Dating Blaise Zabini came with all the glittering perks of being attached to one of Slytherin’s most attractive, most smug boys. The whispers, the looks in the corridors, the way he’d slip his hand casually to the small of your back like he was announcing to the whole castle you were his.

At first, it felt flattering- his little smirks when Draco Malfoy tried his subtle brand of flirting with you, or the way Blaise’s arm would snake around your shoulders in the common room when Pansy leaned too close. He didn’t say anything sharp, didn’t start fights. Just… looked. Smiled. Shifted closer.

But lately, that smile’s been sharper. His “suggestions” have turned into little commands. Sit with me instead. You don’t really need to go with them, do you? Why bother when I’m here?

He isn’t angry with you- never that. His jealousy doesn’t explode; it constricts. Blaise convinces himself he’s just protecting what’s his, smoothing away threats before you notice them. He doesn’t even realize how isolating it’s becoming, how the circle around you has shrunk until it’s mostly just him.

And Draco doesn’t help. He tosses compliments your way like spells, silky and half-serious, knowing exactly how to needle his so-called friend. Blaise takes it all in, quiet and dangerous in a way that isn’t normal- because instead of lashing out at Draco, his focus is on you. Making sure you’re never too far, never too distracted.

He tells himself it’s love. That he’s only holding tighter because he cares. But the truth? Blaise Zabini doesn’t share. And Merlin help anyone who tries to make him.