The Life and Times of a Girl Named Blaise Zabini

Chapter 6

Notation: [...] means the words are being spoken in Elvish

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Meeting Orpheus had been interesting. (So had meeting her Aunt Calliope, who was cool.) Blaise had learned that they had the same opinion regarding Brittney Spears. She should be given a clue, a life, and a few extra brain cells to join the one that controlled her ability to dance. Not necessarily in that order.

The girl might be a great dancer, but that and blond hair shouldn't qualify her as a pop star. Sound technology should only carry a career so much.

Ahem. Anyway, after that Blaise promised her cousin that she would write regularly, and would send a Quick QuotesTM quill with the first letter so he could write back. Then it was back home for lessons in elven glamour from her father, and to bed once she had stopped playing and seeing how she would look as a blond (she came to the conclusion that it made her look like a cross between an albino using fake tan goop and a Betazoid from Star Trek. She's a sunshine girl come summer, though a school year spent mostly in the dungeons at Hogwarts faded it quite a bit) and managed to figure out how to reset it so she looked the way she was used to looking before her father had removed it.

The summer was spent exploring the woods near the house with her father, practicing archery, gymnastics and martial arts, and hanging out with Lina.

In other words, same old, same old, only no more Dalla, and she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Lorenzo, who was still on the run, the brat dastard.

And now it was time for that one time of the year that about every schoolchild hates, because it is a sign of the impending school year.

School Supply Shopping.

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"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I DON'T WANNA!!! I WANNA STAY HOME AND BAKE COOKIES WIV YOU!!!"

Legolas sighed in a manner that his daughter would have pointed out would have developed a sweatdrop if they were Anime characters. He looked down at the determined sixteen-year-old who was clinging to the oak railing of the house's main staircase, who was decidedly bent on not moving toward the large stone fireplace that was down the entryway and in the living room. There were times when he wondered how he could have lived for over ten millennia, raised a daughter on his own, and yet was stumped by his younger child.

He had a feeling he owed a great many apologies to his parents. His childhood had lasted *centuries,* and here he was complaining about his daughter who, by all rights, should still be a *baby*.

Gah.

How did mortals manage it?!

Legolas sighed again. "Elessi, I thought you *liked* school? Don't you wish to see young Draco?"

The half elf, half Endless gave an indignant sniff, and retorted, "Duh! But I'm debating whether spending the next nine months seeing my bestest buddy on a daily basis is worth having to stay in the same room as Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode. They're always snooping about, trying to get into my things! And it doesn't help that both of them are taller than me!" she concluded, pouting at her father. "By the by, Da, when is that famed elven height supposed to kick in? I'm sixteen, and I'm only five-foot-two!"

Her paternal parental unit smiled and said, "Everyone is different, sweetheart. Be patient. Now," he continued, changing subjects, "Shall we be off? I believe a certain someone has been asking for a pet of her own..."

Blaise was on her feet nigh-instantaneously, squealing in delight at the prospect. She had been using Dalla's personal owl for sending mail for the past five years, and, though she planned to continue doing so, she wanted a familiar that was completely her own.

"Let's go let's go let's go!"

And, with some tosses of Floo Powder, and two shouts of "Diagon Alley," they were on their way.

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"Kitties!"

Upon entering the Magical Menagerie, Blaise had made a direct bee-line for the kitten pens.

Legolas, decked out in conservative clothing that ran high on greens, grays and browns, his glamour disguise of old age firmly in place, smiled in amusement at his youngest child's antics.

There was such an exuberance to her, such life, that you could not help but smile in her presence. It was something he had noticed about her mother on the few occasions they had spoken. This newness, this wide-eyed view of life, was what had kept him from moving on to Valinor when he had the chance; back then, it had been Dallandra who had re-awakened his inner child, and such feelings drove him to want to show his children all the beauty and wonders this world had to offer, before leaving it. For all that he, at times, regretted not leaving when he had the chance, it was the joy of the children that kept the regret away.

It was worth everything. As much as he missed his wife, parents, siblings, grandchildren, and now his eldest child, he felt he would have grown to regret far more if he had denied this world to Dallandra, and denied the world Elessario, for that matter.

'*She* is worth everything,' Legolas mentally reiterated as Elessario picked up a little chocolate brown kitten that sported big cornflower blue eyes, cooing affectionately over it.

"Granda, can I have this one?"

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"Granda, can I have this one?"

It's almost scary how quickly I can switch mental gears from being Da's (Daddy, Dad; she's a sixteen-year-old: she's allowed to change her affectionate titles once in a while, ya know!) daughter to his granddaughter. Da says it's safer to keep pretending as far as our relationship goes until I graduate.

Bleh.

Even so, I'm probably going to have much more of a problem referring to Dalla as my mother again; I've grown used to Mum, who I adore. Not that Dalla wasn't a great mother too, but, well, she is/was/whatever my sister.

Tenses stink when it comes to referring to Elves who have died. They're not around here and now, but, if you went to Valinor, there they would be, all living and breathing and saying "What took you so long?".

Now, where was I? Oh, yeah, the ever-so-kawaii (cute in Japanese) kitten!

Mind you, I've always been rather partial to cats. I used to play with Lina's pet cats all the time when we were still going to the same school (She's got *four* cats! How lucky can you get?!). Here you're probably asking why I didn't get one for myself before first year, instead of sticking to borrowing Dalla's owl, Verde. The reason is quite simple, really.

Lorenzo Zabini is allergic to cats.

Run in fear, little "Muggles": the big, bad Death Eater's coming!

Too bad nobody ever tried shoving their pet cat in his face; that man breaks out into hives faster than you can say "Atchoo!"

Go on, try it!

Too late.

You can see why I am so gosh-darn eager to get a cat of my own now, huh? ~_^

My father has made his way across the store to look at the kitten that has curled so nicely up in my arms. She (yes, I checked; stop whispering, you perverts! I didn't want a tomcat because then Bulstrode's cat, Belinda (poor furball) would be hitting on it every chance she got as soon as mine was old enough. Hence my checking of the gender...) looked up at Daddy, blinked, and let out the cutest little squeak of a mew. It was absolutely adorable.

"Aww! How cute!"

In stereo! ^_^

Anyway, he bought her for me, and some cat food, and some treats, and a collar (royal blue with baby-blue rhinestones) and dishes (silver-plated with "food" and "water" engraved on them), and, as we were leaving the shop, he asked me a rather important question.

"So, what are you going to name her?"

I paused, taking this very seriously, because naming a pet is like naming a child: naming it off the bat and ending up with something stupid is bad, and could lead to resentment on the name-ee's part.

"Dellai."

Daddy raised an eyebrow, and said, "Dellai?"

I nodded happily, and explained, "It's short for Delight; I decided that Mum's family needs another one, since Auntie Del's name was changed from that to Delirium. And Auntie once said that she likes kitties, too."

I swear Daddy almost actually sweatdropped. I don't know why; I think it's a cute name.

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Three hours of shopping later...

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'Mmm...Ice cream. Daddy says that he wonders why Hobbits never figured it out. I suppose that makes sense; supposedly they were almost always eating, so you would have thought that they would have thought of freezing cream mixed with sweetenings and fruit. Then again, they would only be able to have some during the winter, because they didn't have refrigerators,' Blaise thought as she set half of her bags of school supplies down on the ground near her as she sat in one of the chairs around one of the numerous tables in the patio area around Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour. The other half of her purchases quickly joined their mates as her father set them down, then placed their glass dishes of "sugary, creamy goodness" on the table, stainless steel spoons sticking out of the piles of dessert jauntily.

"Yes! Triple scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough, peanut butter cups, and mint chip! You rock the casbah!"

Legolas shook his head in amusement as he gracefully (Is it possible for an Elf *not* to move gracefully?) slipped into his chosen seat at the table, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth and revealing glamour-induced smiley lines. He absently dipped his first spoonful of ice cream for the day out, leaving it hovering in the air for a few minutes as he remarked, "I still say that you will be up all night if you eat that much sugar, dear. And please slow down; you will get a ice cream headache if you keep going at that pace!" A blissful smile graced his face as he inserted the spoonful of triple fudge brownie ice cream into his mouth.

Yep. Legolas, called Greenleaf, former Prince of Mirkwood, is a chocolate freak.

Hey, the stuff is quite possibly the most addictive never-been-illegal substance known to man. And it was only developed, what, two centuries ago, if that? The guy is millennia old; he's allowed a favorite sweet!

Swallowing her tenth mouthful, having decided to start with the scoop of cookie dough, Blaise reached over to the glass of water she had procured in the event of over-sticky sugar mouth, which she was also prone to if she drank too much soda, took a quick swallow, waited for her stomach to settle a bit, and grinned at the older Elf. Leaning in, she murmured to avoid eavesdroppers hearing something that wasn't common knowledge, "Since when was my inability to sleep a full night a new thing, Granda? The way I hear it, it's a racial characteristic."

The main deciding factor when Legolas and Dallandra ended up spilling part of the beans about their family's history had been the fact that, as Blaise had grown older, not needing as much sleep as she had as a baby, she was sleeping less and less, much like an elf (because she actually did sleep, which Elves don't do; they just rest, their minds wandering the realm of Waking Dreams, rather than the Dreaming proper, which is why Elves "sleep" with their eyes open), and her subconscious had discovered how to have waking dreams, and Dalla had found her sleeping with her eyes open one night when she had gone in to check on her. Her lack of needing to sleep or rest had been the major component that led her to skip several grades of conventional schooling, which had led her to meet Lina (who is, at this point, nineteen), and subsequently become a happy little Tolkienite.

Essentially, she had to keep her head covered when she slept, in case she switched to a more elven mode of recuperation, so she had taken to sleeping burrowed up under a pile of sheets, blankets and a bedspread, and she did not appreciate being woken before she was ready, which led to snarling at the unfortunate waker-upper, which led to one of her nick-names being Cranky the Stoat, which led to, after Fourth Year, her ever-so-devious turnabout of hers and Draco's hated rodenty nick- names into something they only called each other. Draco was, naturally, Ferret, and she was Stoat.

Legolas rolled his eyes, and would have continued, had their conversation not been annoyingly highjacked by the appearance of a particularly pug-faced house mate of Blaise's: Pansy Parkinson.

Boo! Hiss!

"Hello, Zabini! How is that Mudblood mother of yours? Oops, I'm *so* *sorry!* How insensitive of me!"

Blaise slowly turned, Ice Queen face firmly back in place for the first time in months, and gave the other girl her "You are so below me, it isn't worth the effort of squishing you like the insignificant anthropoid you are, you spineless insect" look. She was rather proud of that look, which had reduced many a dim-witted school- mate to a shame-face, if not tears.

Apparently either Parkinson had grown a spine over the summer, or she was in oblivious mode again.

Note to self: improve evil glare of DOOM!TM; it seems to have lost its potency. Also, find a way to kick Parkinson's arse for insulting Dalla, the ignoramus. Make sure that I can't be caught.

"I wonder what Drakie will say when he finds out that your mother wasn't pure- blood? You certainly won't be able to steal him from me now, you know. Oh, you poor thing!" Pansy concluded with her best effort at a nasty grin.

Nasty it wasn't, but it gave Blaise some rather disturbing mental images of Parkinson and Draco standing at the altar, the Pug casting the Imperious on Draco and making him say "I do."

Now, that was just *wrong!* That little skanky so-and-so wasn't getting her claws into *her* bestest friend! Kicking her arse was out of the question; best make sure she's in traction until she's thirty!

Then, a thought struck her. She dropped the Ice Queen persona, a positively evil idea having taken root in her mind.

Oh, this would be good!

"First of all, Parkinson, if anything ever dirtied my mother, it was solely due to being married to Zabini; second, at least I'm not so inbred I look like a pug; third, while I'm not romantically interested in Draco, as his friend I cannot allow you to get your stinky paws on him, so forget it and try for someone with a face uglier than yours; fourth, I've disowned Lorenzo Zabini, and as such my last name is Green, so stop calling me Zabini; and last of all..." she smirked, having shifted her weight for a fast stand up and maneuvered her hand so that it was cradling her dish of ice cream, ready to be lifted. Oh, this is one of the few times she was glad so many people thought she was evil: they would be expecting something more subtle.

"...You have stupid hair."

Before Pansy could react, much less absorb the enormity of what had been said, Blaise had stood, dumped her desert upside-down on the other girl's head, and let the smirk evolve into a triumphant grin.

"My work here is done!"

Scooping up her bags, she proudly glided out of the patio area of the ice cream parlor, her father following shortly after, having ignored his own advice and inhaled his ice cream before leaving, shaking his head.

"That was not very nice, dearest. And here I thought you were mature."

Blaise tossed over her shoulder, "Neither is she, and I'm rather sick of being the mature one all of the time." She would have continued, except she suddenly found herself being enveloped in a hug, a kiss on each cheek following shortly after, and she found herself staring into the silver-gray eyes of her bestest of best buddies, Draco Malfoy.

"Thank you! You have no idea how grateful I am! She's been following me about all day, whining. Mother ended up having to shove me back into the men's dressing rooms in Madam Malkin's to get that nutty tart away from me!"

Blaise grinned at her friend, returning the hug cheerfully, stepped back, and said, "Eh, she had it coming, and I've been wanting to do something like that for ages. So, how was your summer?"

He winced, and replied, "Father found out about your mother being muggle-born, and has officially forbidden me from associating with you."

Blaise paused, seeming to be pondering the problem, then said with an utterly serious face, "Well then, I guess we will just have to continue being friends, then; particularly since I am determined that you will be best man if I ever get married."

Draco gave a mock gasp, one hand going to the corresponding cheek, and said, "Why, Miss Green! Are you suggesting that we blatantly ignore a direct order from my paternal parental unit, risking Howlers and Glares of DOOM!TM?"

Blaise grinned. "Why of course we shall, Mister Malfoy, for aren't true friends the ones that you would choose before your bigoted arse of a father? Besides, my Glare of DOOM!TM is much scarier than his, the lightweight of a pansy!"

They paused, silent as that last statement worked its way through their brains. Finally, Draco smirked.

"How Apropos."

Blaise pondered that thought, then nodded her agreement. "Disturbingly so."

"So," Draco started, "Are you up to spending time keeping me from going batty from all the required shopping?"

"Sorry, Ferret," Blaise said, pouting cutely in disappointment. "Granda and I already got all of my things; we had so much stuff that he had to go back home to drop off my new kitten. I guess we'll have to wait 'till the train. Meet at the usual compartment?"

Sighing, Draco nodded. "We'll have to find a new way to ditch Vince and Greg with Pansy though, Stoat. The silly bint is getting disturbingly smarter and more determined these days."

"All-righty then! Puggalicious Parkinson can never defeat Team Rodent-like Mammal!" She paused, then said, "D, we need a new group nick-name. The one we have stinks."

Draco nodded. "That we do, but it will have to wait until later. Your grandfather is starting to look a bit bored over there, B."

"Gotcha. See you in a week!"

"Bye!"