Author: princecharmprincesswit
Title: Music of Memories, Chapter Four
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, not mine, anything you don't - mine.
Author's Note: Please feel free to comment. They would be very much appreciated. Let me know what you think to know how to think.
Ginny stretched out languorously on her queen sized bed, staring up at the gold ceiling. She personally restored her own room, like the rest of most of the rooms of the manor house. The walls of the room were a delicate peppermint green in silk wallpaper, with little embossments of gold butterflies and flowers sprinkled randomly. The ochre plaster moldings on the ceiling and floor, with little butterfly decorations and flowers, like the wall, had taken the greatest care and patience necessary to bring it back to life. The springy and thick peppermint green carpeting had taken at least about five scourgifies and her special cleaning potion. Her special cleaning potion had been developed personally by her, a potion meant to clean and nourish, with nothing harsh in it, to clean specifically antiques and heirlooms. Her bed was a delicate ochre-colored wooden affair of curls and twirls, the silk covers of gold and green creating a calming effect and thereby uniting the color scheme of the room.
She put her hands above her head, the ring on her right middle finger catching the light and sparkling like the stars in the midnight sky. She grimaced.
She had tried to remove the ring after she had convinced herself, while in France, that she wasn't in love with Blaise Zabini any more. She convinced herself that if their friendship meant nothing more to Blaise, then it most certainly won't matter to her. She pulled and tugged, together with her friend Jacqueline Mainard, only to discover the ring fastened in place by a charm.
That time, she felt like pulling her hair, along with Blaise's dark locks. She had never found a time when she wanted to remove it, the ring had an odd glow about it. When Blaise had put it on her finger all those years ago, she remembered feeling a warmth spread though her. Only then in France did she find the occasion to remove it.
Now, lying on her bed, she gave a lazy, half-hearted tug, knowing it won't come off.
It didn't.
Blaise had never told her that it was charmed. The ring still looked lovely on her finger, bringing out the glow in her pale, milky skin. As far as she was concerned, as she had tried to convince herself and Jacqueline in France, she was over him.
Right.
She doubted that Jackie ever truly believed her. She sometimes doubted even herself.
The house felt odd today, she noticed. Almost everything seemed to glow. There was a charm in the air. Ginny, especially sensitive to charms and spells ever since the opening of the chamber, felt that this day, something indeed (whatever it was) was going to happen.
She got out of the bed and went to the adjoining bathroom. The bathroom was had lovely, luxurious violet and silver color scheme. The silk wallpapers of violet, when cast with a candles golden glow, looked ethereal, with silver embossment of falling stars. The gray plaster moldings shaped in stars, frosted over with silver paint, looked impossibly expensive. The floor was a deep dark grey marble, smooth and glossy.
There was a tub in the middle if the circular room with claws that gave the room a royal appearance was made in the early 18th century, a shower stall, also made in the early 18th century (who knew the wizards had that then?). The entire one-fourth section of the room was covered with floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
The adjoining archway opened to the dressing room, which also had a door that adjoined to the sitting room.
She took a shower, using the vanilla and citrus shower gel and shampoo, especially made for her tastes, toweled and dried.
She went to the dressing room. The dressing room was huge, light and airy. It was wallpapered in pale orange, with eggshell-blue plaster molding of tulip design. From the floor, random eggshell blue tulips with eggshell-blue stems and leaves popped up from the plaster on the floor, the carpet was a warm burnt orange color. The furniture was light wood, with curls and furls that made everything seem delicate, disguising the sturdy quality of it all. One wall was covered with floor-to-ceiling cabinets of pale orange and eggshell-blue designs. On one wall, a dressing table was situated, complete with a little cushioned chair, on one side was a chaise-lounge for a little relaxation.
She strolled to the cabinet and chose a crème lightweight summer pantsuit, with white piping and gold buttons, and a champagne colored silk blouse. She slipped on matching peeptoes that sgave a peek of perfectly manicure pale pink toenails, a slender gold chain with a ruby droplet on her neck, and ruby droplets that trembled on her ears. She dried her hair with magic. The ruby tresses sprang up in full body of waves and curls. Ginny took a gold, silk ribbon and tied a loose bow on the nape of her neck.
Whatever this day had, she was ready.
She stepped out of the dressing room, passed through the powder-blue sitting room and onto the hallway, where she nearly collided with Jemima, an exotic dancer.
"Ginny, luv, a Mister Handsome is waiting for you in the kitchen," Jemima practically breathed out.
"If it's that bloody git Don again, I swear I'll jinx him till he sees quadruple," Ginny announced, making sure her voice was audible to the back staircase that led to the kitchen, presumably used in the old times by the servants, but was now a shortcut to the new tenants.
"Naw, luv, this 'un's real handsome. Y'all love 'im," Jemima said as she made her way to her rooms.
Jemima, though an exotic dancer, had a 'orrible Cockney slur.
Ginny flew down the stairs announcing, "Don, I have told you never to show your face to me again! I swear-," she cut off seeing a tall, dark haired, caramel-skinned, blue-eyed, Italian Deity.
She thought she was ready for anything. Turns out she was wrong.
Bloody wrong.
Before she could turn tail and flee, Blaise said "I'm almost feeling sorry for that Don you're shrieking about," he said tentatively, like a child.
Ginny felt a great tug at her heart at Blaise's anxiety.
"Zabini," she nodded to him "what are you doing here?" she asked frostily.
She decided that no matter how she still felt for him, however anxious he was, she will not melt.
Like a sculpture being formed, he straightened up and said "How are you, Ginerva?"
"Fine. You?"
It was not an occasion warranting the forgoing of good manners.
"I am fine," he replied coolly.
"Was there anything you want?" That's right, be curt, Ginny.
"I wanted to see how you were. By the looks of it, you're doing wonderfully."
"I am. If you are worried about the ring," she lifted up her right hand for him to see the Immovable Ring "you may have it back. It is your bloody charm anyway that won't allow this moved."
She shoved her hand in front for him to see. He took her hand and instead, held it firmly in his warm ones.
"Remember what we said? They're to represent our friendship no matter what."
Ginny tried to pull her hand free but to no avail.
"You were the one who didn't give a fig about this friendship. You were quite happy to let it rot," she spat.
The scene they made in the lemon colored kitchen was of domestic comfort, a very intimate scene.
"Alas, Ginerva," the Bloody Git sighed "these rings are permanently charmed. I wasn't the one who placed a charm on these anyway. Mother saw it fit to "not waste money, besides, Darling, these rings are too pretty to be removed," he quoted his Mother.
"How did you know I was here?" she asked, her curiosity finally emerging.
"I had my secretary run a check."
"Right. Didn't you see it fit to see me then? All those years ago?" she asked softly.
"I was busy, though that is no excuse. I am sorry," he said, genuinely repentant.
"Stupid of me. What do you want now?" she asked her voice hardening.
"Nothing. I was just checking up on my best mate, is all," he replied, his clean, genteel English accent crisp and right.
"Zabini, best mate? Best mate?" she spluttered "We haven't seen each other for years and you're talking about our friendship-that-isn't? You make me laugh!" her voice was becoming shrill.
"I'll try to catch up," he said, his eyes had the same intense expression in them as that day in the lake.
"No, Blaise. I- I'm getting late, excuse me," she said, flustered, pulling her hand away.
"Ginerva, I truly am going to try, you know. See you soon, love. Don't be a silly goose, now, Duchess," he said, calling her by that special nickname he gave her.
It came about when she was painting a 17th century scene of a Duke and a Duchess dancing in a sparkling ballroom.
With those parting words, he left the kitchen, striding toward the iron gates that swung open.
That was odd, Ginny thought, for a moment forgetting her life-altering confrontation (if you call it that). 'Those gates don't swing open for anyone, except me,' rang out in her mind. The gates responded to some kind of magic, she thought. The fact that the house was humming with magic was also an odd thing.
'What was it about Blaise Zabini that made the house sensitive?' she thought.
Blaise had said that he will try. 'He will try what?' now that was the question.
Whatever Ginny thought she knew, she knew and was sure that this won't be the last time she'll see Blaise.
He looked older, the planes of his face more angularly man, his posture that of one who has achieved what he wanted to. He was dressed impeccably in a muggle-style suit, which has become the style of the Wizarding world. It was considered more convenient and practical.
Whatever happened to her equilibrium, she was off to work.