poison ivy

how many wars have been waged, how many kingdoms have fallen how many men have died, for such a pretty face? what's a few more?PERSEPHONE ZABINI.xxi. widow. future dragonologist.

[wlwellbutrin]

a man: my girlfriend burned down my crops, murdered me in cold blood and drained my entire 401k to pay for her getaway limo

me: yeah but what did you do first though

[zabiniarchived2]

@pentyler​

“You don’t have a preference?” Penny could still read the room and cringed and mouthed a sorry, before repeating herself – this time in a whisper. “You don’t have a preference?”

Persephone was almost startled by the intensity and the volume of the witch’s question. Rather than jumping in her seat, she dropped her quill, causing the ink pot to jostle and glimmering ink to spill on her calendar. She cut the other woman a harsh glare, annoyance finally boiling over into anger. “No,” she started, forcing herself to take a deep breath. The last thing she needed as to lose control in such a populated area. “I don’t. I enjoy all seasons for different reasons. If I had to pick,” she added, anticipating her next possible question, “my favorite would probably be autumn.”

[zabiniarchived2]

@rorykelly​

Rory frowned. “Don’t they realise time marches on and that’s not a bad thing?”

Persephone frowned, silently agreeing with her. She’s had to drag the board kicking and screaming past the middle ages. She was the first non-pureblood president of the club in Merlin knows how long - though it helped that she was a Zabini and essentially a pureblood in all other senses of the word. She was doing her best to focus on the club’s focus on grace, philanthropy, and improvement for all - emphasis on the all, in her mind. 

She paused, picking her following words very carefully. “It’s a difficult concept for some people; I’ve found that it’s better to ease them into change. Hence why there’s only one nostalgic fabric and the rest have been selected by the patients or our members. They get something they recognize while being shown how well their ideas, so to speak, merge with newer ones.”

[zabiniarchived2]

@rocketshipbell​

Zoe continued her stare, not quite processing what Persephone was saying at first. Thank Merlin more people weren’t crowding around her, otherwise she might have hoped to have passed out instead. “I think?” Zoe got out, as she attempted to sit up.

The movement caused a zap of pain to flair up in her back. Great. Bloody Quidditch season and her first injury was falling on the ground from just–walking.

Persephone waited patiently as Zoe processed her words, concern still furrowing her brow. At her answer, Seph let out a humorless chuckle. “That wasn’t very convincing, love.” She offered her a tight smile along with her hand to assist her in sitting up. Immediately noticing the wince, Seph held out her free hand in front of Zoe, steeling itself to catch her should she fall forward. “Take your time; going too fast is only going to make you feel worse.” She paused, watching her carefully. She glanced at the witch’s back, searching for tears in her clothing that could reveal scarring. “You’re welcome to come to my flat, if you’d like. I live above Dogweed and Deathcap and the shop has a few things that will help with that pain.”

[zabiniarchived2]

@rorykelly​

Rory looked up, forehead creasing together as her eyebrows knitted in surprise. She let out a laugh despite herself. “Very specific.” She eyed the samples, pointing to one after a few moments. “That one. Why women in the 40′s?”

Persephone smiled as the witch before her laughed, pleased that she could ease someone’s pain for the slightest of moments. She laughed along with her, knowing that it was a particular aesthetic that was difficult, if not impossible, to capture. “That was the peak of the Junior Witches’ League; their philanthropy, anyway. A lot of senior board were members during that time. And, on top of that, it provides the feeling of nostalgia for the patients at Saint Mungos.”

[zabiniarchived2]

@cmmv-vanity​

“Honestly, at this point, I’d almost pay my professor to let me pass my Potions class. I’m absolute shit. And what’re they going to do? Fail me in my last year?”

“Or, alternatively, you could let me tutor you for free. Well,” Seph paused, plopping down next to her best friend. She could hear her mother shrieking at her for such unladylike behavior from the grave. “You can pay me with your company. And a bottle of wine,” she teased. Her smile turned serious after a moment. “What class are you having issues with?”

[zabiniarchived2]

when: early december where: hogsmede who: persephone & @eleanorowe​

Walking back to her flat, Persephone tightened her coat around her frame as the wind picked up speed. As she walked, she felt a leaf smack across her hand; she almost ignored it, given how used to the feeling she was in her own greenhouse. However, as another plant flew past her, narrowly missing her eye, the scent of a flower she didn’t sell in her shop hit her nose. She paused, following the trail of flying flowers, until her gaze fell upon the flower cart she passed every so often; the wind was wreaking havoc on the cart and its poor owner, who came into the shop every so often. Eleanor was her name, though she wasn’t sure if the girl knew her own. Persephone wasn’t typically running things when fellow students came in, but she still kept track of who came into her shop. 

On principle, she didn’t buy plants from other vendors, but Eleanor was well liked by her staff and sold the most darling flowers, that she almost broke her own rule. Her rules said nothing, however, about helping out another plant lover and vendor when their product was being thrown around by gusts of wind. Jogging over to her, Seph picked up the few plants that fell from their plant boxes and placed them back on the cart. “Do you have something to cover them with?” She asked, steadying some flowers as their petal fluttered madly in the wind. “You can take them to the shop if you’d like. Or the greenhouse,” she said, nodding to Dogweed and Deathcap. 

[gilbert-selwyn-deactivated20200]

tired and tried;

[zabiniarchived2]

@gilbert-selwyn​

Wednesday 4 December 1978; Dogweed and Deathcap; Persephone’s Flat @madamnzabini​ + gilbert

It had been a little over a week since Gilbert had returned to Hogwarts, but it felt like a lifetime. Probably because in the space of those eight days his entire life had turned upside-down, everything was different now. He was different now. As he approached Persephone’s door deja-vu washed over him, weeks before he’d been here to drop off a journal, keep their business alive while he dealt with death.

Now he was here to retrieve it, pick up where the old Gilbert had left off. As he knocked on the door he noted the muscles in his face were quite lax. Where they once would’ve stiffened, forced a smile, they now did nothing. He’d always felt numb during benign meetings like this one, but he’d always had his mask to present different faces to the world. Now, his mask broken and shattered, he was left exposed, 

Persephone was expecting Gilbert, having heard mentions of his reappearance on campus. She wasn’t expecting him immediately, nor for a few days. The loss of a parent could ruin someone, especially when that parent was the support system of the child - or, at the very least, the less destructive member of the family. That seemed to be the case for Gilbert, as it was for her. Adela Zabini was her solace in a life run by Alistair; she controlled Seph in her own way, but, she was worlds better than her father. Besides, death makes a martyr out of any sinner and who wants to speak ill of a martyr, least of a mother?

When Gilbert returned to her doorstep, she was just finishing up an essay for Experimental Potions, teacup poised beside her; the contents of said tea were infused with one of the drugs she had perfected, with the help of Gilbert’s own discoveries in his journal. Hearing the knock on her door, she rose to greet him, though she left the journal upstairs. “Gilbert,” she greeted, opening the door wide enough for him to come in. “Come in, please. I just made tea; one of your recipes, funnily enough.” She smiled, a show for those passing by on route to a pub or a joke shop. Her gaze, however, was only for her Gilbert. 

They weren’t close, both of them being private people, but an experience like this transcended professionalism. Of course his grief could negatively impact the business, which is the excuse she planned to use when he, inevitably, asked why the fuck she cared so much. But she lost her mother too and it was positively devastating. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, least of all someone she cared for, even in the slightest of senses. 

[zabiniarchived2]

when: sometime in december, who knows with slughorn where: slughorn’s christmas party who: persephone & @xtravers​

Persephone had spent the better part of an hour slipping through Slughorn’s metaphorical fingers and his attempts to introduce her to men that she already met at Edward’s funeral. It seemed as though the professor might be interested in getting in the good books of Alistair Zabini - a noble and difficult endeavor for any social climber - by finding her a new husband. Despite how much Slughorn’s little club would do for her in the long run, she still had to keep herself from flinching whenever his name was mentioned. Horace Slughorn, a seemingly innocent enough man, was dear friends with Edward Fawley; which was precisely how Persephone got into the club her first year. Slughorn fawned over his dear friend’s widow, kindly offering his help. It took her months before she could look him in the eye without wanting to vomit. 

Slughorn wasn’t a bad man, not in the way Edward was. He didn’t scare her, but the memories that followed him did. 

Hence her presence behind a satin curtain, nursing her second glass of wine for the evening - alarming given how Seph typically held a glass of lukewarm wine for the entire evening, occasionally spilling it into a nearby plant to give the illusion of her indulging. She leaned against the pillar, wanting to slide down onto the floor and take her heels off. She watched as Slughorn made the rounds again and calculated when she would have to make a reappearance. Hearing quiet footsteps approaching her, she side steeped behind the pillar to shield herself from view. Glancing behind her, she sighed - half in relief, half in annoyance - at the familiar face. “Marceaux,” she nodded in greeting. 

[zabiniarchived2]

when: between november 6th and 26th where: dogweed and deathcap who: persephone & regulars of gilbert selwyn’s business

Persephone sighed as yet another planned customer made a rather ungraceful exit at the sight of her. It wasn’t as though she was still a Prefect, nor was she Head Girl - a thought that still caused her teeth to grind together - so the fear of her getting them in trouble was unfounded. It was also surprising, given the fact that she and Gilbert used her shop as the backdrop for exchanges on occasion. Of course, she was never present - at least visibly. It caused many people to glance at her as if she was stupid, allowing Gilbert to use her greenhouse and potions lab for nefarious purposes that she was too daft to catch on to. It didn’t bother her like it used to - people underestimating her made her life far easier - but it did make dealing with business difficult. 

As the bell above the door rang yet again, she glanced up from her textbook for what felt like the tenth time that day. Meeting the gaze of a customer she was familiar with - but wasn’t familiar with her - she offered them a smile. “Looking for Gil?” She asked, deciding not to offer empty pleasantries this time. 

[zabiniarchived2]

when: early december, just before dueling club where: dueling club meeting who: persephone & @biliusbby​

“Oh, Weasley,” Seph sang, practically giddy as she tapped him on the shoulder. She held up a pair of six inch, red bottomed heels - a mirror image of her own - the correct size for Bilius’ feet. “And you thought I couldn’t find these in your size.”

[zabiniarchived2]

where: the three broomsticks  when: december 5th, early evening who: persephone & @franklongbooty​

Persephone Zabini in a pub was a rare sight to see. It wasn’t as though she disparaged the pubs around Hogwarts; it was that she craved complete control and getting drunk in a setting that wasn’t her own flat or the company of others she trusted implicitly ( read: next to no one ) wasn’t something that she found particularly appealing. However, after a meeting with the event coordinator of Saint Mungos for what felt like the fifth time that week, a cocktail mixed by someone other than herself sounded appetizing. 

Walking into the pub, she headed straight for the bar. As she made her way over, her tunnel vision developed more and more, causing her to plant herself directly beside someone she once considered a friend. Ordering herself a cocktail that equal parts sweet and strong, the tunnel vision faded and she met the gaze of Frank Longbottom. She arched a brow, schooling the rest of her features to hide the swirling, confusing emotions she was feeling. Seeing him at all was jarring, but seeing him around the holidays, when their mothers would exhange gifts and dress them in clothes that crossed the border of full on costume, stung. 

“Frank,” she greeted, her voice cool and calm as ever. “Fancy seeing you here.”

[zabiniarchived2]

@rorykelly​

Rory sniffed, cheeks wet, as she looked down at yet another failed assignment run through with crossings out and comments and ways to improve. It might not hurt so much, if she weren’t breaking her back to do well at something she really hated, whilst forsaking what she really loved. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d painted for more than a snatch here or there and every mark that came back as not good enough reminded her that it wasn’t worth it at all. 

Rory looked up, brushing a hand across her eyes, as footsteps approached and then faltered. “No, it’s okay, I was about to leave anyway.”

Persephone was knee deep in quilt making organizing. She had four samples of fabric she was considering for the primary one - trying to manage the reasonable amount of holiday cheer and class that was known for being associated with the Witches’ League was a bit difficult. She barely heard the sniffles and tears falling against parchment until she was just a few feet away. Looking up, she met the gaze of the other witch. She slowed to a halt but immediately averted her gaze. 

She waved a hand, dismissing her words. “Don’t leave on my account, please. I was just passing through.” She offered the girl a comforting smile. She purposefully didn’t glance down at the parchment that was causing her distress. Not entirely wanting to leave someone crying by themselves, Seph swayed in her spot. “You look like you have good taste,” she commented, holding up the four fabric samples. “Which one do you think says ‘I’m ready for the holidays but in a reserved, demure way that would please women raised in the 40′s?’ Specific prompt, I know,” she laughed. 

[zabiniarchived2]

@rocketshipbell​

Zoe was trying to get a handle on her Christmas shopping when she heard a voice call out to her. At first she assumed it was to someone else, not one to ever believe that someone was shouting on her behalf. The next thing she knew, she was on her back, her head throbbing. All of the air had been sucked out of her lungs, and the only thing she saw was the overcast sky, and a figure appearing over her.

“What?” Zoe replied dumbly, confused as to why she was on the ground, and why a person was hovering over her.

Persephone winced at the sight of Zoe’s body smacking the cobblestones, knowing all too well how painful it was. She’d done her fair share of wiping out on ice when her cousins decided to teach her how to ice skate when she was drunk. She hadn’t had peach brandy since then. She nearly shuttered at the slight connection between the two instances but was brought back to the present by the look of pain on the witch’s face. She shot forward, deciding after a moment of teetered on the edge of her heels to set her shopping bags down in favor of falling down herself. 

At the sight of Zoe’s dazed look, Seph’s concern grew. “I asked if you were alright. That didn’t look pleasant.” 

[zabiniarchived2]

@pentyler​

“The snow’s what the hell.” Penny plopped down beside the witch, converse clad feet kicked up. “In the battle of freeze your tits off versus sweat your arse away, I’d say arse sweat wins.”

Seph barely suppressed a groan when the witch sat down, only just sliding her papers and ink out of the way of the converse that suddenly appeared on the table. She pursed her lips, gaze downward as she collected herself. Typically, she had complete control over her emotions and expressions but the last month had taken it out of her. It took her barely a moment to school her features, but it was longer than usual. She glanced up, small smile pulled at her lips. “That’s an interesting way to put it. I don’t mind the cold myself, but, I can see why it might be annoying to others,” she said before returning her attention to her schedule.

[zabiniarchived2]

@pentyler​

“So, December. What the fuck’s that about?”

Persephone glanced up from her calendar for the month, detailing both her extracurricular responsibilities and her scholarly ones. The question struck her as odd, though she could relate - though perhaps not in the way the witch intended. “What indeed?” She asked, turning her attention back to color coding the countless events she was planning, hoping it was a neutral enough statement that it wouldn’t cause much of a conversation. 

[zabiniarchived2]

@cmmv-vanity​

Persephone was one of her best friends – perhaps her best friend. The fact that she had an internship that took her out of the country so often frustrated Emma. Everyone else had their friends around them all the time. And while she had her Quidditch team, it wasn’t quite the same. When she pulled back from Persephone, Emma entered her friend’s flat and moved to take a look around. “You barely live here, you know that? You really should spend more time here. Internship or not. I barely see you, these days.” At the offer to join Persephone on her next trip, Emma grinned. “Do you think they’d allow that? Your internship? I’d love to meet him – you talk about Cerberus far too much for us to be strangers.”

There was something special about Emma, something that caused Seph to gravitate towards her, even since they were both first years. Perhaps it was her vivacious nature, that was similar and all together different than her own. Seph was fueled by her control and calculated actions, but Emma... Emma embodied freedom. Maybe she wanted to be more like Emma, or maybe she just wanted Emma - either way, the girl was far too important to her for her to ever give her up. 

She chuckled at Emma’s comment, nodding in agreement. “It’s a busy year. I try to spend as much time with the JWL when I’m not in Wales and it hasn’t given me much time to cultivate this into a... home, shall we say?” She shrugged, patting her shoulder once as she made her way to the kitchen. “I’m here now. You’ve got me for the foreseeable future.” Turning, she walked backwards to the kitchen as she shot Emma a smirk, “I can be very persuasive. I’ll find a way.” Her gaze softened at the mention of Cerberus, however. “I agree. He’s practically family, as silly as that sounds. You’re not afraid of fire, are you?” She teased, quickly moving on when she realized how quickly this was transferring into very emotional territory.