whiskey saints and sins

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Blaise Zabini grew up privilege. 

There was no point, no relevance in sugarcoating the truth. His mother, a beautiful witch who was widowed seven times over, had accumulated quite the wealth. He never knew his father as he died at an age when Blaise was barely walking so the memory of a father had faded far away from his memory and his mother hardly kept pictures of her old lovers.

Bad memories, she said. 

Nonetheless, Blaise had a comfortable childhood. He was fed, pampered and born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was good-looking, attractive and every girl wanted him. His mother gave him enough attention. He was popular due to his good looks and his vanity assisted in maintaining his appearance.

He mingled and mixed with other noble Pureblood families. He wasn't a goddamn Mudblood so he was superior towards anyone who bequeathed him a glance and hung around Malfoy and his cronies. Of course, he was not a mindless follower like Crabbe or Goyle but he and Draco had a pretty close relationship. When his father was in trouble with the Dark Lord, Blaise was there to help him and guide him through the darkest times- when Draco was on the brink of losing his family, Blaise was proud to say that he was there to hold Draco in a tight embrace when Draco shed all pretenses and pull down that bravado facade and cried his eyes out. 

The moment went unspoken but their bond deepened- a bond that went deeper than friends. It was a bond of brothers. 

Despite what people thought and assumed, he wasn't a massive follower of the Dark Lord. He had always found the blind, rabid obsession rather stupid. Sure, he had agreed to The Dark Lord's opinions but he didn't believe in the cult following and he didn't believe in jumping towards every command of the Dark Lord because he believed everybody should have the free choice to make their own decisions about the issues at hand. Even Blood Traitors and Mudbloods. 

But that is all over now. The Second Wizarding War has ended and Hogwarts has rebuilt. He had graduated and he is now working for The Ministry of Magic under the International Magical Cooperation of Law Enforcement. The Dark Lord is gone. Everybody is safe. Everybody is happy. Bloody Potter is the hero. Everything is going swell.

So why does he feel as if there is an empty hole in his heart?

-

"If you find her, please let me know." The pleading note in Daphne Greengrass's voice twinge his heart. Though her head is in the form of flames in his fireplace, as she is communicating via Floo Network, the ashen expression on Daphne's face is extensively communicated. "I'm worried. She's been missing for almost three days. Even my family is worried." 

"She'll be fine, Daph," promises Blaise, as he sips his morning coffee. "She's a smart girl."

Daphne sigh. "I hope so. I just need the assurance." Then without even saying goodbye, Daphne signs off by disintegrating into the air. He doesn't think much of Daphne's message because he knows the younger Astoria, as troubled and dwindled as she is, will eventually turn up. 

As he finishes the last remaining gulps of his coffee, he washes up, picks up his briefcase, fix his suit and heads out the door, only to find Astoria Greengrass on his doorstep, staring blankly at the street with glazed eyes and broken hearts, with an unlit cigarette rolling in between her fingers. Her dark hair is wild and messy. She's wearing so little clothes- a crop that exposes her cleavage and her midriff and short shorts that shows the slight meat hanging from her buttcheeks. Her eyeliner is smeared all over underneath her eyebags and her lipstick is smudged.

"Astoria?" he asks in bewilderment, half unable and half unwilling to digest that this is the little girl he used to know so well. Memories of playing with Daphne at Greengrass Manor run through his mind as images of a younger, raven-haired girl try to catch up with them. He remembers once Astoria had tugged on Daphne's sleeve and begged if she could play with her and her older friends. Daphne had flat out refused and asked her sister to go away. Fleeting flashes of Astoria with tears rolling down her cheeks as nobody wanted to play with her echo in his mind, like a hot bittersweet taste in his mouth. 

"Hey, Zabini," Astoria lifts her head to register him. She places the cigarette into her mouth. "You got a lighter?"

"Um- uh- what are you- what happened to you?" He gestures at the rips in her clothes and a scar on her knee, which is still fresh and bleeding.

Astoria casts an absent-minded at her knee, "Oh that?" she waves dismissively as if to brush the matter away, "Fell down a hill last night. Fucking outdoor parties."

"You fell- " Blaise begins, but then Astoria sends him a vaguely amused, almost indifferent, sort of a half-dead stare, shaking her head fondly, "Relax, babe. I'm finally legal. I can do what I want." 

She calls me babe. Blaise is rendered speechless. He doesn't know what to say to that. He can't boss her around. He misses the Astoria before she went off to Hogwarts. The sunny-eyed, innocent, bright young girl who always ran after her sister and begged if she could play with her and her friends. Astoria was always turned down but it was cute. Now she's a young woman, self-destructive, mean, icy-hearted with hard eyes and cruel smirks dipped in scarlet. So he just stutters out, with a dry throat and a nervous swallow: "Daphne is looking for you."

Astoria's smile widens, blinking mascara-ed lashes at him, and she couldn't look more superior if she wanted to. Somewhere in all that heartbreak, there is beauty. "Of course, she is. She acts like she cares so much."

"She does." It comes out, like an instinct. "She loves you so much, Tory. Go back to her."

Astoria shapes her lips into a sneer- then a laugh, but it isn't warm, inviting and butterflies. It's a harsh, guttural sound, run dry by all the cigarettes she smoked. "She doesn't love me. Nobody really does." 

Blaise doesn't say anything. He just stares at her, floored by the bitterness in her tone, and watch her lips twist sideways, her eyes roll and without another word, she walks away. 

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