Bleville AI Oneshots

Flirting Lessons

Neville Longbottom had never been good at hiding his emotions. Whether it was nerves before an exam, frustration in Potions class, or sheer panic in the face of danger, Neville wore his feelings on his sleeve. And right now, his feelings were all over the place.

Because Blaise Zabini, the person he absolutely did not have a crush on-except that he very much did-was sitting directly across from him in the library, lounging casually in a chair like he owned the place, while Neville's mind raced a mile a minute.

It had started with small things. A blush here, a stammer there. Neville had done his best to avoid making it obvious, but apparently, he'd been failing miserably, because Blaise had noticed. Of course Blaise had noticed. He noticed everything.

Which was why Neville's heart had nearly stopped earlier that day when Blaise had cornered him after Herbology class, smirking like he knew something Neville didn't.

"Longbottom, we need to talk."

Those five words had been enough to send Neville's stomach into knots. So now, here he was, sitting awkwardly in the library while Blaise stared at him, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity.

"So," Blaise said, leaning forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand in that infuriatingly casual way of his, "you've been acting... strange lately."

Neville blinked, his palms sweating as he tugged at his collar. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Blaise raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Oh, come on, Neville. You've been blushing and stammering every time I so much as look at you. It's painfully obvious you've got a crush."

Neville felt the blood drain from his face, then immediately rush back up in a hot, humiliating wave. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. This was it. This was the moment Blaise was going to figure out that Neville had been hopelessly crushing on him for weeks, and Neville would have to flee Hogwarts in disgrace.

But instead of looking disgusted or horrified, Blaise's smirk widened.

"And don't worry, Longbottom," Blaise continued, his voice oozing with amusement. "I know it's not on me."

Neville's heart stopped. "What?"

Blaise waved a hand dismissively. "Please. If you had a crush on me, I'd have noticed long before now." He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, it's clearly someone else. A mystery person."

Neville gaped at him, his brain short-circuiting. Blaise... didn't know? How could he not know? Neville was practically vibrating with tension every time Blaise was near him. But somehow, in Blaise's mind, this had all been about someone else.

"Uh-right," Neville managed to squeak, hoping that his face wasn't as red as it felt. "Someone else. Definitely."

Blaise's smirk deepened, and he gave Neville a look that made his stomach do a ridiculous flip. "Well, if you're struggling that much with your crush, I suppose I could help."

Neville blinked, completely confused. "Help?"

Blaise nodded, looking almost too pleased with himself. "Of course. You clearly need some pointers on how to be more... suave. You know, make an impression."

Neville's brain was screaming no, no, absolutely not, but all that came out was a feeble, "I-uh-I don't know if-"

"Don't worry," Blaise said smoothly, cutting him off as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone that made Neville's pulse quicken. "I'll walk you through it."

Neville's breath hitched. This couldn't be happening. Blaise was going to give him flirting lessons? To help him woo some imaginary mystery crush? Merlin, he was never going to survive this.

"First lesson," Blaise said, his eyes locking on Neville's in a way that made Neville's heart stutter in his chest. "Confidence is key. If you want to catch someone's attention, you have to make them feel like they're the only person in the room."

Neville swallowed hard, his pulse racing as Blaise's gaze held his, unwavering. "I-I don't know if I can do that."

Blaise smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made Neville's knees weak. "Of course you can. Watch."

Without warning, Blaise leaned in even closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Let's say you're sitting with them, like we are now. You lean in-just a little, not too much-and you keep your focus on them. Like this."

Neville's breath caught in his throat as Blaise's dark eyes held his, their faces just a few inches apart. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Blaise could hear it.

"You make sure they know you're paying attention to them, and only them," Blaise continued, his voice smooth and intimate. "You ask them something about themselves. Something small, but personal."

Neville stared at him, his mind completely blank. "Like what?"

Blaise smiled again, that same infuriatingly confident smile. "Like... what's something that makes them smile? What do they think about when they're alone? What's the first thing they think about in the morning?"

Neville's brain was short-circuiting. "You-you'd ask someone that?"

"Absolutely," Blaise said, his voice soft and deliberate. "It makes them feel seen. Like they matter."

Neville swallowed hard, his face burning. He couldn't think of a single coherent thing to say. How was he supposed to respond to this when Blaise was demonstrating it on him?

"And then," Blaise continued, leaning back slightly but still keeping his gaze fixed on Neville, "you compliment them. But not something obvious. Not something everyone else would notice."

Neville stared at him, his mouth dry. "Like... what?"

Blaise's eyes flicked over Neville's face, as if considering something. "Like how their face lights up when they talk about something they're passionate about. Or how they're more capable than they give themselves credit for."

Neville's heart was practically leaping out of his chest. He could barely breathe, and Blaise wasn't helping. Every word out of his mouth felt like a direct hit, and Neville wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"Blaise, I-"

"And finally," Blaise interrupted, his voice low and dangerous now, "you don't rush. You let them come to you. You give them space to feel comfortable, but you don't back down. You make sure they know you're interested. That they're worth your time."

Neville's breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of his chair to keep from trembling. Blaise was still leaning in, his dark eyes glinting with something that made Neville's stomach twist in knots.

"Understand?" Blaise asked, his voice soft, his gaze intense.

Neville couldn't form words. He couldn't even think. All he could do was nod weakly, his heart pounding in his ears.

"Good," Blaise said, leaning back finally, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Now, go practice on your mystery person."

Neville blinked, his brain still reeling from everything that had just happened. Practice? How was he supposed to practice when Blaise had just practically flirted with him and he could barely breathe?

"I-uh-yeah," Neville stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll... I'll do that."

Blaise smirked, standing up and straightening his robes. "Good luck, Longbottom. You'll need it."

And with that, Blaise walked away, leaving Neville sitting in the library, his face burning, his heart racing, and his mind spinning.

He didn't need luck. He needed a miracle.