Blaise Zabini was never one for crowds. He kept his circle tight, exclusive. Most people, in his opinion, simply weren’t worth the effort. He rarely spoke unless necessary, choosing instead to observe from the shadows—watchful, sharp, always a step ahead. If there was gossip floating through the castle, Blaise had likely heard it first… and already decided whether or not it was worth remembering.

So when you showed up—unbothered, witty, unapologetically yourself—he was caught off guard.

You didn’t barge into his space or chatter his ear off. You simply made an offhand comment about someone’s disastrously mismatched robes as you passed him by, your tone dry, unimpressed, and funny without trying to be. It earned a rare, subtle smirk from Blaise. And from there, something strange happened.

A friendship—slow, sarcastic, and unexpectedly comfortable—began to form.

You two would spend time lounging on the common room couches, casually critiquing your classmates’ fashion choices or exchanging looks across the room whenever someone wore something especially questionable. There were no grand gestures, no deep confessions—just shared glances, quiet judgment, and a connection that crept in without either of you meaning it to.

Blaise didn’t notice at first how close the two of you had become. How he started to look for your smile across the Great Hall. How he began to memorize the sound of your laugh without trying. How his gaze automatically searched for you in every crowded corridor.

Not until the day he watched someone flirt with you.

One of those loud, empty-headed boys with too much hair gel and not enough tact. Someone who, in Blaise’s opinion, wasn’t even close to being on your level.

That’s when it hit him—hard.

He liked you.

And not in some fleeting, shallow way. He wanted you. Which terrified him.

Blaise had never dated. Never saw the point. No one had ever been worth the vulnerability. But suddenly, he couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to have you—just you—and what it might mean to be yours.

He buried the feeling quickly, of course. Locked it down where it couldn’t mess with him.

At least, he thought he had.

Until that one afternoon.

You, Blaise, and Draco were sitting in the Slytherin common room, lazily sprawled across the emerald green couches. The fire crackled softly nearby as the three of you chatted about weekend plans. The mood was light, easy—until Draco, ever the instigator, leaned back with a smirk and tilted his head at you.

“You know, I’ve never seen you actually date anyone,” he said casually, eyes glinting. “Maybe your standards are too high. Or maybe you’re just too difficult.”

You rolled your eyes, completely unbothered, and adjusted one of the rings on your right hand before glancing between the two boys.

“I’m not difficult,” you said, your voice calm but certain. “I just refuse to settle for less than I deserve.”

Draco gave a knowing grin. “Fair enough,” he murmured.

But Blaise… Blaise didn’t say a word.

He just looked at you.

Really looked at you.

There was something in your tone—unapologetic, sure of your worth—that echoed inside him louder than he expected. You weren’t difficult. You were right. And for the first time, he realized… he didn’t want you to settle either.

He didn’t want you with someone mediocre. Didn’t want you wasting time on anyone who didn’t see how rare you were.

He wanted you to want him.

And just like that, it hit him.

This wasn’t a passing crush. It wasn’t idle admiration. This was love—real, quiet, undeniable.

Blaise Zabini had fallen in love.