╰┈➤ james potter x oc
❝ you could yell PISS OFF! won't you stay away, it'd still be sweet talk to my ears. ❞
SWEET TALK, in which blaire amybeth darlington endures scandal, academic stress, and the affections of a certain messy haired, bespectacled...
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↳ taking what's not yours, tv girl -----"you know where to find me, and i know where to look."
OKAY, LET'S START FROM THE BEGINNING.
when it comes to melodramatic character introductions, i tend to take the win, so to speak. but this isn't about me.
the twenty-seventh of june, nineteen hundred and sixty. somewhere in a quaint, unassuming town nestled within krakow, poland, a baby girl was born to maurin and victoria darlington. muggles, they were, not a lick of magical prowess or potential in their bones. yet inexplicably, there was a spark in her heart that set her apart from the rest of her siblings.
they named her blaire amybeth, after her great grandmother, who had moved to poland with her children years before. the first, in a sense. fitting, perhaps, though unremarkable by english standards.
muggleborns were not a shock to come across in england, hardly classified as anomalies. and to the chagrin of blood purists in europe, hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry was full of them. blaire was hardly special in that regard.
her childhood was relatively peaceful. playing in the snow with her older brother, elliot, or sharing her fabric sewn dolls with the family's youngest, zosia. she could still remember her home in krakow to a tee; the oak wood and brick walls, the persian carpet on the planked floor of the living room that always held a slightly damp aroma to it, and the model boat that her father had dubbed a family heirloom.
however, blaire's memories of home were somewhat tainted, by disdain aimed pointedly by her parents, or by the fact that she was unusual – which, i'm not quite sure. this being said, her father uprooted the family abruptly when she was nine, much to her mother's undisguised dismay. he claimed it was for work, but perhaps it was a bit to escape the peculiar happenings in their household. blaire endured the rest of her childhood at home in leeds, a cloudy city that she associated with the murky smell of cigarette smoke and gasoline.
it was only weeks after her eleventh birthday when the darlington's owned got a letter rudely shoved down the chimney by what appeared to be an angry horned owl; marking the moment that blaire started to stray further from her family. of course they had suspected that she was a witch, they had simply chosen to ignore it. to ignore the fact that she could be different from the fragile stilts that held up their perception of the world around them.
any sense of familial peace was unfortunately shattered when the dutifully persistent owls managed to send enough letters for maurin and victoria to consider opening one of the envelopes on the growing pile of correspondence, unbeknownst to blaire.
shock horror, she was a witch.
unlike the delight experienced by mrs. and mr. evans when they discovered their daughter's future was to be full of wonder (and possible demise, considering the hogwarts track record), the darlingtons were far from pleased. coming from a family of catholics meant that concept of witches came with some ungodly and undesired connotations.
she was a black sheep in her own home.
were it not for the intervention of one minerva mcgonagall, who deigned to appear on their doorstep after thirty-odd letters lay crammed beneath the coffee table, blaire would have been forbidden from ever setting foot on the hallowed grounds of hogwarts.
though not inherently ruthless, minerva could be most persuasive when the need arose, despite having to assure victoria that no, it was not common for children to die at hogwarts. after learning that blaire, who, in her parents eyes was prone to either spontaneous combustion or demonic possession, would not have to live in their stricken household any longer, they caved, and a week later, blaire found herself clinging to minerva's dramatically long robes as they navigated the most convoluted alley that she had ever been in; maurin had fervently refused to take her shopping for magical items himself.
minerva had even gotten her an owl, which she had affectionately named sera, a vague cheese in polish. not the most eloquent of names to exist, however since she was eleven, it wasn't a criminal offense.
the first few years at hogwarts passed in a blur of sparks, the scent of burning clothing and the murmurs of other pupils. she had been sorted into ravenclaw, sharing a dormitory with martine zabini, alana burns, and juna feldman, who were all decently amiable, except for the frequent occurrence when martine and juna would talk hours into the night, beating her sleep schedule into a bloody pulp.
leaving krakow had meant leaving her best friends, filip nowak and magdalena sikorska, in the frosty past she'd been whisked from. but she made friends, eventually. dorcas meadowes, for one, had ascended to the title of best friend rather quickly, due to being the most tolerable flying class partner she'd been rotated with (peter prettigrew had hit her in the back of the head with his broomstick by accident).
dorcas had later introduced her to her own friends, pandora rosier and mary mcdonald, which then merged with the group of slytherin boys that pandora seemed to be the singular surviving braincell for. this unruly group included the likes of regulus black, evan rosier, caius avery, and bartemius crouch jr, some of which she ended up becoming surprisingly close with considering their opposing personalities and caius's habit of crinkling his nose in distaste whenever blaire's parentage was mentioned.
through the social butterfly tendencies of the lovely miss mcdonald, blaire made the acquaintance of me, well, ophelia potter.
as uncomfortable as narrating yourself in the third person can be, i'll push through.
ophelia and blaire had indeed started out as mutual friends of sorts, but you would find that over the course of seven years, it was surprisingly easy to become close with decent people that don't throw paper birds at you (cough, sirius black, cough). the two often relied on each other as emotional support, confiding in each other within the comfort of the vast library, or late night smokes welcomed by the chilled air of the astronomy tower.
the downside of this, is that they knew each other perhaps a bit too well, blaire could often tell when ophelia was hiding something, and the same could be said vice versa. perhaps this is why they knew things about each other that nobody else did, resulting in rather interesting instances of camaraderie, as would become quite evident.
by the sixth year, her grades were decently reasonable, and she'd even acquired a boyfriend, barty. say what you will about her taste, but even someone like severus snape would have to admit that he was a looker; though you'd probably have to soak severus in a bucket of slugs to glean the confession out of him.
but then again, at hogwarts, stability is nothing but a construct.
sweet talk.
authors speak!!
jolene // hi guys!!! i literally have not posted in about eighty five years but friends always help motivate me lmao. blaire is literally a product of our combined brain vomit and i love her sm <33 anyways hope you enjoy whatever you call this mess of a ff!!
occy // hey chat it's me, yes, i've forgotten about the other fanfictions i have on here, but ANYWAYS we're starting something new, you can't stop me :> anyways good luck attempting to decipher what we've written, and enjoy <3
