Cornelia hadn't seen Blaise since they had both arrived at his house a few hours earlier, she had been swept up into being bathed, polished and made up by Rosalind and hadn't really had a second thought about him during that time. So when the dinner bell sounded throughout the house, more melodic than the one at the Malfoy Manor, and Rosalind said "Perfect timing, I shall escort you to dinner, darling." Cornelia was suddenly filled with fluttering doubt. She wasn't sure about Blaise seeing her like this, it felt like something that was only suitable for hers and Rosalind's eyes.

"Shall I get changed?" She had asked and Rosalind had roared with laughter again.

"Of course not, this is the perfect occasion to premiere your new look." She gestured to Cornelia's dress.

"Don't you think I'm a bit overdressed for dinner?"

Rosalind raised an eyebrow at that. "Not at all, this is a dress for every occasion."

Cornelia didn't know what to say to that, but when her eyes slid back to the mirrored wall and she caught a glance of her reflection, some of her hesitation slipped away. She did look incredible, and yet when she was beside Rosalind, who would look twice at her?

She allowed Rosalind to lead her gently from the room and towards the wide winding staircase down to the entrance foyer below, but when she caught sight of a besuited Blaise waiting for them at the bottom, a blush started to creep up her neck and she diverted her eyes from him.

Rosalind, however, was watching Blaise intently. She saw his eyes widen when he looked at Cornelia, how he automatically stood a little more to attention, and how his eyes didn't leave her until they stood beside him. It pleased her.

"Good evening Mother, Cornelia." He said, as was tradition in this household, and Rosalind gently tipped her head at him, her eyes knowing on his.

"Good evening darling. What do you think to our dearest Cornelia's new outfit?"

"You look beautiful." Blaise said without missing a beat, and Cornelia nearly leapt out of her skin when he took her hand from her side and raised it gently to his lips. She snatched it away, glowering at him. She saw a ghost of his usual mocking laugh in his eyes, but for some reason he kept his face smooth and impassive – it unnerved her. Normally she would have told him to shut it and batted him away, but something about Rosalind's gaze told her that it would be inappropriate in that moment.

"Thank you." She forced herself to say instead and they continued through to the dining room.

Blaise continued to act bizarrely towards her throughout dinner, in-between his conversation with Rosalind, and Cornelia played along, pretending she enjoyed his compliments and held his gaze steadily when he stared at her; but she felt like ants were running up and down her arms, below the skin.

When they had finished eating Rosalind had excused herself, but before she left she had exchanged a meaningful look with Blaise. "Why don't you two play in the parlour?" She said before swooping from the room, leaving a trail scent of Ylang Ylang in her wake.

She had followed Blaise quietly to the parlour, but once he closed the doors behind him she ripped the velvet choker from her neck and chucked it at him. "What the hell are you playing at?!" She spat as Blaise caught the choker in one hand, her anger sparking his laughter in the usual way.

"I don't know what you mean!" He chuckled, but she knew that he knew exactly what she meant.

"Ohhh you look so beautiful!" Cornelia imitated him in a nasty voice and his laughter grew.

"You do look beautiful. Argh!" Blaise squealed as Cornelia launched herself towards him and took off running around one of the many coffee tables and squishy chairs that filled the room.

The chase that ensued was punctuated with Blaise's excited yelps and Cornelia's yells of "Creep!" and it burned away a little of the awkwardness that had rooted itself in Cornelia during dinner. They eventually flopped into separate chairs, flushed and severely out of breath.

"So, what do you think to your makeover?" Blaise asked and Cornelia huffed.

"I'm not sure. I like the dress but…"

"What?"

"It doesn't really feel like me." She finished after a pause as she tried to put her finger on exactly what felt off about the whole thing. It was true, the dress was elegant, dainty and beautiful, and none of those things related to how Cornelia felt. She had literally gotten a faceful of dirt just a few days ago for goodness sake!

"Well, you'd best get used to it." Blaise said, and Cornelia scowled at him.

"Why?"

"Because mother won't let you wear anything other than what she puts you in now." His eyes were watching her carefully.

"Don't be ridiculous." Cornelia smirked, half expecting Blaise to be joking.

"I'm serious, this is what she does."

"And what is this?"

Blaise sighed and shifted so he was sat straighter in his seat, wearily watching Cornelia's stormy face. "Did you know that mother runs a Women's Society?"

Cornelia shook her head, scowling deeply now. A sinister twisting had started in her stomach although she wasn't entirely sure why.

"Well there's some hundred muggle women in the society and mother handpicks them all. Most of them were living in abusive households before mother found them, and she brings them here to this sort of safe-house she's got across the field." For some reason Blaise didn't look happy or proud of Rosalind for her efforts in helping vulnerable women, rather his nose was wrinkled as if he had smelt something foul.

"What's so bad about that?" Cornelia asked.

"Well they're muggles." Blaise said as if it were obvious. Cornelia quickly suppressed the shock that pulsated through her at Blaise's venomous tone; she had known he was a wizard purist, but she hadn't realised how deep his hatred ran for muggles in general. She clamped her mouth shut, her jaw clenching whilst Blaise continued. A lifetime with Lucius had trained her to keep her thoughts to herself on this matter.

"Anyway, mother always picks the pretty girls. She cleans them up, buys them fancy dresses, puts them through etiquette training… sound familiar?"

It did sound familiar and Cornelia didn't like it. Whilst, in contrast to Blaise, she admired Rosalind's charitable work with the muggle women, she didn't like the idea that the charitable work of the Women's Society stretched to involve her too. She didn't like the thought that actually she wasn't special at all, rather Rosalind had a habit of saving damsels in distress – and Cornelia didn't identify with being a damsel in distress; not in the slightest.

"So you're saying I'm like these muggle women? Just part of the Women's Society?" Cornelia's voice was sharp and Blaise frowned slightly, worried about aggravating her further when her voice took on that tone.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. Mother's never taken on a witch before, and you're from a well esteemed family too."

"So what's your point?"

"I'm getting to it! Mother takes on these women, does them up and plays with them like dolls and then they leave."

"Where do they go?"

"They get married."

The twisted feeling in Cornelia's stomach tightened a little at that, but she still didn't really understand what it meant. She wondered if she'd eaten something that disagreed with her. Blaise was looking at her in a way that suggested he had just disclosed a vital piece of information and it frustrated her. She didn't know what he was trying to say and it made her feel slow and stupid.

"Oh just spit it out will you?"

"They don't just randomly meet someone and fall in love Cornelia…" Blaise was speaking slowly now. "Mother arranges it all. She finds them a husband."

That was when the twisted sensation in Cornelia's stomach unravelled, swimming through her veins to every corner of her body as Blaise continued.

"It's like her job. She meets with these rich old men and they pay for a girl. The husbands' that mother takes for herself are generally the richest on the list. And wizards of course. She says it's like her bonus."

The world tilted slightly before her eyes and something clunked into place within her. Now she understood. Now everything made sense. Rosalind's out of the blue interest in her, the gifts, the dress, the advice – she wasn't interested in Cornelia, or even interested in 'rescuing' her; she was training her up to be Blaise's.

Blaise made a move as if to stand up and step towards her; she was clutching the arms of her chair and leant forward as if she were going to fall out of it. For a moment she thought she was going to. She thought she was going to faint or be sick or scream or something. But then it settled. The roaring of the blood in her ears died down to a faint hum and everything stilled in her mind. Blaise felt a prickle of fear when she turned eyes that stormed and raged in a perfectly controlled face to him.

"So, you think she wants us to be married?" She asked in a calm, terrifying voice.

Blaise's voice caught in his throat and all he could do was nod.

"Right." And she turned those dark eyes to the window. The room fell silent for a long while as Cornelia's mind worked, taking the well-worn paths she walked when faced with an obstacle; with an enemy.

Suddenly she turned back to him, and held out her hand, palm up. She looked tired now. "Give me back my neck-piece. I'm going to go to bed." She said, and Blaise obliged. She deftly pinned the velvet material around her neck, it felt suffocating to wear now, and stood up.

"Do you know where to go?" Blaise stood up with her.

"Yes. Goodnight Blaise." Her voice was strange, distant, and although she didn't show it, Blaise could see his words had taken a great toll on her.

"Goodnight Cornelia." Was all he could say, unable to voice the millions of questions that ran through his mind.

Of course, Blaise didn't understand how personally Cornelia would take his mother's plan; he hadn't read the letters they had been exchanging, he hadn't seen the seeds of distrust Rosalind had been planting in Cornelia's mind about the arranged marriages her family would be planning. He didn't know that Rosalind had lead Cornelia right out of one trap and into another. Whilst he had expected Cornelia to dislike the idea of what his mother had in store for them, he had no idea of the hurt that Cornelia battled with that night.

She didn't cry. She refused to shed a single tear, even though the betrayal cut hot and deep through her. If it had been anybody else perhaps it wouldn't have hurt so much, but Rosalind had been her guiding light these past few months; she had worshipped her. Rosalind had promised freedom and power, she had given her hope, made her believe that there was a way out of the path that was being carved for her by someone else's hand. But she had played her, played her in a game that she was so practised at that Cornelia hadn't suspected her at all. She didn't care about Cornelia at all, she wanted exactly what Uncle Lucius and Aunt Narcissa wanted - a pure-blood marriage with pure-blood babies, not to mention access to the Lestrange bank vault.

As usual, Cornelia's pain manifested itself through anger, coursing through her fiercely. She was sick of every single adult in her life, being knocked back and forth in the waves they formed for her, being twisted into the shape of their expectations. She felt every note of indoctrination sing inside her, and her hands formed claws – she wanted to scratch it all out – the manners, the posturing, the control. It had no place inside her anymore.

And yet, despite this rejection, some of Rosalind's lessons had stuck, sinking into already present natural tendencies of Cornelia's; and rather than giving in to the desire to run away from the Zabini house (and the Malfoy Manor if she could), Cornelia found herself mapping out ways to turn the situation on its head, to twist it to her advantage. Now that she wasn't bound by loyalty, what was it that Cornelia wanted from Rosalind? What could she take as payment for her pain?

There was also the part of Blaise to consider, she didn't think he would take too kindly to a plan to harm or damage his mother in any way, the strength of their bond was clear, and she had no urge to catch Blaise in the crossfire. No, whatever form of revenge she took it had to be undetectable, she had to play Rosalind at her own game and take what she wanted without her ever suspecting a thing.

Amongst the convoluted thoughts that pass through the busy mind at 4AM, Cornelia formed a plan. For now, she would take her payment physically, practically a cash transaction. She was sure that Rosalind saw the dresses that she was going to put Cornelia into as an investment, that the money spent would be returned tenfold when Cornelia belonged to Blaise, and by extension, to her. Cornelia would play her part and let her shower her with gifts to her hearts-desire, unbeknownst to Rosalind that she would be dressing Cornelia's body whilst her mind remained off limits. And if the time came when Rosalind expected results for her well spent money, she would be sorely disappointed; Cornelia had no intentions of marrying Blaise. Whilst she liked him very much and appreciated his friendship, the thought of being with him romantically disgusted her. She had seen Blaise's cruelty – it was part of him, built into his DNA, and whilst she could overlook that as his friend, as his wife…

It was with this mindset, her defensive walls up and sturdy, that Cornelia arose the next day. It was odd how little effect Rosalind's airs and graces had on her then, like a light switch had been flicked off, and whilst Cornelia could still see that she was fiercely beautiful, it didn't dazzle her and blind her senses like before.

Now Rosalind's casual use of 'my dear' or 'my darling' irritated Cornelia, it was as if Rosalind believed she already owned her. She silently fumed at her audacity as they ate breakfast together, but her smile was bright and she answered Rosalind with warmth and enthusiasm.

Rosalind was pleasantly surprised by the change in Cornelia. Whilst she looked tired, the dark shadows under her eyes betraying her poor night's sleep, she was less timid than the day before, much more responsive. Much more interesting.

Blaise was also surprised by Cornelia's behaviour. It was as if their conversation the night before had never happened, and he had to remind himself of the expression on her face before she had gone to bed because there was not a single trace of it now. She answered his compliments with ones of her own, smiling often and giggling in a very weird girly way that he had never heard from Cornelia before. Something wasn't right.

He cornered her when they were next alone, which was at lunch, when Rosalind whisked away to attend to 'business' as soon as she had finished eating.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" He asked, frowning across the table at her. He noticed that the way that she held herself had changed the moment his mother had left the room, she now slumped forward, elbow on the table and head lolling sideways onto her fist. She played with her food with her fork, her previously happy expression becoming sulky.

She fixed him with a dead eyed stare before raising an eyebrow and saying in a voice heavy with sarcasm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Blaise did a pretty good impression of her high-pitched girlish laughter before returning her flat expression. A smirk curled on Cornelia's lips and she lowered her eyes back down to the food she was kicking around her plate with a fork. "Is it a crime to laugh now?" She said slowly.

"You're up to something." Blaise said, watching her with narrowed eyes. She laughed again, this time in her normal voice, almost a cackle.

"Aren't you?"

Blaise frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Saying nice things and looking at me all the time – it makes me sick!" Cornelia could see that she had struck a nerve in Blaise, something that happened very rarely, as his jaw clenched and he leant away from the table, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Oh yeah? Then why do you go all gaga whenever I do it?"

"Ha!" Cornelia threw back her head and let out a nasty bark of laughter. "Oh trust me, that's all acting."

"Well that makes two of us then."

They glared at each other across the table for a moment and Cornelia realised that Blaise had the same coloured violet eyes as Rosalind, just a couple of shades darker. She shook her head and returned her attention back to her plate, looking entirely fed up and bored. She did not want to discuss with Blaise how affected she was by the news he had told her last night; in fact she didn't want to discuss it with anyone, she would take the information to her grave and in the meantime would never let anybody manipulate her again.

The rest of the Christmas break passed awkwardly. Cornelia and Blaise continued in their bizarre game of charades – in front of Rosalind they were sickeningly sweet (although Cornelia mainly just followed Blaise's lead, who seemed practised in acting like a loved-up teenager), whilst in private they returned to their usual behaviour. Something had changed between them however, and when they were alone there was a wall between them that had never existed before, a stilted end to conversations, keeping each other at an arms distance. It was depressing.

As predicted, Rosalind continued to shower Cornelia with new outfits for every evening, each one a little more extravagant than the last. Cornelia wasn't pretending when she examined each dress with wonder (because they were always dresses; beautiful laced, satin, silk, velvet, embroidered dresses), and even began to feel more comfortable in their embrace. She allowed Rosalind to style her hair, teach her the basics of makeup, spritz her with perfumes and bejewel her ears, neck and fingers. She did it all with a delighted smile, chattering away happily with Rosalind whilst looking at her with adoring eyes – it was exhausting.

When she was alone in her bedroom with the windowed roof dripping with vines, she would carefully remove the gowns, clean her face and take down her hair, and then proceed to scowl at herself in the mirror, muttering all the things she disliked about Rosalind and being at the Zabini house like some kind of affirmation. It was too easy to forget in the face of Rosalind's charm otherwise, and Cornelia carried her rage inside her like a protective totem.

I know Rosalind was a few people's favourite character (mine too) and someone commented on how she was the adult presence that Cornelia needed in her life so I'm not sure how much you'll have enjoyed this character! As it turns out, Rosalind doesn't reserve her master manipulation skills to just the men in her life...

Until next time.