ULTIONEM

baptiste varane 7th year ravenclaw pureblood dumbledore's army "He knew himself a villain—but he deem'd, the rest no better than the thing he seem'd."

[baptistevxrane-blog]

lucesweez:

“Your eyes will be my concern, Baptiste Maximilien Evrard Verane when I hold them in hands after tearing them out of their sockets,” she spat, grabbing the book nearest to her and it throwing at him. “That’s a bloody TEACUP, not a fucking mug you fucking idiot and you broke it! And now you’re teasing me? Aren’t you dead inside or something, I didn’t even know you had the capability, Rowena.”

“Someone’s been doing their research... I like the way you say my name, Lucy Weasley.” Truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to find a fuck out of a rat’s ass, but he could take a moment out of his day to rile her up. As the book hit him, Baptiste simply looked down at the book and back to Lucy with a smirk fixed in place. “You have a point. Tell me, does it make you feel special?”

[lukeavery-blog]

Shakespeare. Hamlet. Those were familiar, but only vaguely. But when Baptiste told him to drop the face, any lingering fragments of that reference seeped out of his head as panic started to fill it once more. Finger curling around his inhaler, he knew that he was helpless, but having it pointed out to him was rubbing salt into the wound. “Oh,” he croaked out lamely, feeling that tell tale suffocating sensation in his throat. It made it harder to think, make smart choices. “I don’t…was that      Muggle Studies?” His parents didn’t keep much literature in the house that was penned by muggles, after all. Knowing that he would receive no answer, Luke began rolling on the balls of his feet, looking to and fro, anywhere but at Baptiste, visibly uncomfortable. “Maybe I’ll just…come back later…” He had the want to run straight to the Slytherin Dungeon where his sisters were. 

[baptistevxrane-blog]

Baptiste wasn’t the sort of man to sympathise with a boy just because he was fiddling around with an inhaler. Perhaps snorting a line or two would do some good for the boy, too. All he did in response to Luke’s question was narrow his yes, sighing impatiently. “Really, Luciano... You’re in one of the safest places in the castle. Plus, I’m far from the hostage and torture type.” No, Baptiste preferred to be clean and definite. There was the possibility of a recovery for torture victims, though his father had trained him enough for that likelihood to be little to none, and he preferred his victims to be, well, dead. He was never a fan of loose ends. “The scene is of two clowns, bantering between each other. One asks the riddle, the other answers a gallows-maker. The first clown says the answer is wrong because gallows only accommodate for those who do wrong.” Baptiste started, hinting at the gallows humour of the two characters in question. “The reasoning behind the correct answer is that the houses he makes last ‘til Doomsday.”

[burneasys]

[ventimigrillo]

i asked to be extraordinary. and i promised to make the world a better place. so when i got my chance, i lived up to my end of the bargain. and for what? i’m running for my life. a lot of people are running for their lives. they’re hurt and they’re dying and i can’t help them. do you even care? what you put people through? and when we kneel here before you and ask for help, do you even listen? and i’m tired of fighting. and i’m angry. i’m angry at my father, nathan, and my mother. at you. we had a deal. i think it’s about time you lived up to your end. please just… show up. 

[lukeavery-blog]

Luke was easy to intimidate. Especially by his older peers. And Baptiste was no exception to this. He already felt bad enough after seeing that girl tortured by Perseus and doing nothing to stop it. Now, he couldn’t even get into his own House Common Room. Surely the Hat had been mistaken when they had sorted him among the clever and witty. “Um, it’s what is he that builds stronger than either the mason, the shipwright, or the carpenter?” he provided meekly, standing to the side rather than getting close to Baptiste. “Thanks…”

[baptistevxrane-blog]

Lord have fucking mercy on Luke Avery’s soul, for the tragedy of not knowing the answer to a Shakespeare riddle. The result of a sheltered upbringing by a family of bigots. Baptiste scowled at Luke’s expression of gratitude, almost laughable that the boy thought he’d be receiving the answer. “It’s Shakespeare,” he stated with utmost contempt, “Hamlet”. There was little use in clarifying the source of the riddle, but perhaps it’d prompt the Avery boy to educate himself. “Firstly, drop that face. The helpless look is highly vexatious.” One more look at Luke would prompt him to bring out the needle. “Secondly, I’m not helping you. I merely wanted to know how dense you are.”

[lucesweez-blog]

A series of scoffs came out of Lucy’s mouth then. How dare he call her teacup a mug, e s p e c i a l l y after breaking it. How dare he. “A mug? A – a mug!? I’m sorry, when did you last get your eyes checked, Verane?”

[baptistevxrane-blog]

“Lucy Weasley, my eyes are none of your concern,” Baptiste intoned with a faint teasing lilt. “That mug, however...”

[lukeavery-blog]

Taking a puff of his inhaler, Luke stood in front of the bronze, eagle-shaped knocker, completely stumped on the riddle that he was asked to solve. A common occurrence for the boy. Coughing, he heard steps and turned to the approaching figure, face pitiful and pinched.  “Sorry, but do you mind helping me with this?”

[baptistevxrane-blog]

Baptiste approached the boy in front of the knocker slowly, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose as a sigh of exasperation breezed through his lips. “Certainly not,” he quipped without missing a single beat. Ravenclaws that failed to answer the riddles irked him, especially ones that asked for help. He much rather wait for them to figure out the answer by themselves, though it often required taking another hit. “The riddle,” he demanded, walking around him to lean against the wall.

[serpentinadia-blog]

Nadia raised an eyebrow at the hostile words being thrown her way, “I’d say the same but in order to be an unpleasant surprise, I suppose you’d actually have to be important enough to matter to me either way. And sadly, you’re just… not. I have a pass to be here–do you? I’m betting you don’t.” She mused, her tone bored as she leaned against the shelf with a smirk. A smirk that slid off her face the second he mentioned Leonidas, fury overtaking her as she pulled her wand out, crossing the short distance over to him and growling, “Keep talking and detention will be the least of your worries, Varane. Mention my brother ever again and I will tear your intestines out and hang you with them. And that’s if I’m feeling generous enough to end you quickly. Now get out of my sight–these books are old, it’s damaging for them to be around filth like you.” She took a breath, never lowering her wand from where it was poking into his chest, trying to regain her composure, “And twenty points from Ravenclaw for smoking, you fucking cretin.”

[baptistevxrane-blog]

Baptiste was almost forced to roll his eyes at Nadia, but instead he merely narrowed his eyes with contempt as he stated bluntly, “Considering I’m a seventh year, no.” Strange she decided to boast about her pass, as if they were in their 5th year and needed them to get by, but perhaps Nadia Zabini was just that uptight. The insults that’d come flying his way from people like her had become so mundane that Baptiste was a veteran in tuning the bullshit out. A desolate stare was all he offered in response, completely unaffected at the what he supposed to be a threatening position of her wand. “Twenty points from Ravenclaw... You sure do know how to hit where it hurts, Nadia.” Baptiste retorted sardonically, ending with a haughty scoff. The back of his hand pushed her wand off his chest in one smooth motion, as he stepped to the side with his cigarette returned to hang off his lips. “Five shelves down, to your right,” he spoke in reference to the Resurrection material, thick grey smoke leaving his lips as he slowly sauntered past her.

[lucesweez-blog]

“I’m sorry, that almost almost sounded like my antique Noritake teacup made of fine bone China got BROKEN, even though it’s all the way from Japan and survived World War Two and all. But that couldn’t be it, right? Right?”

[baptistevxrane-blog]

“It’s a mug. You’ll get over it.”

[baptistevxrane-blog]

serpentinadia:

Nadia’s fingers skimmed over the spines of the book, her eyes drifting over the titles until she came to the one she wanted. She’d been given the pass to the Restricted Section last year when it had become clear that in potions, she needed a bit more of a challenge. Now her pursuits weren’t strictly academic–not that they’d ever really been–but were far more important than any silly homework assignment. She leafed through the book carefully, coming to the potion she’d been interested in, when a noise behind her startled her. She closed the book, putting it in her bag and saying in a bored tone, “You know, some of the books in this section are finicky. They don’t respond well to sudden noises.” And neither do I, she thought, turning to face the intruder with a frown.

“Zabini,” Baptiste spat, as if the acrid syllables shooting off his tongue were nothing but dirt. It’d been a couple of years since Baptiste had been able to access the Restricted Section without a note. Detentions were a reasonable sacrifice to acquire some solace in solitude; a decent place to pick up, shoot up, and ignore the entirety of the fucking student body and it’s exponential idiocy. Thus, Baptiste marched straight through until the last shelf in order to do just that, only to find Nadia fucking Zabini standing in his spot. “What an unpleasant fucking surprise,” Baptiste indolently drawled, taking a long drag of his cigarette -- charmed for the smoke to go by undetected. “Bit of a dramatization, ‘sudden noise’. Ought to be more alert, considering your recent loss. Nothing on Resurrection here, by the way. So, fuck off.”