Ginny sat dully in front of her mirror in the bridal suite of the St. George Hotel. There she was being prepared by stylists hired by her publishers as to make the best impression—for a radio interview.
"The irony's not lost on us, Ginny." Megan said irritably, licking her thumb and brushing that one wisp too many out of Ginny's face.
Her hair was softly pulled into a ponytail of tendrils, aiming for a romantic but professional look. When the stylist told her that, Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes.
Jenn came in, a clipboard in hand, flipping through pages and pages of guest names. "I'm warning you, Witch Weekly is sending one of their teen correspondents for their young people section… On top of that, Pansy Parkinson is still coming. Oh, and Blaise Zabini is sending an envoy with his questions for the Prophet, and he apologizes for the amount of the questions. The publishers have arranged for his Hogwarts interview at a later date… and he sent some flowers."
Ginny's brow furrowed, irritating the make-up artist. "Why isn't he coming?"
"He sends his deepest apologies." Jenn skirted around the subject. "And the bouquet is fabulous—orchids sent in a blue Faberge vase…"
"Jenn!" Ginny turned to her, eyes flashing. "You know I don't read the press anymore so I need you to tell me the truth."
Jenn's face fell. "If this affects your PR, so help me Merlin…" Ginny's eyes narrowed even more and Jenn immediately answered her. "He's at his family estate in Hever. The Howards seem to be having a family meeting."
Ginny's brow furrowed further. "The Howards?"
"His mother is a Howard… which at the time of King Henry VIII, were a very powerful family, along with the Boleyns…"
"Yes, yes, yes, Jenn, I know who the Howards are, they're one of the most ancient pureblood families in England." Ginny's face smoothed, although the corners of her mouth puckered in irritation. "I just didn't realize Blaise was one."
"Yes, the Italian surname can throw one off." Megan added, and both of them turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Oh, come on, let's get you ready."
Miss Zara B. Howard cordially requests your presence at the Hever to celebrate her 21st birthday.
That's how this summer's hottest invitation begins. If you descend from the Round Table's Thirteen, you're more than likely to receive an invitation to the delightful American socialite's regal birthday party at the Howard family's pride and joy estate Hever. Rumor has it that certain Weasleys, despite being a banned branch of the Black family, have made it onto the guest list, that the ghosts of the two of the more infamous Howards, Queen Catherine and Queen Anne of the Boleyn branch, will appear, and that Howard heir Blaise Zabini will be pretending to get along with his estranged fiancée Theresa "Tracey" Davis. Only time (and Genealogy Times!) will tell.
Zara Beatrix Howard was the daughter of Mrs. Lavinia Zabini's brother Antony and his wife Adela, who was an American professor at the prestigious American wizarding prep school Andover Academy. Although brought up in America, Zara spent the coolest months of the summer in Italy with her grandparents and cousins, and the warmest months in England with the extended family. It was during these warm months that her birthday always fell, and thus, the festivities were held at Hever, the family's favorite estate.
Zara's upbringing, like Blaise's, was rather lonely. Antony was a banker and was always away on business, and Adela was a professor at a school Zara eventually attended, and that was an additionally absorbing career. While Blaise found himself adopting an increasingly older and wealthier father every few months, Zara found herself passed around her American relations until it was her time to attend Andover.
Zara and Blaise had no other cousins in the immediate family, and when they were with their grandparents in Italy, they were inseparable, despite a seven-year age difference. They were quite an entertaining pair to look at. Zara's eyes were dark and deep-set, like the rest of the Howards, but they twinkled and glittered in a way Blaise's own dark pair never could've matched. Of course, Blaise was dark like his father, and Zara had inherited her mother's translucent skin and platinum hair. In Italy, Zara always burned and Blaise only deepened.
"What's a girl like you doing married to a man my age?" Draco whispered in Marguerite Devereux-Putnam's ear.
Zara sniffed contemptuously, and if Blaise didn't want to suggest it, he'd say that Zara was jealous of their second cousin.
Marguerite was dark and slinky, as were many witches of the French branch of the family. Furthermore, she was married to the eldest Putnam son, Thomas, who was Draco and Blaise's age. Marguerite was nineteen.
Blaise shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting coyishly on his heels to turn to Zara. "Zara… never let a man settle for you."
Zara frowned, but it took her a moment to roll her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Blaise smiled knowingly. "I'm sure you don't."
Zara's eyes narrowed as Blaise's beautiful mother and several other matriarchs in the family began wading through the party guests towards the castle.
"Showtime." She whispered to him. She slyly inched toward one of the residence's arches. "If they ask, I'm in the powder room."
Blaise's brow wrinkled, but he shrugged. He could feel Zara's gaze on him as he propped open a book. He'd let her have her secrets so long as she let him have his. He grinned as he felt the Howard eyes lift off him and his gaze rose to a new arrival at the party who he'd been watching since she'd broken into the throngs of guests—Ginny Weasley.
Draco Malfoy was also keeping an eye on Ginny Weasley. It was tragic, but the moment she didn't seem to be completely surrounded by adoring readers was the exact moment that Marguerite was going to succumb to his charms.
There would have to be another time for that. After all, he had plenty of time before Marguerite would be old and wise enough to rebuff him the next few times around.
Draco would like to think he was looking rather cool and debonair as he casually jogged up to Ginny, but she wasn't impressed.
"So do you know the birthday girl?" She asked with a coy, pursed smile. "Or is she fortunate enough to have escaped your charms?"
Draco chuckled. "You're funny."
Ginny rolled her eyes but looked a little relieved. "I'm glad you're being civil. I don't know anyone here that I would actually want to talk to."
Draco pressed the palm of his hand under his clavicle. "I made the short list? I'm terribly flattered."
"I'm between a rock and a hard place, Draco, don't be." Ginny retorted, but she was smiling. "I thought your big plan was to unveil the nonfiction that my little success is based on. You're only encouraging my cover."
Draco's grin dropped a little bit, but Ginny was surprised that his face instead seemed concerned. "Gin… some people are going to be very upset when they figure it all out."
Ginny shrugged. "I can deal with Pansy Parkinson."
Draco frowned suddenly and looked at her in disgust. "Well, I know that. If anyone ever could, you could. I'm not talking about them. You always underestimate anything I have to say."
Draco began to sound shrill, which caused Ginny to raise her eyebrows. He must have understood what she meant by it, because his voice lowered to its normal octave.
"I mean the parents." Draco motioned to the older looking people milling about. "They expect their children to have the wonderful Hogwarts experience that they had. The traditional, pureblood, privileged experience."
Ginny didn't say anything. She didn't want to believe that her book would have such an effect. Then again, it was a different time now. McGonagall was in charge, and had she been all along, the events depicted in the book would never have happened.
Draco smiled at her softly, kissing her cheek. "I'm glad you're listening, even if it's only a little."
They waved goodbye and the birthday girl's young contemporaries once again rushed Ginny.
Blaise removed the Extendable Ear from his. He didn't have much time to think about the exchange between the pair when Zara came rushing up to him, smoothing her hair and commanding that he pretend that she'd been there the entire time.
Their female relatives spilled out of the castle and Blaise watched them blend into the crowd, and he turned with a grin to his cousin, who was not looking very pleased.
"You're not to be seen out of Tracey's company unless you are with a family member. This is to be your protocol until the formal decision's been made." Zara recited, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling as she tried to remember word for word what was said.
"And did Tracey agree to this?" Blaise asked calmly.
"Yes." Zara bit her lip for just a second, well aware that hawks were peeping in on her private conversation with her cousin. "You're about to be the head of the family, Blaise, upon your marriage—"
"Oh, Grandmamma will never forfeit that title." Blaise scoffed quietly and Zara shot him a look.
"At least in name. And name is what counts to them." She motioned to all the eyes poking through the crevices surrounding them. "They want you to set an example."
Zara placed her hand in the crook of Blaise's unbent arm, forcing him to fold it. She led him outside unexpectedly, forcing their nosy guests to scatter. Without much physical indication, Zara drew his attention to the Putnam brood. They were a large American branch of the family. The matriarch, Alexandrina, was clearly more in charge than her husband, Albert. Albert was something of a recluse, and he buried himself in the family's variety of businesses on which they built their fortunes. Alexandrina; however, made all of the family's social decisions. They had nine children, five girls and four boys.
"Take a look at the Putnams." Said Zara. Alexandrina was currently lecturing the youngest Putnam, a fourteen-year-old witch known as Genie. "I love them dearly, Blaise, you must know. After all, they raised me."
Blaise remembered an awful spring holiday visit to Zara in the Putnam house. Although the ages of the children spanned over sixteen years, he found the place too crowded for his taste.
"But they rely on Grandmamma Howard to make their connections because Alexandrina has insisted on being in charge." Zara turned to Blaise, taking both of his hands in hers. "Please, Blaise, if not for the whole family, but for me… at least listen to Grandmamma now. You can do as you wish once you know exactly what that is—but please…"
There was a long pause. Blaise calmly settled into an amused face, as though their talk had been merely gossip. Zara followed suit.
"I really don't know where you get off telling me about socialization. You had a lake between you and the boys' school." Blaise teased his cousin.
Zara frowned. "And the entire time, they were trying to get us married off, so I know something about being forced to socialize."
Blaise squeezed Zara's shoulder affectionately. "Of course you do."
Zara looked up at her dark cousin with wide, naïve eyes. "The meeting was entirely about you, you know."
Blaise nodded.
"They told me to keep you company, but I let you read your book while I eavesdropped." Zara tread carefully, for she knew her dearest cousin was a fan of protocol.
Blaise turned his head and kissed Zara's temple firmly. "You are forever taking care of me."
Zara glared contemptuously in Tracey's direction. "Somebody ought to be."
"Be a little more subtle, darling." Blaise whispered against her forehead.
Zara's legendarily cool Howard demeanor started to break, and he could feel her face burst. Blaise pulled her into a friendly, congratulatory birthday hug, and the front of his robes grew warm and moist. He clutched her so tightly no one saw her shake. He leaned his majestic head so his face was buried in her hair, as his own composure was threatened. "You don't want me to do this."
She shook her head, trying to laugh. "No, I don't."
"Then don't make me. Please don't make me." He pleaded quietly and the weakness in his voice sobered Zara almost instantly. She looked up at him, eyes wide.
"But you have to."
Blaise's posture grew rigid and his face went completely blank. He pulled away from Zara quickly and disappeared into the crowd.
"Ms. Weasley." A dramatic, accented voice whispered, shooing away all the fans, and Ginny found herself looking down at a short but imposing woman whose cheekbones she'd seen briefly in the birthday girl and familiarly in Blaise.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Howard." Ginny's lips spread into an amused, tight smile. "Hever is lovelier than all the photographs."
The stately woman didn't look surprised. "Yes, I was never impressed with the supposed art of photography. I have a rare Hans Hoblein—he did portraits you know—landscape of the place that is absolutely marvelous. Now that is art."
Mrs. Howard led her way from the guests and although she wouldn't like to admit it, Ginny found she was reaching for her wand, just in case she needed to send up emergency sparks.
"I understand you've written a very popular book." Mrs. Howard said with what sounded like minimal interest. "I believe some of my own family members have attempted to dabble at writing, with limited success, despite all our help, so congratulations to you."
Ginny nodded graciously. "Thank you very much."
"It is a shame; however, that I'm to understand what your little book will do to the way Hogwarts is run." Mrs. Howard added loftily. "I was expecting all of my grandchildren to live in the luxury we had accustomed them to. And so, I believe, were many of my friends. They have grandchildren created on the prestigious traditions of centuries past."
Mrs. Howard's eyes scanned the length of Ginny's face, her features, as though wondering where all the pureblood had gone. Ginny felt like she'd just been slapped. She understood Mrs. Howard's meaning perfectly.
With that, Mrs. Howard patted Ginny on the hand. "Let's hope your book doesn't get too popular for its own good, shall we?"
Ginny nodded, tight-lipped.
As Blaise was stalking away from Zara, he found himself pulled into a dark cavern he hadn't even known existed beneath a knoll.
There he found Tracey, eyes wild, hair falling, desperate.
He opened his mouth to speak, but for some reason could not compel himself to. Tracey searched everything on his face for some sort of sign, and began to speak what felt like thousands of times before she mustered up the courage to. Her voice was soft, tentative, and almost invitingly pleading.
"Blaise, do you remember when the war began and all of those lofty numbers—those ages we'd set aside for marriage, children—all of a sudden everything changed. We'd thought 25 and 30 was so far away until we started to realize that it'd be a miracle if we made it that far." Tracey took a deep breath. "And then the war ended, and suddenly you weren't in a hurry to marry me anymore. We'd survived the worst."
"Tracey—" Blaise began, but she suddenly turned cold.
"You're marrying me, Blaise, you promised. And if the pressure from your family isn't enough, the lifeline you were so ungrateful to never want in the first place, I'll take away your other one." Tracey wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm, smoothing her hair back into place and leading him to see his grandmother leaving Ginny Weasley, face stricken. "I will expose her. And your precious little study guide will be gone. Your precious little job will be gone by the time I'm done with you."
Blaise looked at her in disgust. Repulsion seeped from his pores and before long, with one last threatening look, Tracey returned to the party.
Blaise did not want to join his family, nor his friends of years, nor the acquaintances that merely were associated with him for his lineage. Instead, he found himself stealthily making his way towards Ginny Weasley, who was still reeling from her little visit with his grandmother.
"I know this is probably the worst time," He began before his bravery left him, and she looked up at him in wonder, brow furrowed, "But would you like to join me for dinner?"
In Blaise's periforal vision, he could see a female relative charging towards him, as though now the family could stop the damage from being done. Ginny followed his darting eyes, and in the process spotted Draco watching on knowingly. She turned back to Blaise, surprised that he had managed to do something impulsive.
"I thought you were half-dead before." She said quickly, lowering her eyelids before batting her lashes again to take in his entire face, which was absent of ulterior motive or bitter revenge. "Call 'round my place on Saturday."
With that, Ginny disappeared with a pop, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile graced Blaise Howard Zabini's features.
Very far away, a little girl of nineteen watched a young blonde man turn away with a foreboding disappointment, and her lower lip disappeared beneath a row of even white teeth. This was not going to be good for the family. Not at all.
And so I'm reaching out for the one
And so I've learned the meaning of the sun
And all this like a message comes to shift my point of view
And watching it pull my own light as it tips a shade of you
-"Sleep" Azure Ray
