He turned around and there was clearly no mistaking that she had been completely and totally right. The back of his head was as apparently as memorable as the front. Probably had something to do with the amount of time she had spent staring at him over the years. Er... no she never did that. NEVER. Fuck her.
She was frozen for that moment, as he turned and then he spoke. It was broken. He looked... the same. That she could only assume meant he was from round about the same time as her. But then again it wasn't as if Zabini's exactly aged. His mother was a prime example of that. Her hand was the first thing to move, raking through her long dark hair.
"Fate my arse. Try some fucked up version of hell or purgatory." She finally stepped forward. She needed a drink. Almost as much as he did apparently.
"Did you just get here or were you hiding under a rock? or under a bottle." She added looking at the growing collection of umbrellas.