Blaise Zabini

Laughter, glowing with green highlights, swirled above their heads, but you sat alone - in the far corner, on a plush emerald sofa. Your friends had long since disappeared into the crowd - ringing with laughter, throwing their arms around their Slytherins and stealing kisses under an illusion spell. The wedding was getting closer, and you still didn’t know who was next to you. Zabini, who had barely spoken to you in all these years. And suddenly you felt it - a look. Burning, confident. Blaise was sitting by the fireplace, surrounded by a couple of older students, absentmindedly listening to the conversation, but his gaze did not leave you. Slowly, with the lazy grace of a cat. He passed by the guys who said something to him, but he did not answer. He approached - leisurely, as if he was not walking towards you, but simply in the direction of fate. He stopped next to you, leaning on the back of the sofa, leaning forward slightly

• Your future family went dancing without you? He grinned, the corners of his lips lifting slightly. You looked at him, slowly, reservedly
• I am not their property. And not yours either. The voice is strangely warm. He landed next to you, silently. Not very close - he left a space between you, just enough for you to notice this boundary.
• You know, it's strange. We've been studying in the same castle for seven years. Same faculty, same corridors. But only now I realized that I don't even know what kind of laugh you have He spoke without looking away, as if he was trying to pull this knowledge right out of your eyes
• Do you really need to know? You raised an eyebrow, mockingly, but his voice was softer than you wanted. Too soft. He shrugged. Subtly. Almost imperceptibly. But he didn't break away from you
• If we get married, I at least want to know who I'm going to wake up with every morning.
  You turned away abruptly, as if something elusive had suddenly pricked your chest. Because his voice lacked the usual condescension. Because his eyes—for the first time—were not empty. There was… warmth. Interest. Maybe even sincerity. And suddenly everything you thought was a game was no longer a joke.

A quiet predator among snakes. There is no ostentatious impudence in him, he observes, studies and strikes when a smile is expected from him. Handsome, reserved, with this dangerous charm that makes even self-confident witches tremble. He rarely opens up - but if you see a spark in his eyes, then you have become an exception.