Chapter 12

'What did he mean – about having you imprinted upon her soul?' Harry asked Draco, suddenly.

They were sitting together in the apple orchards. Theo, Pansy, Hermione and Ron were lounging in the sunshine a few yards away and Blaise was sitting on a branch, swinging his legs and eating an apple.

Sensing a storm approaching, everyone else pretended not to have heard and so it was to silence that Draco said 'She will always feel a connection towards me. A little like an ache that will never go away'.

Harry was silent and Draco continued 'It will get easier though, with time the connection will lessen and eventually be lost altogether'.

Harry didn't say anything, simply reached down into the grass next to him and found an apple and bit into it.

Before Draco could say anymore, they heard voices and Shanara and Alex walked into the orchard, Alex was singing loudly and kept making bulls horns and pretending to gore his sister. Laughing, she pretended to run from him and together they were a picture of happiness.

They waved when they saw the others but made no effort to come over and join them. Alex flopped on the grass gracefully, leaving Harry to wonder how he managed to flop like an aristocrat – if indeed there was such a thing. Shanara lay next to him, her head pillowed on his chest and both of them proceeded to cloud watch if their gestures were any indication.

Harry watched them with a sort of fascination. He had never seen siblings like them before… Ron's brothers and sisters, though extremely fond of eachother, were never openly affectionate and certainly he had never seen any brother stroking his sisters hair or tickling her with a long blade of grass or spontaneously hugging her from time to time.

'They're twins, you know' said Hermione, interrupting his thoughts. He smiled up at her from where she stood, having come over to join him and Draco.

'that's why they're so different with eachother' she continued, reading his thoughts.

'they have always been close' commented Blaise, 'they write to eachother every day'.

'everyday?' asked Pansy, surprised, 'I only write to my sister when I think of it – which is about once a month if she's lucky'.

'twins are different' said Blaise, matter of factly, watching Shanara looking happy for the first time in months.

Margarite Carmena Zabini was an extremely powerful woman. She had enough money to fill 12 high security vaults in Gringotts and beauty enough to snare the most insensible of men. She was rumored to have no heart, to love nothing and noone but herself. With the nickname of 'Black widow', she inflamed desire in the hearts of all men and though she had pledged eternal love many a time, drunk from the cup of truth, had been bound heart and magic to seven different men and her star shone brightly, if coldly, amongst the constellations of pure blooded society - she remained to the end, the Black widow.

Narcissa Malfoy sighed as she looked across the room at her best friend. Margarite might deceive others but the Malfoys knew her for what she was – a woman who had lost all things save one.

Blaise lay sprawled on the floor, his ebony hair and eyes contrasting sharply with the gentle pattern of water lilies that covered the floor of the evening parlor they had retired to. He had his chin propped on his hand and he was gazing at the flames crackling in the grate before him, obviously contemplating life.

Blaise was everything to Margarite. When her first husband had left her, she had been desperately miserable. She had pledged herself to him heart and soul and was inconsolable until she realized that he had left her for another woman. From that day forth Margarite had waged a silent but deadly war on all the men in her life. All that is, except one.

Watching Blaise was one of her most profound joys. He represented all that was good to her, he was a handsome boy and wise in the ways of the world and he knew that his mother loved him, no, perhaps more than that – that she needed him. He loved her dearly and though he hated what she did, he understood her in ways that no one else could.

Lucius Malfoy, sitting on at the desk in the corner of the room watched all the occupants of the room, quietly. Margarite, his wife's best friend – a woman who all lusted after but none loved and yet whom he respected and treated kindly for Narcissa's sake if not for her own; Narcissa, the woman he loved; Draco – his heir and currently his biggest disappointment, Harry his son's chosen companion and Blaise Zabini.

If asked what he thought of Blaise, Lucius would have replied 'A fine young man, one who I would have been proud to call my own'. A smile crossed his lips as he considered how Blaise would've looked as a Malfoy. He permitted himself a small chuckle and smiled at his wife as she looked at him questioningly. He shook his head and then said 'Alright, off to bed'.

'Father !' protested Draco 'We aren't children !'

'No, but the Christmas Ball is tomorrow and I need you to all be well rested'.

Ignoring all protests, he gestured for Harry and Draco to leave the room. As Blaise made his way out, Lucius called him back and gestured for him to shut the door behind him.

After waiting a minute or so till Draco and Harry's footsteps died away and they could no longer hear Draco's complaints, he turned to Blaise, who had gone over to sit beside his mother.

Addressing himself to Margarite, he said, 'Margarite, I have something to discuss with you'.

Surprised, Margarite said 'yes?' though she made it a point to have no dealings with men, she trusted Lucius, he had been married to her best friend for more than 20 years and he had never once strayed or in any way made Narcissa unhappy.

'Blaise is now 17 and yet unpledged' said Lucius bluntly.

Blaise stared at Lucius in shock and then said 'I don't want to be pledged to someone – I want to choose my own bride'.

'I know', said Lucius quietly but firmly 'However, you must realize that though you are willing to wait, no one else is. By the time you decide you are ready to wed, all the pureblooded women you know will be married'.

Blaise halted, Lucius had a point, all the pureblooded women he knew were pledged in some way or the other.

'Who do you have in mind?' asked Margarite, thoughfully.

'Shanara Montgomery' said Lucius calmly.