STELLAR LEGENDS [HARRY POTTER- ASTORIA X BLAISE]

angry and half in love with her

He found her, once again, or more like she found him. 

"Firewhiskey and some water, please," Blaise mutter lowly, tossing three Galleons over. The silent bartender at Hog's Head wordlessly pours him a shot, scooping up the money with a quick mumble of Accio and allowing it to land into his grip lithely. 

Blaise sigh as he settles onto the bar stool and rub his temples before ignoring the subpar hygiene level of the bar and knocking back the alcohol- the taste burns like Fiendfyre in his neck and he suddenly understands why Astoria's obsession with it.

It makes you feel alive when you're actually dead inside. 

"Can I have a Scotch with a side of lemon?" It's that voice. Her low, thrilling voice, husky yet harsh; not soft like an arrangement of flowers, but like whiskey poured over fire, the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. 

The girl paired with the voice is even lovelier, even more of an adventure; with her mahogany hair, her face of sadness and loneliness with all the bright things on it- the spark of mild mischief in her green-grey hazy eyes and her bright, passionate mouth in deep shades of red and burgundy. Astoria; a star even in the darkest night . 

He drops his shot in a loud chink.

Astoria's eyes draw to the figure on the stool. Her lips curl; it's redness causing Blaise's eyes to float to them, memorising its shape and the sick pleasure spreading out over her face. Lovely wickedness has never look so tempting. How the fuck is she not in Slytherin? "Zabini?"

Tory. "Astoria." 

 She's one of those girls with a billion freckles on them, so much that they look like constellations, and yet they don't look stupid on her. The red top in that plunging neckline brings that out especially today, even in the dim lights of Hog's Head. The man working the bar doesn't even glance at them as he plunks down a mug of brown on the rocks with a wedge of lemon on the rim. She pulls out a few rusting Galleons and slaps in on the bar. She collects her Scotch, sips and smiles. "What brings you here?" 

Blaise shrugs, "Can't a bloke enjoy the end of a day with a drink?"

"With a shot?" 

"Your sister's worried about you. She said you haven't been home in a month."

Astoria wrinkles her nose, seeming childish and adorable all of the sudden. He's brought back to the girl he used to see at the fringes of Greengrass Manor, eavesdropping on his conversations with Daphne and desperately tagging along with the big kids before finally getting told off by Daphne to leave them alone, abandoning the girl with oversized woollen socks and tearful big grey inquisitive eyes. Now he looks at her, and she's sullen as well as exciting with those same grey sun-strained eyes, except she's so different and so cold he feels sad just looking at her. 

"I'm already seventeen. I can take care of myself." 

He stares forlornly at her drooping figure, watching her roll her Scotch glass then squeeze the lemon wedge into her drink. "Tory-"

"Don't," she says, dangerously, "Don't call me that." 

She moves away from the bar and starts to stride towards a group of girls, who are laughing and mingling quietly among themselves in a dark alcove, tucked in the corner of the bar. 

"Tory-!" 

He grabs desperately at her clothing but a sharp swat bats his hand away. "Don't touch me," Astoria warns, her hand inching towards the wand tucked inside her boot. 

His eyes plead with her. "Don't be like this. Let me take you home. Or to Daphne's apartment. She wants to see you."

"Ironic, isn't it?" Astoria cocks her head as the rage lick her insides. "That she only chooses to care about me now. She never did that before."

"Astoria," he says, his quiet low voice quivering, trying not to shout at her because he wants to. He's desperately itching to shout at her, to take her by her slim shoulders and shake her until she stops this indifference and realises how much people love her, how much people fear what would happen if she keeps playing games with hearts and her health. He wants to hit her or kiss her or do something that will make her care. Because what she's doing isn't just adolescent rebellion- no, she's way past the insolent individuality phase he went through at fifteen, where he's desperate to try all types of alcohol and drugs. What she's doing is hurtful and shallow and actually kind of pathetic and he wants to drum into her that what she's doing isn't cool.

"Whatever you and Daphne have needs to be put behind. This is your future. Get your life together- get a job somewhere, I can help you. My mom works at the Ministry; she can help-"

"I don't want help. Ever heard of that?" 

"Tor-Astoria, please. Why don't you try? Try stopping, try being sober for a good 24 hours for once." He can't look at her for a while, staring at his empty shot glass, but when he finally does, she's gazing right at him with her cold eyes and a smile tugging a burgundy tainted lips.

"I tried it once," she mentions blithely, "I did try. I tried to be good, I tried to be what my parents wanted. Remember? First and Second Year, I was top of all my classes, the Granger of my calibre. Nobody gave a shit, no congratulations, not even a pat on the head. All they see is Daphne because she's so fucking perfect, isn't she? So I stopped trying." He swallows nervously as she steps so closely towards him, that their noses could easily brush and he can count the lashes fanned across his lids. "And I felt better than ever."

She gulps down her Scotch, plunks it on the bar but she didn't even make it two steps before she's swung back and Blaise's palms are on her hips, yanking her body to him and wasting no time, he smashes his lips into hers. Her hands bolt automatically towards her boots and his tongue sweeps across the cleft of her lips before he is shoved away with a painful stinging in his chest.

Astoria is bewildered, her expression furious as she wields her wand by holding it up, not hesitating to hex him to oblivion. "What the fuck, Blaise?"

"I-"

"I'm pretty sure when Daphne told you to watch over me, she didn't mean you could sexually harass me!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Stay away from me." She spits poisonously and he is speechless, once again, as she walks away and she exits from his life once again. 

-

aww, poor Blaise! he's confused and upset and terribly obsessed. anyway, dedicated to RitaClarissaRosso for putting me up for the Harry Potter awards!