You never thought you’d be late to breakfast. For Merlin’s sake, everyone in Hogwarts knew better. You should have known better. You didn’t think this would happen since Hermione, your best friend, scolded you to not be late today.
‘Helga, help me,’ was all you could think rushing up the stairs. Why run up the tower of spiraling stairs? You forgot your bag in Gryffindor tower. So, on your way up, you might have taken a misstep.
A squeal left you as the stairs hastily moved to the right. Ok, it didn’t “hastily move,” but it sure felt like it when you ran up the stairs and the stone railing hit your ribcage. A pain-filled groan left you as you found yourself scattered on the staircase. You heard an amused chuckle from, what seemed to be, a guy. For Helga’s sake, you were no Gryffindor to look up and stand up for yourself — Merlin, you were on the ground! Though, to your surprise, you saw black, shiny shoes step towards you.
“All right?” A deep voice made you look up. It’s a Slytherin who seems to be in the same year as you are.
“Yes, all right. Terribly sorry…” You meekly replied, leaving you feeling like a house elf. Maybe that wasn’t the nicest comparison.
“You were stuck on the floor the whole time the stairs moved. I assume this is yours.” The Slytherin replied as he dropped down a brown bag.
Your bag. The one with Hufflepuff pins and your last name embroidered on the strap.
“Oh, where did you get this?” You asked, but he simply nodded his head towards the left. As you looked to your left, you saw an annoyed Gryffindor Prefect. They must’ve known you snuck in, that also made you wonder if they gave your bag to the Slytherin willingly or left it out. “How did you know?” But that was a question you simply didn’t allow yourself to let out.
“Breakfast.” Was all the boy said next, but you didn’t know if that was a question or a demand. Either way, you followed him with a nod of your head because Hufflepuffs don’t get much respect — especially with Slytherins.
______
You sat down at the table for silver and green when it should’ve been with the yellow pairing. Your two dorm mates, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, looked at you with confusion and betrayal. The furrowed brows and squinted eyes from the pair said it all. Merlin, you’re not dumb. You knew you sat down with Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy. Just who was this other boy?
“Blaise Zabini brought a girl to the table,” said Malfoy with amusement. All you could think was “oh” when you recognized his name.
It all made sense now. Those cold dark eyes and that arrogant demeanor. Of course it was Zabini. Merlin, how didn’t you guess that? You must’ve been real stupid.
Zabini. The Zabini Family had many rumors, though none was actually on Blaise Zabini — the son — himself. It was all on the mother. See, after the first husband, she had six more. Each had disappeared mysteriously. Anyone would think that after two curious disappearances people wouldn’t marry her, but no, the Zabini family just had to be that attractive. Of course, that’s why Blaise Zabini had a fair share of eyes set on him. He was attractive. Not only was it the looks, he was highly educated and was well-respectful. Honestly, he was the perfect man. Even you knew that, having crushed on him before.
“Ahem!” Parkinson interrupted your… daydream of Zabini and snapped her bony fingers in front of your face.
“S-Sorry?” You mumbled, noticing Zabini, Malfoy, and Parkinson had their eyes on you.
“Your name. I’ve been asking for the past two minutes!” Parkinson groaned.
“Oh, right.” You chuckled awkwardly before telling them your name and last name.
“It’s quite a dashing name.” Zabini muttered quietly enough for just you to hear. Whether that be intentional or not, you smiled at the poker-faced boy.
_____
You became very quick friends with Pansy and Draco, so much that they didn’t care for your blood or the fact you’re a Hufflepuff. But something bothered you: Blaise Zabini. You obviously couldn’t let this thought stay in your mind forever.
So you made your way to Hermione’s room. Those stairs betrayed you once, but it wouldn’t do so again. Right? Right. It’s just stairs. Plus, it’s not like the stairs betrayed you first; your legs were giving out already. A groan left your throat as you made your way up. Why must the Gryffindor Tower be a painting? Why couldn’t it be something easy like the Hufflepuff room near the kitchen?!
No, complaining isn’t the time. But seriously, you were regretting even planning to go to Hermione. You were a few steps more to the tower. It wasn’t like the tower made you seethe with pure anger, no, not at all—
Suddenly, the stairs changed. You muffled your scream with the sleeve of your robe and held onto the stone railing once again. Surely, you weren’t that clumsy. It’s just the pestering stairs that decides to change every time you’re on there. Or that’s what it seems like.
You looked up, noticing you’re on the complete opposite side of Gryffindor Tower.
“Honestly!” You muttered under your breath.
“Honestly what? Don’t tell me you’re still appalled by the moving stairs.” Of course, you’d recognize that deep voice anywhere— especially with how arrogant it sounded.
“Zabini.”
“Zabini? Are we no longer friends?” Bloody hell, he just couldn’t hold any snarky replies in any longer.
“We are.” You scoff, dusting your uniform as if you found it in an ancient ruin.
You brush (more like push) past the taller boy and try to find your way to the Gryffindor Tower. Of course, that would prove a waste of your time. After a few minutes of trying to calculate when the stairs would move or where the stairs would lead up to and if they moved, you finally let it go. Pansy is the one you’d rather go to.
_____
Naturally, you wouldn’t dare go near the Slytherin common room. Yes, even if you had thousands of friends in there (which you don’t, obviously), you couldn’t be convinced to go. That place had a creepy atmosphere that choked all positive thoughts and replaced it with thoughts of how you’re going to die. Ok, that could’ve been an exaggeration, but that place is colder than any stone wall of Hogwarts during Christmas that you were sure you were already in a coffin.
Yet here you were. In the Slytherin Common Room. You groaned as Pansy finished up her talk with Draco. You would have engaged in the conversation if it weren’t for the fact you were so utterly displeased about Blaise Zabini always being there when you fall. How ironic. If you made him sweeter he could be a Prince Charming, because he was more than handsome to be one. Merlin, you were sure he was a villain that manipulated you with how dashing—
“Hey! Don’t you hear me? Let’s go.” Pansy shouted at you, snapping you from your daydreams. No, they weren’t daydreams, simply thoughts that seemed to come from someone else’s mind. You would never call Blaise Zabini so dashing that he could be those villains you fell for on the muggle television shows.
“Yeah, sorry.” You replied sheepishly.
“Honestly,” sighed Pansy.
Pansy led you up to her dorm and let you lay on her bed. You must’ve looked beyond despaired, you guessed so because — despite how mean Pansy can seem — the Slytherin girl frowned upon you. You heard her close the door and walk up to you. She sat on the bed and looked at your disheartened face.
“What’s it?” She asked as she supplied your body with thick blankets to fight off the agonizing cold.
“Zabini! You and Draco are my friends now, why isn’t he my friend? I mean, he is… but it’s like he doesn’t even notice me.” You sighed painfully, waiting for her hand to comb through your hair or for her to sigh with you. Only you turned around to see her hold in a snicker. Your brows furrowed, “What’s it now?! I’ve got to be seeing things, because I’m not joking!”
“It’s not that,” said Pansy, waving her hand in front of her face as to dismiss the slightest idea, “It’s just that you simply don’t pay attention. Blaise Zabini? Not noticing you? I’m surprised you care, but since you do, just pay closer attention.”
Sure. You’ll do just that. Whatever in Merlin’s name that meant.
______
You went to study with Blaise, Pansy, and Draco. Oddly enough, you found yourself alone in a secluded corner of the library. You thought you were late, but it was only by five minutes. What in the bloody hell was all this about?!
You rummaged through the brown bag of yours, and pulled out the letter. It was Draco’s handwriting, and it said you were all meeting at 5:30PM sharp. Why were you the only one there? Those Slytherins are very strict with timing, so what was this? Maybe a prank.
Before you could even use your wand to “reveal” whose handwriting it might be instead of Draco’s, Blaise appeared. He dropped a book thicker than Ron Weasley’s dense skull onto the table and sat in front of you.
“Where’re the others?” You asked, but you were confused on something else. Two things else.
“They fell asleep. A nap.”
“Oh. Ok.” They hardly take naps. Only on Fridays or Wednesdays, but on a Tuesday? And why wasn’t Blaise napping? He was the most strict, why was he late? And why were you being so oddly shy…?
“Let’s get this over with, yeah?” You nodded at his words.
_____
During your study of Transfiguration, you kept looking up at him. For someone who’s only sixteen, he’s hauntingly handsome. He looked seventeen or eighteen, but you supposed it made sense due to how mature he was. A few times, you caught his eyes. You would instantly look away with a redness creeping up your neck.
You reached for a book that was by his side. Before even grabbing it, you felt his hand brush against the back of yours.
“Sorry.” You pulled your hand away, but he pulled it back.
“Don’t be sorry, just take the book.” He placed your hands on the binding of it. For some reason, one you weren’t sure you’d understand, you found the feeling of his hand wrapping around your wrist endearing.
_____
You might as well be half Ravenclaw. Your nose was nearly meeting the book you studied. The ink could be dated back to the 1600s, yet you still could smell how fresh it was due to the proximity of your nose and the parchment.
“That interesting?” The voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You cleared your throat and looked up at Blaise.
“Sorry?”
“That interesting?” Blaise repeated, slowing his words and making sure I hear every syllable. He was more or less mocking you.
“Oh, no. I’m just studying.” Idiotic reply.
“I know that. I’m the one studying with you.”
You could only nod. Any other word coming out of you would acknowledge the fact you grew nervous around him.
_____
Hogsmeade Trip. The trip everyone looked forward to. The snow; the fresh scent of butterbeer; the prank shop’s smells of every item mixing together like a nicely brewed stew; Honeydukes luring students in with its heavenly scent; and Gladrags Wizardwear being filled with girls searching for dresses. This was perfect.
Or so you thought.
“We’re… going together?” You shyly asked Pansy.
Pansy groaned, “Yes! I’ve told you this so many times.”
You looked over at Hermione who was far away but still giving you a glare that could melt all happiness of Hogsmeade like a dementor.
“Uh. Ok, let’s do that.” You nodded and walked alongside of the Slytherin girl who was bundled up prettily in a sweater and thick jeans.
____
Helga, you couldn’t help it. That stupid girl! She left you alone with Blaise. She broke off with Draco to go search for… whatever they were searching for! (You were too annoyed to even remember.)
“You don’t look so content.” Blaise’s voice interrupted you.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. Pansy just broke off and divided us into groups.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.” Blaise said, which is something you least expected. You were expecting a “tough luck” or “better luck next time” or for him to reciprocate the annoyance you felt.
You were close to yelling at him about how terrible it was that you had to be alone with him, but you were cut off. His arm wrapped around your waist. You would have stopped, but you knew he’d rather continue walking.
_____
Trudging through the snow, you forgotten his arm. You were so enraptured with how beautiful Hogsmeade was during the holidays. Used to the muggle world, you forgot about the beauty. If anyone needed a visualization for Christmas or the word “Merry,” Hogsmeade was your place. The velvety red decorations accompanied with golden streaks. The large Christmas tree that had a few charms casted upon it to amplify its beauty. The comforting green that was better than any grass, the dashing red that was a bit darkly colored but made you beyond joyful, and the pure golden stripes that were randomly yet perfectly placed in the decorations. Everything was perfect.
“Are the holidays special to you?” asked Blaise. You couldn’t be mad. No, you couldn’t even be bothered in the slight, not when the snow and decor made you feel whole.
“Always.” You replied as if it was the easiest thing to say.
“Stay here,” commanded the taller boy. You didn’t refuse or protest, even when the warmth and comfort of his arm left your waist. You didn’t even pay attention to the fact he left into the cutest botanic shop set up.
After a while of admiring the little things in Hogsmeade, Blaise came back. You held his hand and intermingled your fingers with his as you continued to walk with him and adore the stunning decor. Of course, you didn’t get to feel his skin due to the gloves. It’s not like you wished you did anyway. Right?
“I always loved Christmas. I would fall down the stairs just trying to get to the Christmas tree in the morning. My mum says I’m nothing like the child I used to be. I suppose that means I’m much more mature now— but that doesn’t stop me from loving the holidays.” Blaise gave away this information to you like he knew you since forever.
You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Not now. Not ever.
“You hate me. Why?” You asked, accidentally tensing your hand.
“Pardon?” Blaise stopped in his tracks, and so did you. He looked at you with bewilderment— almost as if you said the Dark Lord’s name.
“You act like I don’t exist.”
“You’ve got to be bloody joking.” Blaise scoffed. His eyes met yours again, and he realized you weren’t. “Honestly, I didn’t mistake Hufflepuffs for oblivious. I always make sure you’re ok. Bloody hell, I took you with me the second I saw you fall because of the stairs! I used a charm for Draco’s handwriting so I could meet you at the library because I thought you wouldn’t go if—“
“What?” You stopped his rambling. “I’m sorry… huh? So you DID forge his handwriting?”
He chuckled sheepishly. Even though it was terribly out of character, your chest tightened. “I don’t hate you, it’s quite the opposite, really.”
For you to be truthful instead of stubborn was hard. Even during times like these. So admitting you’ve fell for the tall Slytherin since a while ago was obviously beyond an obstacle.
“I’m glad…”
You noticed his eyes averting from yours. You followed the line of his gaze, only to see his hand hold a mistletoe subtly between the two of you.
“If I raise it higher, you won’t run?” He asked quietly, almost a whisper.
“I don’t think so.” You watched as his hand rose above you.
Sure, you weren’t a Gryffindor and neither was he, but Merlin, it was painful to see how slow and hesitant he was. You were the more shy one for Helga’s sake!
Unsure of where the confidence appeared from, both of your hands grabbed a fistful of his black jumper and pulled him into you. Your lips crashing down onto his and closing your eyes. You were almost hesitant when he stumbled, unsure if he’d topple on top of you. But… you were sure you wouldn’t mind that idea.
You pulled back and caught your breath. The cold oxygen between the two of you being exchanged.
“Thank Merlin for stairs…” Blaise breathed out.
You tilted your head until you finally understood. You let out a giggle before responding, “yes, thank Merlin for moving stairs.”