Pansy was of the opinion that doors were there for her to open, and for her to close, and that nobody had the right to try and stop her. So when she wanted to be alone, the door was sealed with surprising efficiency and when she wanted to enter she did so without caution or knocking. It was how she found things out. Secrets and lies and cheating boyfriends, little embarrassments and substantial blackmail, a poorly locked door and the world was her oyster.

Blaise almost hated her for it.

It was after dinner, pretty late but not late enough that Crabbe and Goyle were back from supervising detentions. With those two out and the other two gone, off fighting or doing whatever it was that teenaged death eaters did, Blaise was the only one in the room.

He rarely got this kind of alone time, and he took full advantage of it. Stood in front of the mirror, eyeliner brush in hand, he perfected his makeup skills, working on his left eye. This one was harder than the right eye because he had to go across his nose to get to the corner and move the brush right to left instead of left to right, but in the end he was pleased with it. The line across his upper lid was remarkably straight and the wing looked great, though the lower line wasn't quite right… Either way he was pleased with himself, it was remarkably good considering how little practice he had had, he was hardly ever alone for long enough to bother doing it.

"Hey Zabini, Greengrass won't let me use her ink," The door swung open, revealing Pansy holding an empty ink bottle, "Can I borrow your…" Blaise turned around instinctively to face her and she froze in the doorway.
"Fuck! Get the fuck out Parkinson!" He yelled, grabbing his wand from the chest of drawers and throwing a hex at her.
Fortunately, Pansy didn't need to be told twice, and the spell hit the door as it shut swiftly behind her.
"Fuck." He cursed again, running to the bathroom to scrub it off. His hands shook as he turned the tap and he wasn't sure if the tears down his cheek were from the force with which he was scrubbing or something else and FUCK.

He returned to the bedroom, suddenly realising that he had no idea what to do now. He stood by his bed, torn between going downstairs like nothing had happened and… He brought his hands up to his head and slid his fingers into his hair, suddenly balling his hands into fists and pulling so tight that it hurt. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…" He continued as he brought his elbows up to his face and shut his eyes and let his legs fold beneath him

Breathing in and breathing out and breathing in again Blaise stayed like that, half sitting half lying in a ball on the floor by his bed, trying desperately to shield himself from the world and his thoughts, trying not to think about what would happen if Pansy told everyone, about how she'd smirk and tell him that she owned him now, about what she'd think of him now, until he managed to pull himself together.

He got up from the floor, trying to control his shaking and adopting a dignified, regal pose that suggested that nobody fuck with him today. He splashed some cold water on his face until it looked less blotchy, less like he'd been crying, and picked up a book from his bedside table.

He would be strong, he would be proud, just like his mother had taught him, he would act like nothing was wrong.

He went down to the common room, spotting Pansy and Daphne sitting at one of the work tables and carefully ignoring them, opting instead for one of the armchairs on the other side of the room. He let out a shaky breath as he opened his book. It was fine. No one had even looked up as he came down, Pansy hadn't said anything.

It was a few minutes later that Blaise allowed himself to begin to relax. It was fine, it was alright, it was okay. He was now actually reading his book rather than just staring down at the pages in silent relief as he attempted to calm his thoughts, and it was really rather good. So good in fact that he didn't notice Pansy coming over to him until she sat down in the armchair next to his.

Blaise tensed almost imperceptibly, suddenly very aware of his breathing, but otherwise acted as though he hadn't noticed her and continued to read. She let him, reaching into her bag and pulling out a book of her own. They sat there for some time, not quite together, but next to each other, reading quietly.

Then, without looking up, Pansy quietly broke the silence between them. "Just so you know Blaise," She began quietly, "I thought you looked pretty hot. You've got a steady hand, it looked good. I could help you out with the lower lid though, if you wanted."

Blaise made no immediate reply, acting as though he hadn't heard her. It took him quite a few minutes to compose himself to the extent that he was sure his voice wouldn't shake before he answered her.
"Thanks." He murmured simply.
She nodded, and both continued to read until long after the younger years had gone to bed.