Ok I clearly don't speak Italian, so any mistakes can be blamed soley on Google Translator.
Just a little idea that's been rattling round my head.
BTW I gave her the name Carolina 'cos I couldn't call her Mrs. Zabini could I? She needed a name. I don't like to stray from canon but unfortunately this is fanfic. Its gonna happen. And since JKR has not graced us with a name fro the beautiful Mrs. Zabini, I picked this one.
Hope you enjoy...
The King Is Dead. Lunga vita alla regina
I clutch the crystal goblet to my chest. Elven made wine. Who would've ever guessed one day poor little Carolina Zabini would drink fine Eleven made wine. That she would be used to it. Consider it normal. Fame is rewarding.
Narcissa picks up her own glass as she sits back down. Her big blue eyes are so wide. And full of sorrow.
"I'm so sorry, Carolina."
She's so full of pity. Pity for me. If it was anyone else.... I can't stand to be pitied. But Narcissa... Well that's different isn't it.
Because I pity her.
Only seventeen when her heart was ripped clean out of her chest. By my best friend.
Andromeda Black running off with a mudblood. Who saw that coming? Certainly not me. Certianly not Cissy.
She crumbled. Like a flower that's been trodd on, she crumbled.
And Lucius Malfoy held her. Comforted her. Protected her. Married her.
She found her rock.
And I found mine.
He was beautiful. Handsome. Pure. My knight in shining armour. My rock. My Happy ever after.
They don't tell you what that means in the books do they. Happy ever after. But I know. Its a little bundle of joy. Part me, part him.
Blaise.
He insisted I keep my name. He insisted. Zabini is so elegant. So regal. So foreign and mysterious.
He insisted I keep it when we married. He insisted we give it to our child.
I insisted he take his name.
"He gets one name from each of us," he joked. "I'll give him Blaise, you give him Zabini. Blaise Zabini. Its wonderful. Unique!"
We laughed. We always laughed. He was so funny.
Romantic too.
"My Italian Regina" That's what he called me.
And he was my English King.
And now he's ...
"Thank you Narcissa."
We have an understanding, my best friend's sister and I. We allow eachothers pity. We can accept it. She lost her sister. I tried to comfort her. I've lost my husband. She tries to comfort me.
"What will you do?"
She stares past me. To the massive portrait behind my head. Of me and my King. On our wedding day. Before this... happened.
She looks upwards. I stare at our feet. Between them is a blanket. On that blanket two little boys are playing. Neither one yet three months old.
One's very fair. His skin. His eyes. His hair. He'll look just like his Daddy when he grows up. Cissy'll like that.
The other...
The other's dark. Dark skin. Dark eyes. Dark hair.
He'll look like his Daddy.
The other's the reason I haven't yet thrown myself off the the highest ledge of this sprawling mansion we call home.
I went up there you know.
I stood on the roof.
I stared at the ground.
So far beneath me.
Calling to me.
Jump it coaxed. Jump and be with Blaise.
But then I heard my baby cry.
And I realised, as much as I needed one Blaise, the other Blaise needed me more.
So I came back downstairs. Held him close. Told him Mummy loved him.
Got him a black suit.
That was hard.
There are no black clothes for babies. Black clothes are for funerals. Who takes a baby to a funeral?
Apparently I do.
Narcissa was so helpful. She made the robes for Blaise. She picked out clothes for me. Told me exactly what t wear. That makes her sound so vain. Just like her name. But she isn't. Not really. She just knows that sometimes clothes are important.
"You'll never forgive yourself, if you don't make an effort to look good for him one last time."
She was right. I wouldn't have
So I let her dress me. Put on jewellery. Make-up. Like school.
He loved seeing me all done up.
"Beauty is what you're famous for Regina. Let them see how beautiful you really are."
My poor baby. My poor little Blaise. Burying his father before he can even say 'dada'
What will his first word be now?
"I'm going to do the best for my son."
Narcissa starts. I must have been silent for some time.
"I'm going to give him the life he deserves. A father figure."
She's looking shocked now.
"You'll remarry?"
I smile. A lazy smirk
"I'm gonna marry the richest man I can find. Someone who can provide for us."
"What about love?"
Poor Cissy. Still so innocent. How she can stay so, in this world we live in... Well, I was innocent. And she still has Lucius.
"Love has never been a big factor in marriage, for people like us Cissy."
She's about to protest. Her eyebrows narrow in indignation. She's about to give me the speech. The how marriage is all about love speech. The I married the man I loved speech. The speech I used to give people speech.
"Don't be naïve Narcissa," I cut her off. "Love is a wondrous thing. But its fragile. And for me its gone.
I stand. Stride over to her chair. Look down at her. Straight into her eyes
"Do you expect me to love again? Refresh my heart? Give it to someone else? Pretend he never existed? Is that what you would do? If Lucius..."
I can't finish the sentence. The look she gives me. As she bends and picks up Draco from the floor. Hugging him close.
I pick up my own son.
Its the look I wear everyday.
"No..."
Her whisper is nearly inaudable.
My own voice is barely louder.
"I can't Cissy. I have to marry for power now. Like almost every other pureblood witch and wizard in Britain. We're strange Narcissa. We had love. You have love. Mine is gone. So I'll cling to the only love I've still got."
I hug Blaise tighter still.
"And I'll marry again. Because he needs a Father figure Cissy. Now his Daddy's gone. He needs one."
And I'll get him one.
If I have to go through every Wizard in the world.
So? What do ya think? Review pweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze!
I have a cat! (Yeah random I know. To fully comprehend you need to read Black Roses. Hey there's an idea! You could do that. Hint HInt!)