This piece was inspired by my mild obsession with the song "I've Decided to Marry You" from the Broadway musical entitled A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder. If you haven't seen the performance from the 2014 Tony Awards, you need to go watch it! Several of the dialogue lines are taken or adapted from the conversations which occur within the song.
Standard disclaimers apply!
….
Ginevra Potter pulled her fingertips languidly through her crimson tresses as she gently untangled her limbs from that of her lover being careful to not interrupt his slumber. Her eye lashes fluttered as her eyes adjusted to the beam of sunlight illuminating garishly decorated room reminding her that her husband would be returning in the evening following a trip out of the country on "official Ministry business", or so he said. Harry had never been a good liar and she was almost certain he was visiting his mistress in Berlin while she stayed home caring for their three children. Unbeknownst to him, she had shipped the three troublemakers off to the Burrow for a few days allowing her to spend just as many sleepless nights tangled in the arms and affections of her lover.
Their marriage, after all, had been on the down-swing for several years. The closest she was ever able to pinpoint the cause of their failing marriage was a short few weeks following the birth of their second son in which her minimally attentive husband started spending more time working but coming home smelling of firewhiskey and smelling of lust and women's perfume. When she confronted him about the nauseating scents, he had (of course) denied it and things started looking up for a while until Lily, their youngest who had been three at the time, broke her arm while trying to fly too high on her training broom. They had a nasty spat that evening about whether they should take the child's broom away until she was older and he stormed off, sneaking back in at half three in the morning smelling like cheap perfume and Ogden's Old.
It was at that point, Ginevra decided she didn't give a flying fuck what her cheating husband did. She simply carried on as normal, taking her own lover or two on the side whenever Harry spent days away on "official Ministry business" as he had come to call it. She never called him out and played the doting wife at Ministry functions and around their friends, but the tension in their home was as thick as a polyjuice potion and smelt just as foul. That's how Ginevra found herself with her limbs tangled around the sleeping dark skinned Andonis, blinking away the morning sun and dreading the return of her husband.
She tossed an affectionate glance towards her sleeping lover before slipping out of the satin sheets of his bed, pulling her arms upward in a much-needed stretch before wrapping a silk dressing gown in a deep indigo hue around her slender frame. She picked up a wine glass by its delicate stem and swirled the remaining spicy Malbec around the bell of the glass before swallowing the remaining liquid.
Lowering herself into a solid, carved mahogany chair in the small sitting area of the garishly decorated room, she took a moment to study her lover's features, committing each dimple and line to memory before she would have to traipse home to her husband and pretend like everything was fine. What had initially drawn her attention to him was how the curve of his broad shoulders flowed into muscular, toned arms. Even beneath his robes she could see how his muscled rippled from years of playing Quidditch. Even his hands were delightfully calloused from years of gripping his broomstick. Even if it hadn't been for those muscular shoulders and arms, the delightful slope of his cheekbones would have easily have caused her to melt into an amortentia-laced puddle. An expressive brow sat at the base of a high forehead. His lips were pouty and delightfully soft and his neck curved into his collarbone in a way that simply begged her to sink her teeth into his flesh.
"You're staring again, Ginevra", he murmured without opening an eye.
"I am not." She retorted a little too quickly, emptying the last of the Malbec into the wine glass.
"I can feel those seductive orbs you call eyes boring into the back of my head." He said, rolling from his side onto his back, grasping at the tangled sheets for warmth. "Now, come back to bed."
"He's coming home today." She scowled, attempting to drown her less than stellar opinion of her husband in the blackberry and coffee notes of the wine.
"All the more reason for you to come back to bed, Ginevra." He pressed his fingers to his eyes, rubbing the sleep from the corners with a yawn before shifting back onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow, his head resting in the palm of his hand.
Ginevra's eyes trailed languidly down his muscular chest to the point where his hips were covered by the scarlet sheets, the corner of her lips rising in a knowing smirk. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger as she swallowed the last sip of wine. "You're not fooling anyone, Blaise. I know exactly why you want me to come back to bed."
With a low chuckle, he flashed her a perfect smile. "Have I ever been anything but honest with you, Ginevra?"
Setting her empty wine glass on the table, she crossed the room, slipping the indigo dressing gown from her shoulders, letting it flutter once more to the floor. As she leaned over the edge of the bed, Blaise's hand traced lazily up her spine, his lips parted with anticipation. Just as Ginevra pressed her lips to his, the loud clang of a bell echoed throughout the room.
"Who could that be?" she said breathlessly, resting her forehead against his, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth.
"I haven't the foggiest, perhaps they'll go away." He caught her bottom lip between her teeth with a sly smirk, pulling her closer to him.
They were interrupted again with a curt knock on the bedroom door, the surprise causing Ginevra to lose her footing and fall ungracefully onto her arse in a heap on the floor. She pursed her lips in a frustrated pout as Blaise slipped out of the bed and padded his way over the door, wrapping a plush black robe around his body.
Ginevra caught snippets of the conversation Blaise was having with one of his servants as she pulled herself to her feet, rubbing her throbbing backside. With a low, frustrated growl she roughly tugged the indigo dressing gown back over her shoulders and tied the tie with a violent twist of her wrists.
" – here, in the sitting room?"
"Yes, sir, she was most insistent."
She.
Ginevra suddenly felt the urge to throw something across the room but instead she huffed a bit and threw herself down into the mahogany chair, struggling to uncork a nearby half-finished bottle of Sangiovese they had opened the night before.
"I've no choice then. I'll be there in a moment." Blaise replied curtly with a nod before gently closing the door and turning his attentions to the woman who was prematurely starting to seethe with anger. He pried her hand away from the cork and popped it out of the bottle, pouring her a glass.
"I need to dress and go deal with something. You need to stay in the bedroom, lock the door, and be very still."
"A female something?" She grabbed the glass of wine a little too hastily, sloshing a bit onto the table, before crossing her arms in a petulant display of her rising temper.
"Yes, my sweet", he muttered with a resigned sigh, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I'll be back shortly.
….
Blaise Zabini sauntered into the dressing room adjacent to his bedroom, leaving his ardent companion drowning her temper in a glass of wine. It wasn't worth the woman who had invaded his sitting room potentially hearing their quarrel to confront Ginevra about the potential reasons why she was upset. Blaise had some semblance of an idea of why Astoria Greengrass might be in his sitting room but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind.
With a quick Scourgify he removed any trace of their love-making from his person, silently thanking Merlin that Ginevra wasn't the type to mark her territory, and proceeded rifle through his armoire for something suitable to wear.
He slipped into a pair of sleek black trousers, a dark blue oxford, and black waistcoat with subtle navy detailing. He tucked a gold pocket watch into the pocket of his waistcoat, a gift from his mother's third husband, and glanced in the mirror. He decided to leave the top two buttons of his oxford unbuttoned in lieu of his decision to fore go a tie or cravat. He grabbed a bottle of expensive cologne from the dressing table and spritzed himself.
He took one last glance at his appearance in the mirror before slipping his feet into a pair of socks and expensive shoes made from dragon-hide. With a deep breath and a squaring of his shoulders, he breezed past Ginevra, noting the witch was glaring daggers in his general direction but refusing to make eye contact.
"No noise, Ginevra." He reminded her gently as he stepped out of the bedroom. He didn't want to get caught any more than she did.
….
Astoria Greengrass perched at the edge of an elegantly sloping high backed chair upholstered with a blue fleur-de-lis pattern. She admired her perfectly manicured nails as she waited for Blaise Zabini to make his appearance. The man was not known for his punctuality, but this was bordering on absurd. It was well past the time of day when civilized people were out of bed and therefore it should've taken him mere moments to enter the sitting room. She trained her eyes on the door watching for a turn of the handle.
She was rewarded shortly when the door opened and in stepped the tall, well-dressed man. He closed the door gently behind him and turned to face her a she rose from her perch.
"I apologize for my tardiness, Ms. Greengrass. I had a rather late night and you caught me unawares." He said formally, a bit too formally for Astoria's taste. Perhaps his formality would drop a bit once he agreed to her perfectly planned proposition. She pulled on her most charming expression and took a step towards the man who effectively towered over her small frame.
"Forgive my intrusion, Mr. Zabini, but I feared I may lose my resolve if I didn't come to speak with you directly." Astoria said in the sweetest tone she could muster, taking another step to close the distance between them, her hands folded delicately in front of her. With a coy smile and a decidedly determined sparkle to her eyes, she unclasped her hands and reached out with her fingertips to just graze the exposed skin of his wrist.
….
As soon as Blaise left the room, Ginevra threw herself back against the chair, rubbing her hands roughly over her face with a low groan. Her head snapped back up as she heard the door close just one room over where the sitting room was located. Setting her wine glass back into the table, she crept over to the door and crouched down, pressing her ear to the door and straining to hear what was being said just one room away.
When she determined she was unable to hear any specifics of the muffled conversation taking place with merely one wall between them, she shifted and settled with her back against the door, quickly losing herself in her own thoughts.
What am I doing here? This is ridiculously dangerous. If I'm discovered, imagine the scandal! I couldn't handle a scandal so risible. It would serve my imbecilic husband right, but I'll not have my name smeared across those bloody gossip rags.
She tugged at her crimson locks before shifting her weight again to press her ear once again to the door in a futile attempt to hear the echoes of their conversation. She noted how the deep timbre of Blaise's voice with that of whatever sappy sodding broad was in there with him.
What's going on in there? I can hear their voices. I recognize Blaise and I know that's a woman… but what is she doing here? By Godric's hand, I wish I could see!
….
"You see, Mr. Zabini," Astoria said, her cheeks flushing with a pretty shade of pink, "I've decided to marry you."
He would have to thank his mother for the countless etiquette lessons to which she subjected him because he was able to keep his composure when Astoria had uttered that little gem. He had barely spent time in Astoria's company, especially not outside of Draco's company, god rest his soul, and here she was professing a desire to marry him. It was certainly a question he hadn't considered nor posed to the witch.
"I've decided that even though Draco is gone that life should go on for me. I've carefully considered my prospects and I've come to the conclusion that you and I are well suited and that you are the man I want."
Blaise took a moment to study the witch before him. She was slender and slight of frame, nearly two heads shorter than him. Her deep brown tresses were coiffed elegantly at the nape of her neck. The portions of exposed alabaster skin were flawless and her eyes darted delight. A modest blue dress with a subtle floral pattern wrapped around her curves. The high straight neckline gave way to three quarter length sleeves which stopped just below the curve of her elbow. She skirt flared away from her hips and ended mid-calf and her tiny feet were adorned with simple black heels. She was a picture of loveliness, and so utterly different than Ginevra.
Ginevra. Ginevra Potter, his married mistress who was currently sequestered away in his bedroom, likely still clad only in that indigo dressing gown while waiting for him to return for yet another session of love-making before she was forced to return to her equally unfaithful husband. Shit. The only thing that stood between himself and Astoria was him and a wall.
"Ms. Greengrass, you've rendered me speechless." He stated honestly, offering the witch a kind smile while he attempted to figure out how to best respond to her proposition. "May I call you Astoria?"
….
"Of course, Blaise." Astoria replied, savoring the taste of his given name on her lips. As she had told him, she had considered her prospects following Draco's untimely death after a suitable period of mourning for her intended and found them to be well-suited. Blaise was moderately intelligent, intensely wealthy thanks to his shrewd business sense, and shared her love of Quidditch. The joining of their families would elevate his status within their world given that his village-bike of a mother had degraded their family name pretty significantly with her never ending trail of new husbands. In addition, he was kind and funny, though he was a bit of a playboy himself and Astoria was determined to ensnare him before some trollop managed to get herself knocked up.
"I must confess, Astoria, I am intrigued by your proposal." Blaise said as he captured the hand that had touched his wrist, lifting it to his lips with a chaste kiss.
"Unless I am wrong, you long for love as much as I." She said wistfully, fluttering her eyelashes as her eyes met his. "It's quite unconventional, I'll admit, but why should that matter a whit?"
….
Maybe it's that cousin who helps with his business. Then again, maybe not. But, if it's just business it would certainly be none of mine, but what is she doing in the home of a bachelor on a Tuesday morning?
Doesn't she realize what this could do to her reputation?
Ginevra's face paled and she rose to her feet and began to pace around the room. "Of course, one could point out that I'm here as well…" she muttered to herself, stopping to lean against the bed.
Then again, it could be his mother… but wouldn't he have told me that?
"All of this waiting is hell!" Ginevra swore under the breath, kicking her foot out in frustration and accidentally nudging the chair just enough to cause the wine glass she had foolishly left at the edge of the table to shatter as it hit the floor.
….
"What was that sound?" Astoria questioned, tearing her gaze away from Blaise's eyes to look at the closed door to the sitting room. "Is there someone here?" The charming smile that had previously graced her lips faded to a slight frown and Blaise found he was somewhat sad to see it go.
Hadn't he told Ginevra to be quiet before he left? He made a mental note to give the witch an earful later, and focused his attention on covering their respective arses. "Pay it no attention, Astoria. It must have been one of my new servants, you know how I detest house elves. He's still struggling to find his way around and must've knocked something over in his carelessness. I will speak with him later."
The smile returned to the pretty witch's lips as quickly as it had faded. She tucked her hand in his as though she was afraid if she let him go he would deny her unconventional proposal. Whatever Blaise had been thinking Astoria was going to posit when he'd left Ginevra alone in his bedroom this morning, it certainly hadn't been this.
He knew from conversations with his recently deceased best friend that Astoria wasn't a vapid, self-serving witch. In fact, she was generous, kind, and had worked hard to become a respected Healer following the end of the war. Accepting her proposal would mean ending his arrangement with Ginevra immediately. When she wasn't in his company, his heart pined for the fiery witch but there was absolutely no sign of a looming divorce from her unfaithful husband and that meant there was no possibility of a future with her.
He knew that Astoria was correct, they were well suited and their match would be advantageous. It was common in their circle to marry in order to secure alliances or to increase family standing. He certainly hadn't ever expected to marry for love if he ever expected to marry at all.
Gathering every ounce of courage he could muster, Blaise took both of Astoria's hands in his and pressed a flutter of kisses to the curve of her knuckles. "My dear, I will accept your proposal."
"You will?" She asked incredulously as though she hadn't anticipated his would be an affirmative respond.
"I will." He confirmed, feeling her squeeze his hands. "On the condition that you agree to the typical courtship period."
Astoria was so happy she nearly glowed. "Of course," she breathed. "It – it was going to be one of my conditions as well… in the event we aren't as well suited as I thought."
"Very well, my dear." Blaise leaned forward and tentatively pressed a gentle kiss to Astoria's forehead, hoping he had made the right decision, a sense of dread welling up into his throat knowing the conversation he would need to have with Ginevra later. "I'll take you to Paris later this week to pick out your ring."
With a mild shyness, Astoria nodded. "I'm going to marry you." She said aloud with a girlish giggle, testing how the words felt as they rolled off of her tongue.
Blaise found himself smiling seeing at how happy this turn of events had made her. Perhaps this new arrangement with Astoria would lead to something meaningful, even love. He placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her towards the door to the sitting room.
"I'll owl you later once I've had a chance to check my schedule, Astoria." He said as she rose to the tips of her toes to kiss his cheek. He had to lean down a bit to ensure her lips met their intended target, though he wouldn't have minded the feeling of them fluttering across his jawline or even his neck.
"Until then." She replied with a smile as Blaise opened the door and escorted her out of his home.
After she had gone, Blaise took a moment to himself to consider the events of the morning before pouring himself a stout glass of firewhiskey. Perhaps he would make love to Ginevra just one more time before he told her about Astoria's proposal. With that, he downed the remains of the amber liquid before stepping out of the sitting room and sauntering into the bedroom.
….
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot! There will be no epilogue. Thanks for reading!