I wasn't going to post this here but why not? If it gets lots of traction I will maybe this more than a one-shot but I doubt it will.
The scent of wildflowers wafted over Blaise Zabini as he lay in a hammock, basking in the warm Sicilian sun. He knew he had to escape the twisted reality of his mother's courting rituals, where every new husband was just another victim waiting to happen. He uncorked a bottle of Anacorne Della Valpolicella Classico wine from 1991, filling the air with its rich aroma. It was a tempting scent of cherry vanilla and coconut, making his mouth water. The wine flowed from the bottle into the glass as he conjured it using his wand.
After pouring himself a glass, the bottle recorked itself. Blaise stirred the wine and took a whiff, feeling its sharp aroma burn his nostrils. The fruity aroma was so inviting that she couldn't resist siping. The sour taste lingered on his tongue even after he spit it out, leaving a bitter aftertaste. The Muggle wine left his delicate palate unsatisfied. He regretted not taking the elf wine, knowing it would have been worth the risk, but his mother was too observant. The Muggle wine may have cost one hundred and ten galleons, but the taste was nothing special.
"Zeesey," he yelled. As soon as the elf appeared, he bowed. With a nod of his head, Blaise gestured towards the wine. The elf bowed, taking the goblet of wine, and then vanished. Standing up from the hammock, he used his wand to flick the dirt off his clothes. He went for a stroll, flipping through the pages of the Languages of the Wizarding World book and losing himself in its enchanting words.
Despite his mother's insistence, he refused to wear Muggle clothes near town. It was beneath him. As he walked near the country road, he could see a herd of cows grazing in the nearby field. Today, he donned light robes made of mokeskin, which clung to his body in the warm breeze. The touch of the cool, smooth dragon scales vest against his skin was a sensation he never grew tired of.
He closed the book momentarily and took out a small silver brush and a handheld mirror. He winked at himself in the mirror as they worked, admiring how the waves added dimension to his fade. With a wave of his hand, he whisked them away. With a deep breath, he set off on his adventure, opening the book to continue reading.
Although he could feel sweat trickling down his back, he pressed on, determined to make the most of the scorching day. Being alone with his thoughts was a source of comfort for him, like a warm embrace. A charming tree caught his eye, and he created a cozy blanket to avoid ruining his outfit before sitting down. The book had been resting on his head, and he must have dozed off because it toppled over when someone kicked him, landing on the dusty ground.
"Buongiorno Mooligan!" (Good morning Eggplant) The guy was leaning over him, casting a long shadow. The slur that he hurled at Blaise to belittle and degrade people who shared his appearance. It was too early for this, and from a Muggle, no less. This was a common occurrence in some Muggle communities.
Blaise's hand tightened around the wand in his pocket."Mi scusi Muggle (Excuse me, Muggle)," he said.
The Muggle poked Blaise, "I don't want you on my property, Eggplant Parmesan," he said with a thick Italian accent.
"Parlo Italiano," (I speak Italian) Blaise gripped the wand tighter in his pocket, trying to restrain himself.
"I uh, dunt want-a you sullying my-a motherland's native tongue," he said with a thick Italian accent. Blaise felt a sharp tug on his hair as the guy tried to grab it. He pulled back and had his wand at the Muggle's neck. The appearance of a rope constricted graced Muggle's throat. The Muggle's eyes bulged as he desperately scratched at his throat.
"I will say this in English, so you know how serious I am." Blaise grabbed the Muggle's hair and pulled his head back. "I am a pureblood wizard. Few subjects are taboo to me except for my mixed heritage. I prefer a more civilized talk, so we shall chat in English as you prefer."
"Per favore smettih," (Please stop) he gasped. With each passing second, the cord around the Muggle's neck grew tighter, causing his face to turn a sickly shade of white.
Blaise released the man's greasy hair, leaving his hand feeling slimy, and wiped it on the Muggle's shirt before giving him a stern finger wag. "Tsk, tsk, as a courtesy, we are speaking English. If you can't follow simple rules, I must kill you."
Just as Blaise was about to deliver the fatal blow, Zeesey, the house-elf, appeared out of nowhere. The elf humbly bowed to the ground, his pointed ears twitching. "Young master, forgive me for the interruption. The mistress informed me to remind you of what she said about killing."
Letting out a sigh, he rolled his eyes and lowered his wand. "Not near the villa, and don't use obvious magic."
The elf's words were barely audible as they spoke from the ground. "The mistress also wishes to see you, young master."
"Such a rare delight." He walked away and then remembered the Muggle gasping. The lack of oxygen had caused his skin to turn blue. Blaise ended the spell, and the Muggle dropped to the ground, clutching his chest and coughing violently.
Rictusempra.The Muggle burst into laughter, unable to contain their amusement. The man was trying to crawl from him, and Blaise found himself unable to look away, fascinated by his struggle. He laughed until his sides ached, and even then, he continued to wheeze and gasp with amusement. His body convulsed, tears streaming down his face as he struggled for air, desperately clawing at his throat until he took one final, deep breath and died with a smile.
The elf rose and quickly got rid of the body, then returned to their previous position. "Mistress will be most pleased, young master."
Blaise's grip on the elf's hand tightened, and the world around him disappeared into a swirl of colors. Moments later, they stood in the drawing room, facing his mother's new partner. This time, he was of Asian descent. She aimed to gather men from every corner of the world, of all races and cultures, to demonstrate her ability. It wasn't much of a challenge; next, she would try Half Bloods or, worse, Mudbloods. And worse, he dare not think of Muggles for the sheer entertainment. To alleviate her boredom, she would entice unsuspecting Muggles into her clutches, killing them in ways that mirrored their own: a car accident, a lover's quarrel, and her preferred method, a bomb. They always blamed the Mafia for the misdeeds.
She had an intense obsession with The Godfather movie series, but the third installment was unbearable for her. No matter how much she begged, he wouldn't watch the Muggle movie with her. He wasn't even sure how she got that contraption called a tv to work. She dismissed this by saying there was once a wizarding television network shut down by the Ministry of Magic because Muggles accidentally picked up the station. According to his mother, the portrayal of bad Muggles in the movie was accurate, but to him, all Muggles were equally terrible.
The feeling of his mother's arms around him was foreign, but he couldn't help but feel grateful for the moment. He tensed up and cautiously patted her shoulder as if unsure of how she would react. "Honey, this is Ken Yamamoto."
A look of skepticism crossed Blaise's face as he raised an eyebrow. "Ken, really."
The man was shorter than him by a head. He bowed, and Blaise did the same, but not to the same level. "It's Kenichi, and I wanted to inform you I'm marrying your mother." His tone was authoritative.
Blaise grinned, and suddenly, they all had cups of wine. "May your marriage be as long as the others, Saúde," (Portuguese: Cheers) he drank.
When his mother gave him a side eye, he glared at her defiantly. Ken gave him a friendly pat on the back, and as he did, their glasses vanished. "Young Man tell me what you did this morning?" Ken asked.
"Had a pleasant visit from some Muggles. I wanted to leave a lasting impression, so I gave them a thoughtful parting gift. "
Ken's smile widened as he received the gesture, but his mother's knowing look gave Blaise pause."Yes darling, that's very thoughtful now, if you wouldn't mind. Ken and I have to go over finances. I don't think you want to be here for something so boring."
"That's usually the best part, but on your word. I shall retire to my room."
Blaise ascended the stairs to his room, and with a flick of his wand, he transformed his attire into evening wear. He then lowered himself onto a couch that faced his bed, the soft fabric of the cushions enveloping him.
Boredom was consuming him, but the idea of going to the Malfoy's and potentially becoming a Death Eater was not worth it. They were fortunate that he was still in school, making their chances of asking him unlikely. He usually likes Theo Nott, but he fell from grace and outworn his usefulness by having his father captured at the Department of Mysteries and sent to Azkaban. While Draco had aligned himself with the Dark Lord to salvage his family's reputation, he had not done the same. Although Crabbe and Goyle lacked intelligence, they could be helpful in a pinch. The incident in the sixth year involving Goyle flinging him into his train seat remained a sore point, and he hadn't forgiven him. As a potential partner, Pansy Parkinson was a solid choice, provided she didn't become overly attached and trigger Malfoy's envy. He had finally decided - Daphne Greengrass. Her family's neutrality throughout the ordeal had been a crucial factor.
With a snap of his fingers, Blaise conjured a quick quote quill and parchment that levitated before him. The taste of ink filled his mouth as he sucked on the quill before speaking.
Dear Daphne,
Mother was gifted a wonderful new villa, and I highly recommend you pay a visit, Daphne. A beautiful wine cellar is part of the property and adds to its charm. Let's catch up soon, shall we?
All the Best,
Blaise
"Lucia," he called. As he held his arm out, the Blakiston's fish owl, the largest owl breed in the world, perched on it, and he could feel the bird's weight on his arm. His fingers moved nimbly as he tied the note to Lucia's leg, making sure it was secure but not too tight. "Don't come back without a reply. Pretend to be exhausted and play with her owl, and don't you dare try to eat it? I don't want a repeat of last time." Lucia screeched, her voice piercing the air, and then leaped out the open window.
Settling onto the bed, he opened The Mysteries of the Dark Arts, a recently unbanned book, and read. The author filled the book with such juvenile tactics. Using dark magic is not a requirement for a wizard to be great, as demonstrated by Dumbledore. It was a thought he kept buried deep inside and never revealed. Dumbledore commanded such respect that even the Dark Lord feared him. Only after his death did he make any drastic moves. And Snape was the one to kill Dumbledore. Now that was the kind of manipulative skill he wished to possess.
Thanks to his mother's teachings, he had mastered the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency and could keep his mind safe from intruders while delving into the thoughts of others. Learning it during these trying times was a feat that was far from easy. He knew he had to appear loyal to the Dark Lord, even though his heart was not in it. The only one he was genuinely devoted to was himself. As far as he was concerned, the Dark Lord could do what he wished as long as he did not interfere with his life. And he was starting to cross that line.
After a full day of waiting, Lucia finally returned with a letter and the faint scent of salmon on her feathers. The letter in his hand, Lucia groomed herself, her beak darting over her sleek feathers.
Dear Blaise,
You missed me that much, then I shall be there shortly. My parents have instructed me to bring my sister. They think the countryside would be good for her. I'm sure all we'll need is for you to cheer her up.
Yours,
Daphne
Knowing Daphne's parents, they wanted Astoria to watch Daphne and, more importantly, a break from Astoria. Since she was born, a curse of blood had been woven into her very being. Astoria was damaged goods; she would be lucky if any pureblood married her. Blaise knew the real reason inbreeding. It surprised him she hadn't come out a Squib. However, those words were rarely uttered out loud by any purebloods. He felt thankful his Brazilian Nigerian mother chose his English-Italian father. Purebloods from different parts of the world could mate without fear of genetic issues. He recoiled at the idea of his parents in that context.
He had worn riding clothes that day, and Zeesey had thought ahead and set out evening wear for him to change into. "Pinky," he yelled. Another elf appeared, bowing. "Prepare three aethonan for riding."
"Yes, young master Zabini."
The sound of Blaise apparating echoed through the stairwell. His mother and her soon-to-be-dead beau were not there in the living room. A silver tray caught his eye, and upon closer inspection, he saw a note lying on top, waiting to be read.
My dear darling son,
Gone out on an early moon before the wedding.
Love from your mother,
Lais Zabini
He balled the paper up, feeling the satisfying crunch of the crumpled paper before tossing it towards the nearest trash can. He missed, but as he walked to the entrance, he noticed the ball of trash was gone.
As soon as he stepped outside, Zeesey emerged with an umbrella, providing a refreshing respite from the heat. Through a charm, Zeesey could hover in midair. Blaise could sit at the table, but he wanted to be ready when his guest arrived. He took out his pocket watch and glanced at the engraved family crest on the back as he waited. He traced his fingers over the words La Calma è la virtù dei forti. ("Calm is the virtue of the strong.") A house-elf turned the pages of the book as he read it, with the book held up to his face.
Upon hearing a sudden popping sound, he snapped his fingers at the elf holding the book. Three aethonan were brought by Pinky, and Zeesey held an enormous umbrella to protect the two girls.
Daphne's pale skin was accentuated by the contrast of her long blond hair as she flipped it. She wore a low-cut dress that accentuated none of her features. Astoria's ghostly pallor and piercing green eyes were reminiscent of her sister, but she had raven hair instead of blonde. Her features were more delicate than those of her sister. To him, she seemed different than he remembered.
He walked at a glacial pace, savoring each moment as he kissed Daphne's cheeks, leaving her feeling both loved and frustrated, leaving a faint scent of aftershave. "Ciao bella."(Hello,beautiful)
Astoria felt the warmth of his lips on one cheek as he lingered there a moment longer. "You're fifteen. Correct me if I'm wrong."
Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, and she opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. Blaise's hand felt warm and comforting as he held hers. "You look lovely today. The sun would do you some good."
Daphne let out a long, exaggerated yawn, clearly uninterested in the conversation. "I assume we're horseback riding today."
"Yes, you can change in one of the spare bedrooms. I shall wait here," he said firmly.
The riding clothes the house-elf gave them were a green in color to match their eyes Astoria and Daphne grabbed them. Daphne paused, taking a deep breath before deciding."Astoria can't. She'll hurt herself. How about you and me, Blaise, while she watches?" she held his hand.
"She can ride with me," Blaise said.
Daphne's lower lip jutted out in a pout as she stomped away to change. Astoria blushed,without a word, she trailed after her sister.
After changing, he then assisted Astoria onto the aethonan, who shifted and grunted beneath her weight.,Daphne tightened a small bag around her waist. Blaise and Daphne mounted the aethonan together, and he could feel the heat emanating from its enormous wings. "Hold on tight."
As they did a few laps, Astoria's heart was pounding against his back, and he could feel her breath on his neck. Her body was pressed close to his, and she blushed, but Blaise was unfazed. He felt her hand slip from his, and she tumbled backward, her eyes closing. As he snatched her up, she felt weightless, and they landed the aethonan with a gentle bounce. The sound of her labored breathing pushed him to dismount and run to the pavilion, where he placed her on a cool, soft bed of pillows. "Did you overexert yourself?" he asked.
Daphne's horse stopped, and she gracefully slid off its back, dusted herself, then strode over. "I told you she should have watched." Daphne let out an exasperated sigh, showing more annoyance than concern.
Blaise tried to move, but she held his wrist, so he stayed by her side. "It was fun; I just need a little," she coughed. "I need my potion."
Daphne retrieved a small potion from her bag and handed it to Astoria. The cork proved to be a challenge for Astoria, weakened and struggling. She eagerly tilted her head back as Blaise uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid into her mouth. With a voice that sounded tight, she swallowed and spoke."Thank you." She then fell asleep.
Daphne and Blaise were seated side by side, their arms touching. "I'm sorry I had to bring her. At least we can be alone now."
Ignoring Daphne, he brushed Astoria's hair aside. Blaise noticed the delicate scent of her perfume. She would make the perfect wife. A beautiful chastise pure blood. If he got bored, she would die on her own from the blood curse.
With a quick tug on Blaise's arm, Daphne steered him towards the fragrant flower garden. Her eyes were fixed on him, and she moved purposefully, intent on separating him from her sister. As he strolled along one of his paths, he plucked a delicate flower from the ground. It was a candytuft in Victorian flower language; it represented indifference. He handed it to her, and she smiled, oblivious to its hidden meaning.
