Blaise A[ugustin]. Zabini

private;
There are certain things you count on, specifically things that existed since your birth, to stay the same forever. My mother was one of those things, and now she's... she's not herself anymore. For one thing, she's refusing to declare Nathaniel dead, though she's been told time and time again that the likelihood of him being found alive has dwindled since he was initially declared missing. And I don't at all deal well with things of this nature, not to mention I'm busy with not thinking about certain things so I'm just staying away for now, unless she really needs me. There are house elves, and I trust them to make sure she stays well.

It's really the best I can do.
end.

private to Millicent;
As more and more time passes, I'm becoming more certain that Nathaniel's disappearance had nothing at all to do with Florence. Surprisingly. I think she legitimately misses him. It's odd.
end.

My mother owled me.

Apparently her dear Nate went on a tour and is now missing. I'm utterly torn up by the news and completely surprised that he would do something so stupid, obviously. And I believe it because she had more than one opportunity as it is to do him in and chose not to.

As it stands, she's "requesting" my presence in this troubled time and I need time away so I suppose I'll be back soon. I'm still contemplating whether I'm taking my journal or not.

private;
I want to kill her. Samantha Roland. I want to go to her flat and just... I want to strangle her.

I've never wanted to feel like this in my entire life, and with good reason. I keep

I keep thinking about her, wondering how she is, if she's handling everything all right, wanting to owl her or talk to her or something. Anything. But I can't. Because it's over, done. And I feel like I just    I just feel like my heart's been torn from my chest and left a gaping hole in its place.

And there's not enough scotch or anonymous sex in the world.

And I don't want to feel like this anymore. Or ever again. Which is part of why I'm going.  If I'm lucky Florence will be as wrapped up in herself as she usually is.

I was going to express how unsurprised I am that something as simple as deaths could go wrong with the Ministry involved, and a heavy amount of sarcasm was to be guaranteed, but then I was reminded of something.

I don't really care.

But if one of my ex- step-fathers randomly appear, I might need advanced notice in case they find out how they died. Just so I can let my mother know of the possibility of her impending death. I'm sure none of them, especially number five, will think of their accidents as accidents or natural, even though they were, of course. Right.

private;
My birthday came and went. Florence sent an owl from Merlin only knows where - and, frankly, I  can't tell if this is the same holiday she left on a month ago or if she actually returned home in between. Though, really, I suppose I should just settle to be surprised she took time out of what must be a very busy schedule... what with all the tanning, spas, and shagging men who aren't her husband she must be doing.

Whatever.
end.

My original plan to redecorate the two flats in my possession, regrettably delayed by a month by unnecessary circumstances, has grown into more of a plan to redecorate a rather large house or two. Especially as my personal style and Isabella's never did mesh well.

private to Romilda;
I've figured it out.

More later.

Provisions, provisions, provisions.

Being the personal representative, Madeline made great care to inform me as if I care, that Isabella attached up a provision to her will - to wait at least three weeks postmortem to actually read it. If I'm to believe Madeline, which I'm partially inclined to having known Isabella, it was to give people the proper time to grieve for her first. Which is either completely self-important, or thoughtful, depending on how you'd rather look at it.

private;
The point is, the reading will finally happen, this Sunday. Which would mean that I have approximately a day and half during which I can hope that she really didn't leave me everything, inadvertently screwing me over by giving a "motive" for the MLE to run with. That would be the last thing I need right now.

private to Romilda;
We need to talk. As soon as possible.

There's a line.


It's been crossed.

private to Astoria;
I hope you don't mind, but due to recent events, I'm going to have to postpone our start to redecorating. I would hope that you'll be available whenever that time might be.

Rita Skeeter must really be going through a bit of dryspell for that to be considered newsworthy.

More importantly, I've been thinking on colours for redecorating. Isabella's decided that as long as I don't use green for everything - and I've no idea what would give her that impression anyway, she's willing to pay for it. I have to say, it's times like these I remember why I'm so fond of her.

No, fond's too strong of a word. Why I've put up with her for so long fits better.

private;
It's still awkward, even over journals. She said it was the wine, and I know that's not actually true, and compartmentalising isn't working anymore.

And I don't know if Isabella thinks I'm either a) completely self-centred, or b) easily distracted, but Millicent wasn't the only one behaving a bit oddly over the past few weeks; Isabella's done her fair share as well. Either she tells me, or she doesn't, and as long as she's giving up the galleons, I'm not going to ask.

I also had the lovely luck of running into Madeline today. She still hasn't changed her mind since I last saw her, which was around Christmas at Isabella's annual party, I'm sure. The only issue with that woman is that I might be taking too much of a chance in figuratively biting the hand that feeds me - or at least pays a lot of my expenses - by getting a shag in with the woman who, for all intents and purposes, is Isabella's best friend and closest confidante.

Or it could be one of those asinine tests women like to spring, and I'm just a bit too careful to think it would in any way be a good idea as long as Isabella's in the picture. Which is really too bad, as Madeline does have quite a bit of my interest.
end.

private;
This is starting to get a bit ridiculous. It really is. And, despite the fact that I've dealt with this in other situations and came away from it perfectly fine, it's just different. Because it's Millicent, mostly. And possibly because she's probably the last person in the entire world I'd have expected a declaration like that from.
end.

private to Mi

I've been considering redecorating my place. And I mean everything. Colours, furniture, the works. And it'll keep me preoccupied.

private;
This situation with Millicent and her odd behaviour is becoming even stranger over time. I also have the feeling that Wes has an idea of what's going on. Lucky for him, I've decided to wait until after the wedding to interrogate him on this matter.

And then there's Miss Romilda Vane. It's been on my mind since the donor party, and the more I think on it, the more certain I become that there is no way I could have not met her previously and still have this great sense of familiarity about her. The only problem is that I have nothing to suggest this, other than a instinctual feeling. And the concern after hearing of the incident in St. Mungo's.

Maybe, after she's well enough to leave I'll send her an owl - but only if this feeling persists.

re: recent events.

pro
- Isabella refuses to go out unless she can get there by floo.

cons
 - I'm also not going anywhere not accessible by floo.
- She can still use the floo to get to my flat.

pro
- That doesn't mean I have to be there.

con con con con
- While there is my flat, staying at my mother's is actually the better choice, considering it's larger. Much larger. Unfortunately I'm not lucky enough for her and her husband to be on holiday, so I might have to actually talk to them at some point. The house isn't large enough to avoid that.

private to Millicent;
Question. When did you get a chance to leave the invitation at the flat?

I think the only people who actually care what that emporium calls their party which I won't be able to attend are uptight prudes in need of a bit of fun in their lives. As it is, I actually have an exhibit I'm being forced to attend, so even if I actually wanted to go, duty calls. Isabella is highly fortunate that I put up with all her little whims.

private;
I'm completely certain that there is something off about Millicent as of late - and she has yet to tell me about it. Unfortunately, I can't come right out and ask her about it, because she's... Millicent. And because the chances of her actually telling me if I ask are pretty non-existent; she'll either, a) blow it off, or b) tell me to mind my own fucking business. Besides, I'd prefer that when I finally confront her on the topic, I know exactly what I'm talking about and not taking a stab in the dark. There's nothing more annoying than people who talk about things they don't actually know about, after all.

As for Isabella, it seems she wants to do more with her time than just be in the public eye, or something of that sort. I really wasn't listening, but I did catch a mention of wanting to take her galleons and invest. But unless that money is going to one day be my money, I couldn't actually care less.
end.

private to Millicent;
Good news. The fifth husband vibes were actually something else this time.
end.

What is it with unwanted company always being the ones to seek you out the most often, no matter how many hints you drop that you detest their company?

private;
After the Sunday night run-in with Millicent - after which I attempted to explain to Isabella that she was only a friend. A good friend I've known for a great number of years, dinner was slightly ruined. Which was actually fine by me. I didn't want to be there anyway. And she talks to much. About absolutely nothing worth discussing. Just a bunch of rich middle-aged women concerns that she has to be aware I couldn't care less about.
end.

You learn something new about a person everyday. For example, on Sunday I found out that Isabella was the irrationally jealous type. But the result is positive if the new watch she gave me to replace the old one is any indication. What's amusing, however, is that she completely missed the part of the night where the waitress gave me her address.

My mother, on the other hand, is apparently the type to not take a hint, considering the owl she sent on Sunday asking about meeting herself and Nathaniel for brunch. As she probably should have expected, I decided I didn't feel like going.

Do I have a girlfriend...

( technically no. )