14. Considering Possibilities
Saphira blinked slowly, her bright-blue eyes still heavy with sleep, as she was gliding softly from peaceful sleep to wakefulness. She took a deep breath of fresh air and relished in the enjoyable sensation of smooth blankets covering her body and the feeling of sheets gliding like silk over her soft skin.
She didn't need to squint her eyes and try to decipher the numbers on her old-fashioned alarm clock to know that it was still a few minutes before her clock would chime. She had always been an early riser. Years living with the Dursleys had taught her that one couldn't be up early enough to be prepared for the day.
During her first three years at Hogwarts Oliver Wood had seen to it that the Quidditch team managed as much training as possible and that usually meant rising before any sane human being would even think about opening one eye, much less two. Training before dawn had been a nightmare in itself but it was still better than training late in the night and feeling tired and worn out for next day's lessons.
Angelina Johnson hadn't been as excessive in her training regimen as Oliver had been, but somehow the habit of waking up early had stuck. At least with Harry.
Saphira rolled on her back and blinked against the sleep still clouding her sight. The first rays of sunshine were illuminating her bedroom and creating a soft, warm atmosphere in the lovely though darkly decorated room.
In a handful of minutes her alarm would chime and she would have to leave this wonderful bed to prepare for the day – a day filled with etiquette, walking and dancing lessons. Her chest immediately felt heavy with dread. Just thinking about meeting Lady Narcissa Malfoy caused her head to hurt and her heart to ache with sorrow. She felt tired and not just in the physical way.
The Lady Malfoy was sucking her life, her joy and her energy from her very being and the worst? The Lady Malfoy didn't even realize what torture her mere presence and her lessons even more so were to Saphira.
She was tired, so inhumanly tired.
She just couldn't do this anymore.
Rolling on her side with an annoyed huff Saphira hid her face in the soft cushion and sighed. How she longed to be able to just remain lying in her bed. Her last lesson – the lesson they had on the day before – with the Lady Malfoy had been worse than anything she had experienced as Saphira so far. The condescending and contemptuous behaviour couldn't have hurt Saphira any more if the Lady Malfoy had tried for it. Just thinking about the pain those thoughtless words and meaningless actions had caused her almost brought tears to Saphira's eyes.
Back then when she had aborted the lesson before the Lady Malfoy had deemed her finished for the day, Saphira had sworn to herself that she would never again subject herself to such disgraceful and hateful behaviour.
Suddenly the alarm chimed shrilly and Saphira felt herself stiffen in anticipation. This was her sign to get up and prepare for another day filled with etiquette torture. But instead of moving to leave the bed and prepare for the day Saphira remained lying were she was. Her breath came in deep inhales and exhales, the rhythm forcefully calm and composed as she listened to the alarm chime.
When it finally ceased its terror after a few minutes, Saphira felt the tension leave her body. With new-found strength and resolve Saphira turned on her back, glanced at the dark wooded ceiling of her bedroom and firmly steeled her resolve. She wouldn't do this today, she wouldn't subject herself to another torture session. She was done with Lady Narcissa Malfoy and her tyrannical teaching methods.
Had she known how refreshing this mind-set would be, Saphira would have decided to boycott Lady Malfoy's lessons weeks ago.
As time flew by, Saphira closed her eyes and sighed in bliss. She enjoyed being able to just lie in her bed and do nothing, merely lying in her bed and relishing in the silken sheets soothing her sensitive skin. It was the most wonderful feeling.
When the time to leave for her first lesson with Lady Narcissa Malfoy approached, Saphira couldn't help but dread the inevitable ruckus Malfoy Junior was about to cause. The Malfoy Heir had been rather pushy as of late and had even dared to intrude on her sanctuary and invade her personal space in ways that shouldn't and couldn't be acceptable in wizarding high society and even less among purebloods.
He had acted as if it was his duty to see to it that she attended her lessons with his mother. The way he had shamelessly entered her personal quarters, sometimes not even caring to knock and wait for her reply, and flounced around her living room as if it was his right to be there had almost caused her blood to boil.
The arrogant bastard had acted as if he belonged in her personal quarters.
Saphira scoffed and rolled her eyes. If Draco Malfoy thought that she would just accept his sudden and unwanted immersion into her personal life he would have another thing coming. It was bad enough that he was supposed to be her protector – as if Malfoy who had scored below her in Defence Against the Dark Arts could even protect her when there should need be – but Saphira drew a line at having to put up with him in her sparse free time and in her personal quarters.
Saphira glanced at the watch and sighed lowly. The time to leave for her first lesson with Lady Malfoy had finally come. Malfoy would any moment now throw the door to her personal quarters open and demand from her to get ready. She waited with baited breath, her heart beating painfully against her chest, but nothing happened. Instead of fists pounding demandingly against her door and angry shouts echoing through her quarters, everything remained blissfully quiet. There was no shouting, no screaming or cursing, not even a polite, soft knocking to enquire if she was already ready to depart. It was as if the Malfoy Heir wasn't even there.
Wonderful.
Saphira decided to reward herself with a handful more minutes of enjoyable relaxation, before she finally felt she needed to get up. Normally her lessons started at eight o'clock and even though Saphira felt that eight o'clock was a little bit excessive, she wasn't one to dawdle away.
Lady Malfoy's condescending and patronizing words had forced Saphira to question the Lady's world view. Narcissa Malfoy was a Lady through and through and even though no one could accuse her of not having done her duty as a pureblood daughter, there wasn't that much Narcissa Malfoy had done in and with her life. She had married a pureblood heir – an arranged marriage as she had proudly declared, the best her father could have wished for – and had conceived and birthed an heir. Aside from marrying Lucius Malfoy and raising their son, Lady Malfoy hadn't done anything notable.
Narcissa Malfoy was proud of this fact. She was proud that she was the perfect wife and mother, but Saphira just couldn't share that sentiment. In her mind, Narcissa Malfoy's life was severely lacking and the Lady Malfoy was someone who should be thoroughly pitied. For the Lady Malfoy's life was mindless and without purpose.
Saphira didn't want that.
The more the Lady Malfoy pushed her to accept her supposed to be role as wife and mother and embrace her sacred duty to let a pureblood heir bed her with the sole purpose of conceiving, birthing and raising his heir or heiress, the more Saphira felt panicked by the mere thought.
This wasn't what she had imagined her life to be. She wasn't some mere breeding tool. She shouldn't be reduced to her ovaries. She was more than that and she wanted so much more in her life.
But for that to happen, she needed a job.
Saphira sighed despondently. She knew that she would need her father's approval for that and she could only hope that he would cherish her enough to support her in this matter.
It was a murky matter. So far her father hadn't commented on any arranged or possible future marriage contracts. He hadn't even asked her whether she found someone of the younger Death Eaters or the youngest generation of purebloods interesting at all. It seemed as if he hadn't any special candidate in mind so far and wasn't about to push the matter in the near future.
She could only hope that she was right and that her father would grant her to have a say in the matter of whom she would have to marry.
Saphira wasn't certain about many things in her life at the moment, but she knew for sure that she would never be happy as a housewife. She wanted and she needed to work, to contribute to society and to feel useful. She had respect for women such as Molly Weasley who dedicated their lives to the sole purpose of living for their families, but this wasn't what Saphira wanted to do.
She wanted a family, that was true, but she wanted to work as well.
But if she ever wanted to even have the chance to find a fulfilling job one day, she needed a comprehensive application with a valuable qualification. Now that she wasn't wasting her time trying to learn for the umpteenth time how to properly set a dinner table – as if the Lady Malfoy was doing this on her own, she had several competent house elves, after all – Saphira could use this free time to find out where she was currently standing in her level of education and revise a little.
With her goals set, Saphira finally managed to motivate herself to leave her wonderful bed.
Once she had showered, freshened up and eaten breakfast, Saphira walked determinedly towards the door leading to her personal study, pushed the door open and entered the room. As soon as she had stepped into the room, the candles floating through the air ignited on their own.
Ever since she had moved into her chambers, she had spent most of her scarce free time in her living room. The thought that she could spend time in her study had never even crossed her mind. Although she assumed that it shouldn't be surprising. Her days had been filled with etiquette, dancing, walking and conversation lessons – there hadn't been the time to sit down and read, much less time and motivation to study and revise.
However, today she wanted to do something different, something useful. She knew that she had neglected her studies for too long. It was time that she sit down and revise what she did know and what she should know. Who knew, she might even find the motivation to research a topic or another.
Looking at the books having been placed in the shelves covering the walls Saphira couldn't help but smile.
She was fortunate that Harry had never bothered to store his school books and notes throughout his years at Hogwarts. Instead of weeding out old scrolls of parchment, filled to the brim with notes, Harry had let them stay in his battered suitcase. It was a wonder that the suitcase hadn't burst already with school books and scrolls of parchment worth of seven years filling its cramped space.
Whereas Harry's uncommon and strange behaviour would have probably worried any sane adult had they found out – it could only mean one thing, Harry hadn't felt safe enough at Privet Drive Nr. 4 to entrust his school supplies to his relatives – Saphira felt greatly pleased and thankful to her former male counterpart. This way she could revise and study without having to ask some of the Death Eater offspring if they could provide her with books or if she could borrow some of their notes. She had everything she needed.
Letting her gaze wander over the assembled books and scrolls, she noticed that some poor soul had taken the trouble to arrange her books and scrolls by subject and year. Far to the left the first subject was Astronomy, followed by Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Herbology, History of Magic and Potions. The last subject far to the right side of the shelves was Transfiguration.
Saphira walked towards the far left shelf, grabbed her Astronomy books and scrolls and placed them on the expansive desk situated in front of a semi-circular window. If she wanted to revise everything she had learned so far at Hogwarts, she could simply do so in alphabetical order.
She opened the book gingerly. The dry, smooth paper felt heavenly under her fingertips. She hadn't known how much she had missed the normality of doing something so ordinary and sometimes boring such as reading. It was grounding, soothing even.
Carefully she opened the corresponding scroll, smoothed the coarse parchment, opened a new scroll to take additional notes, placed her forefinger at the top of her notes and then she began to read.
By late lunch Saphira leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest and sighed dejectedly. She had a new-found level of knowledge concerning her current qualification and standing concerning her school education and what she had found out caused her no small amount of worry.
Her knowledge of Astronomy was abyssal. Harry had never bothered to understand the finer art of observing planetary movements and their effect on plants, beings and much less magic. Who knew that ingredients plucked while Venus was strong could intensify the potency of love potions? Harry hadn't cared for such random pieces of information even though it could have proven to be useful or vital in the future.
Her knowledge of History of Magic was as abyssal as her lack of knowledge in Astronomy was, however, this lack of knowledge was much more troubling. Whereas it may not be necessary to be able to predict the planetary movements of all stars and planets gracing the sky, Saphira should know the history of magic and wizarding society. It was her and her people's history, after all, and it was a shame that she knew next to nothing about it.
She could bring severe shame to her father and their family name should someone ask her on her view concerning one matter or another and she didn't even know what the person was talking about. She knew nothing about the important wars, nothing about the even more important treaties, nothing about the delicate and subtle art of negotiation practised in politics and law.
Her lack of historical and astronomical knowledge was only topped by her lack of insight in the art of Divination. She would have to ask her father whether there had ever been any seer-abilities in his or her mother's – whoever that woman was – family. If there hadn't, she might be allowed to drop the subject altogether. It would be useless to pursue the art of Divination if she hadn't any talent for foreseeing the future.
Saphira's gaze wandered over her assembled parchments. Even though her grades in Charms and Transfiguration were satisfying as they were, Saphira knew that this was thanks to her proficiency in practical magic and not due to Harry's dedication to practice or his finer understanding for the material in itself. There was no denying that she lacked the principles, the basic and fundamental theories, theorems and laws of both Charms and Transfiguration. One might say that it wasn't something too troubling. But Saphira knew that even though she was good at practical magic, she could be even better if she just understood what she was doing.
In addition to that, with her current knowledge she would never be able to alter spells and charms to her personal needs. And as such creating new spells or charms would remain a dream for eternity.
Whereas things were different with Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures that was due to the fact that there were no fundamental principles to know. Both subjects revolved around individual cases. There was no general rule how to approach a magical creature – respectful distance with hippogriffs but forceful and direct approach with pixies – as there was no general rule how to properly and correctly care for a magical plant. With these two subjects Saphira would always have to rely on specialist textbooks. Neville might be able to remember how to best care for each magical plant, but seeing as Saphira never saw herself working with plants for a living, this wasn't something she had to trouble herself with.
Potions was a lost cause, but she could at least partially attribute this to Professor Snape and his treatment of Harry. The Professor had never bothered to teach him properly, after all. As it was with Charms and Transfiguration Saphira lacked the basic principles to understand how potion brewing worked as well. However, with potions it wasn't just about the theoretical principles she was lacking, but the practical ones as well. She had never been taught how to properly cut and slice and mince just to name a few.
Professor Snape's attitude towards her had changed drastically and the way he acted now Saphira could imagine that he might teach her properly should he be tasked to. But the Professor was an important man and his work and expertise was in high demand. She didn't know whether her father would lay the Professor off just so that he could teach her.
The only subject that she was pleasantly knowledgeable in was Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Saphira sighed and rubbed her aching temples. Revising wouldn't cut it, she had realised with crushing dismay, she would have to start from the beginning and learn the art of magic step by step. As she should have done since Harry's first year at Hogwarts.
And she needed different books. She couldn't deny that Harry hadn't been the most motivated and dedicated student – she didn't even want to ponder why none of his teachers had ever demanded that Harry strive for the potential that he had obviously inherited from his parents. But whereas a part of her lack of knowledge could be attributed to Harry never having bothered to sit down and study, another part had to be attributed to the school books.
Most of them were rather superficial, worded in general terms and with beautified information. 'If used wrongly, the spell may cause harm.' Honestly, what was she to do with an information such as this? Will it or won't it cause harm? And if it does, what kind of harm would she have to expect?
Summarising her newfound knowledge, Saphira had to admit that her current qualification was abyssal. She was mediocre at best in most of her subjects and horrible in a handful of others. Harry's choice in his third year to take the easy way out was proving to be short-sighted. She had no talent for Divination and no ambitions to work with magical creatures in the future on a daily basis. Those two subjects were wasted.
At her current level of qualification she could be happy if someone employed her to restock the shelves or mind the check stand. If she ever wanted to have the opportunity to be more than a house-wife, sitting at home waiting for her husband to return from work while she took care of the household and raised the children, she needed to improve. Drastically.
And this unpleasant insight lead to a single direct consequence.
Saphira scowled darkly at the desk in front of her. She was in dire need of proper schooling.
Damn it.
Blaise entered the modest pub with a sigh on his lips. It wasn't the kind of establishment he would normally frequent. It wasn't dingy or run-down, just a little too ordinary for his taste. He generally preferred the extravagant and peculiar nightclubs. High-quality food, special drinks and most commonly a more selected company.
This night, however, when he had been about to walk past the pub without sparing it a glance, he had felt something draw him to the building. Had he been a muggle, he would have shrugged the sensation off and continue merrily on his way. But he was a wizard and a descendant from a family of wizards and witches who used magic in a more temperamental, more natural way.
If magic felt the need to apprise him of the pub's existence, then there was a very good reason why Blaise should follow the lead.
Blaise had approached the pub warily and entered after a last moment of hesitation. He couldn't help but squint his eyes and scrunch up his nose when the door fell shut behind him. The air was slightly stall and smelled of cheap food and even cheaper beverages, the light was a little too low with smoke wafting slowly through the air and the strange, mindless music was a little too loud to make the pub a pleasant place to be.
Blaise looked around with hidden curiosity and slowly but surely managed his way through the slightly drunken mass of common muggles. Now that he was inside the pub, the pull had vanished and magic was quietly waiting for him to find out his reason for being there on his own.
With another weary sigh leaving his lips Blaise let his gaze wander over the crowd of people. Most were young, in their early twenties to mid-thirties, most of them male and none of them screamed wizard or witch in need. Blaise felt his forehead furrow in confusion as he narrowed his eyes in barely restrained frustration. But no matter where he looked, he just didn't know what magic wanted him to accomplish here.
He was about leave in a huff and attribute his overly frayed nerves to the last weeks of general craziness and his latest encounter with his former Potions Professor – the man gave him the creeps, Blaise couldn't help himself, Head of House of Slytherin and obvious favouritism or not – when his gaze brushed the bar and all of a sudden he saw her.
Blaise shook his head slowly, but turned around and made his way towards the bar. He was in luck, a chair was empty next to her, and with a motion towards the bartender indicating he wanted something to drink, Blaise slid on the empty chair.
He was almost rendered to mouth agape in his surprise when he regarded the person next to him more closely. Her long brown hair was uncombed, her face unmade-up and her clothes, perfectly in style and artfully combined as always were slightly crumpled and dishevelled. She looked as if she had been under pressure, had left in a hurry and hadn't cared to make herself look more presentable.
If that hadn't been enough to cause Blaise a severe case of worry, then it was the bottle of hard liquor – Blaise couldn't tell what it was, as he didn't care for muggle beverages, all he could say was that it was clear and smelled heavily of alcohol – that was standing next to her, almost two-thirds empty.
And the way things appeared, she must have been emptying the bottle alone so far.
The bartender came and placed a glass of something alcoholic, brown with foam, could be bear, in front of Blaise and looked gratefully at him. Blaise just waved him off. He wasn't her to sooth the bartender's guilty conscience for having sold a young, depressed looking woman a whole bottle of hard liquor to drink on her own.
Blaise took a sip from his beverage and shrugged to himself. Not bad, but not something he would care to drink on a regular basis either. His movement must have unintentionally caught her attention, as she clumsily tried to straighten up and turned around to face him.
When her eyes finally focused on him, she blinked slowly. Then she squinted her eyes angrily and her face turned into a dark frown. "You!" She spluttered as her scowl intensified and her eyes narrowed to small slits.
Blaise tried to keep himself from rolling his eyes at her ineloquent greeting. She could be an awe inspiring orator when she was awoken in the middle of the night even when she was completely unprepared, but in her current condition the alcohol must have numbed the areas of her brain that normally controlled her impeccable social interactions.
He tried for a sweet smile. "Why, hello, Pansy." He lilted all suave and smooth. "Fancy meeting you here. What are you doing at this wonderful establishment at this time of the night?"
Pansy merely snorted derisively and rolled her brown eyes. "Can't I just drink myself into a stupor all on my own without someone having to sit next to me and asking stupid questions?" She snarled darkly, an obvious challenge in her dangerously gleaming eyes.
Blaise raised his hands in mock surrender, but he wasn't deterred. Magic had led him to this place for a reason. If Pansy was supposed to be suffering alone and on her own, Blaise wouldn't have been alerted to the pub. "Why do you want to drink yourself into a stupor?"
Pansy glared at him, then she clumsily turned around to the bottle, grabbed it harshly and filled her glass to the brim. Her fingers wound themselves around the glass, lifted it from the counter and brought it to her lips. Blaise watched with growing worry as Pansy emptied the whole glass in one go.
She plucked the glass forcefully on the counter. Her lips were covered with a soft sheen of clear liquid and her eyes, shiny with alcohol and hopefully not something like tears stared darkly at the glass on the counter in front of her.
"My life is ruined!"
Pansy moaned theatrically, sounding so much like her former, younger self when she didn't get her way that Blaise almost had to chuckle. Instead he felt surliness spread through his body. Nothing as simply as not getting her precious way warranted such unbecoming behaviour. Pansy was better raised than that.
Blaise rolled his eyes and scoffed openly. "Come on, Pansy. Whatever has you so down, it can't honestly be that bad." Blaise huffed.
Pansy tried to glare at him, but her squinted eyes ruined the effect. "Oh, you think?" She suddenly hiccupped. Her eyes almost crossed as she tried to focus on him.
She refilled her glass with shaking fingers, took another healthy gulp from her liquor and plunked the glass down harshly on the counter again. "I finally convinced my father to send a marriage contract proposal to Lucius Malfoy. And what does that man do? He has the gall to simply respond with 'Thank you, but we aren't interested'." She bawled out.
Blaise involuntarily winced and tried to hide his grimace. "Ah, that is bad." He offered weakly, not knowing what else to say.
Pansy's glare intensified even more. "Bad?" She aped darkly and rather harsh. "You think this is bad?"
She suddenly threw her hands up and if it wasn't for Blaise's quick reflexes her glass as well as the almost empty bottle of hard liquor would have smashed to the floor. "This is a disaster!"
She hid her face in her hands and plonked her head on the counter. "My reputation is ruined." She moaned into the soiled wooden bar and Blaise couldn't help but frown in disgust. "I can't show my face to the Malfoys anymore." Her voice was muffled and barely audible as she mumbled into the crook of her arm.
Blaise thought he probably looked as uncomfortable as he felt, as he padded Pansy's back awkwardly. "There, there." He shushed.
Pansy, however, didn't seem to notice, for she continued her mumbled rant nonetheless. "Lord Malfoy basically told me that I am not good enough for his precious son Draco." She snarked bitterly. "What else could he mean with they aren't interested? They must have already chosen someone else. Someone better."
All of a sudden Pansy raised her head and the sudden force of her movement almost sent her toppling from her chair. Her brown eyes were glassy and teary as she futilely tried to focus on Blaise. "But who could be better than me?" She asked brokenly and honestly lost.
Blaise grimaced and this time he didn't even try to hide it. Not that Pansy would have noticed, anyway. He had to admit that her question was justified. There weren't that many young heiresses from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, after all.
The Carrow twins, although lovely to look at and raised in the finest and purest of dark by their aunt Alecto and their uncle Amycus, were too young for Lord Malfoy to consider one off them as a possible spouse for his son. Millicent Bulstrode wouldn't be considered even if she was the last remaining pureblood heiress of Great Britain and the Greengrass girls may be of applicable blood status and pleasing on the eye, but their parents were rather strongly aligned to the neutral side and that couldn't be what Lord Malfoy would want in a daughter-in-law.
In all objectivity, Pansy was the best candidate for Draco. She was of sacred pureblood, of the same age as Draco and her father just as her grandfather were firmly inclined to the dark and the Dark Lord.
Pansy suddenly snorted and hadn't she drunk almost an entire bottle of liquor, she might have been able to pass it off as a delicate sniff. This, however, was too wet and loud to not be considered unpleasant. "It's probably that girl." She groused angrily as her brown eyes narrowed and her iris turned unpleasantly dark.
"You know." She hiccupped again and leaned dangerously close to Blaise. He wanted to shy away, she smelled horribly of alcohol and he feared that she might get sick on him and his expensive clothes. But he had been raised as a perfect gentleman and if he could prevent it he would try to spare Pansy any further humiliation and be it through catching her should she fall. "Everything has changed since she appeared out of nowhere."
Blaise hummed noncommittally and chose to neither agree nor disagree openly with her statement. However, in the safety of his own mind he had to agree. Lady Saphira Slytherin's appearance had reshuffled the pack. All at once there was a new possible candidate for the younger generation and all of the respected pureblood families were trying their hardest to obtain her.
Pansy huffed wetly and squinted her eyes at Blaise. "Shouldn't you be frustrated?" She blurted out inelegantly. "I mean, Lord Malfoy obviously seems to think that she will be Draco's. I thought you were pursuing her as well."
Blaise felt the urge to burst out laughing, though he quelled it fiercely. Instead he opted to smile mildly at his drunken former class mate. "I did try to pursue her." He agreed softly and without scorn. "But I never once deluded myself into thinking I could ever win her over to become my wife."
When Pansy blinked owlishly and uncomprehendingly at him, Blaise felt the need to explain himself better. "She is special, Pansy." He stressed and he didn't need to use her father's name to make Pansy understand. None of them would speak about her relation in public. No one knew who might listen. The light sight wasn't supposed to know that she even existed. "Even if she would have fallen for me which would be nothing more than a mere slim possibility, I know for sure that her father wouldn't have approved of me as her future husband. I am not what a woman of her standing would and should chose."
Blaise wasn't even lying. He had never thought that he would be the one who would be chosen to become Lady Saphira Slytherin's husband. Whoever was going to be bestowed this honour would be the Dark Lord's right hand man, after all. This man would be married to the Dark Lord's daughter and be the father of her children. This was a position of tremendous power and influence, more than any of them could dream of or wish for. Blaise had always known that he, even though he was of pure blood, would never qualify for this position.
But that didn't mean that one couldn't have a little bit of fun. The Slytherin Heiress was rather beautiful to be honest. He wouldn't have minded a snog or some fondling with her. However, nothing more. Blaise liked to be alive, in one piece and breathing, thank you very much. The Dark Lord would maim whoever dared to touch his daughter improperly or even defile her before she was married. Blaise valued his life too much to find out whether bedding the Slytherin Heiress would be as exciting as he imagined it to be.
Pansy hiccupped again. At once her shoulders slumped and all of her remaining anger left her. What remained was the shell of a dejected drunken young woman.
Her eyes squinted blearily at him. "He really has chosen someone else." She mumbled miserably, her words slurred in her drunken state. "I have to look for someone else."
Blaise hummed thoughtlessly and shrugged. "It seems so, Pansy." His lips distorted into a lopsided grin. He couldn't help himself. After years of having to listen to Pansy boasting about becoming the next Malfoy Mistress, this was too good of an opportunity to pass up. "Perhaps you shouldn't have snubbed Nott all those years ago. He might have been willing otherwise."
Instead of taking offence as Blaise had intended, Pansy looked downtrodden and became even more dejected. And if that didn't kill what little fun he had so far, Blaise wouldn't know what else. "You are right." She mumbled brokenly, her eyes locked on the counter as her fingers played mindlessly with the hem of her jacket. "I shouldn't have snubbed him then. He would be an adequate alternative. Not that he would agree to marry me now."
Blaise felt like an ass for dissing Pansy when she was already feeling down, but he had a tendency to speak before thinking around friends and family and this was seriously biting him in the ass this evening. "You should go home, Pansy." He suggested weakly, not knowing what else to do. "Go home, get in bed, sober up and take the next few days to recover. Life might have something else to offer, but you won't notice it in that state."
Pansy looked so forlorn and lost, like a small child without its parents, and Blaise felt his heart go out to her. It was easier for heirs than heiresses. Parents of heiresses were the ones trying to persuade parents of heirs to consent to a possible marriage contract. Draco's parents were in the comfortable position of being able to outright reject contract propositions, whereas Pansy's parents were in the unpleasant position of having to butter up possible contract partners into considering a future contract.
Sighing lowly Blaise rose from his chair, straightened up and turned towards Pansy. "Come on, Pansy. I will walk you home." He offered her his arm and a weak smile. Pansy's lips started to tremble and for a brief moment Blaise feared she might break into tears. But, thankfully, instead of causing a scene Pansy slowly rose from her chair and accepted his inviting arm.
If any of them noticed that she stumbled a little, both of them silently agreed to ignore that event.
With careful but insistent movements Blaise lead Pansy towards the exit. Before they left the counter, he managed to place a banknote on the counter. The waiter nodded his thanks and smiled in sympathy at him. Though Blaise didn't care.
As they walked towards the protected area a few blocks off from their current location where they could travel by portkey or apparition without having to fear that they might be detected by muggles, Blaise had to admit that this wasn't how he had imagined his evening to end.
He had prepared for a nice evening meeting lovely girls and enjoying their company. Meeting a fellow classmate drunk out of her wits and having to accompany her home to make sure that she wouldn't do something in her sloshed state that she would regret later for the rest of her life wasn't something he had even considered a possibility.
However, they should consider themselves fortunate that he had met her. Who knew what might have happened hadn't he been there. Those filthy muggle boys sitting at the small table next to them had been ogling Pansy too appreciatively for Blaise's taste. And Pansy, miserable and drunk as she was, would most surely have been flattered by their attention especially if she had continued to drink herself into an early grave.
Strengthening his hold on Pansy, Blaise couldn't help but thank Lady Magic for the sudden inspiration to enter that pub. Pansy may be miserable and drunk at the moment. Her life had been up-rooted and she had to seriously reconsider what her current options were. Lousy as her situation was, those aspects could be fixed with time.
Losing her virginity and suffering through an unplanned, half-blood pregnancy on the other end would have sealed her fate.
Who knew, things might even improve for Pansy, Blaise pondered absentmindedly as he led the way. She would have to truly open her eyes and contemplate her possibilities realistically for once. She might even be pleasantly surprised. It was entirely possible.
His gut twisted painfully.
However, Blaise had a bad feeling that she wouldn't be.
Notes:
There are some things I need to address.
1. I am sorry it took me so long to update this story. Real life was hectic and problematic. Another reason for the late update is that I rewrote all of the chapters posted so far.
2. During the rewriting process I realized that I couldn't continue writing the story in the way as I had first intended to. The former plot line was badly thought through and at some points thoroughly lacking. I fixed this and I fixed the future plotline.
3. This means, however, that some of you might be unhappy with how the story will progress. I will express this plainly now, so that there won't be any surprises later. There will be original characters – although a female and blood-adopted Harry Potter probably constitutes as original as well. The story will become rather dark – there will be no rape, but torture and other aspects that might trigger someone.
4. If you are unhappy with this development, then please refrain from continue reading the story.
5. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Flames, however, aren't. I shouldn't have to note that there is never a valid reason for flaming, as everything can be expressed in a constructive way.
Thank you for having read my story.