The Prime Princess

“MURDERER!!!” screamed Draco on top of his lungs and slumped back into mattress panting furiously. His mind was racing as he remembered the expression on Granger’s face as she draw the wand and cast a Killing Curse.

Blaise’s pale face was staring back at him as Draco got his vision focused. Madam Pomfrey huffed something under her breath and told Blaise to leave him alone.

“No way I’m gonna leave him alone!” argued Blaise and managed to pull off one very warning look that made her step back.

“Fine,” said Madam Pomfrey, “I’m going to keep you two here for a day. Understood? Now, get some sleep!”

Blaise waited when she was gone and then turned to Draco.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” he growled and hopped down from the cot and was about to find himself a vacant bed when Draco grabbed his wrist. Halting, he turned around and faced quite confused Draco.

“Is she… I mean…” he even couldn’t end the question. Blaise sighed and sat back to his bedside.

“It’s better if you don’t think about it too much,” told Blaise tiredly.

“How come in one moment we are at cemetery and next… she gets killed by a fucking Mudblood?!” raised Draco his voice but Blaise hissed at him to be quieter. Then he stared at Draco oddly.

“You mean… you remember the cemetery also? But how? Last night we were studying in the Library for NEWTs. I remember it clearly as I remember the training night…” he trailed off more confused as Draco. “How’s that possible?”

“Who cares? Mudblood killed Mione!” whispered Draco angrily. The only feeling he had retrieved was hate and that burned brightly inside him.

“By now she’s in Azkaban,” told Blaise confidently but that didn’t satisfy Draco.

“I want Granger dead!” hissed Draco. In the darkness Blaise was able to see his silvery eyes glinting with the shine of fury.

“Like half of the school,” muttered Blaise.

“What?”

“Well, when you were playing Sleeping Beauty, the whole school went crazy. Obviously Mione had lots of friends fighting in her name to get even with Griffindor,” said Blaise quietly.

“Griffindor… Potter! Since I’m banned from Quidditch for the remaining year, then we are out of a Seeker. I’m banned? Where did that come from? Anyway, Potter. Yes, I hold him and Weasel responsible for their pet Mudblood’s actions. So, they are gonna pay for what Granger did to my Mione!” rambled Draco. Blaise bite his lip for a second and took a goblet from the nightstand.

“Remembering this life also, I’d say our Mione. Here, drink this,” said Blaise and handed him the Sleep Draft.
***
On early morning Blaise cracked his dark blue eyes open and stared to his side. Next to his cot sat Draco and busied himself wolfing his breakfast. He attacked his food with fury like he wanted to punish it by eating it alive. Well, at least he seemed to feel better.

After he had changed his clothes that a house elf had brought him, Blaise stretched himself and got ready to go down into Great Hall and have something to eat also but he never got there.

“I want to see my son! Right away!” demanded a very aristocratic female voice that made Blaise shudder. Madam Pomfrey was pushed aside and the doors of the Hospital Wing rammed open. Dame Zabini with her delegation of her two daughters marched in.

“Hey, you can’t…” started Madam Pomfrey but the younger raven-haired witch made a hand gesture that shut her up.

Dame Zabini strode straight to Blaise and halted in front of him. She looked cold as a stone and hard as steel when she assessed him from head to toe. Blaise just stood there, not even trying to stand up straight. His two sisters glared at him over their Mother’s shoulder and only scowled.

“You couldn’t protect her,” she stated the fact coldly but Blaise heard the accusation in his Mother’s voice. “We shall talk about it. Today. We have booked suits in Hogsmeade. 12 o’clock sharp in Royal Cortez.”

With that Dame Zabini turned around and stormed out of there with her daughters in toe. No hello, no hug, no nothing! That only meant he was going to be hanged. Bloody fantastic!

Slumping onto his cot, he noticed Draco smirking.

“What?” growled Blaise and ran his hands over his face.

“Nothing,” said Draco. “But I should say that Bunny… er Señora Cortez is not happy to see Italians. Bunny hates them cuz half of her cooks are Italians singing opera arias.”

“Oh, thank you very much for that information,” huffed Blaise and was about to sneak out there when the grand entering of Moretius and Alya Ariston made him stop. The incoming of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy was even more surprising.

“Mom?” croaked Draco, “Dad!” It was Blaise’s turn to smirk but that was swept from his face when Aristons turned to look at him. Moretius’ anger was well hided behind his formal look but Alya was about to fall on her knees and cry herself into insanity. Madam Pomfrey came to their side and motioned them to move towards a small door in the end of the Hospital Wing. Blaise followed them, as did all three Malfoys.

Madam Pomfrey led them into a small room. Heavy smell of drugs hit their noses as they entered and their eyes accustomed to the dim light. In the middle of the room was an altar holding up a golden sarcophagus with glassy lid. Draco held his breath as Moretius took a step closer and looked inside. Alya just couldn’t follow her husband and looked for support from Narcissa. The blond witch hugged her and comforted her with gentle strokes over her burgundy curls. Blue eyes met amber and both filled simultaneously with tears.

“Has justice been served?” asked Moretius, his hard voice scaring others for a second.

“Yes, my friend,” told Lucius stepping next to him and laying his hand on his shoulder, “It has been served.”

“Good,” growled Moretius and stared hard at his only daughter. The one he had almost lost for kidnappers, the one that cost him a lot of gold, and the one he still had lost…

“My baby girl,” wept Alya in the embrace of Narcissa, “She’s no more! Cissy, what am I gonna do?” Moretius looked over his shoulder at his wife and then at Draco and Blaise. One of them was supposed to be his future son in law but now… that seemed to be impossible.

“Grangers once took her from us and now they have taken her for good. We shall not get angry,” spoke Moretius in a low grumble, “We get even!”

Everyone’s eyes flew to him as he said it like a pledge, holding his right hand on the lid of his daughter’s sarcophagi. It sounded like a war cry to join forces and start slaughtering Mudbloods. Hunger for revenge pushed them to see that it was the right thing to do.

The lid under his hand felt to melt away and Moretius turned to look at the golden light intruding through the glass and growing stronger in light. Soon it was blinding bright and blazed like sunrays from the sarcophagus. Moretius stepped back and stood next to mesmerized Lucius. Alya raised her head and looked into the light, feeling a sudden warm feeling filling her stomach.

Squinting her eyes, Alya was able to distinguish a shining figure in the middle of the bright light. Long hands stretched out of the sarcophagi, a cloud of floating golden hair followed by narrow face and long neck. Gliding out of the sarcophagus, it soared in the blinding light. Like a Fay or perhaps an Angel, it looked at all of them with eyes filled with flames. A creature made of fire and light… It opened its mouth and flames burst out as it said: “My name is Legion, because we are many.”

Pitch black swooshed over them as the vision vanished into thin air with all the light. For a long time no one dared to say a thing or show some light. Finally Lucius light some candles and looked at horrified faces still staring at the same spot. Moretius cleared his throat and stepped to the sarcophagi hoping to find it empty but to his dismay his beautiful daughter was still intact.
***
“You were supposed to protect your investment! You fool! She was the greatest match for you and you let some filthy Mudblood kill an Ariston! A Pureblood! A sole heir of Aristons’ fortune!” screamed Dame Zabini.

The whole tenth floor of Royal Cortez could hear her rumblings and Blaise suspected that some nosy neighbors would be listening behind doors and walls if he hadn’t installed some charms. Oh, yes, his Mother was a Drama Queen like all Italian grand ladies. It was in their blood to rule over the Family.

“Have you even read the papers?” demanded Dame Zabini and threw some newspapers at him, really wanting to hit him with them.

“Yes, I got that chance in the breakfast table,” muttered Blaise and put away endless articles and moving photos of Miss Granger and obituaries of Miss Ariston. The Quidditch pitch was littered with countless bouquets of red and white roses. All the trainings were cancelled to honor the ground where Hermione Ariston had died.

“So? Do you know how hard it is to find you another match? No other pureblood witch in proper age would be as beautiful, smart, courageous and loveable at heart as Miss Ariston was! She was one of the kind! An Ariston kind!” went Dame Zabini on. Blaise knew that speech from the age of three. Mother had made him clear to find a perfect wife and the only witch good enough for his Mother was an Ariston. They were like the most prized breed on the marriage market.

Finally Dame Zabini sighed. She had stopped screaming and performing her duties as one very unhappy Mother. She took a seat in the armchair and her eldest daughter fixed her a Pink Treasure. Blaise watched her handle the rum and the cherry brandy she poured into glass filled with ice. A bit of soda and she handed the glass to Mother.

“My condolences, son,” said Dame Zabini sipping her drink and waving at the younger daughter. “Dearie, please bring mommy her purse.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Blaise dryly and watched his sister approach them with a handbag covered with black pearls. “What’s in your mind?”

Dame Zabini smirked as she searched inside her bag for something. Finally she pulled out a silver photograph frame and handed it to him. Blaise took it and looked at the moving photo. A pretty blond witch smiled back at him and wiggled her fingers for hello.

“Her name is LaLey DeMarcus. She’s a fine pureblood with lots of gold. She’s a student in Zoragaza Academy, the last year. Smart and beautiful and she likes the color pink. A bit vicious but you can’t have all,” introduced Dame Zabini her to him. Blaise had a creeping feeling that in that other life LaLey was in his House and playing Quidditch on the position of Chaser. And she was madly in love with the Keeper, Tristan… What was his name again? Carter! Tristan Carter!

“Is Tristan Carter also in the Academy?” he asked and watched LaLey flash her perfect smile.

“Yes, he is. I have heard he was under a love spell last year,” told Dame Zabini.

“Aa,” made Blaise. He had no need to figure out who had cast that spell. He also remembered papers writing that a drop-dead hansom Seeker had joined the Academy and while LaLey had lusted for Tristan, she also drooled over Jose Carlos Torres. So, when Tristan had suspected her loyalty, he had cast a 24-hour truth spell on her. Poor LaLey had to admit all sorts of things that day and among others she had said she really wanted to shag Torres. Tristan had just walked away and ever since have he spoken to her again.

That was in this reality but back home, in the other reality, Blaise remembered the two getting engaged. Now, that party he just couldn’t forget. In that party he had finally gotten under Hermione’s skin and the friendship part had gone few steps further into lovers. He had finally gotten what he had wanted and the Masquerade was the first public appearance as officially declaring their love.

“But don’t worry about Mr. Carter. I can arrange so he’d never be between you two,” assured Dame Zabini with wicked smile. Blaise looked up at her and then looked at his sisters who nodded enthusiastically their heads.

“But she’s not Mione.”

“Of course she’s not!”

“So, she’s something like a substitute for Mione?”

“Er… Don’t take it so directly. She’s also a good match!”

“But she’ll never be Mione! She’ll never be good enough for you! She’ll never be Mione!” roared Blaise standing up and smashing the photo with the frame into bits and pieces.