𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 ; bleville ｡

in which blaise finally grows a pair

The next morning, Blaise woke up with a deep sense of dread in the pit of his stomach. In the late hours of the night, when your eyes are bleary with sleep and unclear thinking, confessing to your crush seems less daunting than when you're bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Pansy's words had convinced him easily— she had a way of doing that with almost no problems at all— but now that she was in the girls' dorm, sleeping, and he was awake and wide-eyed in his own dorm, he forgot her words completely and simply looked at the downside of things.

Sure, Blaise had already accidentally confessed, so why should he have so much trouble now? The thing was, now he wasn't saying that he was attracted to Neville sexually, he was saying he wanted to be with him. He wanted to date him and be his boyfriend, and that scared him.

He had grown up around the idea of marrying for money. His mother, while he loved her very much, wasn't the most romantic person. In fact, she had killed all seven of her husbands so that she and her son could live a carefree and financially comfortable life. So, it would make sense that Blaise would be the same, or at least would not be serious about relationships and love.

Now, though, he was serious.

With that thought anchored in his mind, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and got up to change into his clothes for the day. That pit of dread in his stomach had lessened slightly as he thought of the boy and how serious he was. He wanted nothing more than to be able to hold him in his arms, and that thought alone pushed him on throughout the day.

Blaise only had one class with Neville today: Charms. It was at the end of the day, so Blaise had all day to worry. He wouldn't let that happen, though, not when the subject of whether or not he'll die alone is being questioned.

Blaise never got to confess to Neville that day, however, or the whole week. It wasn't that he didn't see Neville, he saw him quite a lot, but it was never long enough to get his attention and tell him something of that caliber. Every time Neville and Blaise were destined to pass each other in the corridors or a classroom, Neville ran off. He was adamant about not speaking to the Slytherin, and could he really blame him? It was as Pansy said, Neville was shy, awkward, and maybe even a little scared. If he truly thought Blaise was the sex-crazed, rule-defying Slytherin that he exuded, then he wasn't surprised he hadn't had the chance to be alone with him since he called him "daddy."

It was making him pretty mad, though. That was the excuse Blaise would have gave if you asked him why he did what he did next.

The next time Blaise saw Neville in the corridor on his way to Ghoul Studies, the sight of the adorable Gryffindor boy just made him extremely angry. All of his pent-up anger from the last week exploded in one split second, and the only one he could blame was Neville Longbottom.

When Neville looked up and made eye contact with the fuming Slytherin, he ran away, as expected. He turned his body and made his way back down the corridor to avoid running into Blaise, even if it meant being extremely late to Magical Theory.

Blaise picked up his pace. There was no way in Hell that he was going to let Neville escape this time, no matter how creepy he looked chasing the shorter male throughout the labyrinth of Hogwarts.

Despite Neville looking like a god, he  didn't have the muscles or stamina of a god, and therefore, Blaise caught up with him relatively quickly. He grabbed the boy's shoulder and spun him around before he could turn another corner, and pushed him against the wall— hard enough to keep him there, but soft enough not to injure him.

"Ow-- what the hell, Zabini?"

"Don't you 'what the hell' me!"

The two boys engaged in a staring contest, their looks filled with fury and tension. A few seconds seemed to stretch for full minutes until Neville finally sighed.

"What do you want, Zabini, or are you here to finally defile me like you've always wanted to?"

"What? No," Blaise yelled, appalled. "If you hadn't avoided me, then I could've explained!"

Neville didn't respond, only raised an inquisitive eyebrow, as if urging the Slytherin to go on with his explanation of the past couple of weeks.

Blaise sighed before obeying, "I won't lie that you're extremely attractive, but I hadn't meant for anyone else to hear that besides myself. The truth is, I like you a lot. I have since you defeated Nagini in the Battle of Hogwarts. I'm sorry if I ever scared you, but just know that I don't have it in myself to harm you like that, or in any way."

"You just slammed me against a wall, Zabini, and it hurt quite a lot, if I do say so myself."

Blaise blushed, his eyes downcast as he responded, "Sorry..."

Neville sighed and closed his eyes as if in deep thought about what Blaise had just said.

Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke, "Zabini, I— I don't feel the same, I'm sorry. I've liked Hannah Abbott for a couple years now..."

Blaise's heart sunk, despite him telling himself not to get his hopes up previously. After all, a friendship between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin was unheard of, let alone a romantic relationship. Blaise wanted to try, anyway.

"Well, can we at least be friends?"

"Sure, but I won't fall in love with you if that's what you're hoping."

Blaise grinned impishly, "We'll see about that, Longbottom. We'll see."

Neville rolled his eyes and pushed Blaise away from him, beginning to walk back the way they came, hoping to catch the last half hour of his class. He stopped when he didn't hear footsteps behind him. He turned to see the Slytherin still standing in the same place he had been, with a blank look in his eyes.

"Are you coming, Zabini?"

The boy in question looked up at his name, and smiled so big that his cheeks surely hurt. He didn't say anything, just engaged in a light jog to catch up to the shorter Gryffindor, and the two began to walk with matched paces to their classes.

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Yo bih here's that gay you wanted.

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