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Part 53 of Slytherin Love Moodboards
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2023-04-14
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2023-08-11
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L'amore Trova La Strada

Summary:

Hisolda Potter had always believed that her heart was meant to beat alone.

Or When Marchese Blaise Zabini decided it was time to chase the only witch his heart beat for.

Notes:

Bookfreak31, this is our second collaboration. I had so much fun writing your prompt💛

This story takes place in Catania-Sicily with elements from the Italian culture.

Chapter 1

Notes:

L'amore Trova La Strada: Love will find a way.
Signore: Sir.
Guarda del corpo: Boduguard.
Marchese: Marquis.
La Famiglia: The family.
L’abbraccio Di Lily: Lily's Hug.

Enjoy👑

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Exhaustion pressed on Marchese Blaise Zabini as he tugged his hood down.

“Signore?” his guarda del corpo sounded alarmed, but he didn’t pay him much attention.

“You can leave, Alfonso. I need to be alone,” he infused more authority in his voice, his words brokering no argument.

“But, Signore—‘’

Blaise’s lips pinched into a disapproving hyphen

Losing his temper was a luxury he was denied since birth but…was this how defeat felt? 

He had never really tasted that feeling before and wasn’t willing to admit he was tasting it now.

He was just regrouping and looking for a solution that was all.

His Slytherin pride was pricked.

The Elders of La Famiglia insulted him when they thought they could order him around, or Merlin Forbid, force him to acquiesce without a fight.

He hadn’t survived his mother’s lunacy and a war with a demented freak with murderous tendencies by remaining idle.

Now that he was twenty, it was time for him to take over his duties as the Head of the Zabini Famiglia.

His mother was never considered part of the prestigious Italian family. Many fingers pointed at her, accusing her of killing his father, the late Marchese Claudio Zabini.

Nevertheless, he carried the venerated blood of one of the purest families in Sicily and no one could deny him his birthright.

Taking this Title, however, came with a high price; his freedom.

After he spent eight years in Hogwarts, he was summoned to the Zabini Maniero in Catania where he was introduced to La Famiglia’s customs and business properly.

The estate had been dull and quiet, the days monotonous but he persevered.

He spent two years apprenticing under the Elders and learning as much as he could process.

The Zabinis were in a word, the Dons of Sicily. They controlled everything on the island from politics and trade to the shady transactions they had with their Muggle associates. 

Unlike Pureblood families in Magical Britain, they did not consider Muggles and Muggleborns lesser.

Be it Galleons or Euros, money was money and only a fool would overlook the opportunity to garner more power and wealth.

The downside, though, was that his life belonged to La Famiglia since he took his father’s seat.

He was twenty, an age in which a respectable Marchese was expected to take a wife. 

The Elders pestered him daily to follow the Zabini traditions. Unsurprisingly, they put together a list of distinguished witches with salient connections from all over Sicily.

All he had to do was to point his finger at one.

Alas, he couldn’t.

It was all her fault.

Two years ago an elusive witch stole his heart and wouldn’t give it back.

The night of Hogwarts Battle, he failed to leave the caste before it was too late.

Of course, as the last Zabini Heir, he was not allowed to endanger his life.

At least, Pansy opened her big mouth and they were ushered to the safety of the dungeons which they left after the winner was decided.

Blaise refused to partake in the celebrations for they did not concern him.

While waiting for his bodyguards to come and collect him, he roamed the deserted, demolished corridors reminiscing on his stay in Hogwarts.

What he did not foresee was stumbling on Hisolda Potter while she wandered aimlessly under an Invisibility Cloak.

It slid down her narrow shoulders and a flicker of a foreign turmoil awakened low in his stomach as she looked up at him.

He would be lying if he denied that the Golden Girl had always intrigued him.

Something about her demanded attention, even from someone who never cared like him.

At that moment, however, she looked terrible.

It must have shown in his expression for the corner of her mouth curled with contemptuous amusement. “Not looking good enough for you, Zabini? Forgive me, but I had a Dark Lord to take care of.”

He was baffled by the hurt and scorn in her tone, that until he remembered their previous interaction.

Three years ago, she approached him before the Yule Ball, yet before she could utter a word, Pansy told her mockingly that he was already taken.

He wanted to apologize or explain but never got the chance.

In sooth, he was forced to go with Contessa Bianchi who arrived with the Beauxbaton delegation.

It seemed that Hisolda Potter could hold a grudge.

“The thought never crossed my mind, Potter,” he clarified. “Everyone is grateful for what you did.”

She continued as she hadn’t heard him. “I don’t need your gratitude nor do I care about your opinion. Now, excuse me. I have to leave.”

“Wait!” He burst out, bothered beyond reason by her coldness. It wasn’t at all like him to speak impetuously, but he was too desperate to care.

Clearly, she meant to leave and downright forget about his existence. Merlin knows why, but he couldn’t accept that.

She gave him an arrested glance that reminded him of the gleam of light on an uncut gem.

After a charged silence, he spoke brusquely. “I never intended to humiliate you, it was Pansy’s doing. It’s right, I had to go with Clara Bianchi but I would—“

His earnest words were however met by a snort. 

A real, blunt snort.

He, Blaize Zabini, Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor and the Marchese of the Zabini Famiglia was rebuffed.

He was so consumed with emotion that he was only vaguely aware of hovering over her. “You’re tired after your trial so you are entitled to treat me unfairly. I’m not a liar, Potter. I would’ve taken you to the Ball if I had a choice to begin with.”

She blinked at him through thick eyelashes, taking a deep breath.

“I—I have to go, now.” Her voice dropped an octave, a brush of dark velvet against his ears.

“No, you won’t,” he breathed stubbornly.

Both went very still.

After a moment—acting of their accord—one of his hands came to her jaw, his thumb erasing traces of soot and sweat from her skin.

There was something astonishingly comforting about being so close to her, about touching her.

Without considering his actions, he angled her head upward with great care, his breath fanning against her cheeks.

As if realizing what he intended, she made his stomach lift as if the floor had just disappeared from underneath his feet when instead of pushing him away, she closed her eyes.

There was a brush of pink against her cheeks. Her breath was ragged and Blaise knew she did not mind.

In fact, she needed that connection as much as he did.

His mouth finally came to her in a silky caress while the pad of his thumb drew over her chin.

It was brief, it was innocent but it made him lightheaded, unlike any kiss he shared with his previous dates.

His lungs strained to draw enough air but he couldn’t let go, not when she strained upward asking him silently to kiss her harder, to kiss her longer, to give her all that she needed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

The reminder of where they were, of her state of mind was like a slap of icy water.

A protest slipped from her throat when he set her aside and prepared to apologize.

Bewildered, she looked at him, that, until her eyes widened and she took a step back, then another.

“I—we…”

To his consternation, she didn’t seem at all willing to remain after their kiss or give him a chance to explain.

His pride had been hurt by what must have been a blunt rejection. 

If only he could turn the clock back to the day he had kissed her in the dark corridors of Hogwarts, he would manage the situation far differently. 

She had been drained and overwhelmed and probably intimidated by his forthright affection.

How he wished he had soothed her fears instead of standing there like a fool.

How he regretted letting her leave so promptly.

He had been haunted by thoughts of her and the dazzling connection he sensed at that moment.                   

His magic had reached for her, wanting, demanding more, much more.

And now, he was expected to settle for an unknown witch who could never measure up to Hisolda Potter.

Never.

Sensing that his pleading wouldn’t be heard, his guard nodded stiffly and apparated.

Blaise smiled faintly, his eyes going to Mount Etna; the indomitable reminder that life was too short to spend it in regrets.

A day ago, he received an answer from Rolf Scamander promising help.

The Magizoologist was the husband of Hisolda’s best friend. Blaise felt no shame in reaching for him as a last resort.

He met Rolf Scamander before and felt an instant liking to the wizard despite his quirks and quiddities.

It surprised no one when he tied the knot with Luna Lovegood.

Taking a last look at the Sicilian Baroque architecture, he filled his lungs with his home’s smell before he visualized the Bakery Rolf mentioned in his letter.

It seemed that the Magizoologist was enjoying the delicacies offered by the unrivalled Italian Cuisine.

 

•─────────★•♛•★────────•

 

Eight unbaked batches of dough sat on the marble counter while Chef Hisolda Potter worked on the ninth.

As she did, some tension she carried with her unknitted in her shoulder muscles, and the shiver from its release rippled through her body.

It was where she belonged.

She had come into work before the sun was up just for this: the culmination of many weeks spent perfecting her new Cannoli recipe.

Each batch of dough had a slightly different ratio of bread flour to almond flour or sugar to salt.

The dough had raised perfectly, and now it was nearly ready for the last bake.

Hisolda could feel her excitement building, and in the quiet of the Bakery’s kitchen, she allowed herself a pleased hum. 

“I’d like to help with the ricotta,” Luna said excitedly.

Hisolda stared at her with an adoring look on her face.

She was the only link with her past, the only friend who accepted her the way she was and saw no fault with the path she decided to follow.

After the war, her soul shrivelled at the thought of spending another moment in the land that gave her nothing but grief.

She was free at last, free to do what she wanted, free to pursue her dreams, free to use her fortune the way she saw fit.

Excitement drove her as she decided to chase her dream.

Hisolda had always wanted to become a Pastry Chef.

She blamed it on Petunia for introducing her at a young age to the delights of baking and kneading and whisking.

Many would consider the task another form of abuse but Hisolda found in the quietness of the Dursleys’ kitchen her haven.

Then came her Hogwarts letter followed by years of being chased by Voldemort and manipulated by Dumbledore.

One thing never changed though, her love of baking.          

She spent the past two years touring Europe's most prestigious Pastry Chef Schools and being tutored by the best.

From Le Courdon Bleu in Paris, to Hotelschool Ter Duinen in Koksijde, Belgium until she landed in Castello di Vicarello in Tuscany.

She was enthralled by the cultural and culinary treasures Italy flaunted and felt no longer the need to look elsewhere.

In Catania’s Magical District, she found her inner peace and decided to begin for real.

She started her Bakery, L’abbraccio Di Lily. 

Like Tom’s pub, her bakery was located in the intersection between Muggle and Magical Catania.

It pleased her to serve her original Italian delicacies to everyone interested in her creations.

“I’m done with the whisking, what do I do next?” Luna seemed in high spirits as she worked on the filling.

She was studying some obscure creatures that inhabited Mount Etna with Rolf. Hisolda was exhilarated when she learned that her friend would visit again.

Luna never stopped encouraging her and raising her spirits.

After her last confrontation with Ron and Hermione, she never foresaw how the blonde would remain by her side.

They kept correspondence while she toured Europe’s forests and mountains, chasing Fantastic Beasts and following the path of the great Newt Scamander.

Luna had finally found her path as well.

“Let me sift in the powdered sugar,” Hisolda explained. "We’ll add cinnamon and allspice next.”

Luna grinned, oblivious to the fact that she had flour on her cheeks.

Hisolda beat the heavy cream until it was fairly stiff. She refused to use magic while working on her kitchen. She enjoyed doing it the Muggle way.

“I want some raisins. Rolf likes the chocolate chips,” Luna said, while she helped her fold the ricotta into the cream.

“You can have whatever you want. First, we have to refrigerate the filling for an hour.”

“I applaud your resilience, Hisolda. You’re a great witch. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” Luna observed dreamily reminding Hisolda of the first time they met several years ago.

She flicked her wand from her Dragonhide holster, the one she kept at all times strapped on her right arm, and muttered a Cleaning Charm.

Luna rubbed her spotless cheek and shrugged. “But...I can’t help but worry.” She waved a hand through the air, jangling the many coloured bangles on her wrist. ‘’This place is too large for you to remain on your own. You deserve happiness. I can feel your loneliness.”

Hisolda froze as Luna glided toward her and pulled her stiff body against her, her dainty palms sliding to her back and patting it lovingly.

“Luna—‘’ she managed to say.

“Don’t despair. Your heart was never meant to beat alone. Love will find a way,” she paused. Her silver orbs shone like Moonstones and searched her tense face. “You have to let love in. It’s time Hisolda Potter.”

Hisolda tried to fill her starved lungs with air but couldn’t.

She couldn’t focus on anything other than Luna’s cryptic words.

She knew.

Somehow Luna knew about her deepest secret.

Thanks to Sirius, Hisolda understood the reason behind her incurable fascination with Blaise Zabini.

It was The Potter Heart, her family’s curse; the secret they kept under wraps and refused vehemently to unveil fearing for their safety.

Every Potter was meant to lose their heart once for their compatible match, a match chosen by Mother Magic.

It was easier said than done or maybe, it was just her luck for the only wizard she had ever wanted did not return her affection.

Despite her nerves, she relaxed into Luna’s embrace.

It was impossible not to. Her best friend was very warm and pure; she oozed safety.

“What if my heart was fated to remain alone?” she voiced her yawning fear.

She felt a smile nudge against her neck. “It’s not.”

Suddenly, Luna pushed her away and shook her head.

Hisolda noticed that her eyes were back to normal.

“I feel a presence outside. Go and give your customer what he seeks,” she ushered her out.

“But Maria—‘’ Her assistant could always take care of the customers. She was paid handsomely for that.

“Not this one,” Luna smirked. “Oh, I’ll have a Struffoli and wait for you. Go.”

Hisolda looked at her friend with a mixture of exasperation and concern.

Reluctantly, she did as she was told.

The first thing she noticed as she rearranged her apron was that Maria was nowhere to be seen.

How dare she leave the Bakery unattended? She would have a lengthy talk with her later.

Hisolda’s eyes widened and her hands shook as she took her first look at the customer’s profile.

He was silent, his brows drawing together as he studied the golden pastries filling the cases.

For an insane moment, she wondered what would his favourite be as he admired her handiwork.

Would it be Panettone, Maritozzo, Struffoli or Sfogliatella from which winked almonds, powdered sugar, raisins and dots of chocolate?

She risked another look at him and she could scarcely breathe when brown and green clashed.

Blaise Zabini was strikingly handsome with an uncompromising masculinity that made her nerves jump. 

The angles of his face were bold, the nose sturdy, the lips full and inviting. His skin was a rich, glowing honey, and his hair the darkest shade of black. 

There was an aristocrat’s ease about him, with a hint of languid grace. He was sophisticated and keenly intelligent, but there was something not quite civilized about him.

A hint of danger, a smoulder beneath the surface her heart couldn’t resist.

Although she dreaded what would come next, she stood her ground as he moved over to her with predatory intent. 

“Hisolda Potter…” 

She went rigid at the way her name came from his mouth.

Like a prayer, like a hug under a starry sky.

“Zabini,” she said through parched lips.

“Do I need to use my wand so you don’t run away again?” he teased relentlessly as he moved closer still.

“Why would I do that?” she managed to say, brimming with a strange, squirmy, guilty heat.

It wasn’t his fault that her heart chose him. He owed her nothing.

Still that kiss…and then the way he pushed her away…

A dark tendril of laughter twisted his lips. “Oh, you would. You did that twice. You never gave me a chance to explain.”

His gaze was exquisitely tender that she shivered.

There seemed no way to make him understand that she didn’t need his reasons.

All that she needed was his love.

“You don’t have to. We were young and foolish. Can I help you with something? Perhaps—“

‘’No, you will listen.” His reply was immediate.

She was forced to concede as a glint of searing emotion appeared in those onyx eyes before it was quickly extinguished.

“Do you know how long I spent looking for you? How much I cursed myself for letting you go that night? You have no idea, Hisolda.”

He rested his palm lightly at the centre of his chest and whispered. “You left a gap here. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget about you.”

It was then that she understood…the accuracy of the description. It mirrored the seeping wound in her heart.

“But you pushed me away. Twice. You ignored me,” she insisted.

“I would never do that, Cara. That night, I feared that I was taking advantage of you considering what you went through. When I kiss you again, I want you to be fully there with me, every part of you is important and I want them all.”

His voice was at her ear, smooth with amused chiding.

She couldn’t move, stunned by the rush of hope that had begun to overwhelm her.

“Again?” she whispered struggling to keep her mind on where this conversation was heading.

Finally, his hand went to her cheek. “Yes. Again and again. There is a special connection between us, Cara. One I can’t do without. You can fight me all that you want, but I’m not letting you go. Never.”

Her breath caught, her lushes lowering, hiding her misty eyes as her trembling hand curved around his.

The skin beneath her fingers was surprisingly warm and thrumming with magic that sang to her.

His hand lifted to the side of her face, tilting it upward, while his other arm drew around her waist.

She went pliant as he adjusted the angle of her face and coaxed her lips to part.

He began to search her, wringing sensation and sweetness from her responsive mouth and she surrendered, thoroughly.

The Curse ran in her blood, slow and ruthlessly alluring until it clung to every part of her and she didn’t resist.

Suffused with an agony of need, she caressed his chest and tried to get closer.

It wasn’t enough.

When he sensed the smudge of moisture on her cheek, he went still and lifted his head.

He stared down at her while their breaths mingled. “Hisolda…”

She raised her fingers to her lips, touching them tentatively as if they’d been burned. “You won’t leave me again?”

He noticed his smirk as he brought her against the hard ridge of his chest. “I wouldn’t dare. I want you as my bride, my life-partner. As the Marchese of the Zabini Famiglia, I have duties to fulfil and I can't see myself with anyone else but you,” he said playfully and she wasn’t certain if he was jesting.

“Blaise, you—‘’

The sound died on her lips, however, when Luna joined them.

She smiled widely and nodded to Blaise. “I’d be happy to help with the preparations. We have to make Hisolda’s wedding ceremony extra special.”

A chuckle escaped him at her mortified silence.

His hand came to her back, caressing the length of her spine. ‘’I would be grateful for your help, Mrs Scamander.”

Hisolda felt her chest tighten at the extravagant happiness that filled her heart.

The bond clicked into place, spurned by Blaise’s love, given freely.

Like every Potter before, her time had come to sip the nectar of love… with some Italian pastries.

 

Notes:

For an uncanny reason, I've always associated the Zabinis with the Italian Mafia😌

Chapter 2

Notes:

Mia Cara: My Dear.
Mia Regina: My Queen.
Mia Amore: My Love.
Bellisima: Beautiful.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Hisolda hurried through the hallways of her apartment in a sinuous lope, barely able to take her eyes off the invitation clamped in her hand.

Luna dashed behind her, unconcerned, and for a moment she resented her best friend’s nonchalance.

“You’re worried,” Luna chimed in with a note of unmasked amusement in her voice.

“How could I not?” Hisolda opened the door to her bedroom and looked around aimlessly.

“Merlin’s Mercy.” Her voice trailed away. “I’m not ready.”

“Yes, you are,” Luna streaked past her toward the closet and viewed the row of tidy, neatly pressed jeans and cotton shirts made up with quiet colours and simple cuts.

Hisolda closed her eyes as Luna studied the simple Muggle clothes she was quite fond of.

They were comfortable considering what she did life, not to mention, she could always throw them away when an Episky couldn’t deal with the stains.

How utterly mortifying.

“I’m not ready,” she muttered under her breath.

She didn’t regret her choices, far from it. She had always longed for this kind of quiet, normal life that didn’t seem possible for the Woman Who Won.

She wanted peace. Predictability. It was what being a Chef in a foreign country gave her.

She loved her job but she should have indulged in more formal attires. Undoubtedly, she had plenty of resources for that.

She couldn’t take it if there was a whiff of impropriety attached to her. She wanted Blaise’s family to see her at her best.

Luna produced a small box she had all but forgotten about and smiled widely. “This is all you need. Never forget who you are. They will be lucky to have you among them.” She soothed, her hand going over her stiff back.

Biting her lower lip, Hisolda’s hand shook as she lifted the upper lid.

Nestled in a blood-red velvet cushion, the Potter Ladyship ring winked at her. The exquisite ruby in the middle shone under the last rays of the sun.

Her heartbeat sped as her eyes darted from Luna’s face to the ring. 

Her ring.

“How could I forget?” she said breathlessly.

“You were paving your own path. You are not lost anymore, Hisolda. You found what matters most; you.’’

Without considering the options and the consequences, she took the ring and put it on her fourth finger.

At once, she was engulfed in the Potter Family Magic.

She strained to breathe as countless voices whispered in her head; soothing, encouraging, celebrating the new Lady Potter.

It was almost embarrassing how afraid she had been of wearing the ring. For years, she considered herself undeserving of that right.

Unlike her ancestors, she wasn’t a Battle Mage or a fighter. She was a survivor who wanted to turn the page and start anew.

Moreover, she hadn’t honoured the Potter tradition of bravely claiming the one her heart beat for.

Hisolda admitted she had been living in fear for years.

Not anymore.

She looked through the windows at Mount Etna. Its peak was still illuminated by a daylight shaft, similar to the one Ancient Romans used to determine the position of the sun and the hours of the day.

She could taste determination creeping into her heart.

“You’re right, Luna. I’m ready.”

Luna clapped her hands. “Now, let’s get you ready for the night. First impressions are very important.”

Her nerves prickled with awareness and her heart began to drum as she looked again at the letter.

It was a formal invitation from Blaise’s great uncle to the Zabini Ancestral Manor.

She certainly had never received such a letter or attended a social event. She fled Magical Britain before the Ministry could use her name any longer.

But this; it was important.

She spent years thinking she was beneath Blaise’s notice, pained by the thought that he would never accept her willingly given heart.

Rolf Scamander’s intervention to give them a second chance was something she had never predicted.

It had been two weeks since he barged into her life again, two weeks of pure bliss.

Contriving to rid herself of past misunderstandings, Hisolda decided to follow her heart for once.

It never occurred to her how different the real Blaise Zabini was from the aloof, haughty classmate she knew for seven years.

It seemed that like her, he had been wearing a mask all along.

She was no longer intimidated by his impeccable manners, fine clothes or sophisticated bearing. Every time they met for another date, she didn’t hesitate to ask a multitude of questions.

It astonished her how similar they were. His childhood wasn’t a happy one considering the strain of his mother’s blemished reputation. She tried to skirt around the topic whenever it was mistakenly brought for she couldn’t stand the haunted look in his beautiful eyes.

However, it wasn’t the only matter that worried her. 

She put the letter down and looked at Luna. “Do you think he’s hiding something important from me?”

Luna cocked her head and studied her purple nails. The eccentric blonde had a shrewder understanding of human nature than anyone Hisolda had ever met. Within a few minutes of meeting someone, she sized them up with complete accuracy. 

“Don’t you already know what he wants to say?” Luna handed her a bag full of Galleons. “Isn’t what you share enough to agree to his proposal? He loves you. You are a perfect match.”

Hisolda conceded and smiled. When he brought the marriage first, she thought he was jesting.

Sensing her reluctance, they agreed to take the time to get reacquainted first.

She had no doubt she would be happy with him. He was affectionate, witty, quick to laugh; a born and bred gentleman.

He was a tease, as well and his kisses never failed to turn her knees weak.

“Maybe meeting his family isn’t a bad thing, after all,” she moved to take her handbag.

“That’s the spirit,’’ Luna grinned. “Now, let’s get you an appropriate dress. You knew how obsessed with fashion those Italians are.”

“I’m all yours,” Hisolda looped an arm around her friend’s shoulder. 

Her heart was pounding too fast at the prospect of taking the second step in their relationship. 

Nevertheless, she trusted her heart and her heart had no grain of doubt that she was ready.

 

•─────────★•♛•★────────•

 

Blaise couldn’t help his smile as he waited for Hisolda to come down.

He had met many beautiful women in his life yet none of them possessed her combination of intelligence, innocence and subtly off-kilter charm.

Not to mention her magic. 

It was the most enticing he had ever sensed, as sweet and dark as the heavenly delicacies he tasted whenever he visited the Bakery.

How he longed to sweep her away and have her all to himself for an eternity but he couldn’t.

Not with the kind of responsibilities shouldered.

Her red heels were the first thing glimpsed when she took the stairs. His eyes shifted higher and heat flared in his veins when he met layers upon layers of red silk.

Blaise was shocked by the force of his reaction. He knew she was beautiful; the most exquisite witch he had ever laid eyes on.

Tonight, though….

His lips curved gently when their eyes met.

She blinked before a radiant smile embellished her perfect lips.

She swiped her free hand over the dress’ skirt, brushing an inexistent imperfection away.

Her ebony hair was held into an elegant updo. Diamonds glittered from the hair clips she used to fix the glorious mane.

His eyes zeroed in on the ring she put on for the night. His breath hammered as he met her gaze again.

Determination, resolution and love.

He read all the emotions her lips wouldn’t utter yet.

As soon as she was close enough, he offered his hand.

Hisolda glanced up at him, towering over her and with no hesitation, set her hand in his, which was swiftly engulfed as he closed his large fingers around hers. 

One smooth tug and she was pulled against his chest. “Bellisima. You look gorgeous, mia cara .”

Her face was buried in the fine Acromantula Silk of his robes when she mumbled. “I missed you, too.”

She kept her face there, her fingers digging into the layers of her skirt.

Laughter rustled in his throat as he lifted her chin. “Let me look at you.”

His ravenous gaze was diligent, moving over her eyes and cheeks and mouth.

The green of her eyes darkened by his scrutiny and something else, some emotion he could not name.

He did not release her—did not move in fact, but stood still and focused upon her.

And then his gaze shifted.

While her hand still sat within his grasp, his eyes settled on her lips once more and did not move. He was fairly certain he was hearing her racing pulse in his hand.

He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath, not until she opened her mouth to speak and her breath was released so that the words came out breathy, wispy. “You want to kiss me,” she surprised him by announcing her speculation.

“I do,” he admitted freely from under the hood of his dark eyes. “But I don’t want to ruin your lipstick.”

He was beyond titillated when she sank her fingers in his short hair and drew his head lower. “You won’t. Kiss me.”

His heart thudded rapidly inside his chest.

He smirked against her cheek. “Your word is my command, mia cara .”

Her bold step forward enlivened him, and he displaced the remaining space that separated them. 

His free arm and hand snaked slowly around her waist, drawing her near. “I love you,” he said, his breath warm against her face, just as her lids fell like drapes over her eyes.

That was the extent of his control though, for in the next second he crashed his lips upon hers with a force that was as exciting as it was unsettling.

She melted against him almost instantly and he felt her everywhere, in the singing magic in his core, in the drumming heartbeat sounding in his ears, in the heat of her pressed against him.

She was all that mattered.

He felt invincible as this powerful, outstanding witch accepted his heart. She was the only one who could invigorate him to nearly lose control, to make him weak by the sheer force of the love he carried in his heart solely for her.

With a final feather caress across her lips, he lifted his head and drew her into his arms.

“Are you ready for tonight?”

Hisolda took a deep breath and tightened her grip. “I am.”

He winked and within a heartbeat, they were standing in the luscious gardens that swaddled the Zabini Maniero.

Clinging to him, Hisolda gasped. “This is—‘’

The Zabini Family Magic swirled throughout his entire body, down to his toes, beguiled by the new presence.

It was Dark and probing and demanding but gauging by his feelings; it recognized the witch he chose as his.

Hisolda’s chest heaved when it brushed against her; welcoming and appraising.

“The Manor is greeting you. Welcome to the Zabini Maniero, mia amore .”

For a brief moment, she was lost looking at the towering building that carried stories older than time itself.

He remembered every name that preceded him; every Don who swore the Code of Silence and dedicated his life to La Famiglia.

At that moment, Blaise was shocked to feel such ridiculous greed and hunger to start that journey with Hisolda by his side as his witch, as his Regina.

Breathless and suffused with a heretofore unknown sentiment, he lifted her hand to his lips.

Sensing the severity of the moment, she clutched at his robes. “Mia Cara, there’s something I’ve been intending to tell you but—‘’ His voice was a hoarse whisper, his accent more prominent.

“Blaise, you can tell me anything,” she said softly as she traced his jaw with her fingers.

“My family. We are the Dons of Sicily. We…” he shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “We have transactions with Muggle Mafia. In a world, we rule the Underworld.”

Hisolda stayed in the shelter of his arms for a moment, her expression inscrutable.

He drew a circle on her back, waiting for her to absorb what he had just confessed.

What he didn’t expect was for her to burst out laughing.

He drew back with an arched eyebrow. Her face was suffused with colour as tears of mirth swirled in her eyes.

“Hisolda, are you alright?” his hands chased the ripples that ran up and down her back.

Her arms went around his neck. Her amused face lifted to him, she smirked. “Oh Blaise, I know. I’ve always known.”

When his expression turned puzzled, his thoughts coursing too slowly, a reminiscent smile touched her lips. “The Weasley twins had somehow uncovered your secret. Don’t ask me how no one can match their cunning.”

Blaise’s eyes glittered. “So you knew all along and you don’t mind?”

Pleasant sensations filtered through his chest when her lashes fluttered and her face turned an endearing shade of pink. “I don’t. To tell the truth, I can’t wait to navigate this new world with you.”

Overwhelmed by a baffling gratitude he stole another kiss. “Mia cara, you’ve been devious. The Elders will like you.”

Her hand came to the centre of his chest. “Really?” A mischievous grin rose to her lips.

“I have never doubted that,” he smirked then bowed with impeccable politeness. “Welcome to your new home, mia regina .”

Notes:

To put it simply, I love Don!Blaise😌

You can find me onTumblr as well.

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