March 1st, 1892 — Zabini London Home

Lucretia's note had been unambiguous in her desire for a war council with her son. They had been in for more than a single season and neither of her children was showing much sign of meeting the ambitious goals she had set for them. Luciana's disappointment did not really surprise her and she may need to make a more focused match for the girl but that could wait until the seasons started again. Her darling son on the other hand would have no such luck - or peace.

Newly 26, handsome, working in a good business he would own one day, the right girl would be all he would need to secure his position in the top tier of society - and hers along with it.

'My son' she greeted in Italian, as the footman showed her first born into the room. She greeted him, her two arms touching his and pressing her cheek to either side of his 'We have much to discuss.' the footmen opened the door into the dining room 'Did your friends celebrate your birthday?.' she queried mildly, her tone pleasant and cordial but her son would surely know her mother was 'fishing' for the mention of any particular young ladies. The family 'celebration' had been modest, a cake and some gifts, then releasing him to his friends. She hadn't seen him since.

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Elias Grimstone Savino Zabini

  

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Lady is amazing!

For all that the family lived in the same London townhouse, they did not spend a great deal of time together. Savino had his work for the company, of course, and otherwise came and went as he pleased, got up early and came home late, spent time elsewhere when he could. His mother was usually busier than he was at any rate, with all her social invitations – she was quite insatiable.

And just a little formidable when they were alone in a room together, with him caught as her main focus (and his main focus yet lamenting that there was no foreseeable way out of this). Perhaps if he complied, she would grant him the mercy of setting him free before dessert? Only – Savino was not much interested in complying, if this much to discuss was what he thought it might be.

So – “Certo,” he answered vaguely, with an airy nod and a smile, stepping back once she had released him; of course. He did not elaborate on which friends, what or how or where; Savino also didn’t say that his time spent out of the house in the last few weeks had rarely been for social reasons, and more because he had been having strange fits and accidents of dizziness, and he didn’t want anyone at home to think he wasn’t well.

“And is everything well with you?” Savino continued, still in Italian. (Maybe a little sidestepping, just in case it worked.)

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Lucretia observed her son coolly, more often than not it felt like a fencing match between mother and child - attack, parry, counter parry, response.

'We have much to discuss' - Attack
'Is everything well?' - Parry
'As well as could be expected, I would be better if our family line was secured' she said abruptly - counter parry -and response. No one ever accused Lucretia Zabini of being obtuse in her views, and there was little point in pretending that she had wanted to discuss anything with her son other than his potential marriage prospects. It was hardly as though she cared about how much he had to drink last week at the club with his friends - now who those friends would be might interest the ambitious socialite.

'We have been in England some time now and you seem to have expressed no real interest in any young lady, you know what your father and I expect angioletto', her husband was truly agnostic to the matter, at least as far as Lucretia was concerned.

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Lady is amazing!

Well, shit.

No niceties from his mother today: his birthday last month must have struck some chord with her, re-compelled a new sense of urgency. (The difficulty was that if he had told her how his days were numbered, she would only be twice as bad about it – Savino’s primary tactic here was still, hopefully, to stall any marital developments for a few years more, until the point was moot.)

“Shall we have a drink first?” he said, rhetorically, though dutifully resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He did take the liberty of pouring himself a drink – and his mother one too – before addressing anything else, because all indications were that he was going to need it.

“I know what you expect,” Savino agreed, diplomatically enough. And I have every intention of disappointing you. “I had supposed we ought to be settled here as a family, and have better gotten our bearings of British society before...” He took a sip. Before he expressed interest in anyone, apparently. But almost two years was probably time enough to make introductions and get the lay of the land – and his mother must not have made as many inroads as she would have liked, if she was ready to make a pawn of him.

So Savino felt it would be sensible to throw his mother a bone, before her patience with him wore thin... but he could hardly mention Ruby Urquart as being his closest female friend in the country, could he? Halfblood, middle class, caught at the fringes of society with her father a disgraced ex-Minister and her twin sister a notorious werewolf. If anything gave his mother an aneurysm, that might do it. “Most of the young ladies I have met are pleasant, though,” he offered. “So I’m sure I’ll find someone.”

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'You seem to believe that this is in any way a question of love, affection or compatibility and not one entirely of suitablity.' Lucretia said imperiously, accepting the drink from her son.

'The first thing that we ought to see to is getting your position reviewed' she said to her son with the air of a command rather than a request. 'You are your fathers heir, and by extensionyour grandfathers, it will be yours one day to run and you are a clark' the word rolled off her tongue coated in obvious derision, 'Bob Cratchet was a clark and he almost starved in a garret. What work you do makes no mind, but I will see to it that your title is changed to something more fitting of your station.' it had been a bone of contention when he had joined the company - the idea that he would start at the bottom of the company and not in some position more suitable to his station felt like a personal jab and it was time to put an end to it. 'It will not be helping your search for an appropriate bride.'

The footman entered with the starter, she held her tongue until they left.'We will need to set some deadline - at which point we will have to seek a more traditional arrangement' - he was sure to know what that meant, 'How long do you think you will need?'

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   Savino Zabini

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Lady is amazing!

Oh, this really was war. First, the casual rebuff of anything to do with affection in a match: because of course his mother was more concerned with societal advantage than her children’s happiness.

Then, the talk of work: as if Savino’s decision to work up from the lowest rungs had not been entirely deliberate, a calculated ploy to appear as ineligible and unassuming as any young man could; as if her comments of starving in a garret did anything but make him bristle.

And next, with only the briefest pause for breath as the food came in, her threat of making him a traditional arrangement. Savino had always supposed he was quite good at keeping his temper in check, that he could restrain himself no matter the circumstances, but his mother was doing a stellar job today of fraying his patience. His plan might have been to duck and evade and soothe her worries with vague appeasements as usual, but – suddenly he was no longer in the mood to placate her.

“I see,” he said coolly, to her overt threats, and began to cut up the food on his plate with a degree more vehemence than was required. “I was actually thinking of quitting the company,” he announced lightly, taking a sip of wine to settle an awful impulse to smile. “To take up my Divination research full time.”

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   Emma Flitwick

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Lucretia was not one for flinching - her expectations of her children had always been clear, just as the expectations for her had been when she married. The aim of life, as far as she was concerned was to do better than the generation before - her children were expected to marry better than she had.

'A wizengemot position? Something in the ministry? she pressed, well aware of the clip in her sons tone, the intention he had to get a rise out of her, 'One of those unspeakables or something- are they not supposed to do that? Or as an independant researcher?', there were several questions in one - but vagaries were of no use to her. A gentleman of leisure she could work with - clark was the problem. If this was only a matter of branding - then that could be managed.

'You are the eldest son, if you marry well your sister will have a better oppertunity to marry well' and she would need every advantage, 'Do you not wish your sister to be secure in life? Your marriage reflects on her and her prospects' -the guilt trip - a classic.

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Lady is amazing!

She was not so disconcerted by that; he merely shook his head at the Ministry positions. No, that had not gone so well back in Italy, and he had no intention of working like that again here. Carmichael had been in that department before teaching at the school, hadn’t he? And those paths always came to an end, eventually, because having the Sight always got in the way somehow. For Savino’s part, there was nothing more important than learning about the Sight, and he –

Oh, she had turned this back around onto marriage already. Savino stiffened as she brought up Luciana, as if Luciana’s prospects were his problem. Still, if his mother did not care for his sister’s happiness, he felt doubly bound to defend it, so the guilt trip did see him pause. “Of course I want that for her,” he retorted (not bothering to set his wine glass down again, because what was the point?). “So I’ll do my best not to scandalously elope.” There was a veiled threat for her – although cousin Camilla had already done as much, and still hadn’t ruined that side of the family beyond repair. But as for their side... And I’m your only son, Savino thought, wishing he dared say it aloud, so don’t push me.

“No, independent research,” he added instead, almost conciliatory. And if he starved in a garret in the meantime, so be it, that didn’t matter to him. “So I may not have the time to think of marrying for another few years yet.”

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   Reuben Crouch

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'That will be too late for your sister' Lucretia reminded him, 'Her prospects will be marred by your intransigence, and she will be an old maid by the time you have even thought to consider her.' Lucretia didn't think her daughter amounted to much generally, but she's was vaguely pretty if nothing else, even if she lacked the social graces of her cousins. Her daughters prospects were more limited in her estimation than her sons.

There was much that Lucretia Zabini could handle by sheer force of will and some image management, but their arrangement would warrent some manner of change. 'You have some say in this,' her tone a mix of conciliatory acknowledgement and vague threat, 'You may elect some profession or other, more suitable to your station in life as an eldest born and heir, or you take no new profession but your title within your grandfathers changes, to acknowledge your position as the eventual owner.' Lucretia saw herself as incredibly reasonable in this.

A superficial change was the least she asked - and Lucretia was usually satisfied by most things superficial.

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Lady is amazing!

If she was that worried about his sister, maybe she should try prioritising Luciana for once, Savino thought sourly. But no – he shook away that thought, because he knew full well that if his mother began to do that, his sister would only suffer for it. Better he bore the brunt of his mother’s attentions while he still could.

And he and his mother were at their old stalemate; there was only the merest shift towards compromise here. “Call it what you want,” Savino said, with a shrug that lay somewhere between surrender and dismissal. He could stay in his job or he could leave, and she could fuss over his title all she liked, but the only thing he was interested in pursuing was his study of Divination. “I’ve told you where my interests lie.” Not in the company, not in marriage, not in scaling the ranks of society. His mother could spend all her time relying on his supposed inheritance or his marital prospects and make whatever arrangements she liked, but in the end it would be for nothing, and she would just be deluding herself.

For whatever work she did to amend his image as heir and prospect was work Savino was fairly certain he could just as easily undo. So he was just... trying to let her down gently, break this truth without breaking apart the family in the process. He sighed and set his glass down, imploring his mother with an earnest look. “I’m not trying to be difficult,” he added steadily, “but if I were you, I might look for another avenue to secure our family’s status, because I’m certain I can only be a disappointment to you all.” She was not going to listen to him, he knew it already – but at least it might plant a seed of doubt in the back of her mind. And if it did not, well.... she hadn’t seen anything of his intransigence yet.

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She fought an eye roll - she had no interest in his 'interests' - and what sort of oddball interest was telling the future anyway. You didn't see other well born gentleman making a personality of being Animagus or some other magical trick and yet here she was, with a son so single minded in his obsession with a magical anomaly to the detriment of his other responsibilities, but her features softened at his self flagulation.

'THe contrary my darling, you are a joy to me, but you do not see the joy in yourself. she added, a rare moment of earnestness from Lucretia Zabini. 'You are maudlin and sullen and do not see the pleasure you would bring someone as a husband or the kind of father you might be.' this Lucretia also believed to be true, a good marriage, might be the social making of her son, as well as of the family. and in spite of appearances she did want her son to be happy - she just believed she knew better than he did how to achieve that end.

She took a deep breath and the seriousness was swept from her face. 'Then it is settled, we shall get your title changed to 'director?' she mused, 'Or president perhaps?' she looked at him to get him to confirm either. 'Your grandfather will not mind what you pick.' she clarified, having already confirmed as much with her father in law.

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Lady is amazing!

Merlin, she was good. Savino could only suppress a snort at that. Only his mother's encouragements, that notable softening in her tone, could come crammed full of accusations of his being maudlin and sullen, offered in such a sugary coating. He wanted to believe she cared – part of him was sure she meant well, and of course she was not working with the full picture of things, as he was – but he could also see precisely why the other Zabinis hated her so. She really was a piece of work.

But he loved her, he loved his family, he did. And if he had to fight her when it came to marriage, he would, without hesitation, but maybe there was some way to steer her more gently onto a different course of action. He didn't have that long left with his family, after all, so he would rather not break up their happy façade if he did not have to; if he could just – walk the line here for long enough, everything might just hold together without anyone getting hurt.

So, although he wanted nothing more than to shake his head, to protest, to make some sarcastic remark about seeing any joy in all this, her trying to mould his life into her ladder up and making herself sound blameless and selfless in it – Savino said nothing, just inclined his head wordlessly; whatever you say.

"How about an assistant to the director, at first," Savino counselled, gently enough. It would signal enough for her purposes, he thought, while tempering her ambitions. One could not just leap up from the inexperienced bottom rungs of a business without raising a few eyebrows, even if one's family owned it; better to take it gradually for appearance's sakes. (And Savino's own sake, obviously, but he was pretending to acquiesce to all this for his mother's.) And neither his grandfather or his father were gone or retired yet; there was no need to push them out. He smiled, keeping the irony in it to himself. "There's time."

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wrap?

  

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Lucretia considered for a moment and then grudgingly nodded....Rome wasn't built in a day and her sons reputation wouldn't be built over night. This was a victory - she had not conceeded, her son had given some ground - all in all that counted as a victory. Giuseppe Garibaldi she was not...no she was better than that.

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Lady is amazing!