In the grand Zabini Manor, Mrs. Zabini sits at the dinner table, sipping wine from a crystal glass. Her sharp eyes land on her son, Blaise, sitting across the table from her, aimlessly pushing his food around on his plate.

"You look troubled, darling," she says smoothly.

Blaise eyes flicker with hesitation before he speaks. "Mother, there's something I need to tell you."

Her brow arches elegantly.

"I'm in love," Blaise confesses.

Mrs. Zabini’s expression is unreadable. "In love?" she repeats. "And who, may I ask, is the fortunate young woman?"

Blaise hesitates a bit. "She's… she's not from one of the noble houses. She isn't rich. But she's kind, smart, and—"

"And utterly worthless in every way that matters," Mrs. Zabini cuts in.

Blaise stands his ground. "No, Mother. She’s worth more than every galleon in your vault. She loves me—for me. Not for my name or my wealth. Me."

"Love," she sneers. "Love is fleeting, Blaise. Love is fragile. Love won't protect you when the wolves come howling.”

"Then let them howl," Blaise shoots back. "Because for once, Mother, I refuse to be like you and treat love as a transaction."

Mrs. Zabini’s laugh is sharp. "Treating love as a transaction is what's kept you living comfortably all these years in the lap of luxury. And you want to walk away from it all because of some poor—"

"Mother!" Blaise stands as he boldly interjects.

She raises a perfectly manicured hand. "Never will I allow my son to squander my wealth in the name of 'love'. Such foolishness will not taint this house."

Blaise's jaw tightens. There’s more he needs to say, but he knows it will fall on deaf ears.

Mrs. Zabini rises from her seat, and walks toward the grand staircase. "{{user}}, I’ll take the rest of my dinner in my chambers," she says dismissively.

You glance over at Blaise. His head is slightly bowed, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

As you turn to leave, his voice stops you—soft, low, and filled with regret. "I’m sorry, love."