Harry Potter Strawberries

_Disclaimer: Third Blaise fic. Boy, in case you haven't read the others. Hey, why don't you go read the others right now? I'd love you bunches for it._

_Anyway, typical Blaise day at home over the summer. Yep. More to describe his character. So, if I write another fic and a minor detail here is changed, like Blaise's love life, for instance, in the possibly longer fic, just go with it. This is simply intended to describe his family life and whatnot… like his house. Modeled after my house, because my house rocks. Mainly because of my room (which I haven't vacuumed in awhile. Actually my room doesn't rock, it's pretty disgusting in all actually)._

_Rated PG-13 for rough language. My my my, Blaise has a problem with that, doesn't he? Actually, that's the sole reason why it's rated PG-13, actually, but with the new FFN.net quest to end misratings, I just want to be safe._

_I want a calzone. _

_Broadwaypoetess_

_PS. I'm just writing this disclaimer quickly, so, ah, this is kinda how Blaise would be in describing it to another person, so there's some pauses (…) and some "y'know"s. It can be a little inconsistent at times and some messed up flow, but that's how I imagined Blaise would be in talking to another._

**Strawberries**

I woke up. Well, naturally, I woke up. If I did wake up there would be no story. Unless I'm just a character in a long dream of some Mythological being that's alluded to in _the Quibbler_. So I don't exist. I'm just a character in a dream. Shit, well that's not good. The whatever could just wake up and the world would be over. Shit, and I'm still a virgin! Oh shit! I'm going into my seventh year at Hogwarts and I never had a date. Well, I mean, I had one kind of girlfriend over the summer. I didn't even snog her – I mean I was going to but she – had a cold! Yes! So, hopefully I'll snog a girl before the whatever creature awakes and the world ends and –

Wait a second.

I need to get more sleep.

Fucking universe.

Anyway, so I woke up, went downstairs, poured myself some sugary Muggle cereal, and was about to dump in strawberries and milk, when I realized we have no strawberries in the house. So I walked out of the kitchen area to where the den begins, and opened the French doors on the side that led out to the deck (which is infested with wasp nests underneath (fucking wasps)). I jumped off the deck (it's a little over a foot of the ground, I guess) and walked to the gardens. I opened the garden gate to our garden. It's nice. I mean, it has flowers and stuff, y'know, like carrots and tomatoes. Mum and Dad planted it a few years after they built the house. The house, by the way, it's… a two-story colonial thing. I like it. It's blue.

And, well, then they planted the garden. Mum planted the strawberries after her parents were killed in the first "War Against the Dark." She stopped taking cared of them after my brother… David... after he… died.

So, I took up the strawberries after a while. Our house-elf, Noora, began to tend to the entire garden when Mum and Dad stopped after… David died.

That's all Noora really does. Mum makes us, Dad and me, clean up after ourselves. I suppose it builds character. Noora more or less hangs out in the house when the planting, growing, and harvesting seasons are over. She's like a pet, or a doll. Mum makes her outfits whenever she's not at work. Mum started busying herself after David…

Yeah. So, I lifted the chicken wire over the strawberries. It's there to keep the animals out. Mum doesn't believe in enchanting the gardens or any real part of the house when Muggle work suffices. Noora came along and bumped into me with a large basket in her hand.

"Sorry, sir," she said timidly.

"It's quite alright, Noora," I said, smiling.

"Young Blaise should have brought a basket."

"I only want a few berries, Noora."

"Yes, sir, but many are very red. Not _few_ but _many_, sir. Young master would not want them to go to waste."

I smiled. She cultivates them while I'm at school.

"Thank you for the basket, Noora."

I picked for almost a good half hour. I put the chicken wire back on and left the gate open for Noora because she can't reach the handle without standing on something or jumping for a long time. She was busying weeding out the tomato patch and picking chives. I smiled at her as she worked and picked some of the better berries out of the basket and left a small pile for her by the door in case she got hungry.

I washed the berries in the sink, threw some into the cereal and looked around for where I left the milk, only to find that someone put it away.

"Blaise, you expect the milk to sit on the counter for almost forty-five minutes and not start to turn sour?"

Mum was sitting on the couch, tv on, with a plate of bacon, eggs, possibly the contents of the entire ketchup bottle and whatever was in the peppershaker this morning. God it smelled strong.

"The milk is always happy to see me. It would never go sour."

"Very funny, wise arse."

I poured the milk with a dramatic flourish, in case she was watching. Of course, she wasn't.

"Finish your summer school work?"

It was two weeks into the summer break, so, naturally,

"Yes."

I have no life.

"Good."

I finished in silence. She looks sad sometimes. She started that around my first year at Hogwarts because David…

I think she cries when I'm gone...

God, I'm bored. There's only so many times a day I can water the berries, or play on a Muggle computer.

There's a summer theatre program at the Esperanza Silverthorne College starting up again this year on Thursday. It's for wizards and witches that want to pursue a Muggle education along with their Wizarding one. My parents are alumni, so was David. They got me into it every year since I was nine. I've gotten minor parts in the plays, but, unlike the rest of my family, I can't carry a tune and possess no rhythm. So whenever it's a musical at the summer program: I do tech work. It's a musical year, and I don't really mind. I like building the set and moving around the pieces with the crew. That's how I met my kinda-girlfriend. She left Hogwarts after taking her O.W.L.s on an early admit program, something I secretly wanted to do, but my parents refused. She was a Slytherin, a year ahead of me at Hogwarts. Kristina Baddock. Very pretty and talented.

I'd go over to her house after working at the college and we'd play Muggle video games.

Man, I suck. Video games? Jeez, I'm lame. I kissed her once or twice – twice! Yeah twice.

Then I learned she had a boyfriend, which explains why she avoided me for a few days after the kiss, why she never kissed me back those times, and why I wasn't invited over again until a few weeks after the second kiss (and when I was at her house again she told me).

I really do suck.

Anyway, back to today. I cleaned up after Mum lovingly reminded me ("I'm not the friggin' maid! Put your damned plate in the dishwasher! How many times do I have to tell you?"). I had a sudden urge to make strawberry jam.

God, I'm practically a Huffle-pouf! Cut off my wrists if they go "limp," please!

Anyway, so I was cutting up the berries with a sharp, pointy knife.

"Living dangerously, eh Blaise?"

"Yep. That's me. Slayer of the Giant Strawberries, with a large knife. Produce shrieks when my name is mentioned. Their berry blood squishes beneath my nails, for I am Blaise the Berry-Killer! Plucking fruit from their homes, mutilating their bodies and devouring them! I, who – !"

"Blaise, I love you, but shut up," Mum grinned and messed up my curls. I inherited her eyes and lips. I love her; she's a saint.

I filled a few jars with the strawberry goo and put the rest of the berries away. While other Slytherin kids are drinking blood, eating babies, or beating Muggles to fight off boredom, I'm playing with my culinary skills and musing about my mother.

If Oedipus was a fairy, I'd probably be him. Wait…. "musing about my mother… Oedipus… fairy" that's sounds wrong. Really wrong.

Whatever, so what I mean is… well… nothing about Oedipus and his mother. I have this thing where I've longed for mother's attention, respect, and love after David… y'know… died. I'll always feel that David was the favorite. He was the first born, not to mention that he was a baritone, like Dad is.

Me, I'm in David's shadow. I'm the kid that sounds like a dying puffskein. Dave had the girls flying after him. Me? I just don't. At least I don't think so. I was wrong about Kristina, after all.

Also, unlike David, my parent watch me like a chimera. They were jumping to all sort of conclusions when Professor Snape told them I got my ear pierced. It's an interesting story, actually.

Ismene, she's another Slytherin grades freak that studies with me, decided to pierce my ear in N.E.W.T. History. She leaned over from her desk behind me and whispered,

_"I'm bored, so I'm going to pierce your ear, Zab-Zab."_

_"Okay," I answered, pausing in my note-taking to get my Potions textbook from my book bag. I began to bite down on it as she slowly moved behind me. She pulled a large safety pin from her bag, performed a Sterilizing Charm on the pin, and touched my left ear. She held my earlobe between her fingers, calculated the proper point, and stabbed. I bit down on the book hard, eyes watering. She fastened the pin._

_"I'll have to buy you actual earrings at the next Hogsmeade visit," she whispered, gently pushing Hermione Granger over to make room for herself. The Gryffindor was staring at me and my ear and the few droplets of blood on my parchment._

_"So what the fuck am I supposed to do with the pin? Leave it in?" I hissed._

_"Exactly," she muttered back._

_"And what about twisting it? Cleaning it?" I asked, remembering what David said to one of his friends._

_"I have stuff. Relax. I gave Pansy her second holes last year."_

_"The ones that got infected?"_

_"She stopped using the cleaner. I have enough left for you."_

_"I hate you. So much," I mumbled._

_I stared into her grinning face. She has nice olive skin and curly dark hair and the Grecian nose, much like my own._

_"Pollack," I spat. ****_

_She grinned at my blatant stupidity, and she blushed a little,_

_"Blaise, you bitch."_

_When my godfather saw me a few minutes before Potions (my next period class) he did a bit of a double take. He stared at the pin, my ear, my face, and the droplets of blood on my robe._

_"I think that's the ear that…" his voice trailed off, a mischievous smile forming._

_"Sir, I appreciate you as an educator, but go to Hell," I whispered silkily. _

_"Correct me if I'm wrong, though," his grin became broader._

_"You shut up."_

_"Go to class."_

_I entered the dungeon. _

_"I am in class!"_

_"Sit down."_

_I did._

_"Don't tell my parents," I said. I thought it sounded like an order, but I guess it came out more like pleading._

_"I'll have to… eventually."_

_"Fuck," I whispered._

_"Why'd you do it?"_

_"Ismene did it."_

_"Ah."_

_"Don't 'ah,' sir, it's disgusting. What are you insinuating?" I laughed, teasing him a bit._

_"Nothing…"_

_"Go to Hell."_

_"We're there right now."_

_"Guess you love your job," I grinned._

_"I get to yell at people."_

_"Hell doesn't seem so bad."_

_"Food isn't that great, neither is the pay."_

_"Well, sir, it IS Hell. There's obviously bad food in Hell."_

He told my parents after it already healed and Ismene bought me some earrings. I have one with a snake. I'm wearing it now. Anyway, they came over to the school. I saw them at the entrance to the Great Hall. I walked over to them and they yelled at me in an empty classroom.

Dad saw it and thought I was doing drugs, or stealing and Mum thought I looked like and idiot and I was going to become a boozehound. It got rather heated until one of them said "…your brother…!" and there was silence. Scared, depressing silence. I told them over and over that I was fine; that my grades were great and that if I was having any trouble I would tell Professor Snape or write to them in an instant. I went on and on telling them until the bell rang for the start of the next class. I hugged them and they walked me to Transfiguration.

Now, that I think about it… I'm really scared for Mum. I always thought of her crying over David constantly, but now I think she's past that and cries more for me.

I snapped out of the last thought and spotted her laying on the hammock outside, reading WitchBook.

I made her a strawberry smoothie, and attached a post-it note:

_Mum—_

_I love you._

_--Blaise_

I brought it to her outside. She looked quizzically up from her magazine, read the note, and took a slow sip. She gazed at me with her sky-blue eyes.

"You're a good kid, Blaise."

She hugged me.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Mum."

_-----Fin.------_

_I thought of this while I was out by the pool picking strawberries. I love strawberries so._

_Hey, Sam didn't beta this one, so, there may be mistakes._

_I lost my copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them." Actually, part of my room probably ate it, so I think I may have spelled a few of the animals wrong._

_Esperanza is the Spanish word for "Hope" I think. Something akin to that. Silverthorne… I remember a hockey goalie whose name was Silverthorne. I think he was from Colgate. It was at the RPI Invitational Championship/Tournament thing. Colgate was 3rd, Rensselaer was 4th. I like RPI. Hockey is fun._

_WitchBook is like RedBook. Dirty RedBook._

_I want a smoothie._

_Noora -Finnish friend- rocks!_

_- People in my school take no offense to the word "Pollack." And seeing as Ismene does not look as if her bloodline is from that part of Europe, it's just Blaise being an ass._

_I know Snape is a little OOC, but we never see any good side of him. And Blaise is his godson, so he can kid around with him._


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Humor