In response to the "Seven Deadly Sins" Challenge set by acciohope15.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter, Harry Potter characters, places, events, things, words, and anything else that was created by J. K. Rowling.

Chapter 1: Pride

Daphne found him in the strawberry patch, at the very back of the manor's gardens. He was sitting on one of the stone walls at the edge of the garden bed, with his knees bent and his head resting in his hands.

As Daphne moved closer she could see that he was sitting rigidly, staring fixedly at a small wren digging amongst the small green plants that heralded the bounty of strawberries that would be there in the summer.

She shivered and pulled her scarf tightly around her, burrowing her chin within its furry warmth and rubbing her hands together. Although winter had been and gone the spring weather hadn't brought with it the warmth that she had hoped for - and as it was approaching dusk there was a definite chill in the air. She couldn't comprehend how Blaise could sit there on that icy rock without even the slightest show of discomfort.

Blaise, suddenly startled out of his thoughts, turned to see who was intruding on his privacy and smiled when he saw her coming towards him.

She and Blaise had been granted leave from Hogwarts for a week following the death of another of Blaise's stepfathers. She had been more than happy to have an excuse to escape. The current atmosphere at Hogwarts, where students were being petrified from some unknown threat, was cloying, and she was relieved to have a chance to escape all the whispers and glances and suspicions that the students were laying on each other. Admittedly, the majority of suspicions were aimed at Harry Potter, who she personally thought was the least likely candidate for 'Heir of Slytherin' in the school and she felt sorry for the poor boy who she had noticed on more than one occasion seeming to shrink into corners and crevices in an unconscious attempt to disappear from it all.

When Blaise had come to her one evening last week with a solemn expression and informed her that his mother was once again widowed and would she like to represent the Greengrass family whilst her parents and grandparents were in France, she jumped at the chance.

Blaise and Daphne had grown up in very similar social circles. Blaise was from the Zabini family, and she herself was from the Greengrass lineage. Both very prestigious families who could trace their ancestors back through countless generations. And Blaise and Daphne had become very close over the years.

She and Blaise, along with several other children who she now attended Hogwarts with, had all attended 'Madame Nori's School for the Noblesse' as children. Madame Nori was a petit yet severe middle-aged French lady, whose cutting glances had the ability to keep her classes of the most priviledged children in British wizarding society in line. Children who were accustomed getting their own way were soon cowed by the sharp wit of the Madame, and Daphne often amused herself daydreaming in her potions classes about the abominations that could result from the union of the Madame and Professor Snape.

Within Madame Nori's classes Daphne and her fellow pureblooded students recited their family trees, learnt the correct techniques for presenting oneself in any public situation, danced waltzes and discussed the political structure of their society.

The reason for these classes was twofold. Daphne and her fellow students learnt how to present themselves to wizarding society in a way that would reflect the honour that they learnt was inherent in their bloodlines, and furthermore they were able to form the foundations of connections between their families which would serve them much later in life when, inevitably, the Ministry of Magic and the workings of the government would be turned over to their hands.

Because of these classes Daphne had already known many of the students on arriving at Hogwarts. Most of the other pureblood families had children who attended these classes in childhood, and very few families refused to attend.

Daphne knew the Weasleys were one family that refused attendance, and she had heard Mr Weasley tell her father that their reason for boycotting the lessons was that muggles and muggleborns were not allowed entry.

Daphne thought it was rather stupid of the Weasleys not to take advantage of such opportunities to improve their family prestige. After all, the most important thing in life was family and she had been brought up knowing that in any given circumstance one must always put their family name first. Families such as the Weasleys seemed to think that by rejecting the prestigious values of the elite social circles that they were somehow above them. Daphne knew that the Weasleys, although financially poor, had a wonderful history and that if the Weasley patriach had actually any sense of the politics of society he might have conducted his behaviour quite differently, might have been a little more open to other's values, and might have been able to grace his children with a bit more to their name than simply an abnormally fertile line of redheads.

Blaise shifted in his seat on the rock and Daphne was brought back to the present. She sat down behind his back and rested her head on the back of his neck. She knew he was upset even though an outside observer would never note the white-knuckles of his clenched fist, or the tenseness she could feel in his shoulders where he was burdened with troubles well beyond his years.

His biological father had been Madame Zabini's third husband, and he had died whilst on holiday in the Egyptian pyramids. Blaise had been only five years old when it happened, and all that he and Daphne knew was that his father had been found at the bottom of one of the pyramids completely emptied of blood - simply a deflated human skin defining the thick bones within. It was sickening, and the theory was that he had been caught unawares by a curse within the pyramid.

Mrs Zabini had been at the Egyptian milk baths nearby when he was found.

Daphne knew that his father's death still haunted Blaise's dreams. This was unsurprising given the unfortunate circumstances of his death. However Daphne also knew that Blaise was also troubled by the reputation that his mother had gained. She had been married a total of seven times, with this last husband being the seventh to meet an untimely death.

Madame Zabini was tall, tanned and blonde. She was cultured, spoke several languages, and Daphne had heard through listening to her own mother's gossip circles that Madame Zabini was 'skilled' in more ways than one. She had a habit of falling 'madly in love' with very rich and wealthy men who tended to have no familial ties to speak of. The sequence of events was nearly always the same. She would meet a potential suitor, be 'swept off her feet' in love, and within several months there would be an engagement, followed by a lavish wedding and then a few years later her conquest would unfortunately meet his end.

Daphne had no idea how men could be so stupid that they kept falling for this act, or how no one seemed to realise that there must surely be some underlying factors at play.

But Blaise realised. And Daphne knew he was haunted by each of his step-father's deaths because he felt he should somehow be able to prevent his mother from getting entangled in such drama. Daphne knew he hated the reptuation that his mother was building for their name. If anyone embodied the pride that one should have in being from a pureblood family it was Blaise. He respected the ancient customs that they had learnt from Madame Nori, and he wanted the Zabini name to represent power and honour and to become, once again, one of the highest ranking families in their society.

And it was this pride that Daphne knew was cutting him so deep at the moment. After enduring yet another funeral where he was surrounded by the whispers and glances of wizarding society, no doubt speculating on who the next dupe would be to fall to the dangerous siren that was his mother, he was worn out and deeply upset by the damage her actions were causing to his name. A name that had been built up by generations.

Pride could be a wonderful thing, but wounded pride was a deep injury that took many years to heal.

Blaise had gone back to watching the wren in silence.

Daphne rested her head on his shoulder, and took his right hand in hers, ready to wait out the silence in quiet support.