A Visitor {Francesca}

[Zaira Zabini]

Things always got weird and tense whenever Francesca visited the Zabini household and Zaira hated it. She loved spending time with her sister, but found it nearly impossible in the cloud of negativity that seemed to settle in when Francesca did. So, rather than go through that again, Zaira decided to visit her sister.


It was a prearranged visit, of course. Though Zaira would have liked to say that she could drop in on her sister at any time, that really wasn’t the case. Although Francesca never said she couldn’t, Zaira knew that her sister had her own life now, one that Zaira didn’t know absolutely everything about. It stung a little, but Zaira knew she couldn’t be the clingy little sister anymore. Francesca was grown up and Zaira would have to grow up too.


But she didn’t look very grown up standing outside Francesca’s flat in her oversized jumper with kittens on it and bright yellow trainers. Oh well, one step at a time.

[Francesca Zabini]

ooc: This is going to be rough! I'm so sorry. lol. My brain is in Spanish mode



Excitement coursed through Francesca's veins as she paced the floors of her flat - well technically the apartment belonged to her parents - waiting for her baby sister to arrive. The time they got to spend together was far too infrequent with her shifts at the hospital, and Zaira spending the majority of her time at school. Fran didn't frequent her childhood home, either. Usually she avoided the place at all costs, only showing on her father or sister's insistence, rarely ever her mother's. It was no secret that Pansy and Frannie did not see eye to eye, on anything, and Francesca could only hold her tongue so long in her mother's presence. So Zaira and Francesca settled on sister days. It hurt Francesca that she had to establish something such as this just to see her sister, but it'd come this far. Maybe one day she'd tell Zaira the truth about why she didn't really go home. Today was not that day, however.

Dressed in a pair of yoga trousers and an oversized sweatshirt, a barefoot Francesca made her way into her kitchen, checking her refrigerator to make certain she had food and what not because she was insisting that Zaira spent the night; she'd even owl Blaise and let him know. She was still, ironically enough, a bit of a daddy's girl, though she knew that'd change once she told him the truth. Once more she did a double check of the place, making certain that there weren't any pants or bras laying around that clearly didn't belong to her. After her last once around, Fran checked the small gold watch on her left wrist, and made her way to the front door.

She peeked through the eyehole and a smile crossed her face as she saw a familiar mane of black curls just standing there, looking somewhat lost. Fran envied her sister at times and wished that she was more like the young girl in front of her. She opened the door and propped herself against the doorjamb, cocking an eyebrow.

"Waiting for me to roll out the red carpet, little miss?" She asked, grinning as she waited for a response.

[Zaira Zabini]

OOC: It's fine!

Zaira was literally just about to knock as the door opened. Leave it to Francesca to get there before she did. Well, to be fair, Zaira was a bit hesitant because, even after visiting so many times, she still couldn't remember if she was at the right flat. They all looked identical and it didn't help that the house numbers were on the post box and hard to read. But, she was fairly sure this was the one, which was confirmed by Francesca's appearance. 

Her whole face lit up in a smile as her sister emerged. After spending an entire childhood together, it was hard for Zaira to get used to not seeing her sister every waking moment. They'd had plenty of practice lately, but Zaira still got ridiculously excited every time they were reunited. Nevertheless, she dropped the smile to deliver the most deadpan of responses. "Any old carpet would do," she said with a little shrug. "I'm not picky. Yellow might be nice though."

She remained stoic for a moment longer before breaking out into a grin and moving forward to hug Francesca. "I missed you."

[Francesca Zabini]

Greeted by a large smile and then Zaira's infamous deadpan sense of humor, Francesca grinned. Envy filling her bones as she sized up the younger girl in front of her. Unless illicit in some manner or form, which Fran usually reserved for her bedroom entanglements, humor wasn't Fran's thing. It wasn't that she didn't like to laugh; she actually loved to, it was that she didn't find herself particularly funny. Knock-knock jokes and bad innuendos were as far as her wit went. Deadpan she did not do.

"Yellow, huh? I may be able to do that, though I much prefer emerald," replied Fran in reference to her former house colours. Zaira had been the only Hufflepuff in a house full of Slytherin's growing up, and that fact alone made Francesca proud. Anyway that Zaira could/did rebel against their parents Francesca would openly support and encourage. She wanted Zaira to be her own person, not a Pansy redux; and thank god she was nowhere near being such.

As Zaira outstretched her arms, Fran reciprocated the movement, engulfing her younger sister in a hug, and squeezed tightly. Guilt crept into her thin frame then. Moments like this Fran realized just how much she missed her little sister. Fran regretted staying away from home as much as she did, but she hated the looks Pansy dealt her; the silent judgements because Pansy knew, she knew what or rather who Fran was doing in her spare time.

Finally, managing to somewhat regain her composure, Fran let go of Zaira and grabbed her hand, leading her into the flat. "Make yourself at home, Za Za, I actually have food and I'm all yours for the day - and night, if mum'll let you stay. Mungo's can live without me for a night."

[Zaira Zabini]

Zaira considered the color choice for a moment. "Emerald might match my trainers better," she said, gesturing down to her yellow shoes. "Suppose they might get lost in a yellow carpet." Only after she said that did she realize her sister was referring to house colors. Of course. In addition to being a representative of her house, yellow also happened to be one of Zaira's favorite colors. It was pretty convenient for showing house pride.

When she pulled away from Fran's grasp, she let herself be lead into the flat, smiling all the way. She couldn't help it. Time with her sister was hard to come by lately, so it was hard not to be happy about it. "Mum should be okay with it. I mean, she didn't say anything when I took my toothbrush." They had sort of discussed it before Zaira left, but her mother hadn't given her a straight answer. It was a bit a odd that she didn't just say yes right away. Fran was her sister, not some stranger bent on murdering her. Whatever.

"I'm glad my appearance has prompted you to finally feed yourself," Zaira said, grinning. She released her sister's hand and took a seat on the couch. "What would you do if I wasn't here?" She sighed a bit dramatically and shook her head.

Accepting Fran's invitation to "make herself at home," Zaira slipped off her trainers and put them to one side of the couch before drawing her legs up and crossing them.

[Francesca Zabini]

"Did she see you take your toothbrush?" Fran questioned, then forced a laugh; she felt idiotic asking, but Zaira didn't know how far the animosity ran between Francesca and Pansy. When Fran returned home, which was a rare fete indeed, they sparsely interacted. It was a curt nod of the head, a tight smile on the lips. Never did they embrace unless it was on the behest of Blaise. A few times Fran thought of telling Zaza, as she deemed Zaira early in life, the truth, but always fell flat when she gained the courage to spill the words. She didn't want to taint the image that Zaira had of her, ever.

Zaira stepped into the modest flate, and Fran's eyes followed as the younger witch made herself at home. Rocking back on her heels, Fran smiled genuinely. "I feed myself, some times," she protested, the words falling flat. Sadly it was true, if she didn't have company, like Cara or some other guest she was entertaining, Fran rarely ate in; she often ran for take out. While she liked her solitude, the eldest Zabini didn't like being lonely. When she ate alone, she felt lonely, too; completely isolated. "And if you weren't here," she started, plopping down on the sofa next to Zaira, "I'd just head out - I only cook on special occasions. When you're here, or i'm entertaining a friend . . ." Following suite with her sister, Fran drew her legs underneath here.

"So, Miss Zaza, tell me how you've been? How is everyone at home?" Home, the words felt so strange to ask. A home implied being welcomed, which Fran rarely ever felt whenever she stepped back into his childhood abode.

[Zaira Zabini]

"No, I waited until the dead of night to sneak into the bathroom window and steal it," Zaira dead panned without even a hint of a smile. But then she brightened up, laughing as well. "Yes, Fran. Merlin, I don't know what it is with you two." Her smile faded a little, this was dangerous territory, something she simultaneously did and did not want to know. "I hope Mum doesn't start doing that to me when I get old." Hopefully, that had diffused the mood.

"That doesn't sound healthy," Zaira said idly. "Not that I'm trying to tell you how to live your life," she added, sticking her tongue out for emphasis. "But, you know. Hey! Maybe if I come over more often you would cook more, huh?" Really, she was just pushing the issue as an excuse to visit more. Given the choice, Zaira would have happily had take-away every day of the week. Still, she thought it was a bit sad that her sister went out, presumably alone, often.

Zaira leaned back into the couch and put on an overly thoughtful face for her sister's benefit. "Hm, I've been good. Bored, you know, with the holidays and whatnot, but good. Mum and Dad are fine, you know them. They've been more... normal lately? I mean, they both actually remembered their anniversary this year, which was weird." Pretty much every year without fail, Blaise and Pansy simultaneously forgot the day they got married. It was so bad their children had to remind them most of the time.