anything."

Millicent heaved a dramatic sigh and sat down on the edge of the couch farthest away from Blaise. "There's nothing to talk about. I have nothing more to say to you." She replied, her face as serious as a heart attack.

"You didn't even give me a chance to explain before you went on a bender," he rolled his eyes, looking over at her. "It really did mean nothing.. and I know I've been a bit of a bastard lately, but I am sorry."

"A bit of a bastard? That's the understatement of all understatements, Blaise." Millicent shot back. "You've been a right dickhead, considering I didn't even do anything wrong."

"Yeah, well. I'm sorry for that too," he said, wrinkling his nose and staring at the ceiling. Bugger, this admitting you were wrong is much harder than he though. "And you're right, you didn't. We just.. went a bit mad. This whole summer has been nothing but strange, you know."

"So do you at least see why I was so bleeding upset?" Millicent asked. She had to admit that she was relieved that he was removing his head from his ass. "It has been an interesting summer. I'm ready for it to end, though. I'm sick of just sitting on my lorals."

"One more month and you can go back to torturing ickle firsties," he grinned, shifting around in his seat. "Everything changed a lot, yeah. Right annoying.. but I don't know if I want the summer to end. Might be even stranger going back to school what with Malfoy and all.."

Millicent rolled her eyes, giving the slightest shadow of a smile. "I do not torture ickle firsties. I just push them aside if they're brainless enough to try to ask me where the greenhouses are, thank you very much." She corrected. "I guess you will be put in a right spot, what with you beating Malfoy to a pulp. Sod it, our entire house is in shambles. If we keep this up, I'll be begging the Ravenclaws to adopt me."

"Why not the Hufflepuffs? I hear they hug a lot," Blaise sniggered and scratched his nose before sobering up again. "It'd be odd to think we won't all be friends anymore. Who am I supposed to copy Charms homework from now?"

"Yeah, it's funny how these things work out. Too bad we had to shag slash beat the shit out of each other." Millicent mused. She looks over at Blaise, suddenly not hating him so much anymore. Sure he was still a bastard, but he was always a bastard. "So. What now?"

"Merlin, we sound like a bloody episode of that wretched show Dramatic Alley." Blaise rolled his eyes at that, mostly because it was true. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed at Millicent's question. "I don't know," he shrugged, at a loss. "I sort of.. spoke to Draco the other night. About the very same thing. Guess things will just be weird from now on."

Millicent looks at Blaise strangely. "You spoke to Draco? Why the hell did you do that?" She asks. He was the one who beat the shit out of him, and kept referring to him as "the blood traitor." And now they were back on speaking terms. Honestly, things were ever changing with this bunch.

"Well, wrote is more like it. Was through the journals, you know. Was the day we were all fighting," he said almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair again.

Blaise's hair will fall out one of these days if he keeps touching so compulsively. "Interesting." She says. She sits in silence for a few minutes, staring at the floor by her feet. "Well..."

Blaise is fairly sure his hair is NOT going to fall out, thank you. He toys with a lone piece of it, distracted. The tingling in his arm is almost all but gone now, and all he feels is tired after the fact. "So," he said. "You just come here to demand where your father is? I'm sure he'll be around sooner of later, Mills.."

"Yes, that's why I came by. I figured maybe you knew something, but clearly I was wrong. And I was all set to get on my way before you started whinging." Millicent stated, standing up again. Right, so this trip to his house had yielded no results. And Blaise was starting to be all wibbly and sentimental, so she had to make a quick escape. She was not taking the emotional route today.

"I was not whinging, I really wish you wouldn't call it that," he snorted, staring up at her. Really was a shame she was going to leave.. she was the first one out of their House he'd actually seen in person since everything had happened. Oh, teenage drama.

Millicent rolled her eyes and fought the urge to smile. "You were whinging, so admit it already." She replied, shifting her weight from foot to foot. The way he was looking at her was making her a bit uncomfortable. "So ... perhaps I should get going, yeah?"

"Not whinging," he said again in a deadpant tone and shrugged at her question. "I suppose, if you want to."

"Yes whinging. You're acting like a 4 year old," Millicent replied, putting her hand over her mouth to conceal her smile. "Right. If I want to. So."

"I was not!" Blaise huffed, crossing his arms and staring at her. She didn't really want to leave, did she? Must have been his great sense of charm. Ahh. "Mhmm, that's right."

She rolled her eyes again and turned toward the fireplace. "Leaving now, you insufferable whinger." She said, grabbing a fistful of floo powder.

Blaise smiled behind her back, rolling his eyes at her. She was impossible. But she wanted him, he could tell. Ooh yeah. "Ciao then, you small animal abuser."

Millicent turned her head and replied, "The bloody niffler should know better by now." She smiled and shook her head as she threw the floo powder into the fireplace. "Bulstrode Estates," she said clearly before stepping in the fire. And she was off.
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