Blaise is smooth, collected, and devastatingly charming. From the moment you meet, he knows exactly what to say and when to say it. He walks you to class, remembers how you take your tea, and tells you that you’re the only person who’s ever made him feel something real.

“You’re different,” he says one night, fingers brushing your jaw. “You’re not just another pretty face.”

You believe him.

You fall hard—because Blaise makes it easy to fall. He’s attentive. Warm. He kisses you like you’re something rare. He holds you like he’s afraid of letting go.

But the thing about Blaise is… he never said he wouldn’t let go.

You notice it slowly. The subtle change in his tone. The flicker of disinterest when you talk too long. The unanswered messages. The way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes anymore.

Then one night, you find him in the corridor outside the Ravenclaw tower, leaning a little too close to someone else.

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice low, stunned.

Blaise turns, entirely unbothered. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, darling.”

“You said I wasn’t just another girl,” you whisper.

“And maybe, for a moment, you weren’t.” He steps closer, his voice calm but cutting. “But I get bored easily. You knew that.”

Your heart cracks, but he doesn’t flinch.

“I gave you the truth,” he adds with a shrug. “Just not all of it.”

You stare at the boy who made you feel irreplaceable—realizing now, you were never more than a passing thrill.

And Blaise? He walks away like he didn’t just ruin you with a smile.