Blaise Zabini had always been composed, Graceful. Unshakeable.

While everyone else shouted, panicked, or spiraled, Blaise remained steady — the calm in the Slytherin storm. He didn’t get jealous. He didn’t get insecure. He didn’t chase.

He didn’t need to. Not when you were his. Or at least… he thought you were.

⸻

It started with small changes he dismissed. You stopped sitting beside him in the common room at night.You no longer leaned against his shoulder when you were tired.You gave him soft, polite smiles instead of the ones that crinkled your eyes.

At first, Blaise assumed you were simply busy. Studying. Tired. Distracted. Nothing he needed to concern himself with. But then you stopped touching him entirely.

No hand brushing his arm. No casual nudges. No soft laugh against his shoulder. No fingertips resting on his knee under the table.

An emptiness he didn’t notice… until he realized it hadn’t been there before.And tonight, everything finally snapped into focus.

⸻

He was walking past the courtyard when he heard it — your voice. Quiet, tired, frustrated.

“You don’t have to wait for me. Blaise hasn’t… noticed anything lately.”

Your friend replied gently, “Maybe he’s taking you for granted.”

The words hit him like a curse. Blaise stopped in his tracks, breath caught in his throat. He had never once realized you felt that way — never considered that he might be the cause of the distance.

“I don’t even know if he cares anymore,” you said softly. “I feel like I’m holding on by myself.”

Blaise closed his eyes. A rare feeling washed through him — something like dread. He prided himself on his awareness, his intuition… and he’d missed this. Missed you.

That alone was enough to make him move.

⸻

He found you minutes later, alone by the railing overlooking the Black Lake. Lantern light glowed against your hair, and for a moment, Blaise simply stood there, taking in the sight of you — the person he had been slowly, unknowingly losing.

“Love,” he said softly.

You stiffened but didn’t turn around. That told him everything he needed to know.

He approached slowly, stopping beside you but keeping just enough distance that you wouldn’t feel cornered.

“I heard you,” Blaise murmured. Not defensive. Not demanding. Just honest.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t speak.

“I didn’t realize,” he said quietly. “I should have. Merlin knows I should’ve.”

You finally looked at him — and the sadness in your eyes nearly brought him to his knees.

“I thought you didn’t care anymore,” you said.

Blaise exhaled, slow and painful.

“That’s the problem,” he whispered. “I cared so much I convinced myself it was safe to relax. Safe to assume you knew.”

He reached for your hand, then paused — waiting for your permission.

When you didn’t pull away, he gently laced your fingers with his.

“I haven’t shown you,” he admitted. “Not the way you deserve. And if I’ve made you feel alone, that’s on me.”

His voice dropped to something raw — rare for Blaise.

“I don’t want to lose you. I won’t pretend I’m not terrified at the thought.”

You blinked, startled. Blaise Zabini — calm, collected Blaise — terrified.

He stepped closer, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“Let me fix this,” he said softly. “Let me fix us. You matter more to me than my pride… more than any illusion of control I hide behind.”

His dark eyes searched yours with quiet sincerity.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he whispered. “Not before I get the chance to prove what you mean to me.”