For the Prompt Relay Challenge (station seven, 1/15) and the Open Categories Competition (angst).
Warning for addiction and substance abuse.
"So father where the hell are you now?
I think you would be so proud
Your son who so unluckily
Fell right next to the tree."
-"Family Tradition"- Senses Fail
He's shaking, his stomach in knots. He needs his fix. Now.
"Back again, Zabini?" the toothless, wrinkled wizard chuckles as Blaise staggers closer. "Didn't think I'd see you again so soon."
Blaise ignores him. He doesn't have time for forced polite conversation. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handful of gold and shoving it into the other man's hands. "I need more," he snaps.
The man laughs again, handing Blaise a large packet of silver-blue powder. "Your father used to come to me, you know," he muses. "Day you were born, he bought extra. 'Have some on me, mate. We're celebrating today,' he said."
This catches Blaise's attention. He watches the wizard curiously, dipping his finger into the powder and snorting just enough to keep his demons at bay. "You knew my father?" he asks.
"Good customer. Just like you," the old man confirms. "You know what they say, don't you? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, boy-o."
"Is he- Does he still-?"
"Haven't seen him in about five years."
Blaise scowls. The news shouldn't surprise him. His father had left when Blaise had been a baby. Of course he'd still be running. "I'm nothing like him."
The old man grins, exposing his bare gums. "And how would you know? Ever meet him? No, I thought not."
..
"You said you were going to stop," Daphne says when Blaise returns home. "You promised me."
Blaise pushes past her. "You're not my mum," he grumbles.
"I'm your wife," she snaps, moving in front of him so that her swollen belly presses against him. "Your pregnant wife, Blaise!"
That fact should sober him. He should remember his unborn child, should see history repeating itself and make promises to be a better man. A man like his father hadn't.
Instead, he moves around her again, gripping the bundle of powdered salvation, and makes his way to the toilet.
..
"Blaise? Blaise, where are you going?" Daphne demands.
"Out."
"Blaise Zabini, get your arse back here right now!" she screams. "So help me, I will hex you into oblivion!"
Oblivion. Blaise smiles. That's what he craves right now. Numb, happy, warm oblivion, so far away from all his bloody troubles.
He hunches over. Supplies are already low. If he doesn't get more soon, he doesn't know what will happen, but he's certain it won't be pretty.
"Blaise." Daphne's hands are gentle on his shoulders. Her voice is so soft, so pleading. "You need help, love."
"Get away!" he growls, shoving her roughly from him.
She falls to the ground, landing on her knees, her hands desperately cradling her pregnant stomach. The concern is wiped clean from her eyes, replaced by fear.
..
"This is almost triple your usual purchase," the old man murmurs.
Blaise shrugs. "I'm leaving. Need enough for the road."
"What about that pretty wife you've got? That wee little one growing inside her?" he asks.
"The baby will be better without me."
"Here is my own family tradition
Following footsteps into addiction."