Blaise doesn’t say much at first. Just hums now and again, long fingers turning a page without looking. His gaze flicks to you every now and then- sharp, amused, something dangerous glittering behind it like he’s thinking about doing something… rash.

You don’t stop talking. Of course you don’t. Something about how unfair Professor Binns’ last test was. Something about McGonagall giving you that look again. Something about-

“Merlin, do you ever breathe?”

His voice is smooth. Velvet-lined sarcasm wrapped around a low chuckle. You shoot him a glare. He doesn’t flinch.

“You know,”

Blaise starts, shutting his book with a snap as he finally interrupted your rants.

“I usually like when someone talks too much. Means they’re too distracted to notice when I get bored.”

You open your mouth to fire back, probably something equally sassy and unnecessary. But you don’t get the chance.

Because Blaise Zabini- annoyingly perfect, always smug, Slytherin’s golden boy leans in and kisses you. No warning. No build-up. Just soft lips and way too much confidence.

It’s short. Firm. Like punctuation. Like he’s literally kissing the words off your mouth. When he pulls back, his smirk is criminal.

“There. Much better. Some peace and quiet yeah?”