Alexandria Zabini, a doting wife by day, an evil seductress at night. Such tales have been spun around this femme fatale, the infamous Black Widow of Britain. Are the stories true? Did she kill all 6 of her husbands, each as charming and rich as the next?
No one knows.
Yet there is one thing that is certain about this woman, this seductress of the night; she loved her childern very much, her two lovely twins. Yes I dare say twins; the disappearance of Miranda Imogen Zabini is a world-reknown mystery, the search for the three year old lasting for four years until the Aurors called the search off. It had been a shocking day, the Zabini heiress disappearing on September 17, her birthday. No leads had been found, the captors remaing unknown til this day. An award was placed by the grieving mother in hopes of finding information; Alexandria had lost Alonzo the year before. Five million galleons laid waiting for any useful information until the Zabini matron disappeared into her manor, along with her seven year old son, Blaise Zabini.
Who know how female Zabini would have turn out if she stilled had her daughter, her Miranda?
"Do you know what time it is, 'Mione?" a familiar voice muttered making me stop. I looked up, pushing the rebellious curl out of my face. Standing there at the base of the step was my best friend, Harry James Potter. We were at Grimmuald 12; my summer being spent in the company of my two best friends. I smirked as he rubbed his eyes, yawning like a five year old. His midnight black hair was ticking up in every direction known to man, yet for osme reason I found his chaotic hair very endearing as well as his eyes. His emerald eyes...
"Harry, you should be asleep." I muttered placing the bookmark I had bought a Diagon Alley in the novel; my attention went back to the yawning boy. "I know you haven't been getting enough rest." Harry rolled his eyes as he flopped down; I pushed myself up against the arm rest so he could have more room. Harry's arm quickly draped itself around my shoulders, a habit that he didn't seem to notice; I didn't mind, I felt like I was home here.
"You haven't either, Hermione. I know you haven't been sleeping. I can hear you when you walk down the stairs." I bit my lip, trying to keep back a whimper. So he hasn't slept because of me; Guilt seemed to rain over me then. Harry was known to have nightmares, the connection to Voldemort's mind showing Harry images that no boy should ever see. "Come on, just stop reading for once. The books will be waiting here when you wake up." I could feel Harry's fingers comb through mine; their warmth spreading through my hand like wildfire. I sighed, realizing that I wouldn't be able to win this one.
"Fine." I closed the novel, placing it on the endtable. Harry quickly pulled me up; chills ran up my body as my feet touched the cold, wooden floor. As we made way tot eh stairs, a large boom echoed through the air; Harry smirked as I jumped back. That bloody grandfather clock, one day i swear it will die. I shot a glare at Harry before making my way up the steps. Boys...
"Oi, Hermione?" I turned back smiling at Harry. He was leaning up against the grey wall, watching me with his emerald green eyes.
"Yes, Harry?" I smiled as he tugged at the white wifebeater he wore to bed everyday. He had something to say; what could it be?
"Happy birthday, Hermione. "
It was dark, the shadows dancing around him like wild nymphs tangoing to some tempo unknown. The darkness suited him; it being the only thing he knew since he was seven years old. Blaise pushed away the black curl that was in his face and sighed. Today was his seventeenth birthday, a day that he should be happy about. He was finally legal, old enough to apparate and whatnot. A large snap echoed through the air, making the Zabini heir look up. He watched from the alcove as light shone through the crack of the door, the door to the library to be more specific. Blaise pushed back the curtain of black velet and gracefully got off the cushions. It was a good hiding place when you needed time to think; Blaise came there often when he was trouble. He made his way to the door, opening the door cautiously.
Standing there in the middle of the room was his beloved mother, Alexandria Zabini. She was a beautiful woman, her beauty and grace not of this world. Everyone wanted to be with his mother; the Black Widow as that bloody writer called her. She had restrained him when the novel was published; his temper being that of his fathers. "Let them talk, Blaise. It's just gossip, that's all." Alexandria had said as her son paced. Blaise shook the memory away, the anger still not gone. Yet he watched her: Her hands pushing back what appeared to be glasses, Blaise instantly recognized it was the alcohol cart. So it begins again, every year the same routine.
"Mother, please stop." Blaise asked watching as his mother downed a glass of Scotch. She looked up, emerald eyes meeting their twin. She was already drunk, Blaise could clearly tell. Her clothes were rumpled a few buttons clearly missed by dwindling fingers. Blaise sighed, not wanting to known what she had done. It was best that he didn't know; It made the next day much easier.
"Oh, Blaise. I didn't hear you come in. I was just having me some scotch. Lovely is it not...scotch." Alexandria muttered looking at the glass , almost like she was trying to will the alcohol to reappear. Blaise walked in, pulling his wand out. Banishing the contents off the cart, he turned back to his mother, who was watching the fireplace. Flickers of red and orange were reflected in those emerald green eyes, the pain and sorrow she held in slowly coming out. For once, Blaise wished she would talk to him. She always held everything in. "Makes everything so much better." Blaise took the glass out of her hand nad banished it as well; he would have to find all the alcohol tomorrow when she went shopping. Best to find it before she did.
"Come on, mother. Let's get you to bed." Alexandria took her son's hand, letting the seventeen year old pull her up. Blaise threw an arm around her waist while the other pulled her arm onto his shoulders. All her weight was on him, in more ways then one. As they made their way to to door, Blaise could feel his mother stop, pulling him to stop as well.
"I-I-I'm sorry." Alexandria muttered tears silently staining her face. "I just miss her so much. Today would be her birthday." Blaise smiled slightly, pulling his mother onward to the stairs.
"I know, Mum. I miss her too." Blaise stated his eyes tearing up for a breif second, before being wiped away; the cold mask of numbness returning full force. Blaise always wondered what his twin sister would have been like; it was a fantasy Blaise still obtained to this very day. Would she look like Mum, with dark, smoldering eyes and smooth curls? Or would she have looked liked Dad, with straight brown hair and black eyes? Would she have been smart, possessie, naive? All these things ran through his mind as he pulled Alexandria up to the stairs. The mystery of his long-lost sister...a girl he would never known yet longed to meet all the same.
"She has to be alive. She has to be." Blaise heard his mother mutter as she passed out on her bed. Blaise looked at the window, the full moon shining with such brilliance, and for once he agreed. Everything would have been different if Miranda had been there with them all these years; there would have been peace and above all, love. Blaise walked out of the doors, closing them with a simple locking spell. He walked a few steps before coallapsing agaisnt the wall, tears finally being shed.
"Where are you? Where are you, Miranda?"