Fall was around the corner, and Ethan just loved the season. It felt comforting in a way, he didn't exactly have a logical explanation as to why, but leaves falling, pumpkins growing, the Forbidden Forest looking even more ominous...it just spoke to him in a sense, and Ethan was sure to enjoy the festivities.

Though he was alone, seeing as not one of his cousins were available, Ethan didn't seem to mind being able to spend some alone time.  But it seems that Ethan picked a different haunt this time. The corn maze.  Seeing how difficult it was, Ethan took it as a challenge to be able to clear the maze in under an hour, alone, without anyone helping him.

Of course, that was quickly looking to be impossible, considering how utterly lost the Slytherin was in the middle of the field.

His head was swiveling around and about, trying to find the path that would lead to the exit, a focused look on his face. It seemed hopeless, however, as Ethan already went through this place for the third time.  Of course, the Prince, as much as he believed himself to be above pettiness, was still quite proud, and he was arrogant enough to believe he could go through this maze perfectly if only he could get another shot...

But as he spun on his feet, facing another path he thinks he hasn't gone through yet, Ethan walked towards it like a man on a mission, his hair flying behind him as he went down the path....

And he nearly doubled over when someone blocked his way.

Normally, Ethan was the sort of person to arch a brow or imperiously ask a person to watch their way if it seemed they were deliberately doing it. But the one who blocked him, which, aside from being an attractive young woman, looked like she was actively looking for him. Ethan had enough experience with people wanting to hunt him down, or being on the other end himself that he knew when a person was trying to find you with effort. 

It didn't help that she was...diminutive, in size. A contrast to his tall and rigid frame. Memories of students desperately trying to keep pace with Lu Miaoyu, another small woman's demonic agility during Dueling Training at Defense Against the Dark Arts flashed in his head, and Ethan had to shake it off to pay attention to her?

"...Hello?" He spoke softly, and the way she eyed him, up and down, like she was critiquing him made Ethan feel vulnerable, which was odd. He wasn't the sort to be intimidated by those sorts of displays, usually, but he found himself involuntarily shifting from foot to foot, trying not to look uncomfortable under her gaze.

And then, she hit him with the information.

How could he be so stupid? Of course, it all made sense now. He recognized her, he knew she was a transferee, and it only made sense that she'd approach him a quarter into the term, when she already had enough time to observe him during their shared classes. A smart woman, really. She didn't give him the time to prepare or put his best foot forward by deliberately observing him from the shadows, (Or so that's what he wants to believe.) 

And now here he was, looking like a stag caught in a muggle car's lights, looking lost and stupid in the middle of the field. 

"....Oh."  He answered, voice still soft. "I'm...yes. I'm Prince, Ethan Prince."  He gingerly extended a hand towards her. "Apologies, I would have tried to find you earlier but...uh, crazy term. Quidditch, internship, extra curriculars, studies...preparing for NEWTs..."  Ethan listed it off, his voice starting to sound a bit strained. "I'm sorry, you caught me at a disadvantageous position. I didn't expect to meet you...here. I thought you'd like it better if we met, I don't know, in some place at Hogsmeade?" 

It was highly irregular, but from what he could tell, it did seem like a willing attempt on her end to ambush him. He had to commend her for that, though. "So, uh...how's your parents..?"  He was obviously utterly failing this.

Zinhle's eyes were sharp as she took him in, subconsciously storing away all the information for later. He was...much more soft spoken than she'd anticipated. Was that staunch, haughty facade he always had plastered on at school a mask? Perhaps he wasn't so confident when caught off guard, which was exactly as she liked it. "Are you always this articulate?" Maybe that was a bit rude of her, but Zinhle was frustrated. Frustrated at the unfairness of it all. Frustrated at being here. Frustrated at being promised to some icy looking man she didn't even know, however pretty. She missed Uagadou. She missed South Africa. She didn't bother taking note of his excuses, moving closer and staring at his outstretched hand for a moment before shaking it, her grip firm. "Aren't we in 'some place in Hogsmeade' right now?" His voice had a surprisingly melodic lilt when he spoke in a softer tone, differing ever so slightly from a lot of the other accents she heard at school. She supposed that was the Irishman in him, not that she was super familiar with the various accents in these parts. She wasn't exactly on her home turf. "I got tired of waiting." She probably should have. The Gryffindor knew their families had set proper dates for the pair of them. But she was here now, and so was he, so he could deal with it.

His attempt at diplomacy softened her demeanor ever so slightly. Perhaps she was being too forward, pouncing on him like this. "My parents are well. They are back home in South Africa, I am with my Uncle Kingsley. Or was, before Hogwarts." All information she was sure he knew, but it filled the empty space between them, at least. "And yourself? How is my future family in law?" There was a faint note of bitterness, tinged with resignation in her tone. At this stage, she was fishing for a little bit of information, desperate to hear from the horse's mouth any scrap of what the Prince family was like. Because from everything she'd come to gather, she was marrying into a den of vipers. Looking up at the tall man though, she couldn't help but wonder if this was forced on him as much as it had been her.

"It came as a shock. To learn of the engagement. So I'm still adjusting. I'd never left Africa before I moved here, it's all very different to what I'm used to." It wasn't an apology by any standards, but right now it was the closest he might get. An explanation of sorts for her brash behaviour. Zinhle felt somewhat justified in her actions, but she supposed she should try not to completely alienate the man she was meant to be spending the rest of her life with. She felt such a complex storm of emotions about this whole situation, but it wasn't Ethan's fault.

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Ethan wasn't used to being cornered. No, the Princes were proud, cruel tyrants and warriors. Never petty, of course, as their pride didn't allow them to engage in the unrefined "cruelty," displayed by the vampire Markovic and her little husband. They were supposed to be distant, unapproachable figures, who strikes terror and fear into the hearts of allies and enemies alike whether in the field of battle or the ballroom. And Ethan did his best to emulate that. Even his Animagi form, a towering and hooded serpent, radiating fear and majesty, perfectly encapsulated what the perfect Prince heir should be. And didn't Ethan answer every insult rendered to him with terrifying cruelty and force?

But this woman...she made it difficult.

She was like a mongoose eyeing him, looking to tear his serpentine throat if he ever so much as makes a misstep, or if he miss-speaks.  She didn't come across as approachable to him. Beautiful, yes, but also formidable in a sense? Ethan didn't know how to feel about her, really. But then again, this was the first time the two ever met. Ethan was sure he wasn't supposed to get an accurate read yet.

He pulled his hand back, glancing at it with a frown and stretching his fingers. She had a strong grip, at least. What did they feed her in Cape Town or Johannesburg or wherever city she was from, anyway?

And then came the first jab.

Ethan would have normally reared his head and pointedly told a person who responded to him that way to repeat themselves, or he would have ignored them and coldly went on his way, but for some reason, her riposte seemed to have found its mark, and a slight frown crossed the Slytherin's lips. "As I said, you caught me at a disadvantage."  He replied back, his tone still soft, and brittle, really. "I don't usually get ambushed for a conversation by my future wife, whom I know nothing about." 

Like her, Ethan didn't really have a say about this arrangement. He came to peace with it, of course, or rather, as he was quickly realizing, he resorted to ignoring it and trying to pretend it wasn't there. But the jig was up, and Ethan knew he couldn't run away from it anymore. It was time for him to do his end of the bargain.


"Well...here I am, sorry to disappoint."  Ethan spoke, in an odd tone of self-depreciation. He was never prone to that, but maybe he was just vulnerable now, when she found him doing something most would consider childish at his age. There was a distant look in his eyes as he glanced at the sky a little. Maybe, when he gets married off, he'll insist on a garden that can fit a maze just like this one, so he could run in whenever she's being horrid. It was a foolish thought, of course. A Prince never runs away from their problems, especially not the heir, and the best wizard of his year. (In his own opinion, of course.)

"That's good to hear, at least. I know how Grandma could be a bit of a handful when dealing with marriage suits. She intends to marry us all off before we even leave Hogwarts, it seems."  There was a slight bitterness there, and his eyes hardened a little. Ellen Prince was many things, ang chief among those was cunning.  She perfectly espoused the cruelty and deviousness a Prince needed, indeed, Ethan heard the stories about her during her youth, about how she callously killed all of her siblings in one fell swoop, and how she married five different men, who all perished within five years, and shed not a tear at their funerals.

And as if reading his mind, the girl asked about his family, and it nearly drew a bitter laugh from him. At least she gets to call a wizard like Kingsley as family. His family...as proud as he was of their cunning, there was no denying that most Princes in histories were blood thirsty serpents who grew fat on slaughter and the destruction of their enemies. 

"My family's fine. I'm fortunate enough to be in the same year as two of my cousins, Elspeth and Everly."  He answered quickly, "And my aunt Evelyn just returned from her voyage over seas. Grandmother is healthy and as sharp as ever, too."  Unfortunately. 

"I understand,"  Ethan answered her, tone becoming even more gentle. "Well...I don't, really. But, if it makes you feel any better, I was just made aware of this arrangement very recently. I thought I would be spared from such a fate, but apparently not. I also told my Grandmother I'd submit to this if only it meant my cousins get their own choice for spouses, but...she reneged on that, too." 

Ethan ran a hand across his hair and let out a sigh. "Look, Miss Shacklebolt. I'm not going to lie to you, our family isn't the easiest to get along with. We have...peculiar practices, but I'll do my best to spare you from them,"  It wasn't because of affection or anything like that, every person with a shred of decency would shield an outsider from the cloak and daggers that go on behind the curtains of the Prince Clans, where children barely old enough to read are taught to guard themselves against those who'd betray them, but are also taught how best to harm someone if they felt insulted. Barbaric, but it was still family. And he knew that it was preferrable to poverty. 

"Do you have any idea when it's going to be made public?"  He asked in a still soft voice, crossing his arms in front of his chest, one hand grasping his elbow as he awkwardly shifted his weight yet again. "I want to be...better prepared, at least. I imagine lots of people would get upset with me about that, and lots would try to ask me about it, too."

Well, now she felt a bit bad. She hadn't expected him to take things like this. And as blunt as she could be, Zinhle never wanted to bring more hurt than necessary into the world. "You're not the disappointment. The situation is. Doubt you had any more say in it than I." She watched his gaze turn skyward, eyes lingering on his hair. She'd be lying to herself if she said it wasn't pretty, and Zinhle never lied to herself, so she freely admitted she wanted to touch it. Even if it was in the context of her dragging him by it. Didn't mean she had to like him though. She hadn't quite decided how to feel about him yet.

"All of you? That is common of the Prince household?" Her eyebrows knitted slightly at the revelation, the furrow deepening as he continued to talk. Really, he was just confirming what she'd already heard; it appeared the noble house of Prince was a snake pit indeed. Indeed, it was clear that his grandmother was the one pulling the strings, and that didn't sit right with Zinhle at all. It was wrong, pawning off children for personal gain. She had a very blunt, black and white way of viewing the world, and from what Ethan had said, Zinhle disliked the old lady already. However, something else he'd said caught her attention.

"I also told my Grandmother I'd submit to this if only it meant my cousins get their own choice for spouses, but...she reneged on that, too." Begrudgingly, her respect for the Slytherin grew. In his own way, he'd tried to protect his own. Look out for them. Although nothing changed on her face, she felt something internal begin to shift, ever so slightly. "She sounds like a tricky woman. I appreciate the...information." Zinhle was glad that Ethan had been open enough to share this at least, allowing her a deeper glimpse not only into his life, but also the Prince household in general. "And for what it's worth...I'm sorry. About your cousins." She still had her arms crossed in that same guarded position, but her eyes were softer now. Sincere. For a moment at least, before the 'Miss Shacklebolt' made her wrinkle her nose. "Zinhle. Not Miss Shacklebolt. You are going to be my husband, get used to my name. And know that I have absolutely zero intentions of calling you Mr Prince." Gods these British purebloods and all their stifling formality. A significant cultural difference to back home. Of course pureblooded families back in the motherland had their own protocols, etiquette, but considering they were already arranged, the Gryffindor felt a first name basis was more than appropriate. She'd already compromised so much for a marriage that hadn't even taken place yet, she wasn't going to begin to compromise herself too, force herself to change and fit their molds. Now, she walked right up to them, close enough that she had to crane her neck back to look up at him. It was an impulsive step forward, really, but she wanted to search his eyes, and didn't quite care if the sudden closeness threw him off. He'd have to get used to her impulsive ideas. Finally, she felt as if she found what she was looking for. He appeared to have a hidden protective side, and she found sincerity in his gaze. He truly meant to try spare her. "If I'm to be thrown to the lions, don't try to shield me. Help me to adjust to living amongst them. Navigating the den. It's my family now too, after all." As much as she didn't want to accept it. It was what she had to do. And she'd be damned if she let herself succumb to them. "Lucky for you, I think you'll find my family far more agreeable. At least, the Shacklebolts based here in the UK. Uncle Kingsley is a very good man." There was no doubting the admiration in her tone as she spoke of her uncle, finally taking a step back to allow the Prince heir space to breathe.

"I'm not sure. I'd imagine sometime after we've had the formal meeting to go over the terms of the arrangement itself." Now, she was eyeing him again. "And why would people be upset with you about it?" Was this going where she thought it was? Her fingers drummed an insistent pattern on her crossed arm as she waited for him to respond, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

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Ethan's frown deepened as Zinhle spoke. Her words were blunt, cutting through the layers of his defenses, but there was no malice in her tone—only a kind of weary acceptance that mirrored his own. He didn't expect sympathy, least of all from her, but hearing it somehow made the weight of this arrangement feel even heavier.

He wanted to offer his sympathies to her yet again, to scoff at what seemed to be some sort of casual dismissal of their situation, remind her again that neither of them wanted it, but something about the way she softened, about the sincerity in her gaze as she offered her condolences for his cousins, made him hold back. And he struggled to find the words to convey his appreciation for her words. Did that make her a beautiful person? A kind person?  She might as well be, but he found a better word to describe her. 

"Your...sympathies are appreciated. That's very honorable of you," 

And, it seems, she was very much like other women, given the way that she looked at his hair. That wasn't something he'd miss. It seems that they all liked it. He wouldn't blame them; with the amount of galleons he spent on hair care products to ensure his hair looked shiny and pretty. At least he knew she liked something about him.

"Tricky? Don't let her catch you saying that. She is a vindictive woman who holds grudges and cruelly took every advantage she can to pull our family from its stagnation, she is both admirable and reprehensible," Ethan dryly stated.  They were reclusive as a family, or more reclusive than some of the shameful Pureblood families whose business was aired in public for tabloids to hear, but they all made sure that their reputation for cruelty wasn't hidden. It was a weapon they liked to wield.

"Zinhle. Not Miss Shacklebolt. You are going to be my husband, get used to my name. And know that I have absolutely zero intentions of calling you Mr. Prince." 


Husband.

How easily the woman accepted that. How resigned she sounded. And yet it didn't prevent the cold knot forming in his core. Husband. He was to be somebody's husband? Ethan understood it as a concept, he was prepared for it, or at least he thought he was. But it was here. This woman was real and not a concept. And she had a name. A family. He was subjecting a woman to a barbaric fate that he would have never wished on anyone....

But he took a deep breath to steady himself. He couldn't control it any more than she could. All he could do was ensure that he wouldn't dishonor her anymore than he already did. He tried his best to put on a guarded facade, the kind he usually had, but he found it a bit more challenging to do this time. Even Ethan Prince had his weaknesses, as loathe as he is to admit it.

When she insisted on using first names, her straightforward tone disarming him yet again, Ethan let out a quiet breath. Zinhle. It felt strange to say it aloud, even in his own mind. He wasn't accustomed to such casual familiarity, not in these kinds of matters. But the way she wrinkled her nose at the formality almost made him smile. Almost.

It made her look prettier.

"Alright, Zinhle," he conceded quietly, the formality slipping from his lips like a foreign language. He didn't expect her to be that...comforting. That straight forward, and for once, Ethan noticed that it was her that was driving the conversation, and he was the one listening to her and being passive. And he didn't mind it at all. 

As she stepped closer, he instinctively tensed. He wasn’t used to being this close to someone he barely knew—least of all someone who radiated this kind of energy. She was smaller than him, yet in that moment, her presence felt as large as his own, if not more. Her eyes searched his, and for once, Ethan didn’t look away. He knew she was assessing him, measuring him up, trying to see what lay beneath the mask of the proud, cold Prince. And what surprised him most was that he didn’t mind.

Her words were bold, laced with defiance and strength. "If I'm to be thrown to the lions, don't try to shield me. Help me to adjust to living amongst them. Navigating the den. It's my family now too, after all." There it was again—that strength that was so different from the quiet cruelty of his own family. She wasn’t asking for his protection, and that stirred something unfamiliar in Ethan. He had spent so much of his life either shielding others from the darker aspects of being a Prince or cutting them down before they could hurt him. But here was Zinhle, standing firm, telling him she didn’t need a shield—she needed a partner.

"It's not that,"  Ethan admitted. "Any decent person would shield you from...them. There is no familial love with them, as a whole, save for filial unity when outsiders threaten us. Then we close ranks and destroy them. But most of the time? We sharpen our fangs, and bite each other. There are factions who form, rallying behind candidate for heir over the next...It's not something one would be keen on," Well, she wanted honesty, didn't she?

"If it were up to me, I would not be engaging in this...game of theirs. But I have my responsibility. I'm the one Grandmother raised and molded in the image she imagined her successor would be, so I have no choice." He shrugged. He was his grandmother's little project, the one she shaped and built into something she thought ideal. So he was her sword, shield, and quill all together. Someone worthy of the Prince name. 

"Oh?" He blinked, tilting his head. "I can't say I'm surprised. Kingsley Shacklebolt is an honorable man and a terrific wizard. He defeated Lord Voldemort, did he not?" He casually mentioned the Dark Lord's name, no fear at all. "I can't imagine any of his family, like your parents, would be anything less. And I'm sure that you're a brilliant witch too, much like him." 

But the second jab came, and he winced when he tried to figure out how to compose an answer. 

"As you mentioned...I will be your husband, and you will be my wife."  He nearly shivered at mentioning that. "So I won't start our...relationship off by insulting you with a lie. I have been...entertaining, several women. A muggleborn Hufflepuff, and a pureblooded heiress from Hufflepuff, too." He shifted from foot to foot. "I'm not virtuous in...that sense,"  He awkwardly shrugged. "But I've heard pureblooded scions had lovers aside from their spouses, as distasteful as I find it, I am sure I can...adjust, if that is your preference."

An almost challenging glint lit her eyes, the South African's lips curling ever so slightly, the closest she'd come to smiling in this short interaction. "Emphasis on the reprehensible." She didn't really care that it was his own grandmother she was referring to. Bad didn't discriminate, least of all in the Shacklebolt's eyes. "Besides, she'd only find out if you told her I said that. So I guess we'll see if you are the kind to snitch on me or not." Again, words delivered with unwavering straight forwardness as she met his gaze dead on, eyes almost challenging, yet also somehow amused. Would he choose to remain completely loyal to his flesh and blood and rat her out, or keep it quiet for her sake? If he chose the former, it was a risk she still wouldn't have regretted taking. She wanted to see who he really was. What kind of games he played, and if she was simply a pawn on his chessboard, or a key player. At this stage, it appeared they were both pawns, but she wouldn't sit idly by and remain so.

Zinhle sensed, rather than saw, the slight shift in Ethan's demeanor. At first, he felt almost frozen, and some small part of her had to wonder if he had truly not come to terms with the arrangement yet. She herself had accepted that it was going to be happening, only because she believed it was the best decision she could make to help her family, although she still hadn't quite shaken the resentment at being forced into such a situation. This was her path, and she'd walk it however reluctantly.

Then, there was another shift. A barely recognisable relaxation, as if the deer that had been caught in the headlights when she first cornered him had now jumped free of the vehicle, and was now back in its natural habitat. She didn't know what to make of that, so she'd let her gut take the lead, her brain could follow along later. This was how she always operated, anyway.

Honestly, she didn't like what she was hearing about the Princes. Sounded more like a family one would try to escape, rather than enter. "And you are telling me there is no one in your family you feel familial love for?" What a sad thought indeed. Listening to him continue, Zinhle felt...not pity. But a deeper level of understanding. She hadn't expected such vulnerability from the boy. "So will you sharpen your fangs and bite me, if I am not to your liking?" Indeed, Zinhle was far too blunt for her own good. She should really work on a filter between her brain and her mouth, but she trusted her instincts enough to know that she could handle any repercussions of asking such a thing so easily. Would he try to hurt her if she didn't fall in line? Feed her to the snakes? Was he as bad as the rest of them seemed to be? She was still sizing him up, intentionally wielding her bluntness to catch him off guard and gauge his reactions. He said he wouldn't play the game, but his body language would give away the truth or lie in his words. Her gut was already telling her that he could trust in his honesty though. That he was not the sort to do so.

A part of the Gryffindor puffed up at Ethan's words regarding her uncle. "He is terrific indeed. Someone I hold myself to, and aspire to be like." She wasn't shy to admit it. He was a far better standard to strive towards than her own father. "Your words are kind." Was it genuine, or false flattery? Her gut said genuine, if somewhat obligatory. "I can't say I live up to his standard just yet, but I will." Because as much as Zinhle liked who she was as a person, she was not content with complacency. No, she would keep working and pushing until she was better as both a person and witch. "And tell me, what sort of wizard do you aspire to be?" Someone like Uncle Kingsley, or more like that tricky grandmother of his?

Exhaling, Zinhle massaged her temple with one hand, her eyes fluttering shut in exasperation. "Gods, baba (father) has married me off to a man whore." This, she muttered under her breath, unsure and uncaring if he heard. Never mind that it was somewhat hypocritical, considering she had had her own share of fun, all that had been shut down the minute she learned of her engagement. And she didn't entertain multiple at the same time. She was always honest in all her dealings, never engaging in something that might unintentionally hurt another. Eyes opening, she stepped forward again, even closer than before, completely disregarding the poor Slytherin's personal space. "Listen here. I don't care who you have entertained in the past. I've had my own fun. However, what matters to me is that now, you are arranged to me. So whilst you are free to continue entertaining who you may like," It was almost a mockery of a lover's touch as she reached up a hand, gently smoothing his collar before offering Ethan a saccharine smile. "Whatever happens following that, I will not be held accountable for." She may not have liked the arrangement, but she would sure as hell respect it, and if he decided not to respect her as she so deserved, then well, she'd see to it that he didn't disrespect her again. Also, perhaps she was a little territorial. It was the Zulu in her.

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Well, she was certainly a handful. Ethan knew that much from their short conversation. Ethan wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. At least she wasn't boring or too meek, though. Ethan found witches with spunk and attitude much more interesting than wallflowers, and it seemed that Zinhle was closer to a thorny bush than she was to a flower, which...made Ethan feel things. What things? He honestly didn't know yet. He was trying his best to be cautious around her, for both their sakes. 

"Much more emphasis on the reprehensible," Ethan echoed her words almost immediately. He had complicated feelings about his grandmother, but there was no one who'd question that Ellen Prince was a monster. Even she would agree. And only a fool would try to flatter her by claiming she wasn't one. Even the greatness that she managed to do was born out of her being a monster. Ellen Prince butchered dozens for power and made her throne out of their corpses, and Ethan knew she'd kill more to keep her throne of bones and anguish. 

"Snitch?"  Ethan couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. "My grandmother is cruel and utterly merciless, but she is not petulant. It's not dissent that she punishes. Besides, she's more likely to find that amusing." Ethan huffed. He knew his grandmother enjoyed spirited people, for all that she beat it out of him.  She always said that passion was one of the best things a person could possess, because next to hate, it's one of the endless fuels one's soul could use to take their goals.

"Of course not," He answered her question about Familial love almost immediately. "I am fond of some of my cousins, even if most would see me dead. I already told my favorite cousin about our match. Her name's Elspeth. Elspeth Prince."  He reckoned Elsie would be amused by the situation he found himself in. "My...grandmother arranged her to a Selwyn. A Selwyn. Could you imagine? Didn't one of their members serve Voldemort?"  Ethan frowned deeply, still obviously uncomfortable with the idea of his favorite cousin, one he treated like a sister being promised to someone. Ethan always wanted Elsie to live a life she wanted to live. There was so much she didn't know...

"Don't be absurd," said Ethan coldly, snapping for the first time. "I'm many things but you did mention that I'm to be your husband, and you're to be my wife. Why would I sharpen my fangs against you? Unless you intend to slit my throat while I sleep, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to me. I intend to live far away from Ivory Hall while my grandmother's still alive."  He firmly stated. Ivory Hall, for all its splendor, was not a happy place for him. Indeed, the happiest he ever was when he hid from his vicious cousins in Ivory Hall's vaults, cuddling up near the dragon skeleton and wishing that they'd forget about him and let him remain there till he died.

He idly nodded and listened to her speak about Kingsley Shacklebolt. She didn't give him empty placations, so he knew her admiration for her uncle was genuine. Which meant they were going to see eye to eye when it comes to blood supremacy and hatred of it, at least. "I wouldn't be opposed to meeting him," He dryly said, because of course he wouldn't be. Who wouldn't want the opportunity to meet Kingsley Shacklebolt, after all? As a former Auror and one who became a leading figure in the Wizarding World, Ethan knew he was the perfect person to give him advice. 

"I aspire to be the best that I can be on my own, other people can provide inspiration, sure. But one's Way is tailored to their own experiences and no one else's. I can't be Kingsley Shacklebolt, Severus Snape or Sirius Black any more than any of them could be me."  He shrugged; it was an honest answer. They were facing very different scenarios, they lived in a period of open warfare, Ethan lived in a period of interregnum. 

He flinched when he heard her call him a manwhore. Was he a manwhore? Ethan always prided himself in control over his...base emotions. But was he just lying to himself? Ethan opened his mouth to speak, but the woman already beat him to it, approaching him, not at all caring about his personal space and then raising her hand to fix his collar, all while vaguely threatening him.

"I didn't mean it like that..."  What cold edge his voice gained was lost now, and he was again as soft spoken as he was before. "I just didn't know if you intended...I was just..."  It seemed Ethan was starting to stumble over his words, enough so that he had to take a long, deep breath before speaking. 

"I didn't know that you intended to have me...entirely. I...would also like to have you, wholly. Without having to share,"  A blush crept on his face so fast that Ethan had to look away, trying to look interested in the skies. He didn't know why he said that. "I'm not going to dishonor you in anyway, that would be beneath me...so if you want to live like how husband and wife really do, then that's the least that I can do." 

It was clear how awkward he felt with the current trajectory of the conversation though, given how quickly Ethan seemed to want to stir the conversation away. "So, anyhow." He cleared his throat. "How are you finding Hogwarts thus far? I know Uagadou is the biggest Wizarding School in the world, and that you have a very admirable curriculum, but I dare say Hogwarts' history is just as historied, too." One could make the argument that Uagadou, as one of the oldest, and no doubt one of the most prestigious wizarding schools in the world was the best wizarding school, but he liked to believe Hogwarts was just as illustrious. "Are you enjoying your lessons? I know you folks don't use wands, I think that's quite odd, but..."

The corner of Zinhle's mouth twitched up even as her eyes remained narrowed. The girl was absorbing everything Ethan said about his grandmother, unable to stop the thread of anticipation that stitched across her skin at the prospect of meeting said woman. If she was every bit as bad as Ethan said, Zinhle would have to be on her guard, and perhaps try to control her sharp tongue. She'd never been very successful at doing so in the past however. "I look forward to meeting her. I'm sure we will have some enlightening discussions." Nice to know she wasn't petty at least, though Zinhle would have far preferred petty to cruel.

"Elspeth. And what's so different with her as opposed to your other cousins?" The Zulu woman stored away the name. If Ethan was this fond of her, perhaps she could be an ally in this den of snakes. Provided she was actually a good person; Zinhle had no interest in wasting her time befriending someone with a rotten core. "Yes. Loyal deatheater." The girl responded automatically. Given her uncle's involvement with the wizarding war, she was very familiar with it's histories and the names of those involved, both on their side and the opposite. "That doesn't mean he is. If he is, though, then I feel for Elspeth. Being arranged to a death eater is even worse." Than being arranged to you. The words hung unspoken, though Zinhle wasn't ashamed. She felt she'd already made it clear how she felt about being arranged, if not in her words then certainly in her actions and attitude. And clearly Ethan wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of being arranged either, especially not whilst the both of them were still in school. Her sympathies towards Elspeth weren't hollow however; she may have been a stranger, but Zinhle felt on a whole that arranged marriages were wrong. Archaic.

Something in his retort made her lips curl further, her eyebrow popping up. "Oh?" He was kind of amusing, the way he looked almost affronted by the mere suggestion that he may sharpen his fangs against her. It made her want to get under his skin more. It also had her trusting, based on his natural reaction, that he didn't have plans to plot against her. Passed her test. She wouldn't normally suspect someone of such a thing, but well, he was a Prince after all. "You tell me. You're the one that was raised by the snakes. I'm just figuring out how to survive 'em." The grin on her face had a touch of something wild. Although, something else in his response caught her attention. Where did he plan to live? Where would she live? She couldn't stay with Uncle Kingsley after they were married, could she? "If not your Ivory Hall, then where will you-" She swallowed it back. This was her reality now. "Where will we live?" Somewhere with a garden and trees, she hoped. She'd go mad otherwise. Probably go camp out in the bush for days on end if he tried to keep her confined to the city. Honestly, she just wanted to go back home.

Zinhle's eyes continued to bore up into him as he spoke of what wizard he wanted to be, the answer very insightful indeed. He wanted to forge his own path. Not emulate others, but carve something out for himself. Begrudgingly, the girl had to respect that; it was honourable. Didn't necessarily provide her too much insight as to his morality, but it was a start. "He'll want to meet you too. See what kind of man his brother has married his darling niece off to." And see if you measure up. The Prince family may have been a den of snakes, but the Shacklebolts had their own standards and quirks. And whilst Uncle Kingsley may not have been able to break the engagement, if Ethan didn't impress she had a feeling he could make the Slytherin's life very very difficult.

Gods, he was like some stuttering schoolboy, unable to get a complete sentence out. But, she supposed, he was a school boy. Just for the sake of continuing to unsettle him, keep him off kilter, Zinhle remained close, picking at a non existent thread on his shoulder as if helping him, even whilst that same intense, vaguely threatening look remained. "Ever the articulate one." Her voice was dry. Not mocking, but not exactly soft. What did soften her ever so slightly, was the blush on his face, the purity in his words. For a 'man whore', he was rather...wholesome. Impulsively, her hand shifted from his shoulder to his Slytherin scarf, tugging at it so he would have to lean down, be a bit closer to her level. "That's the right answer. Because if you did, well like I said...I won't be held accountable for what follows. I may not be happy about this arrangement, but I'll damned if I don't respect and honour it, for my family. You'll do the same. Regardless of this unfortunate situation, I do not like to share." That same, slightly wild grin was back on her face, and in spite of her brazen words, Zinhle did not shy away. She was completely confident in who she was, and what she wanted. She was gonna uphold the contract set in place, stay true to it, and he had to do the same, even if he knew she didn't like it, and would have wanted to stray. He would abide by her standards, as she forced herself to do. Witchy arithmancy.

Zinhle didn't really care how awkward the wizard felt, which was pretty obvious given his tense body language and shifting gaze. But she released her hold on his scarf, allowing the tension to ease somewhat. "Hogwarts is impressive in its own right." It just wasn't home. "Though I do think their insistence on the use of your silly sticks when I can perform just as well without a bit ridiculous." Almost as if to prove her point, the girl angled her fingers slightly, casting a warming spell on her cold hands. She still hadn't gotten used to the perpetual chill here, even with all her layers. "I'll admit, I'm struggling a bit adjusting to using a wand..." Trailing off, she looked up at Ethan. "Oh! You will help me. Until I get the hang of it comfortably." It wasn't a request so much as an order. "Is it so odd to not use a wand? Africa is the birthplace of magic. It is natural to not rely on such a tool. To us, you are the odd ones." 

tagged: Ethan Prince
notes: I've decided that "witchy arithmancy" is the wizarding version of "girl math"

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