Author's Note: Hi everyone! This is just a little collection of one-shots related to my story The Sacred 28. These are all "missing moments" from the story, and they are not in chronological order. So far as the story goes, they're all canon, but it just didn't make sense to include them in the main story for one reason or the other (mostly the fact that they deal with the surrounding characters, rather than Draco or Ginny directly).

So, I'll start out with one of my favorite "missing moments": The meeting of Blaise and Gabrielle.

Got something similar you'd like to see from the story? Let me know in the comments! The only thing I won't write is something that gives away crucial plot information. ;)

The initial meeting was conducted in a lovely garden, with other well-to-do witches and wizards milling about, pretending to mind their own business as they prepared their minds to harbor as much potential gossip as possible.

Blaise Zabini, the foremost authority on gossip, sat in a white iron chair next to a matching garden table, his long legs elegantly crossed at the knee and his dark brown eyes looking thoughtfully over the colorful array of red, orange and purple blossoms that surrounded the area.

Magical gardens were quite an extraordinary thing, even in the dead of winter. The magically sealed environment was bursting with Spring, even as it snowed quite steadily outside the invisible barrier. This gave the aristocratic witches and wizards inside an extra air of arrogance, as they enjoyed their triumph over nature once more.

"Blaise."

The young wizard closed his eyes momentarily before reopening them, a haughty look set on his features as he twisted in his chair and rose in one fluid motion to face the beautiful dark-skinned witch in front of him. The woman was not smiling, but then again, she rarely was.

"Mother," Blaise greeted. Two of Blaise's older sisters, both of whom had married in the last year and gained a supernatural sense of superiority because of it, flanked his mother. Isabella, Blaise's favorite, was still single and therefore not invited to join them, nor was the eldest sister, who was the unseemliest of the four girls and was therefore their mother's least favorite.

"Now," said Blaise's mother, moving slowly around him with her deeply critical stare, "Remember. Your grandfather is greatly desirous of this marriage. You are to impress." She paused in front of him, and even though the witch stood at least half a foot shorter than Blaise, he felt a bit cowed, as he always did with her.

"And if you fail," his mother said in a voice bereft of any warmth or affection, "your family fortune will be completely lost to you. And by extension, to us." She leaned very close, eyes flashing. "Do … you … understand?"

Blaise could have easily mentioned, in that moment, that the entire reason his grandfather was so adamant about Blaise's marriage to this girl was because his mother had caused so many scandals with her various "marriages," and no one took the Zabinis to be serious spousal candidates anymore. However, Blaise knew that he was a catch for any witch, as the only male heir of a very wealthy family, so he wasn't that worried about being successful.

After all, very few people knew of Blaise's true affections, and even if they did, it wasn't the sort of thing that was discussed. Besides, Blaise had heard all about this girl he was set to wed. Young – barely of age – and the second daughter of an old and distinguished French family, though it was not so prestigious as it had once been, from what he understood.

Surely Blaise was her best prospect. As a result, he was not at all concerned about fooling this girl into falling desperately head over heels for him, as he had often done with witches in the past. Witches often proved far easier to manipulate than wizards, in Blaise's opinion, and that made them more valuable.

Whatever the case, Blaise needed a decent wife and a public marriage, and his mother needed him to secure the family fortune.

"This is important," his mother hissed at him for the thousandth time as the attendants called out that 'the girl' was here. "Your grandfather said if we don't please him with this arrangement, he will take all of our inheritance and – " she grimaced " – give it to an orphanage."

Blaise put a hand over his chest, appalled.

Just then, Blaise's mother shifted and greeted a pair of elderly French couple, who quickly and excitedly introduced themselves as Jacque and Appoline Delacour.

"Welcome," said Blaise's mother, even cracking a smile.

Hm, thought Blaise. She was certainly on her best behavior. Pity she couldn't have managed such decorum at virtually any other point in the last twenty years. Shifting to face the couple, Blaise bowed and took the elderly witch's hand, kissing it before greeting them smoothly in French.

"Oh, excellent, good sir!" said Monsieur Delacour. "Most excellent!"

Blaise smirked. Swish and a flick, he thought smugly.

"Please, Monsieur Zabini," said Jacque, "allow me to introduce our youngest daughter, Gabrielle."

From behind the pair stepped a young witch with silver-blonde hair and a flash of brilliant blue eyes. Her pink lips were quirked in a smile, and she had on a rather demure, though lovely set of powder blue robes. She certainly was beautiful, thought Blaise. Stunning, even. Her posture was very demure, and Blaise smirked. This would be even easier than charming her parents.

A shame, thought Blaise. He had been looking forward to a challenge. After all, if he had to go through all this ridiculous nonsense – not to mention upsetting Jean – it may as well be fun. But this girl looked like a doll, sweet round face and all, and Blaise knew she would be easy enough to manipulate.

Stepping forward, Blaise took Gabrielle's hand as he had done for her mother and kissed it, greeting her in French as well. This made Gabrielle truly smile, and she returned the greeting in kind.

"I am very glad to meet you, Mister Zabini," she said in rather heavier French accent than Blaise had expected. Jean's accent was quite different, but then, he was from a far different part of France.

"I feel very much the same," said Blaise with a charming smile. "And relieved, too, for I see you are even more beautiful than I'd been told." He looked to her parents. "And the praise was very high, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Both parents beamed and fawned over Gabrielle for a few minutes, talking lightly with Blaise's mother, though that was sure to end quickly one they realized how limited her capacity for pleasantries truly was. Unable to bear the conversation a moment longer, Blaise offered his arm to Gabrielle.

"Shall we take a walk, Miss Delacour? I do believe we should get to know each other."

"Of course," agreed Gabrielle, pausing to curtsy to her parents (Eugh, thought Blaise). Together, the pair left the adults and wandered through the garden, where plush green grass continued to surprise in the dead of winter. A few pixies fluttered throughout the gardens, stinging people when they weren't paying attention, and other little creatures popped in and out of shrubberies.

"My family is one of the benefactors of this garden," Blaise told Gabrielle, looking over at her as she walked at his side. "We've been helping fund it for generations."

"Oh, really?" asked Gabrielle. "Is zer a history of herbology in your family?"

Blaise made a small amused noise. "Not at all. We just happen to enjoy things of beauty." Gesturing around him, he continued, "If there is an aesthetic to be had – and if it's worth anything – the Zabinis are a part of it, in some way or the other."

"Zat is good to know," said Gabrielle, smiling up at the flowers. "I also enjoy beautiful zings. Which reminds me," she said, before flashing him a quick mischievous smile. "Ginny Weasley was quite right about you. You are certainly handsome."

At this, Blaise gave a delighted chuckle. "Weasley said that, did she? Oh, I'll definitely have to bring that up to Draco next time I see him." This made Gabrielle giggle, and Blaise felt fully satisfied in his attempts to charm her. They talked for about ten more minutes, mostly Blaise espousing the virtues of the garden over any other similar attempts in England.

Gabrielle said little, but she listened attentively and watched his face often, something he took as a very good sign. What a dim little twit, thought Blaise, so distracted by his good looks and her simple head that she couldn't even contribute to a conversation. Ah, well.

The pair came to a tree, and after gazing up at it for a moment, Gabrielle suggested they sit at another small garden table, this one littered with soft pink blossoms from the branches above. Gabrielle took a seat and observed a petal in her fingertips, elbows on the table as she turned it in front of her face. As soon as Blaise took a seat, Gabrielle lowered her arms and raised both brows at him, her lips quirked.

"So," she said quite suddenly, startling Blaise a little, "Mister Zabini… Now zat we are alone, what is it you would like to tell me?"

Blaise blinked, uncertain he'd heard her correctly. "I'm sorry, what?"

To his great surprise, Gabrielle smiled in a very different manner than before. "May I call you Blaise?"

"Of course," he said, eyeing her.

"Blaise," said Gabrielle, in something of a knowing voice that caught his attention, "whatever it is zat you are not telling me before, now would be a good time."

Blaise raised a dark brow. "I haven't any idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" asked Gabrielle, smiling again, "Because… Men - zey have been watching me since I was eleven years old. I know when zey are looking at me because zey want me." She flipped some hair off her shoulder. "After all, I am part Veela. I can feel zeir desire for me. I always have."

She turned a petal in her fingertips and said slyly, "But you do not look at me like zat. You look at me like you look at zis flower." She held up the fallen blossom from the table, turning it in her hands. "So, tell me, Blaise… Is zere somezing you would like to say?"

Blaise stared, utterly flabbergasted. Perturbed – and a little irritated – Blaise shifted in his chair, clearing his throat as he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. Well, she certainly thought she had him all figured out, didn't she? Well, let her be shocked.

"I have a boyfriend," said Blaise bluntly. "And I have no interest in marrying a woman."

"Ahhh," said Gabrielle, leaning back with a laugh. "Zat is what I zought." To Blaise's great bewilderment, the girl didn't seem either surprised or bothered. In fact, as Blaise watched, Gabrielle leaned on the table and propped her chin up in one finely manicured hand, still smiling.

"Tell me about him!"

Blaise watched her as one might a wild animal as it stalked them. "I – Well," he said, shifting again and looking around, perplexed on how to continue. "His name is Jean," he finished at last, sounding quite snide, even though he had no reason to. Gabrielle's face lit up.

"He is French?"

"Yes."

"How wonderful!" exclaimed Gabrielle. "Do you zink I would know him from school?"

Blaise raised a brow, before pausing to entertain her question. "Well, no, I doubt it. He would be – oh, about five or six years older than you."

"I see. Well, I would love to meet him sometime," said the girl, and Blaise frowned, because she seemed to mean it, and he wasn't sure what was going on anymore, but he had the distinct impression that he was no longer in control of the conversation – if he ever had been at all. Eugh. That made him feel even worse.

"So tell me," said Gabrielle, before Blaise could speak up, "why are you entering into zis arrangement wiz me if you do not want to marry a woman?"

Blaise hesitated, glancing up to make sure that other garden patrons were far away. To hell with it, he decided at last. This girl was determined. Perhaps Blaise's legendary candor would alarm her into running away, and he could go and find someone who was truly stupid, as he'd wanted.

"Because," Blaise said, an icy edge to his voice even as he fought to clear it, "my grandfather is refusing to allow me even a sickle's worth of inheritance unless I marry."

"Oh, I see," said Gabrielle, frowning. "I understand zis. My grandfazzer is much ze same. All of zis was his idea, and I would hate to refuse him. He is very strict."

Blaise sighed. "Yes, well – " He cleared his throat. "I suppose you realize then that this is something I must do, and therefore, I am resigned to it. So, there." He paused. "I must marry someone, and that someone is certainly not going to be Jean."

The silver-haired girl fell quiet, looking deeply thoughtful. "Is Jean upset about zis?"

Blaise's brows furrowed. "I don't know," he said flatly, even though he knew very well that Jean was quite distraught. He didn't come from a family like Blaise's, and he didn't understand the pressure of aristocrats. To Jean, it would have been perfectly acceptable to remain legally single, so long as they could stay together. But Blaise had never even considered such a thing, because he knew it simply wasn't going to happen like that.

As Blaise was thinking on this, Gabrielle was also lost in thought. After several seconds of silence between them, Gabrielle leaned on the table again, her pretty hair falling next to her face.

"So," she said, startling Blaise again. "if we were to proceed with zis marriage – as boz of our families so desire – zen I want you to answer one question for me."

Blaise looked up at her, brows furrowed. But then he gestured for her to continue, and she did.

"If we marry," said Gabrielle, folding her fingers on the table, "… will you be able to give me children?"

Blaise stared, silent for the first time in recent history.

"Because," went on Gabrielle, "I really, really want children! Like, lots of zem. And obviously, our children would be absolutely gorgeous, ze most beautiful in all ze world. I zink we can agree on that, no? But I know you may not want to, so I can understand if you say no."

Blaise finally laughed a little, stunned as he observed Gabrielle as if seeing her in a new light. "I think I can manage that, yes."

"Are you sure?" asked Gabrielle, looking concerned. "Because I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, no," Blaise sat up straighter, studying Gabrielle carefully now. His lips quirked a little. "I can… definitely perform with a witch, if that's what you're worried about."

"Really?" squealed Gabrielle. "Because I want to be a mozer so much! Zat would make me so happy!"

Blaise tilted his head at her, both perplexed and amused. "Wait, so are you saying you wouldn't mind if I weren't a … real husband to you, in the conventional sense?" He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Because I'm not leaving Jean."

Gabrielle waved a hand. "Oh, no. All I truly want is to live in a grand mansion and wear ze most beautiful clothes."

She then nodded quite confidently, and Blaise was genuinely impressed by her self-awareness. After a moment in which he drummed his fingers on the table, Blaise looked back up at the young witch.

"Well, you certainly know more than you let on, don't you?"

Smirking, Gabrielle placed her chin on her folded fingers. Her eyes twinkled. "So, Mister Zabini? What do you say? Would you still like to get married?"

Glancing off into the distance with an amused expression, Blaise looked back to the girl he had quite underestimated.

"Yes, I think I would, Miss Delacour."

"Good," she said, popping up from her chair and offering her hand to Blaise, which as pale as his was dark. Blaise accepted, and together they rejoined their parents in the garden.

"Plan a wedding!" declared Blaise as soon as they rejoined the group. Then he slipped an arm around Gabrielle, who beamed. "Because this is going to be my new… wife."

Cheers all around, and preparations began in that instant. The adults bustled off in a group, but Blaise and Gabrielle simply looked at one another and smirked.