Title: Selfish
Author: Meanderings
Rating: PG-13 for language
Chapter Title: The Exposition
Notes: This is late because I had two weeks of testing. . .
Un-betaed

Selfish: The Exposition

Blaise sat in the large playroom, fumbling with a fake broomstick. Outside the balcony window, the sun was sinking and the sky was fading to orange instead of bright blue. Blaise paid no notice to the time or the female voice calling his name as he focused on trying to fix the broken broomstick.

"Where's Father?" Blaise whispered quietly, frightened. His mother's hard eyes locked with his questioning ones. From the hand running through her loose hair and the slight nibble on her bottom lip, she seemed stressed and frustrated.

"I'll tell you later, Blaise, dear," she replied sharply in that musical voice of hers.

"But he hasn't been home for days, Mother," Blaise persisted, clinging onto the hem of Maura's dress and stumbling behind her quick, heel-accented steps. The whimpers that began to slip from his mouth tugged at Maura's heart and she slowed, turning on one foot to look down at her son.

"I said I'll tell you later, Blaise," she said more gently, "Why don't you take a nap or go Floo over to Theodore's? I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Feeling satisfied and warm from the reply, little Blaise smiled and left his mother alone, hoping that he would receive his answer tomorrow.

When he turned eleven and was about to board the train, from outside the window, his mother simply said, "Your father died when you were six. Don't ask me how. All you need to know is that you will always be a Zabini," before waving Blaise off and her lips twisting into a sugar-coated smile that was dosed with just the slightest bit of venom.

The Italian boy felt cold. He had seen that look before; he had noticed it when his mother looked at his fourth step-father. The man had died a day later. Was that what happened to his father? Then his compartment door slid open and Daphne Greengrass stepped in, driving Blaise from his thoughts. Suddenly, Blaise didn't miss his father anymore. He was a Zabini, a to-be-Slytherin.

"Mum! Blaise just Flooed over here! Can I play with him?" Eight-year-old Theodore burst through the study door, imploring his mother to release him from lessons. The short, petite woman looked over her shoulder from where she sat at the vanity, lips pursed.

"Oh, Theodore, what did I say?" She meant it teasingly.
The boy smiled toothily. "Mother, may I play with Blaise now?"
"Ask him if he wants to stay over for dinner. I'll have the house elves prepare him food."

Theodore nodded before rushing back to his room where he found the black boy lounging on a loveseat, brushing off soot from his robes.

"I don't know how Mister Malfoy does it!" he grumbled as soon as Theodore entered. The brunette plopped down next to Blaise.

He chuckled. "What about Draco's father?"
"When he Flooes, he never has ash on him! I always do!"
Theodore patted a small hand on the other boy's back. "Father says you have to get used it."

At that Blaise suddenly grew quiet and he slouched, a pout resting on his lips. Theodore blinked.
"Is there something wrong, Blaise?"
"Father hasn't been back for a week," Blaise said after a moment.
"Oh." Theodore didn't know what to say. After all, they were only eight, too young to be dealing with all the gloom and doom of the world. "I'm sorry?"

"I just miss him, Theo!"
"Father goes on a lot of trips, too! Mister Zabini will be back really soon."
"Nrgh," Blaise made an odd sound. "It's a different kind of 'miss', Theo. I really, really, really miss Father."
"That means you miss him a lot, Blaise."

Blaise frowned and his brow furrowed. "No, you still don't get it. It's a different feeling."

Theodore laughed, jumping up and pulling Blaise along with him. "Whatever you say, Blaise. There's no different kind of 'I miss you.'"

One year later, Theodore knew what Blaise was talking about when Mrs. Nott died.

Three years later, his father stood on the platform solemnly as the train rattled out of the station. Theodore was a bit lost, unable to harness the courage to ask anybody where he could sit. He had always been shy except around Blaise. Where was Blaise? He blushed as he hit someone by accident with his trunk, trying to maneuver through the small aisle. He had immediately noticed Blaise's mother, tall and beautiful, but Blaise had been nowhere to be seen.

Then, as if some god answered his prayers, a compartment door slid open and Blaise's familar head stuck out, spotting Theodore almost instantly.

"Theo!" He bit back a grin; To-be-Slytherins didn't grin, they offered a welcoming turn of the lips. Theodore pushed back the thick layers of his bangs in relief. Daphne's head popped out, her thin lips quirking upward slightly as she said lightly, "You must be Nott. Zabini here can't stop talking about you. I can't imagine why."

Blaise scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Lower-class people like you wouldn't understand."

"I beg to differ!" Daphne glared.

"Go ahead, beg, it won't change my mind," Blaise shot back disinterestedly. Theodore coughed quietly, diverting the other two's attention.

"From my first impression, I thought you two were friends," he said meekly. Blaise waved a hand, saying, "Friends, who needs them? We're acquaintances."

Daphne nodded in agreement, sliding back into the compartment. It was then Blaise noticed that Theodore was still holding onto his trunk's handle tightly and the stiff posture he had.

"Well, come on in." He stepped aside, letting Theodore push the trunk in first. The compartment door slid shut after Theodore sat down tiredly.

"Just leave the trunk in the middle," Blaise said, propping his feet up on it. Theodore followed his example, sliding down in his seat. Then the Italian asked, "So, Houses?"

Daphne rolled her eyes. "You sound like that Malfoy. What an arrogant boy. Anyway, Slytherin or Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw?" Blaise sounded horrified at the answer.

"There's nothing wrong with Ravenclaw. Well, what about you?" she snapped back.

"Slytherin," he said airily. "No other House." Daphne nodded in approval before turning her level gaze onto Theodore. "And what about you?"

Blaise smirked lazily and draped an arm around Theodore's shoulders. "Slytherin as well."

"I'm sure he can answer for himself."

Blaise looked offended for a moment. Theodore looked away from Daphene and out the window, muttering almost inaudibly, "Slytherin."

Then the compartment door slid open and a chubby boy inquired breathlessly, "Have you see a toad?"

"No. Get out!" Blaise scowled, eyeing the boy distastefully, and slammed the door shut. "I swear. . . that one's a Hufflepuff."

"Hogwarts, Theo! Hogwarts!" Blaise exclaimed jovially as he crawled out from the fireplace, routinely brushing the soot of his trousers. Theo simply handed him a pastry the house elves had made. Blaise continued to blabber as he stuffed the sweet into his mouth.

"Slow down, Blaise. I can't understand," Theodore finally said through his laughter. The other boy grinned sheepishly and swallowed, wiping the excess icing off his face with the back of his hand.

"Hogwarts!" he yelled again and grabbed Theo's hands, spinning them around. To see his friend so excited caused Theodore to laugh even harder and he eventually broke away, collapsing on the floor, trying to stop laughing. Blaise fell down next to him, pounding his back.

"Stop! Stop!" Theo pleaded.

"Only if you stop laughing!" Blaise teased.

"All right, all right." Theodore took in a deep breath and regained his posture. "Anyway, I can't wait either!"

"I know!" Blaise's eyes were bright, holding a gleam to them Theo hadn't seen in a few years. They were ten now, almost eleven, and Blaise seemed to have entirely forgotten about his father, the loss plaguing him. "Magic! You have no idea how happy I am! I can't wait to be a Slytherin!"

"What if you don't turn out to be a Slytherin?"

"What?" Blaise looked at Theodore, scandalized that he would even think of such a question. "Of course I'm going to be a Slytherin. If I don't, then well. Well. I don't know. I'd jump off a cliff."

"Don't do that!" Theodore cried. "You'll definitely be a Slytherin then. But what about me?"

"What about you, hm?" Blaise propped his chin on a fist, eyes rolling up to the marble ceiling in thought. After a moment he looked back at Theodore and stated a-matter-of-factly, "Well, of course you'd be a Slytherin with me."

"What makes you so sure?" he asked, suddenly afraid, unsure, of his future in Hogwarts. What if he ended up in a bad House? He'd be a disgrace and then he'd have to jump off a cliff.

Blaise shook his head. "Theo, Theo. It wouldn't be right to split up best friends. That's down right cruel! They'd never do that!"

Theo paused. "They wouldn't?"

Blaise nodded. "'Course not. But thing is, we won't be able to be friends when we get to Hogwarts."

"What? Why?" Theodore was alarmed. The other boy shushed him and motioned him to come closer, leaning forward to whisper conspirationally, "You see. Us Slytherin don't have friends so we're going to have to pretend we're not friends. We can be partners or something, but not friends. We'll still be friends in secret though. See?"

He drew back and gave Theodore a look. The other boy said slowly, "I get it."

"Good. Now, you're going to be in Slytherin, right?" Blaise grinned widely, expectantly, and Theodore nodded to please him, not wanting to anger Blaise again. Inside, he now hoped that he'd end up in Ravenclaw.

Theodore ended up in Slytherin and as he sat down at the table, he was surprised to see Blaise smile at him. Blaise was called last and the Hat barely had a second to sit on his head before it blurted out, "SLYTHERIN!" The Hat was collected and the Great Hall applauded, the Slytherins the loudest, as Blaise strode over with lazy steps and a smirk. It was the first time Theodore had ever seen the other boy present himself like that. Blaise merely placed a comforting a hand on his shoulder for a moment as he sat down next to him and when the feast began, he leaned in close and whispered, "Don't forget."

By the end of the third year, Theodore realized that it didn't take a genius to figure it out; like mother like son. Well, in some ways. Blaise's skin wasn't that dark or that light. While his infamous mother was a pure black beauty, he was more of a soft, glazed, caramel tone and underneath the sun, his skin glistened like olive. By thirteen, it was obvious that Blaise would mature into a handsome man and the Italian already put his good looks to use. Theodore had lost track of how many dates his friend had had.

It was Blaise's personality, for the lack of a more complex term, that reminded Theodore of Blaise's unkind mother. He asked his Ravenclaw companions and they merely shrugged his concern off, saying that it was a Slytherin thing.

Theodore felt that they were growing away, not really knowing each other anymore, but they still spent enough time around each other to seem like they were good friends. They still acknowledged each other, but it never went past "Theo" and a curt nod. It seemed like they lost all the warmth they ever had. It frustrated him that Blaise would always drag him along to place and into situations he didn't want to be part of.

It was in their fourth year that Theodore decided that he should act as if he had enough of Blaise's attitude.

Upon hearing the news about the Yule Ball, Blaise spent all his free time flirting, which irritated Theo because he finally thought that their friendship was rekindling. They were in the Common Room with Malfoy and his group. Theo was sitting apart from them, slowly working his way through a Transfiguration essay, partly listening to their conversation. His attention was caught unwillingly when he heard Malfoy say loudly, "That Nott of yours, Blaise, is a lapdog. Is there anything he won't do for you?"

He discreetly looked at them through his bangs, pretending to be focused on his homework. Malfoy didn't look his way so he assumed the blonde didn't mean for him to overhear.

Blaise sat across from Malfoy in a rather unsophisticated position, legs slung over the arm of the couch, polished shoes resting on a glass coffee table, but he still managed to pull it off. His lips twitched. "He's not mine, at least, not yet. But Draco, I'm sure you know the answer. He's a Slytherin," he said in an exasperated tone, "The day he does anything. . .unbecoming of a Slytherin is the day you become a Gryffindor."

Parkinson laughed obnoxiously, slapping Malfoy on the arm. "That'll never happen, right Draky?"

"Right," Malfoy grounded out, pulling his arm away.

"But Theodore, he's a rather special fellow," Blaise continued and Theodore's grip tightened around his quill from hearing his friend beginning to fabricate lies. "He's loyal, Draco, very loyal. To me only though. Loyalty comes in handy sometimes, you know."

"I'm well aware," Malfoy said dryly. "Tell me, why is he so 'loyal'?

"That's a secret I can't give away," Blaise returned.

Parkinson suddenly sat up earnestly, leaning forward. "Wait, wait. I bet he likes you!" Malfoy let out a bark of a laughter, "Pansy, don't be stupid."

"No!" Parkinson whined. "Like, sexual favors! That's why."

This time Malfoy did laugh, a hand resting on his stomach. "Nott? He's a prude!" Blaise watched this all with a thoroughly amused expression, the entertainment he was getting out of it endless.

"So, Blaise, is Pansy right?"

Blaise raised and lowered a shoulder in response and then said, "Maybe."

Parkinson crowed with laughter. "Imagine that! Nott's a whore!" Blaise didn't object.

That was it. Why did Blaise always insist on degrading him? Theodore felt rage shake his frame. Lies, that was all Blaise ever said about him.

"I am not!" Theodore threw a book down on the table, the object's impact resounding. His classmates turned to look at him, surprised as if they never knew he was there. An uneasy expression slid across Blaise's face as he stood up stiffly, reaching out a hand toward Theodore.

"Theo, lighten up. We were only joking," he said. "Right, Malfoy?"

Malfoy nodded, but the expression on his face said otherwise. "Of course."

"Theo," Blaise tried placating, but Theodore didn't let him continue. "No! I'm tired of you treating me like this!"

"Theo!"

"No!" Theo cut him off, glaring. "I won't hear any more!" He sharply turned and left, robe billowing out behind him from his haste. He heard Malfoy's and Parkinson's mocking laughter even after he slammed the dorm door after him.

He refused to go down to dinner, ignoring Daphne's apologies for the others' behavior, telling himself that he wouldn't budge unless Blaise apologized. It wasn't until late at night when all the boys filed into the dorms that Blaise tried to seek him out. Theodore was in bed with the covers up to his waist, a small book in his hands.

Blaise quickly slid the book out of Theodore's loose hands so the boy's attention would be focused on him. He was met with a blank stare that concealed the anger beneath it.

"Theo, dear," Theodore heard Malfoy snigger at that, "We didn't mean any harm. We were all quite worried when you didn't turn up for dinner. But there's more important matters at hand now."

"More important matters?" Theodore couldn't fathom what Blaise was referring to. He dully noted that 'sorry' wasn't slipped into Blaise's so-called apology. Blaise nodded solemnly.

"Yes, you see, since your erratic behavior had us all occupied, I didn't finish my homework. Being the good mate you are, you'll finish it for me, won't you?" He flashed Theodore two rows of white teeth. The brunette's gaze lowered disappointedly to the creases of his covers as he felt outrage flare up again. Why oh why did Blaise always have to antagonize him?

"No," Theodore answered firmly.

"No?" There was a hint of fury in Blaise's voice. Theodore not acquiescing to his demand was unexpected and undesired.

"Yes, no! I'm tired of you. . .! Being!" Theodore groaned in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air and letting them tear through his hair.

"Being what?" Blaise inquired carelessly.

Being a liar, taking advantage of me, being controlling, never caring! But all Theodore said was, "You're an arse."

Blaise shrugged and spelled a roll of parchment over to him, setting it next to Theodore. "Ten paragraphs. Potions, same assignment."

Theodore sighed heavily and leaned his head back on the headboard, covering his eyes with one hand. "I hate you."

Blaise ignored the conviction in his voice. "No you don't. Stop being so melodramatic."

Theodore told himself that he was too tired to protest.

TBC