Chapter 36

Blaise

My guilt only gets worse with every minute that passes by.

Throughout the rest of the day, it builds in the pit of my stomach, a dark and heavy mass, so heavy that I can barely breathe through it. It's like a tumor -- slowly rotting me from the inside out.

I still can't believe I said those things to her.

They were terrible, shitty things to say. I know that.

But it'd felt like the frustration, the anger, the exhaustion of keeping up with my mother's experiments, had all twisted together to form a dark entity within me -- something that overpowered me, took control of me, and spoke for me.

Like I said, I didn't want to talk to her like that. It sort of just happened.

I replay what I'd said to her in my mind all day, torturing myself.

Are you really this stupid?

Maybe you're just a fuck up.

Each word is like a painful blow to the chest. They sound like nails screeching on a chalkboard in my mind.

And the look that was on her face -- I can't get it out of my head. That look of plain, old-fashioned hurt, of utter betrayal. It even looked as though she'd been confused, like she couldn't believe I was the one saying those things to her. That look sticks in my mind all day, like someone's written it there with permanent ink. It haunts me. It makes me hate myself. I'm not supposed to be the reason she has that look on her face. She's not supposed to look at me like that.

But she did. And it's entirely my fault.

She's done more for me in the past four months than anyone else has done for me in my entire life. How could I treat her so terribly? It doesn't make sense. I don't make sense.

She avoids me the rest of the day, and I hate to say that she's extremely good at it. The girl's harder to catch than a damn snitch. Just when I think I've got her, she zips out of my reach.

I try to approach her multiple times, but she manages to dodge me in a variety of creative -- and I must say, impressive -- ways.

During the last few minutes of Charms and Herbology, I stay on the edge of my seat, my textbooks already closed up and ready to go as I anxiously wait for the bell to ring so I can shoot out of my seat and grab her before she can make it past the door. But both times, she's somehow still quicker than me. She whisks out of the room with a speed that I just can't match, and by the time I've chased into the corridor after her, she's already struck up an engaging conversation with one of our classmates, probably only so I can't interrupt.

Once I realize that trying to pull her aside after class isn't going to work, I decide to slip her a note during a particularly torturous History of Magic lesson. Professor Binns has had his back to the class for the past forty-five minutes of his lecture, so I'm sure he won't notice. Still feeling like a jackass, I scribble a short message on a piece of parchment and slide it forward onto her desk.

She takes notice of it, her head jerking down. I feel pretty confident -- she can't run away from this one.

But once again, she proves me wrong.

Zoe unfolds the parchment, but doesn't read what I've written inside. She simply flips it over, pretends she doesn't know where it came from, and starts taking notes on it.

It almost makes me laugh, until I remember that I'm the one who she's ignoring.

Damn this girl.

I decide next on trying to talk to her at the feast, but quickly have to scrap that plan, too, because as soon as she enters the Great Hall that night, she makes a beeline for the Hufflepuff table.

I sigh exasperatedly as I watch her slide into the seat beside Eric.

Of course she'd think to do this -- I should've seen it coming. She knows damn well that I won't try to talk to her in front of Eric. He'd have my head on a platter if he knew I hurt her.

Even by the time we've all returned to the common room for the night, Zoe still hasn't dropped her act.

She shares a couch with Pansy Parkinson, pretending to be bent over a textbook and diligently taking notes. I know she's faking it, because I know how much she hates taking notes in the common room -- it's too hard for her to focus with all the noise. She prefers to study in the library. Also, I haven't seen her talk to Pansy for more than five minutes a day in her life.

I can't blame her for avoiding me so determinedly. I'd been horrible. I'd acted like an ass -- like how I had at the beginning of the year.

But as selfish as it is, I just can't let her go. Something about losing her makes me stir uneasily inside. My throat tightens up just at the thought of it.

She feels like dry sand -- slipping through my fingers, blowing away in the wind. It makes me panicky like I've never been before. I fidget with my hands, bounce my knee, trying somehow to expel all of this anxious energy. No matter how hard I try to push the thought of losing her out of my mind, it remains in the back, lingering like a shadow -- a whisper of the worst possibility.

I look over my shoulder with caution, stealing a glance at her from across the common room.

She's still sitting on that same couch, leaning forward over the textbook, her hair pulled back from her face with an elastic. She's pointing something out on the page to Pansy, who looks absolutely clueless. I snort to myself. Pansy isn't exactly known for her intelligence among Slytherins.

But my smirk vanishes when I realize that Zoe has turned around, and is now staring right back at me.

My heart does an odd spasm in my chest.

For a moment, it feels like everyone else has disappeared, and it's just her and I staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. There's something in her eyes -- something deep and emotional that I can't put a name on.

But just as that familiar feeling of tightness returns to my chest, she looks away, her eyes flitting back down to her textbook.

An uneasy coldness settles in my bones as I turn back to the fireplace in front of me. I run a hand over my head, stressed.

Why does she have to do these things to me?

"...yeah, definitely I would, she's pretty hot."

I tune into the conversation that Crabbe, Goyle, and Theodore Nott are having next to me, and immediately wish I hadn't.

"No, no, no." Nott pipes up from his armchair, grinning stupidly. "That girl from Ravenclaw -- you know, the blonde one? The one with the nice tits?" He cups his hands beneath his chest, acting out his words. "I'd get with her any day. Like, imagine being on bottom, and looking at that -- right??"

Crabbe and Goyle are laughing now, as if Nott's just made the joke of the year. I roll my eyes.

They're really getting on my nerves right now, and I couldn't say why.

"Will you idiots shut the hell up?" I snap. Their laughter dies. "I swear to god, the only thing you know how to talk about is girls."

Crabbe glances at the floor, mumbling stupidly.

The corner of Nott's mouth twitches.

I can see from the look on his face that he can tell I'm pissed off right now, and is tempted to say something to me to make it worse. He likes to do that -- see how far he can push people before they bite back. I hope for his sake that this time, he doesn't.

"The hottest girl in our year, though," Nott goes ahead anyways, staring directly at me. I know what's coming before he even says it. "Is definitely Zoe."

My jaw goes rigid.

He knows exactly what the fuck he's doing.

"I mean, shit." He continues. "All I'm saying is I'd definitely pipe her. You ever thought about sharing some of that, Blaise? Cause I seriously wouldn't mind -- "

I'm out of my seat before he can finish his sentence.

"You're either a fucking moron or the bravest son of a bitch I've ever met to talk like that in front of me -- "

"Sit down, Zabini -- "

I feel Goyle's tense hand on my shoulder, but I'm inches away from Nott, white-hot rage coursing through my veins like poison, every fiber in my body screaming at me to beat his ass right here, right now.

The thought of him, or anyone else besides me, touching her like that takes me to a dark, vicious place that I don't particularly like.

"Zabini." Goyle's voice sounds from behind me again. My head whips around.

My vision is flashing bright, fiery red, but through it, I can see the entire common room has gone completely silent and turned my way. Everyone has stopped what they're doing to stare at me -- including Zoe. She looks tense and alarmed, her eyes wide with fear at what I'm about to do.

I flex my fingers, which had been curled into a tight fist at my side.

The only thing that's holding me back right now is her. I'm using every ounce of strength I have to stop myself from lunging at Nott, because I know she's watching, and I know if I do anything to him, it'll only make her more pissed at me.

My chest still glowering with heat, I reluctantly lower myself back into my seat, maintaining my murderous glare at him the entire time.

"You're so damn lucky she's here right now." I growl. The rest of the common room has gone back to what they'd been doing beforehand, no longer interested in the almost-brawl between Nott and I.

Somehow, I can sense that Zoe's eyes are still on my back, burning a hole through me. But I won't look at her right now -- not when I'm angry like this.

"Damn." He says. "Didn't know you had such a soft spot for her, Zabini."

"Well." I say shortly. I don't feel like giving an explanation any more than that -- how I feel about Zoe isn't his, or anyone else's, business.

I train my gaze into the fire, naively hoping that it'll somehow absorb my anger, which is only now beginning to simmer down inside of me.

"Well, I think I'm gonna call it a night." Crabbe pipes up, breaking the sudden silence that had fallen over us. He rises from the couch, cutting off towards the boys dormitories'. Goyle and Nott murmur in agreement before following after him.

The rest of the common room appears to have had the same idea -- most everyone has gathered up their book bags and emptied butterbeer bottles, abandoning their couches and armchairs for the night and trudging off towards the dorms.

A single thought flashes through my mind like a vibrant burst of light.

Is she still -- ?

I whip around in my seat, my pulse racing as I check to see whether or not my suspicions had been correct.

Sure enough, I'd been right: not only is Zoe still in the common room, perched on the same couch she's been at all night, but her eyes are already on me.

She must've been looking before I even turned around.

But she quickly glances away, rushing to shove her textbook into her bag as one last straggling fourth year disappears up the stairs to the dormitories, leaving her and I alone for the first time tonight.

She shoots out of her seat, making a break for the stairs. But I won't miss this chance.

I bolt around the couch and across the common room, my heart hammering in my throat. I beat her to the winding staircase by a mere three steps, blocking the entryway just before she can squeeze through it.

She stumbles in front of me.

"Blaise -- don't make this difficult -- " she mumbles.

"I just wanna talk to you."

"Just move out of my way, please -- " Her voice is unsteady, her eyes glued to the floor. She manages to step around me, but I'm quick to stop her, pressing both of my hands against the wall on either side of her head, preventing her from leaving.

"Don't go."

It's the first time I've ever heard my voice sound so desperate.

"Please don't go."

***

Zoe

When Blaise traps me up against the wall, I feel like I can't breathe.

My chest surges up and down, fluttering with nerves. I pray that he can't tell how nervous I am right now -- he's always been able to read me like that, which is something I hate.

For a moment, both of us are quiet. The only sound in the common room besides our labored breaths is the crackling of the oak logs in the fireplace. His head hangs only inches away from mine, and the prospect of having him so close to me sends electricity vibrating throughout my body.

"I --" He starts up, but then stops to swallow, like there's a lump in his throat. "I didn't mean that stuff this morning, Zoe. I didn't mean any of it. I hope you know that."

I don't respond -- just keep my gaze plastered down at my feet.

The stubborn side of me feels unforgiving of him, unwilling to budge for him, while the soft side of me wants to melt to putty in his arms.

"I don't think you're stupid." He breathes. "I mean, you're not stupid. You're smart. Way smarter than me."

His mouth opens, and then closes again. I can tell that words are failing him -- something that rarely happens to Blaise Zabini.

"Damnit -- I mean -- what I want to tell you is that I'm sorry, Zo. I just don't know how. I didn't mean to say that stuff to you earlier -- really. It was shitty. And you don't deserve that. I want to give you everything you deserve, but I just don't know how."

His words make my head spin until I'm dizzy. I feel like there isn't enough air in this room to breathe -- like all the air in the world wouldn't be enough for me to breathe.

I never would've thought him capable of admitting his feelings like this when I first met him. In fact, I was pretty sure he had no feelings at all for awhile. But here he is now, many months later, and here they are, gushing out of him like water.

"You don't have to forgive me." He rushes. "I understand if you don't. Just know that I didn't mean it. The stress of everything -- you know, with my mother and all -- it just got to me. But I know that's not an excuse for what I said. I mean, fuck."

He cups his hands around mind and pulls them to his chest. A warm shiver runs down my spine at his touch.

"I don't know how to explain it. I just look at you Zoe, and I can't see anything else. You make me feel things that I -- I can't explain. Things that I've never felt before, in my entire life. I know I'm not the best for you, but I don't want to lose you. And -- and I'll do anything --"

"Shhh." I cut him off. The tightness wound within his features loosens just the tiniest bit at the sound of my voice.

I take his face in my hands, touching him in a way that I doubt he's ever been touched before. I pull him to me, resting his forehead against mine.

"Don't say anything else."

And I mean it. I don't need him to say anything else.

I already know he didn't mean what he said to me this morning -- I didn't need him to tell me that. If I know Blaise, I know that he's sometimes guilty of acting and speaking out of raw emotion in the heat of a moment. And honestly, that doesn't bother me as much as it used to, because I know that his life is filled with enough trouble and pain for the both of us.

He could've said just about anything to me this morning -- I'd already known that I was never going to leave him for it. Abandoning him was never an option, never a thought that crossed my mind. I truly can't think of one thing he could do to make me want to go away like that.

We remain like this for a moment -- our foreheads resting together, eyes closed, time melting away around us as we stay enchanted by each other's presence. When he pulls away from me, it feels like too soon. I could've stayed like that with him forever.

His eyelids are droopy, his lips parted loosely in a way that makes him look as though he's in the middle of his sweetest daydream.

"Be my girlfriend."

The moment he says it, his eyes snap wide open with alarm.

"I mean -- fuck -- that's not what I meant to say -- "

I'm giggling uncontrollably, despite the fact that a swarm of butterflies is now spiraling through my stomach. I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't that. Hearing him actually admit his true feelings, in his own voice, makes me feel weak inside.

"Shut up -- stop laughing at me -- "

He's blushing, actually blushing, which only makes me laugh even harder.

When I've finally gained control over my fit of giggles, my stomach aching as I gasp for air, I look up at him, trying my best to contain my grin.

Today has been too long for me to come up with an answer to a question like that. Too tiring, too confusing, too stressful — for both me and Blaise.

Part of me is still worried that this isn't actually what he wants. I doubt he's had a girlfriend before, and I certainly haven't had a boyfriend, either (not a serious one, anyways). It's a level of commitment that I don't want to rush him into — especially considering his massive trust issues.

So today, I'm not going to say yes. But I know I won't forget about this moment -- the moment in which he first expressed that he wanted me forever. 

"Let's just go to bed, shall we?" I finally say. "I think we've both had enough trouble for one day."

***