slytherin boys react

blaise zabini: haunting them after they killed you

he stands at the threshold of the open door, one foot already outside his dorm room. he glances down the hallway, where his friends wait eagerly for him to join them for a night out. but he hesitates, his gaze flickering back toward the darkened room behind him before he finally steps back inside.

as he turns, his eyes immediately dart around the room, searching for any hint of movement in the shadows that cling to the corners. then, just as he's about to call out your name, he hears your voice. "where are you going?"

his heart leaps in his chest, and he spins around to face you, his eyes wide as they lock onto yours. "you scared the hell out of me," he mutters, his voice still edged with residual shock.

you can't help but notice the hint of fear in his expression, mixed with a touch of irritation. you're sprawled out on his bed, a smirk playing on your lips as you watch him. "i didn't mean to," you reply, your voice laced with feigned innocence.

he takes a few steps closer, trying to hide the way his heart is still racing from the brief scare you gave him. "you could have at least said something sooner," he mutters.

you lean back on your elbows, your gaze never leaving his face. "and miss the chance to see you jump like that?"

he huffs, rolling his eyes at your response. "real funny." he takes a few more steps, stopping just a few feet away from the bed. his eyes briefly flicker over your body, taking in the sight of you sprawled out on his bed. it's a sight he's intimately familiar with, one that never fails to ignite a spark within him.

he looks away for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glances back toward the door. his friends are still waiting for him out there, but the pull to stay in this room with you is growing stronger by the second.

you notice the way his gaze keeps darting back toward the door, and a sly smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "you can go, you know."

your words make him flinch, and he looks back at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "i know," he says, his voice low. "but..." he trails off, unable to put into words the reason he's so torn. you both know the draw of each other is strong, and it's difficult to resist. "you only come to me once a week."

"is that a problem?" you ask, your tone teasing.

"yes," he finally says, the word coming out reluctantly. "it's just..." he lets out a heavy sigh. "it's just... i wish you'd come more often."

your smirk widens, and you push yourself up into a sitting position on the bed. "you want me here more often?"

he nods, a hint of resignation in his gaze. "i do," he admits, his voice soft.

you study him for a moment, taking in the mixture of desire and guilt etched onto his face. "you know," you say, letting your voice take on a sultry tone, "you could always cancel on your friends. spend the night here with me instead."

he falters, his eyes locked with yours as he processes your suggestion. he can't remember the last time the two of you had an entire night together. "i can't just ditch them," he says, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance.

you lean forward, a sly grin on your face. "why not?" you purr. "you see them all the time. when was the last time you spent an entire night with me?"

he opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out. you've got a point, and he knows it. you're like the rare, precious gem he's only able to see once a week. he swallows hard, his body beginning to betray him as the desire to be with you grows stronger. "they'll be mad if i bail on them," he says weakly, still trying to cling to his fading resolve.

he stands there, his mind and body at war with each other. he knows it's not fair to flake on his friends, but the thought of spending the entire night with you, it's too tempting to resist. he finally breaks, his shoulders sagging as he gives in to his desires. "fuck," he mutters, taking a few steps closer. "i can't say no to you."

you watch as he crosses the room and sinks down onto the bed next to you, a mix of frustration and desire etched onto his face. you slide closer, your body pressing lightly against his. "i knew you'd see it my way," you murmur, your hand reaching out to idly play with the collar of his shirt.

"you always play dirty, you know that?" he mutters, his voice rough as he tries to maintain some semblance of control.

"hm.. says the man who killed me." you let out a soft, amused huff as you look at him.

he flinches slightly, your words like a cold slap to the face. "i... i know," he finally manages to say, his voice soft and laced with regret. "but i thought we were past that."

you can see the pain in his eyes, and a small part of you feels guilty for bringing it up. you lean in closer, your hand moving from his collar to rest gently on his cheek. "we are past it," you murmur, your voice soft. "but don't pretend you don't play just as dirty."

he leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he sighs. your words hit a nerve, reminding him of all the times he's played dirty in the past, especially with you. "fine," he mutters, opening his eyes and meeting your gaze. "we both play dirty."

he reaches up to cover your hand with his, his thumb brushing over your knuckles lightly. "but you're the one who always seems to get under my skin more than anyone else."