(𝔫.) 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯.
in which a sophisticated hufflepuff entails a series of events with the bright lioness. | in which blake sable gets too close to hermione granger to their mutual liking.
𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥:...
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━ ❦ ━ chapter 0. prologue word count: 1230
THE comfort of a small cottage would always be a better choice than a large mansion. In the summer heat, a cottage would be the best place to stay. Its known warmth and space make it feel all the more light and comforting. But the moment when the sun shies away from its grasp on the earth when the winter season comes around, the atmosphere is entirely the opposite. The fireplace of a mansion can fill you with all the comfort you need in the cold. Kindled candles can lift your eyes from the sheer darkness you are succumbed to, and you are sheltered from the harsh winds of the climate.
However, Blake perceives this notion differently. She would still choose the cottage – no matter the small cracks in the walls, the tight corners and narrow hallways, and the strong winds it stands against. For her, the cozy and inviting atmosphere of a humble cottage, illuminated by the gentle winter sun, is far more appealing than the frigid and desolate feeling of her mansion.
In that sense, she's missing company, longing for a mother's love in the placement of her father. Although, not once has she ever complained. She only questioned. She was only ever curious but thankful.
Blake Sable was born on the 15th day of May in the year 1980, the only child of two in the family while continuing the line of the Sable dynasty. Despite her family name not appearing in the prestigious list of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, her family is still widely acknowledged to be a part of it. This is due to the close familial ties between the Sables and the Shafiqs. Blake is pure, the blood through her veins enlightens her to that extent, and she is made sure to remember her existence to this point.
"Do you remember what I've told you, Blake?" Her father's voice rang in the midst of the silence in her mind, his eyes looking down at her own.
Phoenix 'Atlantes' Sable is a man of stature, in his age of two and thirty. His dark blonde hair is well-groomed, tied neatly at the nape of his neck, and his stubble adds to his distinguished appearance. His eyes, which resemble the color of pine tree leaves during the winter, enhance his overall dark and somber demeanor. He holds an aspen wood wand in his hand, which has a sharp tip and a dragon heartstring core that seems to simmer with power.
Phoenix pointed his footing, directly facing his daughter.
"We are made to be perfect," Blake replied to his question promptly; her posture fixed and her ash blonde hair neatly tied in a ponytail. "Respect and dignity are carried in our names."
"Correct, you are the only pride I carry with my name. Keep that in your mind and heart," he added. With the turn of his wrist, a bright red light shot out — headed straight towards his daughter.
"Protego!" Blake projected. The bright blue aura covered her, deflecting the spell headed earlier. She huffed silently, her eyes looking up and focused with determination.
"Stupefy!"
Deflected.
"Confringo!"
Deflected.
"Densaugeo!"
He deflected again. The father waved his wand, removing the shield he conjured up.
"Impressive," he complimented with a proud smile. "But you shouldn't have used that last spell in duels."
Blake, who looked quite exhausted at that moment, gave a small smirk.
"I had to try."
Phoenix raised a brow. He walked towards his daughter slowly, each heavy step loudly heard on the mahogany flooring. He stopped, towering over Blake.
She could see his eyes, nothing more of his other features as his shadow loomed over her. She froze, her eyes never leaving him despite wanting to look away.
A hand on her shoulder. She closed her eyes, tightly shut.
"I'm proud of you, my dear."
Blake opened her eyes. The lighting of the room brightened up.
Phoenix smiled intently at his daughter, he let go of her shoulder, bringing it back to clasp his other hand at his back.
"Thank you... Dad" said Blake slowly, relief and joy filling her. A growing smile was evident on her face.
Phoenix softly sighed. He averted his gaze and expressed, "If only your mother were with us, maybe she would suggest room for improvement, but I firmly believe that you possess a genuine talent for charms."
Curious, she intently listened and furrowed her eyebrows.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You have a natural aptitude for articulating and summoning your spells—"
"No not that!" intercepted Blake, though swiftly regretting it afterward. "I-I apologize, I meant no disrespect. I was referring to Mum."
"Why of course," her father squinted. He patted his daughter's head. "No need to apologize dear, I should have known you meant your mother."
Blake gave a small smile.
Phoenix remarked, "I must say, she worked harder than anyone I've ever come across. She shone like a bright star in this bleak and uninviting world. Your mother was... exceptional."
"Is that why you liked her?" questioned Blake in a soft voice.
"That is why I loved her." Phoenix smiled. "She was dearly special to me because of that."
A small silence ensued between them. Blake took it to ponder.
"Dad." she began.
Her father tilted his head slightly, the man waiting for her to continue.
"I... I will improve. I will get better, and maybe I'll be as great as Mum did someday!"
Phoenix widened his eyes ever so slightly, his daughter's tone of confidence making a strong presence in his mind. He promptly put back his hand on her head, gently patting it.
"I know you will be greater."
With those words, Blake felt a surge of confidence and determination. She made a vow to herself, and her father, what was left of her family, that she would uphold her teachings through her actions. She knew that there was no greater honor than this.
After her father left for work and summoned the house elf to assist with cleaning, Blake realized that this was her final charms duel with her father. She had mastered every spell that he taught her and knew that she would have a different lesson when her father was available again. She decided to wait, learn, and rise to the challenge.
Blake's ambition continued to grow, and her energy radiated around her. She made her way to her room without passing through any other area of her manor. She understood that wallowing in the massive empty spaces and halls offered no comfort. Instead, she preferred to stay in her own room, which was sufficient and equipped with everything she needed, including her own personal study.
The young girl reached for one of the more advanced books located on the far end of her bookshelf. She immersed herself in a thorough reading of various subjects, meticulously studying and analyzing every text. She remained so engrossed in her pursuit that she failed to take notice of the neatly stacked pile of envelopes by her side table, filled with messages from friends and relatives that were awaiting her reply. Her attention was solely focused on her newfound goal.
Blake was at the age of ten at this time. And a year later, she received her letter of acceptance from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, marking the beginning of her journey.
