When the Zabinis and Ginny had gathered around the table for their morning gruel, and Stregone had chanted his usual quarter-hour long accolades to Ceres, the patriarch cleared his throat uncomfortably and began his announcement:
"It seems that next week, Civetta's sister intends to visit Zabini House for several days. Miss Lucinda Peverell," he added in a hushed voice of awe for Ginny's benefit. "I trust you will all welcome her properly."
Ginny's eyes were set aglow. A Peverell, thought she with the greatest of delight. Even a girl of Ginny's background was well aware of the Peverell family, a tribe of wizards older in bloodline and wealthier than even the Malfoys. Alas, they had been a family of fillies, so to speak, and Miss Lucinda, a spinster fifteen years Civetta's senior, was its sole heiress.
"Indeed, Father?" queried Blaise—for he was in the habit of joining his family at mealtime—with a lazy indifference that belied the speculative gleam in his eye.
"Indeed," responded Stregone, "though I cannot imagine what she wants here."
Miss Ginevra soon learned that Miss Peverell meant to leave the whole of her fortune to her nephew, having no sons of her own. What a boon this would be, for, though the Zabinis were by no means as destitute as the Weasleys, Civetta and Stregone's fortune had become somewhat depleted following the war. Without his aunt's Galleons, Blaise would have no choice but to wed an heiress.
Much later that day, Ginny toiled in vain to teach Lisavetta and Amarina the simple Levitation Charm. "Now watch closely," she said for the thousandth time. She swished her wand, gave it a flick, and said firmly, "Wingardium Leviosa!" The spellbook she had been aiming for floated slowly up into the air for several seconds until she returned it to the desk. "All right, girls, your turn. On three!" Ginny rapped upon the desk thrice, and the girls began to wave their own wands.
"Regaridum Lemonade!" cried Lisavetta, the younger girl, with fervor. The feather before her turned yellow and shriveled into a brittle clump of sticks.
"Avada Kedavra!" snarled ten-year-old Amarina. Her wand produced a few green sparks, but the feather simply remained the same.
"Amarina!" Ginny heard the male voice's shout from the hall and at once began to fear for her post. "What in Merlin's name do you think you're about?" Blaise burst into the room, wild-eyed with fury. Seizing the little girl by the upper arms, he continued at a roar, "Do you know what that curse does? Do you know?"
The child shook her head slowly, as pearl-sized tears began to trickle down her pale little cheeks.
"I thought not. Go to your bedchamber. I shall tell Cook not to make you any puddings for tonight." When the girl had departed, he turned to face Miss Weasley, whose mouth hung open in numb shock.
"W-we were doing Wingardium Leviosa. I don't know what…where…"
"It's all right," Blaise said easily. "It just pains me that a child should know those words that killed so many of my friends."
"Like Draco Malfoy?" asked Ginny softly. She knew that Blaise had seen Voldemort kill his fellow Slytherin after Malfoy had failed to eliminate Dumbledore. "So you are a pacifist, then?"
"I suppose I am," he assented. "Don't bother about me, Ginny. I've been punishing the girls since they could walk. Mother is too weak and vain to bother about them, and Father is just odd."
Nodding, she allowed, "Well, 'tis admirable. Not many brothers would do the same." Placing a hand on his arm, she added boldly, "I would meet you in the gardens again."
"Then we must. Tonight, perhaps?"
"Of course."
As Lisavetta had stolen away to comfort her sister, Blaise leaned down and brushed his lips against Ginny's. "Until then, Miss Weasley."
A sennight had passed since the encounter in the nursery, and, in that time, Ginny had found a way to make herself indispensable to the Zabini family. Under Miss Weasley's watchful eye, the candles, crystals, and years worth of dust had disappeared from the main hall. The chandeliers, neglected over decades, had risen once more, and lo, the furniture was once again polished to perfection. Miss Ginevra herself had drawn back the heavy drapes and drenched the chilly parlors with sunlight as Blaise, it might be noted, looked on with amusement and indeed a touch of admiration.
At last, the table was laid with the lemon-colored Zabini china and golden flatware, set exactingly upon crisp linen tablecloths and lace-trimmed napkins. Then, and only then, was Miss Ginny able to pronounce the house ready for Miss Peverell's arrival, and just in time, too, for no sooner had the last crystal goblet completed its triangle that Lucinda's carriage and Aethonans appeared, circling the house once and alighting on the drive.
The entire Zabini clan plus Miss Weasley assembled in the great foyer to greet their honored guest, a purportedly fussy older woman with a great dislike for all but her nephew and perhaps her sister. Therefore, Blaise was the one to open the door and give his wealthy auntie a perfunctory peck upon her withered cheek.
"Good afternoon, Aunt," he said meaningfully, giving her one of the lethal smiles that always sent Ginny's stomach into knots. "Aren't you looking well? I vow, travel must agree with you." He offered her his arm and escorted her over the threshold to where his small family had arranged themselves.
"Oh, Blaise Zabini, you could charm an Inferius out of the grave if your wand was snapped in two!" she scolded with mock-severity.
"Miss Peverell, on behalf of the Zabini family, I wish to welcome you and offer hope that the great Hermes blessed you on…"
"Spare me the voodoo theatrics, Stregone," snapped Lucinda, brushing a small speck of dust from her brown velvet traveling gown. "Please feed me before you continue sucking up." She marched toward the dining room, half-dragging her nephew along with her.
Ginny attempted to suppress a smile, but was not quite successful by the time she reached the dining room.
"Something funny, girl?" she barked at the auburn-haired governess.
"Certainly, Miss Peverell," answered Ginny with Gryffindor courage, "I find the phrase 'voodoo theatrics' quite appropriate." The latter half of her statement was said in a low whisper so that Stregone was not disturbed from his prayerful incantations.
"You'll sit by me," announced Lucinda with an air of decision. "Right here, across from Blaise. So tell me, girl, what is your name? You are the governess here, I trust?"
"I am," she replied. "I am Miss Ginevra Weasley. Ginny to my friends."
"Weasley," mused Miss Peverell aloud. "You're not one of Arthur Weasley and Molly Prewett's brood, are you? A Gryffindor, no doubt."
"I'm afraid so," answered Ginny gravely.
"An impoverished pureblood!" Lucinda exclaimed as though Miss Weasley were quite a novelty indeed. "And I'd taken you for a half-blood adventuress. But here you are, a blood traitor."
"Indeed," said Ginny with a twinkle in her eye, "though I do have a relation who works as an accountant. Squib or no, I think him far more traitorous than I."
Miss Peverell threw her grey head back and laughed. "I like you, Miss Weasley. I certainly do. Ah, what a disreputable background," she added with relish, licking her lips. "Perhaps my Blaise will make a disgracefully scandalous match. That's my fondest wish, that."
Across the table, Blaise lifted his dark eyebrows skeptically at Ginny. "I knew I ought to have come home with Luna Lovegood when I had the chance. Alas, she's now Luna Longbottom, and my window of opportunity is forever gone."
"Silly boy," chided the spinster. "You do know how to terrify an old woman. Lovegood indeed!"
Ginny grinned behind the rim of her water goblet. "Oh, Master Zabini, what an excellent match that would have been. I expect her father would have given the pair of you matching Spectrespecs."
"Miss Ginevra, you are too quick-witted to be wasted as a governess," chuckled Lucinda. "Perhaps you might consider…"
Whatever she had been about to say was lost when Stregone cleared his throat and said, "Miss Peverell, will you do us the honor of choosing our toast?"
"Better food and a better house," said the woman shortly.
"Why not toast Harry Potter?" suggested Ginny with a bitterness that no one, excepting Blaise, caught. "He did vanquish the Dark Lord."
"An excellent suggestion, Miss Weasley," spoke up Blaise. "To Harry Potter!"
"To Harry Potter!" chorused the others.
"And the Minister of Magic, Lucius Malfoy," she added on impulse.
"Lucius Malfoy!" Each drank deeply from his glass until they refilled themselves no more.
When the dishes had cleared themselves away, Civetta sent the girls up to the nursery without Ginny, who remained on Lucinda's command.
"Do you play and sing, Miss Weasley?" queried Lucinda sharply. "Or do the blood traitors not learn the gentler arts?"
Ginny blushed slightly, but as Miss Peverell's tone was merely curious, she responded politely, "Rest assured that we do, madam. I was instructed by my mother." She began a lilting tune, accompanied by Civetta.
Miss Lucinda's grey eyebrows shot to the ceiling, for she hadn't counted on a blood traitor's being quite so accomplished.
Blaise's ebon eyes combed over her face, taking in the beguiling grin she gave him just as she sang the final note. At that moment, Blaise Zabini, unquestioned Slytherin and former Death Eater, realized that he had fallen in love with the blood traitor Ginny Weasley. He smiled warmly at her when she had well and truly finished, but his aunt, it seemed, though normally quite astute, had noticed none of the byplay.
"Miss Ginevra," cried Miss Peverell in a declarative tone, "you must return to Wiltshire with me."
The others turned to stare at her, faces etched in shock and a hint of dismay. Even Stregone emerged from his semi-permanent trance long enough to exclaim,
"What in the name of the Dark Lord Voldemort could you want with a little blood traitor like her? And an adventuress to boot!" He exchanged a worried glance with Civetta, who was certainly unwilling to lose another governess.
Blaise, however, held up a lazy hand. "Now hear her out. I'm sure Aunt would be more than willing to find someone to replace her."
"Indeed." Lucinda fixed her eyes on Ginny. "So, Miss Weasley, what would you say? With a bit of work and the right connections, I'm certain we could hook you a pureblood with a decent enough fortune."
"Mr. and Mrs. Zabini have been very kind," hedged Ginny. "I would not want to put them out in any way. But if they are amenable to my leaving, I should certainly like to go."
"Leave them to me, girl," stated Miss Peverell as though Stregone and Civetta were not present.
"If you wish it so, Miss Peverell. With your permission, Mrs. Zabini, I shall retire to the nursery?" Civetta nodded idly, so Ginny slipped away quickly, breast full of the tawdry hopes of a true adventuress. She had no hope of finding some unnamed 'pureblood with a decent enough fortune,' for she had set her sights on Blaise, nay she had fallen in love with Blaise just as she had with the half-blood Harry Potter. Blaise has the promise of his aunt's fortune, a family tree of naught but wizards, and a doting spinster aunt who wants him to make an imprudent match. This scheme is less than pathetically easy; how in Godric's name could it possibly fail?