Bleville AI Oneshots

The Struggle of Blaise Zabini

Blaise Zabini was not used to feeling nervous.

He wasn't used to second-guessing himself, tripping over his words, or finding his palms uncomfortably sweaty. No, Blaise was the very picture of control-cool, composed, and untouchable. That's what people expected of him, after all. It was the role he'd perfected over the years, and it suited him just fine.

Except, apparently, when it came to Neville Longbottom.

Blaise stared across the library at Neville, who was currently seated at one of the long tables, completely absorbed in a massive Herbology textbook. There was something so infuriatingly endearing about the way Neville would bite his bottom lip while he read, or the way his brow furrowed in concentration whenever he was trying to absorb something new.

Blaise exhaled slowly, mentally scolding himself. This was ridiculous. All he had to do was walk up to Neville, make a casual comment-maybe about Herbology or the weather-and then, smoothly, almost offhandedly, ask him if he wanted to have a butterbeer in Hogsmeade next weekend.

Simple.

Except it wasn't. Blaise had tried to do exactly that three times this week, and each time, he'd stopped just short of walking over to Neville, feeling inexplicably frozen in place.

Now, he was standing behind a bookshelf, peering through the gaps between the volumes like a complete fool.

Get it together, Zabini, he told himself, clenching his fists. You've asked people out before. You're Blaise Zabini. This should be easy.

Except it wasn't. Not with Neville.

He knew why, of course. Neville wasn't like anyone else. There was something about him that threw Blaise off balance. Maybe it was the way he had grown into his own after the war-stronger, braver, more sure of himself. Maybe it was the way he didn't fawn over Blaise like so many others did. Or maybe it was the way Neville had no idea just how much he was getting under Blaise's skin.

Taking a deep breath, Blaise straightened his shoulders and made his way out from behind the bookshelf. This time, he wasn't going to back down. This time, he was going to walk up to Neville, ask him out, and be done with it.

As he approached, Blaise rehearsed his lines in his head. Neville, would you like to go to Hogsmeade this weekend? Simple. Direct. Casual. You've got this.

Neville looked up from his book just as Blaise reached the table, blinking in surprise. "Oh-hey, Zabini."

"Longbottom," Blaise replied, his voice sounding a bit tighter than usual. He mentally cursed himself for that. Casual, remember? Keep it casual.

Neville offered him a small smile, his fingers still lightly tracing the edge of his book. "What's up?"

Blaise cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very aware of his own heartbeat. Merlin, why was this so hard? "I... uh... I wanted to ask you something."

Neville raised an eyebrow, looking curious but not at all uncomfortable. "Yeah? What is it?"

Blaise stared at him for a moment, and suddenly, every single line he had rehearsed disappeared from his mind. His brain seemed to short-circuit, and instead of the cool, collected question he had planned, what came out was:

"So, are you... I mean, would you... do you like butterbeer?"

Neville blinked, clearly confused. "Do I like butterbeer?"

Blaise wanted to crawl under the table. He was Blaise Zabini, for Merlin's sake. He didn't get flustered. He didn't ask awkward questions. But here he was, standing in front of Neville Longbottom, sounding like a complete idiot.

Neville tilted his head, waiting for more, but Blaise couldn't seem to find the right words. "Yes. Butterbeer. You know. The drink."

Neville's lips quirked into a half-smile, clearly amused. "Yeah, I know what butterbeer is. And yeah, I like it. Why?"

Blaise swallowed hard, feeling the heat creeping up the back of his neck. Why was Neville smiling like that? Why did it make his brain feel like it had turned to mush? "Well, I was... I was wondering if you'd want to... go get some. With me. Sometime."

Neville stared at him, the amusement on his face shifting to something closer to surprise. "You want to go to Hogsmeade? With me?"

Blaise nodded, feeling like he was walking a tightrope. "Yes. That's... that's what I'm asking."

Neville blinked again, clearly processing this new information. Blaise held his breath, trying not to show how nervous he actually was. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be smooth, confident. Instead, he felt like he was bumbling his way through the conversation, waiting for Neville to laugh and tell him he was out of his mind.

But Neville didn't laugh. Instead, a slow, soft smile spread across his face. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little quieter now. "I'd like that."

Blaise froze. "You would?"

Neville chuckled, and Blaise felt his heart do a strange flip at the sound. "Yeah, I would. I've, uh... I've been hoping you'd ask, actually."

Blaise blinked, completely taken aback. "You... you have?"

Neville nodded, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he looked down at the table. "Yeah. I didn't think you were interested, though. You seemed... I don't know. Like you had other things going on."

Blaise stared at him, feeling both relieved and incredibly stupid. "I... I didn't think you'd say yes," he admitted, feeling the words slip out before he could stop them.

Neville laughed softly, his eyes flicking up to meet Blaise's. "Why wouldn't I? I mean, it's you."

Blaise didn't know what to say to that. He had spent so much time convincing himself that Neville would never be interested, that someone like him-someone so genuine, so quietly strong-would never look twice at someone like Blaise. But now, standing here with Neville smiling up at him like Blaise had just made his day, Blaise felt all of his usual confidence slipping back into place.

"Well," Blaise said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "in that case, how does next weekend sound?"

Neville's smile widened. "Sounds perfect."

Blaise's heart, which had been doing somersaults in his chest just moments ago, finally began to settle. He let out a slow breath, the tension in his shoulders easing as he gave Neville a quick nod. "Great. It's a date, then."

Neville's cheeks turned a little pinker at the word date, but he nodded, still smiling. "Yeah. It's a date."

For the first time all week, Blaise felt like himself again. The awkwardness, the nerves, all of it melted away as he took one last look at Neville and turned to leave the library.

But just before he stepped out of the room, he glanced back over his shoulder, catching Neville's eye one more time. Neville grinned at him, and Blaise felt that warm, fluttery feeling in his chest again.

Maybe being nervous wasn't so bad after all.