femme fatale

There was nothing that Gilderoy Lockhart liked better than a good wedding. 

Sofia, in that regard, ever so radiant in white, was perhaps his perfect match. A frequent bride who had mastered the art of throwing a wedding — but the bride could only do so much for the occasion and one couldn’t always account for the groom (or his family). A sea of grim faces glanced surreptitiously back at them from the cluster of tables filled with the grooms family, outnumbering the bride’s party by .. well. The bride’s party was more of a one-man-show today, not that it bothered him. He was more entertaining than a room full of stuffy purebloods on any given day.

Still.

His head tilted, eyes drifting toward the man of the hour where he sat at Sofia’s right and took a long sip of champagne, the bubbles fizzing away at the back of his throat. Salvatore’s list of virtues, as far as Gilderoy could determine, were that he was handsome and utterly besotted with his wife. Neither of these things made him any more worthy of Sofia’s time than half the other Albertelli’s in the room — at least in Gilderoy’s estimation. 

“I’ve attended livelier funerals, my darling,” he replied wryly, swirling the fizzing mass of champagne in his glass and leaning faintly towards her to knock their shoulders together. Gilderoy had mastered the art of the wedding toast three weddings ago and it irked him to think he would waste one on the Albertelli’s and their gloomy expressions. It was as if they did not approve of the match and that wouldn’t do at all. “But one must make do with what they have at their disposal. Your Salvatore at the very least is much handsomer than dear Nathaniel, I imagine he’ll look well enough in the photos. Shall we liven them up a little?”

Sofia hadn’t missed the irony that she had more chemistry with Gilderoy Lockhart than her new husband that sat beside her. 

The wedding ring on her finger had never felt so heavy, especially knowing that she was carrying Kingsley’s child. Life could’ve been agonisingly, beautifully different - but alas, here she sat in dazzling white once more, surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar faces. Salvatore’s hand was laced in hers, his face lit up with a beaming smile of happiness. The dose of the love potion that she had given him this morning was stronger than usual - after all, she needed this marriage. Her child would not have the Albertelli name, but he would have an official father and her reputation would not be in tatters. Being a widow was less shameful than being a divorced woman amongst pureblooded society, but being a widow four times over meant that whispers followed her around. A widow who fell pregnant almost a year after her last husband had died would almost certainly lose her invite to high profile events, and rumours would fly as to who the father was.

Sofia, after all, desperately wanted to be with the love of her life - but if her illicit affairs with him would bring shame upon both of them, then it was best that her child’s real father remained hidden. For now, her bambino was small, hidden behind a wedding dress for a sham relationship. There was a small blessing that Salvatore’s home was large - more than enough space for her to live on one side of the building and not see him. “I wholeheartedly agree. It’s a shame - this marriage has put a sizeable dent in my Gringotts account. Not as much as my wedding to Matteo...after all, that was the event of the year, it was only right that we invested so much into it. This is barely a family gathering.”

A warm smile crossed her lips as Gilderoy knocked his shoulder against hers, and she laughed. “This has turned out to be an Albertelli family gathering, but I have all the family I will ever need right here,” Sofia smiled gracefully, laying her hand atop Gilderoy’s for a minute. “You are my dearest and my oldest friend. I appreciate your presence as my best man once more, mio caro. I do believe that this party needs to be livened up, and as I’m no longer able to consume real wine, it is your duty as my best man to do it for me. Get a little too drunk, dance a little too much and let’s get rid of those sombre faces - or at least stop them looking at just me.” Sofia threw her head back in laughter. “We must do what we know best - be the heart and soul of the party.”

Sofia pushed back her chair and stood, extending a hand to Gilderoy. “Let’s dance.”

Stan wasn’t sure how the world could keep spinning when something so devastating happened made his own world stop cold on its feet.

He never trusted Dumbledore, not fully. The man was always a tad too cunning and sly for his own good, and though friends in school rolled their eyes at him Stan stood by his gut feeling. He played obvious favorites and, in contrast, wasn’t afraid to show distaste for some in his own subtle way. Gilderoy fell into the latter category, and now he paid the price for the headmaster’s poor choices.

Things had been great, really. Stan never fully let go of the fact that Gilderoy had obliviated him to hell and back four different times over the span of a few months, but once they worked past that Stan still found himself head over heels for Gilderoy Lockhart. Some of it probably stemmed from the various different ‘cycles’, as he called them, and how he’d gotten to know Gilderoy despite the man’s best efforts, but he couldn’t deny how his heart beat quicker when he walked into the room, or when he looked at Stan and gave him not his public, picture-perfect smile, but a softer one, a fonder one, accompanied with light touches when they were in public or full-on draping over top of him when they were at home. 

Stan probably seemed paranoid when he suggested Gilderoy not take the teaching job Dumbledore offered, but a pat to the head and a I’ll be fine Stanley, you worry too much soothed his unease before Gilderoy took off, following Millicent to school for her second year. He wrote the both of them frequently, of course, whenever he wasn’t at the Century, and when he could spare it he even caught a few Hogsmeade weekends with Gilderoy to grab lunch with one another. Stan was happy to admit he had been overreacting at the beginning of the year when it happened, erasing him from Gilderoy’s mind and the life they had together in an instant.

He could hardly remember his own name.

Stan never made the conscious decision to go to Sofia Zabini’s manor, at least not the first few times. Though he visited Gilderoy at St. Mungo’s every day, he still grieved the man he loved like he died (which was wrong and he knew that, but how could he not compare the two to one another?), and that grief frequently ended with him staring at the bottom of a bottle wondering how they got into that situation. Millicent stayed with her mother and his flat was too big without someone to share it with, especially when he looked around and saw Gilderoy in every nook and cranny of the place. 

(You really need to decorate, Stanley. What would you do without me?

Probably lose myself. I’m hopeless without you.

Well, I could’ve told you that.) 

Despite their differences, Sofia Zabini was the only one who could truly understand what they both lost, so after her obvious surprise at seeing him on her porch with a bottle of champagne as a peace offering, they both drank themselves and their grief away in her living room.

And again.

And again.

Soon Stan was there more often than not, so much so that a guest room had effectively become his own, with another becoming Millicent’s when he started bringing her along to be with Blaise. It was still painful to be there, but not as much as it was when he was home; he wondered if she’d eventually just give him a key for posterity’s sake. It was this pattern that found him yet again in Sofia’s kitchen on a Sunday morning, forgoing food entirely in favor for a glass or two of whiskey as his breakfast. He glanced up only when Sofia spoke, the woman not nearly as put together as she was when they first met, and gave her a tight smile, lips pressed together and lifting his glass a few inches off the table.

“If it bothers you so much, I can easily replace it,” Stan offered, staring at the liquid in the glass before tilting it back and shutting his eyes while he drank. He set the glass aside and opened them again, staring at a speck on the table as he continued, “Are you coming to visit him later today when Millie and I go?” He’d have to sober up first, but that wasn’t for a while yet. He’d be fine.

If you’d told Sofia even a year ago that Stanley fucking Bulstrode would take up a frequent residence in her home, she’d have laughed in your face and suggested a trip to St Mungos to check for mental deficiencies. Millicent Bulstrode was always welcome, after all, she was an excellent friend to Blaise and Sofia would never turn one of Blaise’s friends away - but her father was another story. Painful acquaintances was how Sofia would have described their relationship until this point. Sofia was amicable with Stanley only because of Gilderoy’s influence. 

That was the crux of it all, she supposed - Gilderoy was the one thing that united the two of them. Now it was their grief.

She was grieving as if he was dead, but wasn’t he? The Gilderoy that shared boozy brunches and gossip with her, the Gilderoy that Sofia had always been able to rely on throughout all things was dead. Her best man, her closest friend. Her only friend. He was a shell of himself now in a hospital room so bland and plain that it made her stomach twist whenever she went to see him. He deserved better, he deserved grandeur. She’d taken him a few things to make him more comfortable, some silk pyjamas and some comfortable slippers - but Sofia didn’t think her heart could break again as painfully as it had when Gilderoy asked her name. 

Life would never be the same again. Her heart would never be whole again.

Sofia sat down heavily, glancing to her right where Cara had appeared. Cooking used to be something that Sofia took great pride in, barely letting the house elves cook at all. She had always enjoyed labouring over a stove, cooking meals for the people she loved. Some of her fondest memories of Blaise as a small child had been teaching him how to bake, his little hands clamouring to help her. Recently, she had hardly been able to stomach the sight of her kitchen - she’d woken up with the intent of making a meal today, but seeing Stanley nursing a whiskey had put her off. 

“An espresso, Cara...and a small cheese and mushroom omelette, please. Bring something for Stanley too,” Sofia asked, looking over at him. He was miserable, just as miserable as her - but it was clear that Stanley was even less put together than herself. Sofia had to wonder when he’d last eaten. “I can certainly afford my own whiskey, Stanley. It’s rather early to be digging into my vintages,” Sofia hummed, falling quiet as Cara reappeared with her coffee.

Cradling the cup in her hands with little regard for the boiling heat that seared her skin, Sofia pursed her lips before nodding. “I think so. His hair is getting a little long, it is falling into his eyes - and I certainly do not trust the nurses to cut it for him. I can get some fresh flowers from the garden, brighten up his space a little bit perhaps.” Sofia sipped at her coffee for a moment, fixing her eyes upon Stanley.

“Do you think this will ever become more bearable? Or will my heart always ache like this for what I have lost?”

Sofia was nearing twelve weeks pregnant already. 

There was a very slight swell in her stomach, so slight that if you didn’t spend a great deal of time looking at Sofia’s typically tight and slender figure you might assume she’d merely eaten too much at the wedding buffet. It was taking a great deal of her strength not to cradle her stomach and the life that was growing there as she had so subconsciously taken to doing over the past weeks. In another month, it would be increasingly obvious that she was pregnant, and her silver tongue would come into use then more than ever before. She had to convince Salvatore’s family that she had fallen pregnant on one of their first meetings in person, rather than meeting him initially when she was already six weeks pregnant. An imperius had convinced Salvatore of that fact, now she just had to convince everyone else. 

The dazzlingly white wedding dress that she had chosen flattered her figure though and so for now it was easy to pretend that everything was normal as she sat at the head table, watching Salvatore’s family dance and laugh with one another. A new wedding ring rested on her finger, a simple golden band, and her new husband sat at her left hand side. He was besotted with her, the result of a simple but potent love potion. Sofia’s world had turned upside down in such a short period of time, but the one constant through everything was sat at her right hand side. Gilderoy was her only guest, a stark contrast to previous events where the room had been split almost fifty fifty. Gilderoy had always been the only support that Sofia had ever needed, and would ever need. 

The reception had been underway for a few hours, and Sofia was already aching for it to be over. The war was in full swing in Britain, the fight with Voldemort consuming any friends that she had made in England over the last few years meaning that she only had one guest. Gilderoy was the only friend that she needed though, the only real friend she had Reaching for Gilderoy’s hand with her left, and her glass of non-alcoholic white wine in her right, Sofia turned to face him. She leaned close, her voice low to ensure her new husband couldn’t hear her as she whispered: “It seems that the Albertelli family don’t know how to party very well. Thank god you are here, mio caro, otherwise I might go out of my mind with boredom. I should have invited some of the more interesting members of Italian wizarding society, but alas....it was terribly last minute. How I wish that this wine was real, it’s not quite the same.”

“So, do you approve of my choice this time? He’s far better looking than Nathaniel....and this one won’t be an adulterer, that much is certain.”

The unthinkable had happened, and he wasn’t getting any better.

29th May 1993 was a date that would surely be etched in Sofia’s mind forevermore. It was perhaps the most significant date since Blaise had entered the world kicking and screaming, making his presence known as only a Zabini could. Even the dates of her marriages, her weddings, they had all begun to blur away - none of them were important. After all, Sofia had really only felt real love for three men in her life. The first, and the most important, was her son. The moment she had felt him kick, Sofia knew she would do anything for her son. The second was Kingsley Shacklebolt, her elusive lover - and certainly the love of her life. But the third man was her only real friend, the man who had stood by her through all the mess she had chosen to create.

And now Gilderoy didn’t even know her name.

It was fortunate, Sofia supposed, that the house elves had been with her long enough that they knew what she liked and were running almost without orders. Cara had even started doing Sofia’s hair for her in the morning, because Sofia’s grief was such that she could hardly lift a finger to care. Blaise had been a rock through all this, ensuring his mother got out of bed each morning to at least continue on with some pretence of normality. Strangely, the only solace in all this had been Stanley fucking Bulstrode of all people. He was the only other person who really understood her grief, understood what they had lost. 

It had started with a few nights getting blind drunk in the parlour, though it ached Sofia to remember of drunken evenings with Gilderoy lounging across the chaise lounge - truly part of the furniture. Those drunken nights with Stanley had stretched into him spending the evening in one of the guest rooms, and then it was a few more evenings. Now Stanley was an almost constant presence when he wasn’t at work, and Millicent was spending a significant amount of time with Blaise - muttering to one another quietly when they thought their parents weren’t listening. 

It was a Sunday, Sofia reckoned as she dragged herself out of bed. Perhaps today was the day that she would make a traditional british Sunday roast for Blaise, and for Stanley and Millicent who had yet again taken residence in a guest room each last night. Sofia dressed, leaving her hair falling in curls around her face as she headed downstairs to the dining room, where Stanley was already sat nursing a brown liquid that looked suspiciously like whiskey. “Buongiourno, Stanley...I see you have been raiding my liquor cabinet once more?” 

The smirk only served to heighten his frustration with the woman before him, but it seemed they were both playing a game of feigned politeness toward the other. Sofia made her dislike for Stan obvious the moment they met, but he couldn’t help being grateful that she was at least trying for Gilderoy’s sake. They both were, as much as it pained him (and, Stan was sure, Sofia as well). “I’ll keep them in mind. Thank you.”

The laugh nearly sent a chill down Stan’s spine, and there was the temperament he’d been expecting to battle the entire time he was there. The thing was, Sofia was likely right that Gilderoy would be gone if this date went awry as well, and that was the last thing Stan wanted to happen. As much as he complained about Gilderoy’s… unique mannerisms, he knew he’d miss the man’s antics the moment he moved out. It would be a little lonely, even. “I never said you weren’t allowed into the casino,” he said, patience running thin. “Just that I didn’t think you’d willingly step into it if you could help it, especially if he becomes your pool boy.” The image was entertaining, to say in the least.

Stan tensed as Sofia snapped at him, and he frowned as she defended saying such disrespectful things about his employees. She was right, sure, but that didn’t mean Stan had to like it. “Fine, fine. Suit yourself.” No doubt he’d be paying this suit back anyhow. At least she was keeping to her word and helping him despite their differences. His hand flew to his head when she mentioned a hairdresser. “My hair isn’t that bad,” he said, glancing back into the mirror. Was it? “Nah, just cleaning up. I’ve got a baby face when I shave completely.”

The halls of Zabini Manor had seen many a tragedy. The loss of two husbands while they lived within these four walls. The annual anniversaries of the deaths of her parents, the death of her sister. Never mind the foul mood that Sofia was often in after an encounter with Kingsley when she knew it would be the last for what might be years, depending on whether she found a way to entice him out or not. Surely, however, today was the manor’s darkest day. Not only was there a half-blood the likes of Bulstrode besmirching her walls. Sofia nodded slowly, her eyes still scanning the paper he held before she glanced away once more. “They are good places, with wonderful food and service. You really cannot go wrong if you use one of them.”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me. I am like a tornado, darling. You cannot stop my will once I have my mind set on something,” Sofia reached for her pack of cigarettes, placing one delicately between her lips. “If Gilderoy indeed does move in here to be my badly behaved pool boy, entertaining myself and my future husbands, then I shall surely have no need to step inside your den of sin.”

Sofia stepped closer, looking him over once more. “Not that bad doesn’t necessarily mean good. You could use a trim, at the very least. My hairdresser is one of the best, they will have you looking your utmost. If there is ever a time to put your effort into your appearance, now is it. Your suit does a great deal for your appearance, but with a tidy up of your hair and whatever is going on with your face then.....you will be fine.”

Stan sighed in exasperation, counting to ten before deciding to speak. “It wasn’t the conversation that fucked it up.“ Save for when he mentioned the farmers that had come through the Century a bit back, but not everyone was interested in that sort of thing. Other than the obvious disasters, he could have sworn Gilderoy wasn’t at least hating the conversation. He wouldn’t have agreed to another date if it was that bad, right? “But that’s neither here nor there, I suppose. Needless to say, I won’t be going there again.”

As if Sofia Zabini didn’t have a threatening aura already, she went on to make a verbal threat as well, and Stan clenched his jaw to keep himself from otherwise reacting. Honestly, other than the type of business he ran, Stan couldn’t figure out why she was so intent on hating him. He understood that people didn’t trust casinos, and that was of their own prerogative (and not without merit, frankly), but she seemed very dedicated toward not liking him in the least. It was like he personally offended Sofia by existing. “Thought you wouldn’t step foot in the Century again,” he said coolly, raising an eyebrow at her. “But alright. I swear this won’t be a waste of your time.”

“Mags is far better than you give her credit for,” he said defensively, frowning at Sofia. He kept telling himself to not start a fight with Sofia in her own home, but he wasn’t about to let her trash talk his employees–his friends, really–and expect him to let it slide. “She may not be up to your standard, but plenty of people like the drinks she makes, including Gil.” At least, Stan assumed Gilderoy did. Why else would he keep going back and adding to his ridiculously large, unpaid bar tab? “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t speak ill about my staff in front of me, thank you.”

Despite his frustration with her, Stan couldn’t help feeling proud when Sofia said he looked good for once, rather than criticize him yet again. He glanced back in the mirror and nodded in agreement. A moment passed, and he sighed. “I suppose I should thank you for doing this at all. The suit looks great.” It would look even better once it was properly tailored, but still. Stan looked back to her. “Anything other tips I should know about? I’ve got all day.”

An amused smirk tugged at the corner of her lips at Stan’s clear frustration and the pause where he was clearly trying to settle himself. Sofia hadn’t spent nearly enough time arguing recently, she was dying to really get her teeth into an argument and go for the jugular. But she couldn’t - for Gilderoy’s sake. The amount of love that she had for that man would be the death of her, she was sure of it. “Tell yourself whatever you need to in order to justify a second date. Bene, stick by these restaurants and you’ll be golden.”

Sofia laughed coldly, a sound with no amusement in it. “I shall step into the casino if I want to. I’m within my right to seek out my dearest friend, and he just so happens to live under your roof....for whatever reason. I suspect if you manage to ruin this attempt, you might not be his landlord much longer. He’s already entertained the idea of moving in here to be my darling pool boy.”

“I’ll say whatever I want to say in my own home. Need I remind you that you are here, in my property, asking for my help and I will be spending a great deal of money on the tailor. I shall say what I like,” Sofia snapped, a scowl darkening her face for a moment. Her scowl passed and her face softened slightly as Stan thanked her. “I said I would do anything for my Gilderoy, and so here I am.” Sofia narrowed her eyes for a moment, before summoning Cara once more. “Cara my darling, please call the hairdresser. We must sort this out. Will you be shaving?”

And he supposed they could wile away their time on the African plains ruminating on their unluckiness in love, if needs be, but was that not what they had come to escape here? They were here to be them; beautiful and rich and inherently better than everyone around them and to leave all the tangled webs of England behind them.

“Enough of all that maudlin talk,” he hummed, tipping his chin a little higher against the confessions of feelings that didn’t belong here, “I imagine there’s some terribly judgemental zebras out there just waiting to judge one another’s looks.”

Following her gesture he caught sight of a rustle of grass, a flick of a tail, and he watched, enraptured by the sight of nature in its crudest form. Predator and prey. Even death out here was such a simple affair, there were no politics to determine who deserved it and who didn’t. Death was a matter of survival. 

There was a wistfulness that followed the suggestion that they could just up and leave, that they could live out here beneath that blue sky and never think of dreary London again. He couldn’t help but think that life would be that much simpler that way, that by returning to London he was committing to some unspoken agreement that something was going to change. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted it to.

With a sudden eruption of movement the lioness burst out of the undergrowth, flying across the plains into the scattering zebras and launching onto the closest one with ripping teeth and claws. The noise the zebra made had him turning away, clearing his throat and blinking away the smear of red from behind his eyelids. “Everything feels much simpler here,” he offered after a moment, curling their hands tighter together and breathing out a heavy sigh. “I could be your year-round pool boy.”

No more maudlin thoughts.

Being with Gilderoy was one of the most natural things in the world. It had been for many years - her nearest and dearest friend. Sofia leaned against him slightly, seeking comfort as she closed her eyes to gather herself. The thought of her troubles with love was throwing her emotions all over the place, when all she wanted to do was focus on the safari they had come to enjoy. 

At Gilderoy’s firm statement of enough, Sofia swallowed back any emotion that threatened to bubble up. Keeping herself calm and collected had developed into a necessity over the years, a necessity that was now keeping her alive in these difficult times. “Which animal species do you think is the most judgemental? I think tigers seem to be terribly judgemental animals. Cats are rather judgemental, their bigger cousins must be similar..”

Sofia couldn’t tear her eyes away as the lioness ripped into the zebra. It was so primal, so vicious....and yet something within her understood. Beyond simple survival, there was a need to be sated - a thirst for blood. The car started up again with a roar to match the lioness’ as they began to move away from the bloody scene, moving at a leisurely pace through the desert. “My darling I always need a pool-boy. You can be there to scare off whatever man I bring home next, which will inevitably be a terrible decision,” Sofia laughed, the image of Gilderoy terrifying some poor soul that was in bed with her flashing in her head. “You’d make a wonderful pool boy, my dear.”

Sofia’s words were encouraging but Amelia couldn’t help but worry there was a thin veil of sadness behind it. She was a new friend and Amelia had yet to pick up on all the woman’s quirks and habits though Amelia couldn’t be sure she ever would. Sofia always seemed to graceful - calm, cool, collected. Amelia decided to take the easy smile at face value, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

“Well, sometimes our parents ask too much of us, at least I think so.” Amelia smiled, attempting to understand what Sofia’s situation growing up must have been like. Amelia, with her middle class upbringing and kind family couldn’t begin to possibly understand what it might of been like to be raised in a pureblood family with such exhausting expectations. There were girls at school like Sofia, the Black sisters for instance, who sounded like they’d lived a similar life. Married off as soon as they finished their compulsory education. While they might have never had to worry about paying bills or when they’d eat again, being forced to marry someone you never loved and bare their children sounded nightmarish. “Our world is especially bad about putting undue stress on women to be mothers and caregivers under the guise of tradition. It isn’t fair we have to chose while men are able to have it all. What I tell all my female friends is usually just do whatever makes you happy.”

The discussion about France made Amelia long for a return trip, making a mental note to ask Sofia what Beauxbatons was actually like. She had always had a burning curiosity about other wizarding schools. Everything was always so secretive. “I’m sure you’ll have an amazing time.” Amelia answered, “As much as I love England, seeing some sunshine would be worth the trip alone.”

Amelia tried not to look so thrilled at the mention of dresses. As much as she would like to eat a million more of Sofia’s delicious scones, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea when trying to squeeze into haute couture. “Yes, of course.” Amelia smiled, a little sad at the thought of having to move little cupid from her lap. “Lead the way.”

Amelia’s easy acceptance of Sofia’s smile satisfied her. There were moments when she wondered if her facade might be slipping, if the spiders web of lies that she had carefully weaved around herself might be starting to crumble. In the face of Gilderoy Lockhart, Sofia was almost certain that he knew her game. But to know that Amelia Bones would still accept the words that she spoke so confidently, so smoothly was promising. 

“My mother always asked too much. Catarina Zabini was a hard woman, the only regard she had for her daughters were ensuring we were in our prime for marriage.” Catarina hadn’t even cared that her daughter had found the love of her life when she so carelessly handed her off to Matteo instead. “You have a refreshing outlook on life, Miss Bones. It is quite unique to the other company I tend to keep, you’re a fascinating little thing. Tell me - what is your dream? What do you want to do with your life? You strike me as the sort that wants to make a change..”

Sofia stood, watching from the corner of her eye as Cara appeared to take their empty plates away. The flash of excitement that she’d seen on Amelia’s face brought another smile to Sofia’s lips, as she turned to leave the room. Heading upstairs, Sofia headed into one of the spare bedrooms that she had taken to storing her out-of-season dresses in. “Anything in here is free for the taking. Perhaps we can find the colour that best suits your skin-tone first....” Sofia reached towards the rack full of dresses. “I think pastels might suit you best.”

“Somehow i think it’ll go better with you planning it anyway,” he said, willing to give her that at least. Stan was still a bit bummed that whatever game he’d had in Hogwarts seemed to vanish with age, but he wasn’t above asking for help. He was here, wasn’t he? “I think I can manage not to fuck up just being there and talking with him.” 

He bristled a little when she talked down on his halfblood status, but he supposed he was going to hear a lot of talking down on throughout the day. It was in Sofia’s nature to let no flaw go unmentioned when it came to Stan, and he’d submitted himself to her care anyway. Just go along with it, don’t insult her in her own home. “Yeah, we can save ideology for another time,” he said, though he highly doubted he’d have a conversation with Sofia that was that deep anytime in the near future, if ever. Having been on the end of Sofia’s anger, he could only imagine the telling off he’d get if he forgot a smidge of what she taught him. “I’ll remember it, don’t worry. I’m here seriously, Sofia, not to waste your time. Or Gilderoy’s, for that matter.”

He watched quietly as Sofia stood and rummaged through her belongings for an address book. When she handed him the written list of places, he looked over them all with a slightly raised eyebrow. Stan swore he recognized one or two of them from years back, an off-handed mention by his grandparents before they both bit the dust. The circled one sounded promising, though, and he folded the paper carefully to place in his breast pocket. “There’s no question of whether I can afford these,” he said, smirking. “I’m a Bulstrode, remember? I didn’t invest all of my money into the muggle world. Pretty sure my grandparents would roll in their graves if I did.”

Stan stood when Sofia did and eyed the tailor curiously, not having a chance to get a word in before Sofia was gone and Mr. Bell was at his side for measurements. He hadn’t bothered to get himself an overly expensive suit in years, too busy between his casino and his kids to care, but he had to admit they looked good. Blue may have even been his color, to his surprise. Stan glanced in the summoned mirror before calling Sofia back in. It would look better without the pins stuck into it and a few places folded, but it was a general idea. “Well. Better than my grey suits?”

“You certainly came to the right person. I know Gilderoy better than anyone else, my closest friend in the whole world.” Really, he was her only friend. Sofia had developed a fondness for the young Amelia Bones, but Sofia wouldn’t go so far to call her a friend yet. Certainly a fond acquaintance, but friend was reserved for someone Sofia loved and accepted with her whole heart. “You say that, and yet I have it on good authority that you managed to fuck it up by talking last time.”

Saving ideology for another time. The thought amused her and a small smirk played on her lips. Ideology was the defining point of their society at the minute - what with Lord Voldemort taking a stand against the poison within their society. Setting ideology aside was almost impossible, but she could keep her lips pressed together for now while Stanley stood before her. She inclined her head as Stanley said he was here seriously, and the tension in her shoulders relaxed slightly. “If you waste my time, you’ll never hear the end of it, Stanley. Don’t forget....I know where you live.”

Sofia took another long, desperate gulp of her wine as Stanley took the addresses from her. “The circled restaurant is possibly my favourite place in the whole United Kingdom. The service is exceptional, the food is always astounding and the drinks are sublime. Far better than anything your Magnolia can create,” Sofia hummed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “Any date there would certainly be acceptable to Gilderoy.”

Sofia hovered outside the parlour in the hallway until she was summoned back in, and she immediately exclaimed her approval. “Perfezionare!” She took a few steps towards Stanley, brushing a small thread of cotton away from one of the shoulders. “Far better. The colour suits you, and the material is obviously well made. It’s perfect.”

“Trust me, I’m aware,” he muttered, not appreciating the way Sofia continued to talk down on him and what had happened. Yes, he knew fully well that Gilderoy wasn’t likely to give him a third chance if he screwed this one up as well, hence his going to Sofia at all. Yes, he knew it had driven him out of the country, something that still irked Stan in a way that was a bit unreasonable. He hadn’t thought it was so bad that Gilderoy would leave the country, but here they were. “I’m just happy he gave me one at all. I don’t intend to mess this one up as well.”

How did you end up like this? Stan let out a quiet, bitter laugh, sitting opposite of Sofia and pouring himself a glass of wine once it was sent over his way. Where to even start? Not only that, but how much did Sofia deserve to know? She certainly didn’t care for him, and made sure he knew that at every turn they came across. Why would she care about the antagonistic relationship between himself and his grandparents? On the other hand, maybe it would give her a stepping block toward figuring out where to start with him. “Pureblood ideology happened,” he finally said, sipping at his glass and looking up at Sofia. “That, and my grandparents’ pure hatred toward me for existing. Needless to say, I stopped giving a shit the moment they showed me they didn’t give a shit.” He listened to Sofia list off what wines paired well with what foods, mentally making notes so he could do a little more research whenever Sofia was done with him. “I remember a few of those vaguely,” he said, leaning back more into his seat. “Nan wasn’t great at making sure I remembered her lessons.”

Stan frowned as Sofia went after his suits and hair–did he even need a haircut?–and shoved down the instinct to defend himself without thinking. He couldn’t afford to piss Sofia off. “I could certainly use some recommendations, if the first date didn’t show that.” What did the best for Gilderoy look like? Stan went quiet for a moment as he thought, staring at the wine in his glass as if that had the answer for him. “I don’t want to embarrass him,” he said slowly, thinking about each word carefully. “I want to stand at his side and look like I belong there, I suppose. Like we’re on equal footing.” 

And this was getting way too personal to be comfortable, so Stan took another sip of his wine and studiously avoided Sofia’s eyes, as if that would make him any more comfortable.

Trust me I’m aware. It was a miracle that Gilderoy had granted Stanley even a second change, which...perhaps was the only reason she was willing to help him at all. She had never seen Gilderoy grant a second chance, so there must be something there....even if it were something small. “Well when I am done with you you won’t have the change to mess it up. Everything shall be planned and sorted, you just have to.....not fuck it up,” Sofia murmured as she took another long sip of her wine. She would need a whole bottle to cope with the hell that this day was going to be.

Why couldn’t he have chosen a rainy day full of thunder? Why did it have to be a day where the sun was shining, when she could’ve gone on a lovely long walk. Raising her eyebrow as Stanley talked down on pureblood ideology, Sofia bit back a retort aimed at reminding him where he was and whose house he was in. Perhaps one day she might find herself on the opposing end of a battlefield to Stanley Bulstrode, and she would not hesitate. “You are a half-blood? It is disappointing, the dilution of our blood these days,” Sofia sighed. “Italy is much the same, far too many half-bloods and not many pure-bloods around. Anyway, today is not about ideology. It is about sorting you out so you are suitable for a date with my dear friend. You best remember my lessons, or I shan’t be happy...wasting my time like this.”

“I have a list of the places we frequent. I will find the list, but all the places have excellent service and excellent food,” Sofia hummed, standing to rifle through some papers in a drawer as he spoke until she found her address book. The notion of wanting to be equal with Gilderoy was admirable, she supposed. Summoning some parchment and a quill, Sofia slowly scribbled down some of their favoured places, circling one in particular. Handing it over to Stanley, she pointed at that one. “This is one of his favourites....if you can afford it.”

The door to the parlour opened slowly and Cara stepped through the door, closely followed by the tailor. “Mr Bell,” Cara introduced before vanishing again as Sofia nodded her head. She walked over to greet him with a firm handshake and a gracious smile.. “I hope you have what Cara asked you to bring?” Sofia asked, and Bell smiled. “Of course. An Italian suit, blue. We can make the adjustments when I have measured him. Stand, Mr Bulstrode.”

Sofia glanced between the two before summoning the bottle of wine. “Call me back in when you’re done with the measuring. This is something I certainly do not need to see.”

They made quite the pair; him mooning over an entirely unsuitable option who had had the gall to be ashamed of him and her, consorting with her late husbands cousin, even if he was a Prewett. He supposed that even the poorest of Purebloods were still considered purer than most, but his fingers settled absently upon her shoulder in solidarity regardless. The intricacies of her marriages weren’t always explicit and Gilderoy knew she held more than her fair share of secrets (some of which he liked to think he simply knew without the necessity of being told) but Gilderoy was certain that Avery was one man who should be very grateful of his early grave.

“I concur, my darling,” he decided aloud, tipping his chin up against the sunlight and staring pointedly outward. Honestly, London had a way of mixing him up in ways that he didn’t want to consider.

What he had needed, after all, was just some fresh air to clear his head away from the flashing lights of The Century.

What better place than Africa to find some equilibrium again? He stared out at the herd of zebras, watching them flick their tails and and ears at them. They were beautiful creatures, as Sofia insisted, and the brightness of her smile told him that they had been right to come here, for however long this sanctuary lasted. “Oh, certainly,” he agreed with a broad smile, “They all get together to gossip about the most unfortunate patterned zebra behind it’s back.”

And her sigh of dismay at never truly being free, of being stuck, resonated sadly within him. An odd feeling, one he couldn’t place, that tied him to London in spite of his vicious attempts to free himself. He felt like a fox caught in a trap, willing to gnaw it’s own leg off to get loose. “I think I would do almost anything to be free like them.”

He had been. For all the obligations that editors and publishers and agents put upon him, he had been free to wander as he liked, so long as he sent a few pages back every now and again. Just when had that stopped being so?

“I think,” he sighed aloud, as the zebras startled, spurred into a sudden gallop by something on the horizon, “That anything must be happy to live out in the sun, unbothered by all the ridiculous burdens we place upon ourselves. Do you think, my darling, that my agent would mind terribly if I simply moved here? I’m sure there’s a whole wealth of stories to be found on the plains.”

It seemed that despite naming her new kitten after the God of Love, Cupid himself was not shining upon either of them. A disastrous date and a quiet affair with Nathaniel’s cousin while he was preparing to bury his own cousin. She couldn’t say it wasn’t dramatic. It would certainly make for an outstanding headline for the tabloids, a bombshell to shock the women who read them...and to break hearts across the country when they heard that Gilderoy had gone on a date. Thoughts of Avery allowed a melancholic cloud of emotion to settle over Sofia for just a second. Sofia was happy to talk about Matteo, Louis and even Nathaniel when the occasion arose.

But Christopher - well, he’d had his uses. But his presence among the walls of her freshly purchased manor seemed to darken the whole place, make it feel less like a home. His death had been her greatest display of power in years, and a well deserved one at that.

Sofia turned her head slightly so that Gilderoy couldn’t see the darkness that had crept over her expression, and she took a few moments to steel herself. Taking a few long, slow breaths, Sofia let her fury dissipate from her slowly as she breathed in the clean air. They were on holiday, far away from any of their baggage.

Christopher Avery could remain in the ground where he belonged, not among the beauty of the African plains. 

“Oh how vicious of them, mean little creatures,” Sofia murmured, going along with the ridiculous notion of zebra gossip. Just then there was a small rustle in the undergrowth behind them, and Sofia twisted her head slightly. “Their freedom may be over soon,” Sofia murmured, pointing at the outline of a lion who was eyeing up his dinner. “Nature at work.”

“I think that if your agent still gets monthly pages that he can eventually make into a book to publish then he shan’t matter too terribly. I have enough money to invest in a house out here....we could do it, you know. We could just leave London, vanish into the sun and remain here for the rest of our days.”

They couldn’t. Both of them had ties they did not want to cut, Sofia knew that much. But it was nice to dream.

Amelia wondered if she would get the opportunity to meet he famous Gilderoy in the future, it was apparent he had very good taste in cats. Little Cupid was evidence enough of that. At the mention of Sofia’s husband, Amelia offered a look of compassion. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing alright.” Amelia offered kindly, though oblivious to the darker narrative of Sofia’s marriage, “I didn’t want to mention it because I wished us to have a relaxing time…If you ever want to talk about Nathaniel, I’m always here with open ears.”

As they switched gears to the subject of children, Amelia could only shake her head at Sofia’s insistence that she was much too old. “I’m pretty certain it’s forty when you need to start worrying about complications but you’re so young anyway.” Amelia had always been in the state of mind, that children should always be wanted. Something that her parents practiced and preached, especially her mother. “Though, I’ve always been one to think that it’s not a woman’s responsibility to have children unless she wants that in her life. Molly’s happy with her kids but if it’s not something you desire, there’s no shame in that. I’m actually quite unsure about it myself, even if I met the right person.”

“Not a long holiday but I’ve been to France and Germany a few times with family and friends. Nothing as exciting as a safari though. ” Amelia smiled, thinking of spending the afternoon with Amycus. She wasn’t sure she had seen him smile so much in one day. Maybe she needed to start keeping a tally. “I’ve been before, my parents had taken us a few times. It’s quite interesting when you think about it, they’re just different from everything I’ve ever seen in our world.” Amelia paused, considering what animals Sofia would be more likely to see, “They had tigers, lions, that sort of thing of course but I’m always very impressed with giraffes. I could probably rattle off so many useless facts about them….The most interesting thing is probably that they only need about thirty minutes of sleep in a twenty-four hour period. Fascinating,”

Amelia was a sweet girl, that much was evident. Perhaps that was why Sofia had taken pity on her, but truly, she did like the woman. She appeared to have a kind heart, though kindness was often swallowed up quickly by this world. “Oh it’s alright, life goes on with or without my husband. I’m coping much better now I have my best boy to keep me company at night,” Sofia said with an easy smile. “I shall keep you in mind. I have been talking to Fabian somewhat, he was a distant relative of Nathaniel and with a recent loss of his own, well he understands. Gilderoy introduced me to Nathaniel, so he too has been a source of strength in this difficult time. But life goes on,” Sofia sighed. 

Amelia’s firm shake of her head caused a laugh to bubble up within her. “If you asked my mother, she would say that the mere idea of having a child later than the age of twenty-five is the most heinous of crimes. She wanted me to have a large family by that age, and yet....here I am, a childless widow. If only she could see me now,” Sofia’s tone held a slight tinge of bitterness. Catarina would surely be turning in her grave to see what her eldest daughter had made of herself. “I think life is far easier without a child...my lifestyle wouldn’t fit with a child in tow, I don’t think,” beneath the table though, Sofia’s hand moved to lay on her stomach where life had once grown. Life could have been so different, if only her mother hadn’t been consumed by greed and status...

“I’m rather fond of France, I attended Beauxbatons so France holds a place in my heart,” Sofia mused. She was planning a trip back there soon, a brief escape from the dullness of London to the bustle of Paris. “Magical creatures have always seemed quite bold to me, but muggle creatures are far different. Giraffes only need thirty minutes of sleep? How curious...sometimes I feel as though I only have thirty minutes of sleep in that amount of time,” Sofia said with a laugh. “I’m rather excited. Speaking of excitement, if you’re done eating, shall we go and take a look at some of my dresses? We can find those which fit you best and tailor them, and of course we need to find which colour best suits your complexion.”

Stan opened his mouth to counter that he knew Gilderoy well enough, that they would learn more about one another if the date went well, but something Sofia said felt… wrong. Like an itch at the back of his brain, something he couldn’t quite reach but knew was there. Four months, she had said, but Gilderoy had only been at the Century for two months, right? Yes, he was certain it had only been two months, yet here Sofia was saying they’d known each other much longer. He thought back to two months prior, to the checking book he kept that had a date that couldn’t have been right, but the more he tried to think on it the more his brain protested, a headache forming behind his eyes. Whatever retort Stan had was gone with that, and instead he just slowly nodded. “I hope to know him better, at least,” he said slowly,  

That smirk Sofia sent his way didn’t help his headache, though that was for a different reason entirely. She was, in and of itself, a massive pain, but it seemed that embarrassing himself did the trick. The words for Gilderoy left her lips and Stan let himself relax a little, even with the bite behind her words. He got himself up off the ground and dusted off his knees, following Sofia inside and hearing the door close behind them with a resounding thud. 

Zabini Manor, he noted as they walked through the parlor, wasn’t much bigger or smaller than Bulstrode Estate. It was certainly less dusty, since she actually lived in the place, and the furniture was more modern than his grandparents had ever let theirs be, but otherwise it was more or less what he’d expected when he decided to pay Sofia a visit. Frankly, everything that Sofia was was something that Stan actively tried to avoid, because this kind of lifestyle had never treated him well. However, it seemed like it was the kind of lifestyle that appealed to Gilderoy, so with luck Sofia could catch him up on what he’d let go for the past decade or so. “I’m well aware of what I’m getting myself into, believe me. Let’s just say I’m out of touch with it all.” As if the disaster date didn’t make that obvious. “I’d cleared my schedule on the off chance you’d say yes, so have at me I suppose.”

Sofia didn’t miss the way Stan’s mouth had opened but whatever words he’d intended to sling at her had failed him, and her brows furrowed. It was unlike Stanley to shy away from an argument, but something had stopped him in his tracks. What the hell had she done now? “Well I can perhaps assist with that....I hope you know that if the second date goes as badly as the first, you won’t get another chance. I am amazed that he has even given you a second, considering what he told me about your date. I hope you know that your date was so bad that it drove him out of the country,” Sofia clicked her tongue in disapproval as she looked at him. What had made Gilderoy choose this man?

Sitting down in one of the armchairs, Sofia waved her hand towards a chair opposite her. “The Bulstrodes are an old family, si? Christopher taught me about each of the families during our marriage, it was perhaps one of the only useful things that man did for me. How did you end up like this?” Sofia asked, though she knew precisely how. Blood purity had diluted in Britain, it had been on a downward trend for some time - that was, after all, what the Dark Lord wanted to address. That was yet another reason that whatever had been between herself and Fabian would not have lasted. Summoning a bottle of wine, Sofia poured herself a glass before levitating it towards Stanley. “A vintage, Gilderoy likes vintage wines. No Pinot Gris. Do you know your pairings? Sauvignon for chicken, Pinot Noir works wonderfully with salmon, Merlot is good with steak. Any good waiter at a good restaurant should be able to recommend proper wine pairings based on what they have, but it can’t hurt to have an idea before you go in.

Reaching for a cigarette, Sofia sighed. “How much work do we need to do today? Have you already booked a restaurant, or do you need recommendations? Merlin knows you need a new suit, I’ve called the tailor already. Italian of course, the best that money can buy. A haircut too, I suppose...You want to be the best for Gilderoy, si? Tell me what you think that looks like.”

Wine under the stars. A nice vintage that would pair nicely with the heat of the day, crisp and delicate — Sofia got him, in a way that few people had ever gotten him. Where other people saw pretentiousness she saw taste and what some would call demanding she saw as an expectation that hadn’t been met. They were two of a rare kind in that way, a thought that brought a broad and clear smile to his face of the kind that he hadn’t exhibited in weeks.

It was easy to feel unburdened when you were running far from your problems.

“And that,” he assured her firmly, “Is what I like best about you.”

Her confession drew his eyes curiously back to her, listening to the salacious gossip being spilled with great interest. 

“I do recall him,” he replied after a moment of consideration, his eyes wide and amused by the tale she had to tell. It was the first time she’d spoken of an interest since Nathaniel’s untimely death and for it to be a distant relative. His eyebrows inched upward, thoroughly impressed as always by Sofia’s ability to go after the things she wanted without hesitation, though her sighed dismay on the scale of Prewett (he remembered him, he thought, from the funeral; a grim if handsome man who had sought to offer his condolences to the widow while Gilderoy had retreated for a cigarette) and his ethics and his unfortunate finances. “Such a shame he’s proven a disappointment, the Prewett name would have been a nice addition to the collection.”

His eyes darted, faintly amused towards her before carrying on, innocently, “Perhaps we are overdue for an upswing then.” 

Coiling his arm through hers and entangling their hands together as their truck slowed, the sight of a herd of zebras creeping out of the grassy plains coaxing his mood further upward. They were beautiful, in the way that all the wild things of the world were beautiful, safe from all the restraints and cages that society saw fit to place upon them. He sighed, dropping his head against hers and adding, “I believe that every one of them has their own unique pattern.”

The herd seemed aware of their presence, if the flicking of their ears and tails were any indication, though they made no move to bolt just yet. Gilderoy sat up a little in his seat, leaning toward the window to peer at them and the fluttering birds that perched in the trees above them, at the vivid blue sky and the crisp gold of the grass. It was beautiful and wild in a place that few places he had been to had ever been. “If only we could all be so free.”

Where would she be without Gilderoy? Certainly she’d be dreadfully lonely. There wasn’t another soul in the world who understood her as he did, who saw her on a level that others did not. Others merely saw a superficial widow with a taste for the finer things of life, but Gilderoy saw her for all she was - and chose to remain regardless. 

Perhaps in another life they might have made an exceptional married couple. They suited each other down to the ground.

But that wasn’t what this life had for them.

Sofia hummed slowly at Gilderoy’s amusement regarding Fabian. Fabian Prewett had crept up on Sofia, and though there could never be anything permanent there, she wasn’t opposed to something more casual continuing for now. If only he had been a rich pureblood as opposed to just pureblooded. It was unthinkable for her to marry someone so poor, a man who worked in an even lower role in the ministry than Kingsley. “He is a curious man. I’m not convinced that our tale is over, I think there is still more there....but I certainly shall never be married to a Prewett,” Sofia fell quiet for a moment, before adding quietly “I think I would rather have the Prewett name than Avery, looking back upon it all.”

“A good date is on the cards for us both. The future is bright my darling, as bright as the African sun. We shall shine again,” Sofia said firmly. If she spoke it, perhaps it might become truth. 

Sofia squeezed Gilderoy’s hand with an excited smile, looking curiously at the wild animals as they crept ever closer to the vehicle that was invading their living space. “How fascinating. Do you think any of them are judged for their patterns, as we judge other people for their outfits?” Sofia asks with a tinge of amusement in her voice. A zebra, bolder than the rest of it’s herd, took a few steps towards the vehicle and looked up towards them. “Oh Gilderoy aren’t they gorgeous. Freedom is something I can only dream of, but how enticing it seems,” Sofia breathed. She was chained in more ways than one - chained by her web of lies, chained by the love she held for Kingsley, chained by her pledge of allegiance to the Dark Lord as a matter of personal survival. To be free was almost unthinkable at this point in her life.

“Do you think they’re happy? Out here in the African plains? Oh how easy it would be to abandon Britain entirely and live here in the sun...”

There went a murmur of Italian, and though he didn’t show it that instantly made Stan a bit nervous. He didn’t like not understanding what people said, especially if there was the possibility that they were talking about him, and in this instance there was no doubt about who Sofia was speaking about. The only outward sign of uncertainty that he showed was a casual shift of his weight from one foot to the other, though he couldn’t hide his confusion when Sofia told him to try again, try harder. How, exactly, was he supposed to impress a woman who was determined to dislike him?

He thought again of Gilderoy, the closeness that was between them before he’d walked off, and shoved his dignity aside. Gilderoy was worth it.

“I know what he’s like,” he said slowly, wracking his brain for a way that might satisfy Sofia. God, why was this so difficult? “This is me trying my absolute best, by going to the best. I’ll do whatever it takes.” An idea came to his mind, an idea that crushed at his pride and dignity, but he pushed it aside and slowly got down onto his knees. It was more than embarrassing, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do to impress Sofia. It might at the very least make her feel better about Halloween, if only a little. “I am literally on my knees, Sofia. Please help me, if for Gilderoy’s sake if not my own.”

His apparent confusion didn’t instil much confidence in Sofia that he would indeed be able to try harder if he couldn’t even understand the order. Sofia crossed her arms, nails tapping against her bare skin as she waited for him to make some sort of move. “You have known him for....four months? I have known him for the better part of a decade. I believe I know him better than you,” Sofia said, that small creeping tinge of jealousy rearing its ugly head once more. Her mood was soothed slightly as he referred to her as the best, though she gave no indication of that on her expression. 

Stan’s slow descent to his knees brought a wicked smirk to her lips, and she knew she would savour that image for years to come (if things went well, of course - if not she would forget him quickly). Proud casino owner Stanley Bulstrode on his knees before her, begging for her help. “For Gilderoy. Otherwise the wards would’ve already sent you out on your arse as you British say. Get up, you’re making yourself look a fool,” Sofia said, her voice tinged with amusement. Taking a few steps backwards into her house, Sofia slipped her wand from her sleeve and flicked it towards the door to close it as Stan followed her inside.