Pairing: Blaise/Padma
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: T for one swear word (used a couple of times)
Warning: cheating wife!
Summary: Blaise blackmails Padma into having dinner with him, where he tries to convince her that the baby she carries, conceived on a one-night-stand with him, should stay with him, as she should. Can be seen as a sequel to Lavender, albeit a bit darker in nature (not too dark, though).

Enjoy, folks! Hope it's satisfactory!

Mine

Padma knocked politely on the iron door, waiting until it was opened.

"Hello, madam," said the servant who let her in. "Sir has been expecting you."

She was led down a carpeted hallway, her stiletto heels muffled by its thickness, and into a vast dining room. Windows lined every wall, curtained now because of the late hour. She was seated at the head of the table, where a place had already been set. Serving staff went back and forth between the kitchen and this room with large, ornate platters of food, far too much food for two people.

He had always been an extravagant bastard.

When the last dish, clam chowder, had been brought in, ladled into the bowls on opposite ends of the long table, the servants lined up beside the double doors. They stood respectfully as her host entered, wearing classic robes, and his smooth, dark skin as flawless as ever. He looked very handsome, but she knew what kind of evil lurked underneath his charming smile.

"Evening," he said, his gaze travelling slowly over her deep violet dress, over the suggestive neckline, the leg that was shown thanks to the minimal length of the dress. She said nothing, tucking her shoes underneath her chair in an attempt to curb his stares. But it did nothing. "You look simply... ravishing tonight."

Padma wanted to respond, but again, said nothing. He would not be happy if she told him what was on her mind. He sat at the end of the table, his brow furrowing with distaste when he saw how far away they were sitting from each other. He snapped his fingers, and a servant practically materialized beside him.

"Why are we sitting so far away from each other?" he demanded of the frightened boy.

"I – I don't know, sir."

"Well, fix it."

"Right away, sir." Head bowed, the young boy moved away from his master and closer to Padma, who was watching the exchange disapprovingly. With a quick gesture, the violet-dressed lady was moved to the seat beside Blaise, whose mood had brightened considerably. She, however, scowled.

"Close enough?" she muttered sarcastically.

"Not quite," her host replied, a little smile playing about his lips, "but that'll be dealt with soon enough."

They were served their meals, a mixed salad, a decadent swordfish in some sort of spicy sauce, fruit and cheese, and finally a slice of chocolate cake adorned with strawberries. A glass of champagne accompanied each course, a none-too-subtle move on the host's side to get his guest drunk. Padma sipped delicately, making sure to wash down each bite of food with water to keep her head in balance. The last thing she needed was to succumb to his advances, however flattering and pleasing they were to her self-esteem.

"How is it?" Blaise asked, leaning in for a response. He smelled like something musky and utterly masculine, which was suitable for him, she supposed.

"Fine," she replied, not wanting to give him too much ammunition. He didn't need to know that this was one of the best meals she'd ever had in her life. But the knowing smirk on his face told her he knew anyway.

"I see."

After dinner was when she knew things were going to get messy. Neither of them were drunk, despite her host's best attempts, and when they adjourned to the sitting room for a cup of coffee, the atmosphere was strained with expectation and suspicion. Padma sipped her coffee as she had her champagne – slowly and carefully. Blaise was the opposite.

"I have to get married soon," he said conversationally. She looked up sharply, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"Really?"

He nodded. "My family demands it." A smirk suddenly appeared on his face. "And I think I've made my decision."

"Have you now?" Padma said, inspecting her fingernails in a bored fashion.

"Oh yes." The look he gave her was indicative of just who he had chosen as his life partner.

"I'm married," she said quickly, making no attempt to hide the wedding ring on her left hand. His gaze lingered upon it for a moment, at the tiny sapphire jewel embedded within a plain gold band.

"I know," Blaise smirked. "That hasn't stopped you before, has it?"

She flushed furiously when she remembered what he was referring to.

"If I recall," he said, leaning backward triumphantly, "you divorced a certain Gryffindor just two years after marrying him."

"That – that's different," she said hotly. "Seamus was cheating on me. Besides, he's always liked Parvati."

The man sitting across from her shrugged. "Technicalities."

He stood suddenly, and she watched him walk to the entranceway to the sitting room. He closed the double doors firmly, placing a locking charm on it for good measure. Then, he turned back to her with an expectant tilt of his head. She gripped the armrests of her chair in anticipation for what she believed he was about to do.

"There were some pesky little gnats, peeking in on our conversation," he said in explanation, a vaguely irritated look on his face. He leaned on the chair she sat in, coming close enough to breathe the musky, milk-and-honey scent that was her skin. She shifted away, clearly uncomfortable with him breathing down her neck.

"Why did you ask me here?" she demanded, finally. He sighed.

"I've noticed you for a while, love," Blaise replied, going to sit across from her. She uncrossed her legs, probably to prevent him from having a look up her dress. It wouldn't matter, anyway; he was going to see sooner or later. "Even before sixth year, before the War." She stiffened at the mention. "You fascinate me," he said.

Padma looked at the man before her, with his dark, pressed trousers, crisp white shirt, and smug smile. He was nothing she wanted in a man, nothing at all. The man she was with provided her with everything her first husband had not, and this man – he gave even less. How could he think that she would marry him, much less go on a date with him? The only reason she was here was because he had blackmailed her. It had only been because of that stupid sixth-year crush that she'd even –

"See something you like?" He leaned back in the chair, hands behind his head. His gaze was much too penetrating; it was distracting her.

"Don't flatter yourself," she sniffed.

"You flatter me," he grinned, a genuine grin, for the first time that night. "It's alright; nothing to be ashamed of."

She turned away from him, crossing her arms.

A pair of lips were suddenly at her ear. "You know very well of what's going to happen tonight," he murmured, his voice fluid and very intentionally seductive. "There's no use in fighting it. Unless..."

"Alright, alright," she said, raising her hands in defense. "Bastard."

"My, my," he smirked, taking her face in his hands. "Such a naughty word from such a prudish little Ravenclaw." She scowled at him.

"You've heard worse," Padma retorted. Blaise's smirk widened.

"I have," he agreed. "That night –"

"Shut up," she warned. "You promised you wouldn't ever bring it up again –"

"But darling –"

"Don't call me darling."

"Darling, the reason you're here is because of that night." Blaise continued

"I'm here because you," she spat, "don't know how to perform a Merlin-forsaken contraception spell!"

"I do, actually," he said calmly, slipping into the seat, sliding her onto his lap. She struggled with him for a minute, before he looked at her dangerously. "There's nothing preventing me from Owling him right now, you know." Padma's eyes went wide with fear.

"Please, don't –"

He smiled triumphantly. He needed to stop doing that. It reminded her of that stupid smile he'd given her in the Viaduct Courtyard, during the Valentine's Day Dance –

"Come with me." He stood, holding out his hand to her. Sighing inwardly, she took it.

They left the living room not through the doors they'd come in, but by a secret staircase. She wouldn't have put it past him to have one installed, what with this house being hundreds of years old and restored with buckets of Galleons. She was led through dark corridors for what seemed like hours before they finally ended up at the bedroom.

Blaise closed the door to this one, too, before turning to her. His gaze lingered at her stomach, where the dress puckered a bit. Padma self-consciously placed her hands on her belly.

"How is the child?" he asked softly, his voice betraying his care. She looked up at him, surprised that he would even ask. As far as Blaise Zabini was concerned, she thought it would be just another casualty in his bachelor life. Perhaps there was more to him than she'd thought. In sixth year, he'd been like this too. Not sweet, so much, but unexpectedly caring. All the time he'd spent with Draco had rubbed off on him in a negative way, but it seemed the years spent away from his old friend had done some good.

"Fine," Padma murmured. "Fine."

"Have you told the prat yet?"

"You mean Terry?" she retorted. "No."

He said nothing, but his slightly raised eyebrows managed to convey his words with just as much meaning. She'd always wondered how Slytherins could do that.

He approached her slowly, clearly not to startle her, but she was frightened nonetheless. Terrible and wonderful things had happened the last – and first – time they'd slept together, and it had almost cost Padma her marriage. She'd sworn never to see him again or have anything to do with him, but everything had changed when the Healer told her she was pregnant.

And not with Terry's child.

Out of pure obligation, she had called Blaise and let him know, but it had proved – obviously – to be one of the worst mistakes she'd ever made. Almost immediately after, she'd been sent an Owl with very cryptic and yet very implicative information, instructing her to make arrangements to have dinner with him at seven o'clock tonight or he would tell Terry everything. Obviously, he had been operating under the correct assumption that her beloved Terry was in the dark. Damn him and his Slytherin craftiness.

It was ironic, of course, that in order to keep her affair a secret, she had to in fact continue the affair, but it didn't seem as bad as it should have, at least not when Blaise was involved. He had been her first love, and it was unfortunate that he'd never let her forget it. Sixth year had been confusing for her, because she'd had to choose her allegiance to the Light Side over her feelings for Blaise, and she knew how crushed he'd been – though his face didn't show it – when she'd chosen the Order.

After the War, she heard that he was doing his final year at Durmstrang, and then he would be pursuing a career in the Ministry of Magic Law Enforcement department. Apparently, the Zabini family had chosen to stay neutral during the War, which proved to be rather silly considering the amount of violence and danger choosing neither side would mean.

But he'd survived, and apparently to haunt her until she gave in. Padma deeply regretted having her first Firewhiskey without some sort of chaperone, or yet, when her chaperone would have no qualms about taking advantage of her while she was under the influence. But she knew, deep down, that alcohol had had nothing to do with it. They had shagged the morning after her drunken spiel, before she'd had to return home to a bewildered Terry, who still suspected nothing.

Blaise seated himself across from her once again, this time in a comfortable armchair while she was sitting on the bed.

"Take off your clothes," he said softly.

Her fingers itched to obey, but Padma's mind was shouting at her to talk herself out of the situation like the Ravenclaw she was. But she knew she wasn't. Her sister was the sweet-talker, the charismatic. She was the shy bookworm. She'd barely been able to look him in the eye after seeing him naked.

"I...I won't," she stuttered. One eyebrow of his flew up. "I mean, I will not," said Padma, more clearly this time.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his hand reaching for the pen and parchment on his desk.

She nodded. "I... I'm going to tell Terry everything. He deserves to know."

Blaise's lip curled in displeasure. "Going to choose the good side again, are you Padma? The good little Ravenclaw. Always obeying the rules." He shook his head, not looking at her anymore. "Fine. Leave. Go and tell your git of a husband you've been cheating on him – with a Slytherin."

Padma was surprised that he was letting her go. There had to be some kind of catch. But as she edged toward the door, he made no move out of the comfortable position in his armchair. As her hand closed on the knob, however, he spoke once more.

"Know this," he said quietly, his voice carrying across the enormous bedroom. "I know, even when you're back with your husband, raising my child like a happy little family, you'll be thinking about me. The child will have my features, my mannerisms, and you'll be reminded every day of how you betrayed poor Terry Boot. He'll be reminded too. Do you really think he's going to forgive you so easily? There's only so much rejection a person can take, Padma, and he might be fed up once you're done with him." He stood, walking past the bed to the door, where she stood, her hand trembling on the doorknob. "And then what will you do?" he whispered to her, his hand closing over hers. "You'll be alone. He will leave you alone."

Tears began to gather in Padma's field of vision, blurring the door in front of her. Blaise steered her toward the bed, and she let him, too consumed with the thought of betraying poor Terry in the worst way by telling him she was carrying another man's child. The dark-skinned Italian man in front of her smirked bitterly and pushed her down on the bed, careful around her abdomen. He took her face in his hands again, but his expression was nothing fierce; it was gentle.

"I would never leave you alone," he breathed. And when his lips touched hers, Padma forgot everything else.