Blaise Zabini watched as the girl slowly twirled in the arms of her partner. The ball was a great success, but who was he kidding? All his balls were a success.
It was three years after the War, a great time to be alive. Although Voldemort had not survived, the battles and destruction had left the Wizarding world in such complete disarray that it had left an empty space for the powerful families of the past to take their rightful places once again.
Blaise liked to think of this time as a second Wizarding Renaissance. It was the rebirth of all the things the Wizarding world had lost: powerful, aristocratic families who were patrons of the arts and of the inventions that had built the foundations of the world he was living in now. Currently, Blaise was leading the pack in that arena, throwing balls and art showings, sponsoring potion-makers and curse-breakers, inviting only the most fabulous of wizards from across the globe.
Blaise hadn't taken sides either way during the War. Honestly, it hadn't mattered to him. Blood didn't matter to him. That had been made clear through his years at Hogwarts. In all honesty, Blaise had considered Voldemort a coward. However, he couldn't say he wasn't pleased with the outcome of things.
It wasn't as if he wanted people to die; that was not his goal in life, nor had it ever been. He just liked things to be clean and orderly. Precision and dedication had always been two of his best traits, if he did say so himself. He appreciated great organizational skills. With all that said, though, the Death Eaters had been wiped out by Potter and his entourage, just another thing for Blaise to be grateful for. He considered the Finnigans, the Longbottoms, the Weasleys, among others, all great families of the past. If the Death Eaters had survived and had anything to do with anything, the Wizarding world would not be flourishing in the way it was now.
The way Blaise saw it, Muggleborns were a great asset to the Wizarding world. As much as Blaise enjoyed the neat and clean, he could not help but respect that lines were sometimes blurred and that prejudices could not be allowed to stand in the way of genius.
This ball, however, was not a time to dwell on the past. It was a night to celebrate the third anniversary of Wizarding Liberation. Blaise had chaired the event, holding it in the ballroom of his own home, with the Guests of Honor spending the night in his own guest rooms. Blaise watched as his guests spun around the dance floor, a bright blur of color. There were pretty girls everywhere tonight, but he had eyes for only one woman.
She had grown rather beautiful in the years since school and the War had ended. Her hair fell to the small of her back in caramel curls, her skin glowed in the candlelight of the party, her smile radiated true happiness. Blaise knew that of all people, she was enjoying this time in the world the most. Her passion for learning was fulfilled in every way. Blaise had always been slightly infatuated with her, but now, seeing her like this, her body snug in a red ball gown, he felt his heart quicken in pace and his palms grow slightly damp.
Blaise was good-looking. He could have his way with any woman there that night, but he only wanted her. He was tall and dark and muscular and beautiful and he wanted her. She would be his.
