March 13th, 1891 — Transfiguration Teacup Trials, Padmore Park, Hogsmeade

There had been no question of him coming to watch his father take part in the Teacup Trials on his Hogsmeade day, not only because he didn't dare disrespect his father by skipping it but it sounded exciting! He did have some misgivings though. For a start he wished he could've taken part with his father even though he knew it was against the rules of the competition, but he couldn't help but think his father wouldn't have wanted him to even if it was allowed.

When Nico arrived at the park he was unable to see his mama and thought he stood a better chance of finding his papa and maybe Mama would be there with him. Truthfully he didn't look very hard and was ready to take the excuse to go see Papa before the big competition so he could wish him luck. It didn't take him long at all to ferret out the place where the competitors were supposed to assemble and immediately he spotted his father there.

Nico wanted to beam at him but as always with his father he felt as though he had to alter his behavior to please him. The smile he presented was of the subdued variety and to be fair his papa often put him on edge anyway so it wasn't really so artificial after all. "Hello, Papa."

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Domitian Zabini

  

Domitian hadn't taken any notice of this competition before it moved to Hogsmeade, but now that it had become more mainstream he hadn't hesitated to sign up. Transfiguration ran in his bloodline (as blood purity apparently did not), and he'd always had a talent for it. That, and he wouldn't have passed up an opportunity to show off a bit — though he would hate for anyone to know that about him. It had been one of the things that had drawn him to his choice of career, actually. It was flashy and exciting... without having a three-year training program like the aurors did. And without half so much paperwork as aurors had, too, though now that he was running the squad he had his fair share of that, too.

There wasn't much that he could do to prepare at this point, so he was just lingering with the rest of the racers and sizing up the competition. The arrival of his son surprised him, though the only indication he gave of this was a raise of one eyebrow.

"Nicodemus," he greeted. "You seem to have lost your way. Shouldn't you be in the stands?"

  

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Bree made this!

His heart sank. "I-" He looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling defeated and wishing he'd tried harder to find his mother instead. "I couldn't find Mama, I thought maybe she was here with you." It was a lie and for that reason he still couldn't meet his father's eyes even as he looked up from his feet a little.

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Domitian watched his son with pursed lips. His children couldn't have been more different, though what he or Matilda might have done to inspire either set of behaviors was beyond him. Zenobia would have charged in and asked directly for what she wanted — and then played coy if she was caught out. Nicodemus, on the other hand, looked like he would have preferred to melt into a puddle rather than admit to it.

"Stand up straight," he admonished lightly. "Are you looking forward to the race?"

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   Elon Wildsmith

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Bree made this!

Nico hadn't thought he'd been slouching but he straightened his posture as much as he could. "Yes, Papa." There were a lot of things he wanted to say but as always he was too nervous to say any of it. He stood silently then even though he wanted to say more.

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Domitian turned his attention away from his son and instead focused on putting on a pair of flying gloves that had been waiting for him on a nearby table. They were thin enough to be flexible and versatile during the earliest part of the race, but would provide some protection against the wind and possible weather interventions in the flying component. "And how are your classes?" he asked, without looking back at Nico.

  

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Bree made this!

Nico felt guilty for feeling relief the moment his father's eyes were off of him. He tugged at a stray thread on the cuff of one of his sleeves. Was now a good time to- He dropped the thread and looked up, straightening his posture again even though he could see now that his father still had his back to him. "Good, sir." He wanted to say very good but that felt like too much of a lie considering he was struggling in an area or two. Overall he figured it evened out into a comfortable enough 'good'. "I'm doing particularly well in Charms and History." He hoped that would please him and he wouldn't think to ask about his transfiguration. Merlin knew he was trying but he simply wasn't the standout student in the class no matter how much transfiguration was supposed to run in his blood. It was the Transfiguration Teacup Trials his father was about to participate in though, transfiguration surely wasn't far from his mind today.

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Domitian slipped his fingers into the glove and flexed them, feeling the leather crackle as they adjusted to movement. He'd have to be careful of these; they were a little stiffer than he would have liked. Maybe he could spell them to wear in a bit before the race started.

"History," he repeated impassively, after his son's report. It did not escape his notice that transfiguration had not made the list, but he wasn't going to ask about it. He couldn't judge his son's worth on his own interests. He knew that others would probably judge Nico if he was struggling with transfiguration — it runs in your blood, doesn't it? — but Domitian would never make such a comment. Any talk of what did or didn't run in his children's blood was entirely unwelcome in his presence.

  

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Bree made this!

On the surface he couldn't really tell whether his father's single word acknowledgement was a positive or negative thing. However, knowing his father and the general importance of transfiguration in the family, it had to be disguised disappointment. He was trying, he spent more time trying to improve his transfiguration than he did any of his other subjects after his homework was done but he clearly wasn't a natural. It might well be performance anxiety that was getting in his way but Nico had no notion that that might be a thing, nor did he know how to separate transfiguration from the enormous pressure he put on himself to excel at it.

Whilst his father was probably disappointed with him, it seemed like a good time for what he'd really come down there for. Nico took a couple of tentative steps towards his father. He reached into one of his pockets and rummaged for a few seconds before producing a bright blue feather. Nico stared at his father's back as he suddenly had a wave of second thoughts wash over him. No, he'd better do it now before his father noticed his dithering. "Pa, I thought you might like to have this. For good luck." He noticed an almost imperceptible tremor in his hand as he extended it out towards his father. He was worried his father wouldn't like it or would think it childish of him, the last thing he needed was for his father to know that he was worried.

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   Domitian Zabini

Domitian turned when he heard his son say pa, and was entirely caught off guard by the feather. For good luck, Nico had said. He didn't recognize it, but that meant very little. Nicodemus liked birds, Dom knew that, and his knowledge on the subject had long since outstripped his father's. Domitian's knowledge of birds was limited to being able to identify a few different types of owls and the various assortment of game birds he occasionally hunted. The blue feather was unlikely to have come from any owl or game bird.

He was entirely unsure what to do in response to this. For a moment he merely looked at the feather, considering.

"Have you done something to it?" he asked eventually, meaning some sort of charm or other spellwork. He'd just said he was doing well in charms, but Domitian didn't remember whether good luck charms were something third year students learned or not. "Or is its value only sentimental?"

  

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Bree made this!

Nico stared at his father blankly until he said 'or is it's value only sentimental'. Oh. Was his father going to be disappointed if he said he hadn't enchanted it? He hadn't thought to charm it. He'd seen the vibrant blue feather and been happy enough to marvel at it and figure out what bird it might have come from. Being blue it was also in keeping with his house color, and seeing as his father had also been in Ravenclaw it seemed almost fortuitous - he'd only found it yesterday, the timing was uncanny.

"It's a kingfisher tail feather, I think. I found it yesterday on my way to Care of Magical Creatures. I've never seen a feather like it before." None that hadn't been magically altered at least. "It's not quite Ravenclaw blue but it's the closest I've seen." He hadn't actually answered his father's question directly but rather skipped ahead to damage control, maybe his father wouldn't have to confirm his disappointment if he understood why it was a special feather without any enchantments.

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As Nico spoke Domitian felt his chest tighten, but externally he was careful to keep a neutral expression. He shifted his weight to his other foot and looked askance, not exactly turning away from his son but not allowing him his full attention, either.

"I only asked because I thought a charmed token might not be allowed," he explained levelly. This was a competition, after all. He did not respond to any of the actual words Nico had said, about kingfishers and Ravenclaw blue, because he did not trust himself to keep his tone passive if he did, and he didn't want Nicodemus to realize that this gesture had affected him as much as it had.

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   Nicodemus Zabini

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Bree made this!

His father seemed distracted and he also hadn't taken the feather yet. Nico expected his father's next words to be some sort of disapproval, mild or otherwise, but it wasn't. It was almost encouraging. Almost.

He felt silly with his arm still outstretched but he wasn't sure if he should retract it or not. "I didn't use any so it should be okay, shouldn't it?" Obviously it should be okay but he felt nervous and unsure of himself and it came out in the question he tagged on at the end. Nico's arm was starting to get tired but he'd committed to holding it out for as long as it took for his father to either take it or refuse it.

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Domitian glanced back at the feather and lightly bit the inside of his lower lip as he considered. This seemed like an incredibly high-stakes interaction; whether he took the trinket or not, it would send a very strong message to his son. He was always so careful about what messages he conveyed to his children. He curated his interactions with them the way a museum direction designed an exhibit, trying to aim for maximum impact and building a consistent narrative throughout. He hadn't anticipated this, however, and he hadn't had time to consider where this fit into the grand scheme of his designs for his children.

"Yes, it should be," he eventually said. He finished tightening the glove around his wrist and reached out to take the feather.

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   Nicodemus Zabini

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Bree made this!

The moment Nico realized his father was reaching out to take the feather from his hand he started to smile. By the time his father's hand was on the feather he was fully grinning. He realized and tried to hide it. His smile turned into a grimace and then almost into a smirk, then finally into a small, tightlipped little smile. That was the best he could do.

"You'll win, Papa, I know you will." He absolutely did not know that but his father seemed to appreciate the gift and in turn he felt as bold as a pigeon in front of a carriage.

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   Domitian Zabini

Domitian was too busy trying to school his own expression into one of neutrality to notice his son struggling with the same thing. He took the feather gingerly, as though he was afraid he was going to break it. He looked over his outfit briefly, trying to decide where he could place it. Would it be too telling if he displayed it prominently? Maybe it would be best to temper this acknowledgement of his son's efforts by choosing some innocuous placement instead?

"We'll see," he said neutrally. Removing his wand from its usual place in his sleeve, he transfigured the end of the feather into a pin and affixed it to the last buttonhole of his left coat sleeve, where a cufflink would normally go.

  

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Bree made this!