Cornelia avoided Draco for the next couple of days, his dark mood about Potter and Weasley continuing through the night and being sparked even brighter by an annoying little first year called Colin Creevey whose main goal in life seemed to be to get as many photographs of Harry as possible.
She spent the time happily catching up with Theodore and Blaise, neither of which had had a particularly enjoyable summer. It was a good opportunity to hear more about their family lives, although Theodore kept a relatively tight lid on his. She got the feeling that there was little love between him and his father, who was apparently quite old and frail with extremely old-fashioned views. Cornelia didn't expect much less from the writer of The Sacred Twenty-Eight. Theodore mentioned that he wasn't really allowed out of his father's sight and didn't add much more to the conversation.
Blaise on the other hand complained freely of the man her mother was seeing, a Turkish man who was brusque and arrogant, and had taken up the role of tour guide around India, spouting long, disinteresting nonsense about every little detail they had seen.
"What does your mother see in him?" Cornelia asked and Blaise raised his eyebrows at her as if it were obvious.
"He's rich?" He replied.
At the end of her first week, something odd happened to Cornelia. Whilst she received owls every now and then from Aunt Cissy and Uncle Lucy (although not as often as Draco) containing sweets or other treats, she never received letters or deliveries from anybody else; and yet on Friday morning, in swooped a large owl that looked more like an eagle with pointed ears and beak, depositing a letter written in an elegant hand in the middle of her breakfast.
Confused, Cornelia plucked the letter out of her bacon and considered the handwriting on the outside for a few moments before tentatively opening the letter. Inside it read:
Dearest Cornelia,
It was truly a pleasure to meet you last week upon Platform 9 3/4. I would have liked to have spoken with you further, but it seemed your Aunt was somewhat bothered by my presence (not unusual for women of her stature, you understand). I hope you do not mind me sending you this letter in the place of the conversation that could have been.
Blaise has spoken of little else other than you during the holidays, which is most surprising behaviour for my son, as I am sure you are aware that he usually tends to keep himself to himself. When it became clear that he was unable to visit you due to the principles of your Aunt and Uncle, he was quite disappointed.
I am aware of the formalities and intricate workings of Noble British Wizarding Families, and whilst I have gone to great lengths to ensure Blaise is able to navigate these with ease, I hope you won't mind me saying that I find elements of their teachings to be distasteful. By this I mean the treatment of women within such structures. We women are not made to be restrained in such a manner, we are not simple creatures to be tamed and trained. From what I have heard from Blaise of your mind, I am sure you will agree.
It would truly be an insult to our creators if societal pressures were to suffocate your flame, my dear. I would be delighted to show you the true power of womanhood – for the reason men try so hard to suffocate us is through fear, I hope you understand.
I shall eagerly await your reply Cornelia, but also know that if you disagree with what I have said, there is no pressure to respond. Please do as you feel is best.
Yours most sincerely,
Rosalind Zabini
Cornelia's breath hitched in her throat as she read the swooping signature at the bottom of the letter, and the odd prickly heat rose in her cheeks again.
"What is it?" Theodore asked, his brow furrowed in concern.
Cornelia coughed embarrassedly and had the strongest urge to hide the letter. "Its – erm – it's from your mother, Blaise."
Blaise spluttered a little on his cereal before he snorted in a very undignified manner. "You're kidding!"
"No, really." She handed him the letter and his grin widened the further he read. Finally, his eyes swivelled to her and took in her flushed face and the way she was twisting her fingers together. "So, it's not unrequited love after all!" He teased and Cornelia snatched the letter from him with a scowl. Blaise laughed and Theodore watched quietly.
"It's not my fault you couldn't shut up about me all summer." Cornelia retorted and rather than be embarrassed, Blaise just laughed louder.
"May I read it?" Theodore eventually asked quietly after Cornelia had pored over the letter again. Cornelia nodded, handing him the letter which he read seriously.
"She's very interesting isn't she, your mother?" He eventually said, handing back the letter to Cornelia.
"She likes a project." Blaise replied with a wink and Cornelia couldn't help but be a little affronted.
"What's that supposed to mean?" She said in a dangerous voice and Blaise's smile faltered.
"I just mean that she sees potential in you!"
Whether he meant it or not, it worked, and Cornelia lapsed into thoughtful silence as she continued to eat her breakfast.
"Are you going to reply, Cornelia?" Theodore asked towards the end of a quiet breakfast and Cornelia nodded slowly, throwing a threatening look at Blaise who kept a purposefully passive expression.
"Yes, let's see what this womanly flame is all about." She replied in a blasé tone, getting a grin from Blaise and a small encouraging smile from Theodore.
Cornelia struggled to concentrate throughout her classes that day as she planned her reply to Rosalind. She knew that she was overthinking it, but Rosalind was the first person to have ever shown direct interest in just her and Cornelia was filled with a deep desire to impress her. Try as she might though, when the evening came and Cornelia tucked herself away alone in a corner of the common room to write her reply, she still couldn't think of what to say. At one point, Blaise had made his way over to her, only for her to glance up and order him to "turn around", which he did with a knowing smirk.
It was almost midnight by the time she had a small note folded up and ready to send by owl the next day. She wasn't completely happy with its contents, but she was frustrated and tired, and had an ever-growing pile of screwed up paper beside her. Her final draft read:
Dear Mrs Zabini,
Thank you for your letter, it was wonderful to meet you earlier this week too. I apologise for my Aunt, I hope that she didn't offend you.
I have never really understood the reason why I was treated differently from my cousin, Draco, who I was raised with, and have always felt it to be unfair. It is nice to hear that someone thinks this way too.
I would be honoured to be taught by you, I have never even considered what it means to be a woman and am interested in hearing more of your own experiences and upbringing – it must have been very different to mine.
I eagerly await your reply,
Cornelia Lestrange
With a sigh, she shoved the parchment into an envelope, and made her way slowly up to bed.
It seemed that Draco had finally recovered from Harry and Ron's stunt with the car by the next day and sheepishly sidled up to Cornelia as she emerged into the common room in the morning. Cornelia happily welcomed the distraction from her thoughts and slipped into easy chatter with him, although she avoided mentioning Rosalind.
"I'm thinking of trying out for Seeker in the quidditch team try-outs next week." Draco mentioned as they took a seat in the Great Hall for breakfast. Cornelia nodded as she helped herself to a slice of toast.
"I think you should." She encouraged, her thoughts still half on the letter in her bag that she was planning on posting at lunch time.
"I wrote to father about it." Draco said nonchalantly, although when Cornelia looked him over, he had a smug smile on his face.
"Alright. What did he say?" She asked, although she had a sneaky suspicion of what Uncle Lucy might have said.
"Well, let's just say that Marcus Flint will be receiving a team's worth of Nimbus 2001s the day of the try-outs." Draco gave up all pretence of modesty and looked entirely pleased with himself.
Cornelia couldn't help but be a little impressed with the lengths Uncle Lucy was prepared to go to give his son a head start in life. 'Wow, that's nice of him. I don't suppose he'll be expecting anything in return?" She caught Draco's eye and he snickered.
As she took in his smug expression, Cornelia tried to smother the flicker of annoyance in her. She wondered if it were due to Rosalind's letter that explicitly confirmed the inequality that she had felt all her life, constantly living in Draco's shadow, being pushed down whilst he was helped up, but she was irritated by how sure Draco was that the role of seeker now belonged to him. She found herself questioning how deserving he was of that role.
"Are you happy for him to do that?" She asked quietly, keeping her eyes on her toast that she buttered slowly.
Draco looked confused. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" He questioned.
"I don't know. Aren't you curious to see whether you'd get on the team without Uncle Lucy's help?" She said slyly, and Draco's pale face flushed a light pink.
"I thought you said I should try out?!" He demanded, immediately defensive.
"I do – I think you're a good flyer."
"Then what's the problem?" Draco snapped and fanning the flames of Cornelia's annoyance.
"I can think of a few!" She snapped back, suddenly pushing up and away from the table as hot anger flushed through her and stomping from the room before she said anything she regretted. She would take that trip to the Owlery sooner rather than later, filled as she was with an even stronger urge to talk with someone who could understand what she was feeling.
Her trip to the Owlery did a lot to clear her head, what with the cool gusts of wind that blew through the tower, but it did make her late to her first lesson. It was her first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year with new professor – Gilderoy Lockhart.
She had heard Pansy, Daphne and Sally-Anne fangirling about Professor Lockhart the night before and had to admit she was curious as to what lessons the experienced wizard might lead. She had known of Lockhart previous to this year, hearing of him on the news and seeing a couple of his books dotted around the manor's library, but she hadn't known the specifics that Pansy had reeled off the previous night. It sounded like they were in for a much more interesting DADA year than the one before with the frightened and secretly possessed Professor Quirrell.
She slipped quietly and a little nervously into the full classroom, student's eyes turning in her direction including Draco's, who looked at her sullenly before turning back to the front. She needn't have worried about Lockhart who simply ushered her in with a sweep of his caped arm and a dazzling smile. It also became clear to her within minutes of sitting and listening to Lockhart ramble on about his achievements that she may have been mistaken in assuming that he would be much better than Quirrell. Any hopes she had were dashed entirely when, with pompous bravado, he handed out pop quiz sheets that revolved entirely around his personal and professional life.
Cornelia glanced around after scanning the paper and caught Theodore's eyes from across the classroom. They shared a grimace and she knew that he was thinking what she was thinking; They had found their first prank victim of the year.
She didn't bother answering any of the questions on the paper, instead sitting with her head resting on her palm and considering Lockhart absently. She knew that he had sent the majority of the female student body into a tizz but he definitely wasn't doing anything for her. His perfect honey curls were swept back in an overly fussy fashion, and his sparkling blue eyes looked weak and watery to her, his dimpled cheeks too babyish. She watched as he preened and pruned himself at every possible opportunity and wondered what on earth Dumbledore had been thinking hiring him, perhaps he was as insane as Uncle Lucy had claimed all summer. At the very least, his vanity was a glaringly obvious weak link that she could take advantage of.
The day passed slowly after that, and Draco approached Cornelia again at lunch, neither of them mentioning the morning's upset, although it took a little longer than usual to slip into their normal comradery. The next day passed even slower than the first it seemed, and Cornelia spent a large majority of it watching the sky through the castle windows. Her desperation to hear from Rosalind confused her to say the least, the constant lurch of hope followed by disappointment when she spotted an owl in the sky that continued on its journey away from her, took up most of her attention. She mostly avoided Blaise, finding his knowing looks embarrassing at her inexplicable behaviour. All she knew was that Rosalind had left a deep impression on her, both in appearance and her impassioned language, and for some miraculous reason, Rosalind had taken an interest in her too.
Finally, 3 days later, on the Saturday, the eagle-like owl reappeared at breakfast time. Although she was bursting at the seams to rip it open, she knew better than to read the letter in front of Draco, who sat beside her. It took all of her self-control to calmly slip the letter into her pocket and attempt to continue eating her cereal, although it tasted like cardboard in her mouth now.
"Who's that from?" Draco asked, watching her with narrowed eyes despite her rather good acting abilities. He knew as well as she did that she never usually got mail.
"It's just from Madam Malkin, I'm putting in an order for new robes." Cornelia lied easily and Draco dropped it immediately, he wasn't interested in clothes. She had to avoid Blaise's eyes, however, who was sat opposite her with that annoyingly knowing smirk on his face.
Shortly after this, she made her excuses and hurried from the Great Hall, making her way up to the library where she knew she wouldn't be bothered. Finally, she ripped open the cream envelope with the ornate handwriting and read the letter hungrily.
Dearest Cornelia
Do not be concerned about me being offended, I encounter women like your Aunt everywhere. She is a victim to the patriarchy and has adopted such views as her own; she is simply afraid of women like me who refuse to see the world in such a way. I pity her, I do. But there is nothing I can do for your Aunt; she has a lifetime experienced in this way – it is you that I am interested in.
You mention that you have always felt it to be unfair that you have been brought up in a different manner to your cousin, Draco, and I am pleased to hear you say this! You would be astonished by the number of noble women (your Aunt included) that are raised in a way similar to your own upbringing and are completely oblivious, even satisfied, with the abuse they suffer! It is appalling to me that these old-fashioned values are allowed to continue, and even worse, that the women themselves are fighting their corner.
If more women such as you and I were to look their demons in the eye and refuse to lie down in the face of such inequality, the world would be a better place. And so we shall, my dear.
Let's start by discussing such demons, shall we? Tell me of your Uncle, Lucius Malfoy. Judging by his wife and what I have gathered through yourself and Blaise, it seems he rules his home with an iron fist. What is his opinion of your brilliance? How has he taught you to express yourself? You say you are treated differently from Draco, in what way?
You must understand that in order to feed your flame, we must first staunch the flow of water that dampens it.
I eagerly await your response, darling. And please, call me Rosalind.
Yours most faithfully,
Rosalind Zabini
Cornelia read and re-read the letter some 10 times, her eyes wide as she drank up the words inside. She had never heard anyone speak in such way about the way noble families were run, and the passion Rosalind felt for the matter was clear through her words, it made Cornelia's heart thump uncomfortably in her chest.
The part where she called Uncle Lucy a demon made her blood both sing with exhilaration and run cold with fear. If Uncle Lucy ever found out that she had been communicating with someone who spoke of him in such a way, she would be punished severely. And yet, the thought of such punishment thrilled her into wanting to reply even more, because now she had confirmation that the way he treated her was wrong.
She replied immediately, and this time the words ran freely from her as her quill scratched furiously across the parchment. Words she had never said aloud but had always thought suddenly spilled from her and onto the page as she discussed the unfairness of being kept out of the conversations at the dinner table, how she knew she had more to offer but was never allowed to prove it. How angry it made her when she was physically restrained from running free outside with Draco. How lonely she had been all her childhood as she wasn't introduced to any children her own age other than Draco. How she felt like screaming every time Draco went to a magical theory class whilst she was whisked off to another etiquette class with Aunt Cissy.
By the time she finished, her hand ached and the parchment was a good two foot long, but she felt a pleasantly odd hollowness inside and a faint ringing in her ears, as if she had just expelled years worth of bitterness.
She floated from the library and up to the Owlery to post the letter when she had finished, the peacefulness following her into the quietness of the tower. She stayed there for a while after she had sent the owl on its way, listening to the wind blow through the arched glassless windows in the walls, and gazing upwards to a point where the light grey clouds seemed to split like a wound to reveal a perfectly blue sky beneath.
I hope you're all enjoying Rosalind Zabini as much as I am writing her. Very suddenly I've realised she's going to have a rather large part to play in this story and I'm so excited to see it develop.
Until next time!