Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
Nico's was so shocked by his father's response that he forgot to be self-conscious of his tear streaked face when his head snapped up again to stare at his father in horrified incredulity. Was this really his father or was he looking at some highly advanced conjuration or disguise? Of course it wasn't, the only person who'd have any interest in playing such a trick on him was Zenobia and while she might have stolen all of the family talent for herself, she wasn't this good yet.
Which meant his father didn't care. This scenario hadn't even crossed his mind and somehow it was worse than all the nightmares he'd had of it. He had missed the subtle change in his father's expression and as far as he could tell he may as well have confessed to drawing another bird. His incredulity had gradually morphed into a look of betrayal. Now the question was: had he unwittingly done something to lose his father's love or had he never had it to begin with? He felt something strange in his chest, something he'd never felt around his father before nor many others for that matter. It was stifling, it felt as if it ought to take his breath away, and it was growing rapidly.
Is that all? His heart was hammering with adrenaline as the words left his mouth. It didn't sound like him; there was a note of hurt but it was overshadowed by a harshness in his voice he'd never heard before, not even with Zenobia. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Domitian noticed the change in his son's demeanor, and interpreted it as an attempt to do exactly what Domitian had asked of him. A harder, harsher demeanor would serve him better than tears, in the difficult life that lay ahead of him. Domitian would have preferred if he could have set his son up for a life of luxury, where it wouldn't matter one way or another whether he was strong, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. Domitian knew from experience how quickly everything could be taken away; the only things that Nico could keep were the things that were intrinsic to himself.
Which did bring him back to the reason he'd come to his son's room today, even if Nicodemus hadn't asked about it directly. He'd been intending to give Nico something, which he had in his study, but now he was thinking better of it. He still wanted to give it to him, but after just lecturing Nico on the importance of appearing strong even when you felt weak, he had little desire to pull his son through the house with tears still on his face.
"For now," he decided, rising to his feet. "I'm glad you understand."
Bree made this!
September 25, 2021 – 1:18 AM
Last modified: September 25, 2021 – 1:26 AM by Nicodemus Zabini.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
It was anger he felt, anger and simmering resentment. What was he supposed to do with this feeling? He had neither the guts nor the words to brandish it against his father but it was there all the same weighing him down. Was this how Zenobia felt when she had one of her outbursts? Surely not, her tantrums always seemed so trivial and unnecessary.
But I don't. It was meant to be an angry mutter under his breath and preferably one undetectable to his father's ears but it was a little louder than the whisper he'd meant it to be. He resisted the urge to clap a hand over his mouth as if this would somehow hide the fact he'd said it if his father had heard. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Domitian had thought the conversation was over, so Nicodemus' statement — delivered quietly but clearly enough to be perfectly audible with only the two of them in the room — caught him off guard. "Oh?" he prompted, raising one eyebrow.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
If there was any part of him that took any satisfaction from his father catching what he'd said it was the most remote, microscopic part of him. There was no way he could eloquently articulate what he felt and that was assuming he had any inclination to which he most certainly did not after the last display of candor. If his father cared nothing for him then he didn't want to illuminate the depths of that void any further, not today anyway.
Nothing. He looked at his knees and scowled at them instead of his father. He felt so foolish, he'd been torturing himself over his transfiguration failure for years all because he didn't want to disappoint his father and all along he hadn't even cared. Apparently he could be good or bad at whatever he wanted - as long as no one else bore witness to his failure - and his father wouldn't find it consequential at all. Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
Domitian frowned. There was something that Nico didn't want to tell him, and his first instinct was to try and ferret it out of him, but he stopped himself. What if this was his son trying to take his advice? If he'd realized that speaking wasn't wise, if it would make him look stronger to stay silent, Domitian ought not to say anything. This was what he was trying to teach him, after all — that it didn't pay to let people in, and instead he should keep everyone at arm's length. If it stung to find that he was included in that, it was only the fault of his own sentimentality; Nico was doing exactly as he'd advised him.
"Alright," he said simply, and moved to leave.
You can do it, Nico, he thought to himself. You're stronger than you think.
No bird soars too high if he soars with his own wings
Somehow there was still room for Nico to be surprised and hurt at his father's ambivalence towards him. His eyes brimmed with tears yet again, although they were half angry tears this time. He deposited his wand on the bed next to him. What was the point in trying to better his transfiguration if he was the only who cared?
For the first time in a long time he felt an urge to seek solace in his mother. She'd still care, wouldn't she? Outfit | Tag: Domitian Zabini | Notes:
