A/N: This is kind of sappy and basically a rough draft, but I hope this fic has made you smile. If you want to see the continuation of Blaise/Dean's relationship, it continues in "Are You My Mother?"


If Draco taught Blaise anything, it was that allowing yourself to feel immensely happy also leaves you open to pain.

And, Merlin, it hurt. Blaise wanted to tell Dean to choose him, but that wouldn't be fair. Dean made his choice and it was the right one. Blaise refused to come between someone and their family. This one hurt more than Draco ever did because Blaise believed Dean could give him the sort of love and comfort that Romilda, Draco, and Narcissa never could. Dean could give him the chance to start his own family, the chance to do it better than his mother had.

But Dean chose him! Of course, Blaise had to politely remind his customers that "this thing between me and Dean is very new and not to be shared." Meaning should they find themselves outed in WQ or WW that Blaise would track down the source for a very unpleasant conversation. None of his clientele were so thick-headed.

Blaise didn't think he could wait six days for their second date. He'd finally gotten to touch Dean and it was glorious, every damn cliché Romilda had ever spoken about. Blaise was really lost for a few moments, angry that it was fabric beneath his fingers and not skin. Who knew whether they could even make it six more days before something new took Dean away from him? Part of him wanted Dean to walk around with a sign that read, "Property of Blaise Zabini—Do Not Touch!"

Which he would never do because he likes to hug everyone.

By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, Blaise was standing in his closet, perplexed.

"Romi, I have no idea what to wear!" he complained. Romilda laughed and said,

"Nothing formal. This is very, very casual."

"We are meeting up with some of his Muggle mates, and that is all I know! How the hell do I dress for that?"

"Ginny told me what you're doing," Romilda said as she rustled through Blaise's closet and threw a pair of jeans at him. "And it is supposed to be a surprise."

Blaise groaned.

"Can you at least make sure I do not look too …"

"Posh?"

"Gay," Blaise answered.

Romilda shot him that look, the one which said, "That was so stupid I'm not going to waste my words replying to it."

"If his family is so upset by it, how will his friends react? I think it would be best to not throw it in their faces, tone it down a bit. I told Dean I could do that."

"Did Dean ask you to do that?"

"Well, no," Blaise answered. "But—"

"You don't think they will realize you're gay when Dean introduces you as his boyfriend?" Romilda pointed out. "That was a stupid thing to say and you should never repeat it."

"Romi," Blaise said quietly, "I do not want to scare him off. He had no reason to come back to me, had every reason not to, and yet … I feel like if I push him too much, too far too quickly that he will regret his decision. So how do I … How does this work? How do most people do this?"

Romilda dumped a blue hoodie and black denim jacket onto Blaise's bed and sighed.

"You either work or you don't," she said. "You can't change who you are, Blaise, you can't make yourself less gay. And you should never apologize for being open about it, either. The only things you can do in a relationship are change how you react to things and change what you prioritize. What's important to Dean should be important to you now, but if that doesn't align with who you are then it doesn't work. If he isn't willing to prioritize what is important to you, let him go."

"But I want to make it work!" Blaise insisted.

"You can't make anyone do anything," Romilda replied. "But Dean likes you. It will work because both of you want it to, and you complement each other, yeah? You are honest and open and willing to do what the other one needs. Sometimes even with all that, it just does not last. And I think you won't have that problem with Dean because the two of you want the same thing."

"What's that?"

"A family of your own," Romilda shrugged.

.oOo.

Dean walked out of his shop at exactly four o'clock and Blaise pulled him down by the collar to kiss him. (That was definitely going to be a thing.) When they broke apart he insisted,

"Do not ever make me wait six days to do that again."

"So demanding," Dean chided with a smile.

"That better be Blaise, otherwise you have a lot of explaining to do, big brother," someone said. Next thing Blaise knew, a girl around twenty or so was wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him close.

"Your sister, I presume?" Blaise asked Dean. He nodded so Blaise asked, "Are you all huggers? Is this a family thing?"

"Yes," Dean answered, just as his sister said "Yeah."

"Okay," Blaise smiled. "I will have to get used to that."

"Yeah," she answered and held out her hand. "Ava."

"Blaise Zabini," he replied, shaking her hand.

Ava looked a bit like her brother, they had the same tight, dark curls, but that was where the concrete physical similarities ended. She smiled like Dean, the one that sort of starts from the centre of their lips and works its way outward. Ava was much shorter than her brother, but she hugged with just as much fervor.

"Meeting the family on the second date?" Blaise teased. "You planning to be down on one knee by the end of the month?"

"Impatient, aren't you?" Dean smiled back and wrapped an arm around Blaise's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. Blaise leaned into Dean's side and they started walking to a nearby university. "Ava's here to be your commentator."

"Commentator?" Blaise said.

"Do you know anything about football?" Ava asked him. Blaise shook his head and she said, "Right. So someone will have to explain what's happening. That's me!"

"Then what will you be doing?" Blaise asked Dean.

"You'll see," Dean replied. Ava chuckled at that and Dean was very, very confused.

They arrived at the university sports centre and Dean departed with a quick kiss to Blaise's cheek. Ava led him through a door and onto some kind of sports court. Blaise had never seen anything like it. It was pretty much a blank pitch but instead of three hoops on either side there was some sort of net.

"You look confused already," Ava said.

"Very," Blaise replied.

They walked over to a small set of stands positioned on the wall at what Ava called the "midfield line." There was a group of four young women already there, and Blaise was starting to piece things together. They greeted Ava like this was a well-established tradition, and Ava introduced Blaise as "my brother's boyfriend."

Blaise held his breath, bracing for something unpleasant but was greeted with smiles and bombarded with questions. He was so fucking relieved because these were questions he could answer.

"What's your name?"

"When did you two meet?"

"What do you do?"

"Dean's never brought a boyfriend to a game before! You must be special."

Blaise's heart definitely did a little pitter-patter at that last one. The notion that he was special, that Dean was already venturing into something he'd never done, made Blaise think that maybe Dean was as excited about this relationship as he was. They huddled around him as he answered their questions.

"I was in his shop one day and he shooed away his employee to walk me around the store."

"I can see why," one of them said, "you're gorgeous as hell."

"Right?!" another one agreed.

"Thank you, that is a very kind observation. I asked him out to Valentine's and now we are here for our second date," Blaise said.

"How much do you know about football?" the blonde one asked.

"Nothing," Ava answered for him. Blaise nodded in agreement.

"We'll teach you," the blonde one (Chelsea, he would later learn) said as more people came to sit in the stands.

They spent the next few minutes talking about clothes and Blaise's business, and he ducked all the questions too close to anything magical. Dean eventually came onto the court with eleven other men, one of whom held a black-and-white ball. Dean greeted some of the other players, and Blaise realized that's what he was: a player. He was going to watch Dean play football with his friends.

Dean was trying to integrate Blaise into his life and Blaise wanted to be there. He would learn football for Dean.

"Don't look so gutted," Chelsea said with a sly smile. The referee tossed a coin in the air and pointed to Dean's team when it landed. "I think you are about to like this game much more than you thought you would." All the players looked over at Blaise with devilish smiles, and Dean's face had a definite red tint to it. They split up to take their sides of the field and Blaise turned to ask,

"What do you mean?"

"Dean got skins," Chelsea answered. Ava groaned and the rest of the girls nodded to the pitch. Blaise turned to look as Dean pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"Merlin's fucking pants!" Blaise shouted. Everyone laughed and Dean had the nerve to wink at him. Blaise leaned forward, placed his elbows on his knees, and scrubbed his face with his fingertips. His eyes were glued to Dean's abs, and Blaise found himself once again resisting the urge to run up and touch. Blaise had hardly realized before just how slim Dean was, but all his muscles were toned. Hell, Blaise had never even seen his arms! Dean Thomas was fit, and Blaise shrugged off his jacket to place it over his lap to conceal a growing problem.

If he'd come home with me after our first date, we would still be shagging. I won't let him leave the bed for at least a week.

If the girls noticed, they didn't say anything. The match began and everyone appeared to be chasing the one ball.

"It's football," Ava said, "exactly what it sounds like. You kick the ball with your feet and you can use any part of your body except your hands. The net at either end? Kick the ball in and that's a point. The man in front of it? That's the goalie and his job is to keep the ball out. Now, this is six-a-side, so it's a wee bit different from normal football. Goalies can't kick the ball, they have to toss it to a player."

And so it went. The girls would chime in every once in awhile; it seemed each of them was dating (or married to) someone in the match. Blaise had to pull his eyes away from Dean after his team scored first.

"They just do this? Dean will run around chasing after the ball for ninety minutes?"

"Yes," one of the girls answered.

"You were right," Blaise admitted, "this is a great game."

They all laughed and Blaise decided to use the lightened mood to his advantage.

"If I may ask, why did you tell your mother about me?"

Ava sighed.

"I thought it was alright now. Dean never really kept it a secret; we all knew about Seamus for awhile before he told us. Mum doesn't care, not really. My father, though, he … Well, you have to understand Dean is six years older than me. From the time he went to Hogwarts, mum and dad were just starting to really have trouble taking care of the kids. There were three of us then, plus Dean.

"Dad never thought of Dean as his child, so Dean's always been more like a caregiver to us than a sibling."

"That must kill him," Blaise observed.

"He likes it," Ava said. "You know, he just likes to help people. He's paying for me to go to school and he's saved up enough for Kinsley, too."

"But Dean cannot visit the rest of you, can he? Not now that I am … in the picture."

"Fuck that," Ava said. "You know, Dean is the best—OI! SIN BIN! WHERE IS THE BLOODY YELLOW CARD, REF?! SEND HIM TO THE SIN BIN YOU COWARD!—Anyway, Dean is the best big brother anyone could ask for. This," she pointed to the game going on in front of them, "this is the only time Dean takes for himself. Everything else is working, coming home to check on the kids, and that sort of thing."

"Coming home to check on the kids?" Blaise asked.

"Mum works days and dad works night shifts at a bank. Dean is the equalizer, of sorts. My youngest sister is seven and Dean has been a surrogate parent for her entire life. The twins are ten and Dean's been taking care of them since he graduated. Lou just turned thirteen, Leilani is fifteen, and Kinsley is seventeen. It's hard to make ends meet for seven kids, you know, and Dean wants the best life for all of us. Dad can try to make him stay away, but I give it a year at most. They've never had to handle all of us by themselves."

"You really think that?" Blaise asked.

"Yeah, I do," Ava said. "And even if they don't, even if Dean has to live a life away from mum and dad, none of us will force him away. And even if we did, he'd find a way to pay for school because that is the sort of person he is. I'm just happy he finally decided to do what he wanted for once. God knows he deserves it."

The game reached half-time then and the players made their way to a table filled with water bottles. A bit escaped out the corner of Dean's mouth as he drank and the sight was nothing short of obscene. Blaise shifted awkwardly in his seat, trying to think of anything to alleviate the problem happening in his pants.

Dean walked over toward the stands and Blaise stood up when he was about five metres away. Blaise demanded,

"No, you stay right there!"

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Because you're shirtless and sweaty and how the hell did you not tell me you look like that?!"

"Well, it's hard to work it into first date conversation," Dean joked.

"Okay, just, stay very far away unless you want me to shag you right here in front of everyone."

That remark turned some heads, but Dean just laughed.

"You have no self-control, Blaise Zabini."

"Not for you," Blaise replied. "Now go run around some more. It's sexy."

"Well, in that case, I might even score a goal for you," Dean teased as he ran away.

Blaise turned around to face everyone and said, "I am going to marry him." Then he sat in the front row of the stands and watched the match resume.

"You really think so?" Ava asked.

"I do," Blaise confirmed.

"I'm sorry it's hard for you to be with him," she said. "I wish it was easier. I want him to be happy and he hasn't shut up about you. The other men he dates, well, they don't really merit a lot of conversation. Dad said some nasty things to him after Seamus and it hurt him pretty deep. In five years there might have been two that lasted more than a month. But he was dating them more because he thought he should pursue a real relationship, not because he wanted to."

"So what does that make me?" Blaise asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

"It makes you the best hope to make him happy," Ava said. Blaise leaned over and hugged her.

"Thank you," he said.

"See, you're even hugging, now. You'll be part of the family in no time."

"I—"

Blaise was cut off as a loud cheer erupted from Dean's teammates. He had scored a goal and they were up 2-1 with ten minutes to play.

.oOo.

Dean insisted on taking a shower after the match.

"But why?" Blaise whined.

"Because I'm sweaty and disgusting!"

"Sweaty, yes, disgusting, no," Blaise replied. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Five minutes and I'll be ready to leave."

Ava left for school and several of Dean's mates came over to introduce themselves. They were nice blokes, some of them very good-looking, and Blaise could identify most of them by their girlfriends. All of them said essentially the same thing: hurting Dean would be the worst mistake of Blaise's life. Some of them threatened him, others just warned him how important he had to be for Dean to bring him here at all.

Dean returned with wet hair and Blaise pouted once he saw Dean was wearing the t-shirt. He half-dragged Dean out of the sports centre and into a back alley.

"Are you comfortable with Sidealong?"

Dean nodded and before he could say anything they were standing in the entryway to Blaise's flat. Blaise tossed his coat onto a small table and began to unbutton Dean's coat.

"Impatient?" Dean asked.

"You have no idea," Blaise growled. "I just spent ninety minutes watching you run around, shirtless, sweating, panting like you had been fucked within an inch of your life. I have been half-hard for two hours, and I swear on Merlin's grave if you are not in my bed in five minutes I may lose my bloody mind!"

Dean smiled and that only made things worse. Blaise groaned and Dean said,

"My friends like you. They think you're positively besotted."

"They are not wrong," Blaise said. He slid Dean's coat from his shoulders and dragged Dean toward the bedroom by the hem of his t-shirt.

"Ava likes you a lot," Dean continued. "She says I am good for you, but I think she has it the wrong way 'round."

"Dean!" Blaise shouted, dragging him into the bedroom. Blaise pushed him onto the bed and said, "Stop fucking talking or I will shove my dick down your throat just to make you shut up!"

Dean tilted his head to the side and said, "Promise?"

Blaise couldn't help but laugh.

"God, you are so perfect. I cannot believe you have been in London this entire time! I could have had this years ago! I have been wasting my time with other men who … who …"

"Who what?" Dean asked.

Other men who don't look at me the way you do. Other men who only saw my money or my notoriety. Other men who wanted to have the man who fucked a Malfoy.

Blaise answered him with a kiss. He situated himself between Dean's open legs, exactly where he wanted to be. He also wanted to keep Dean's focus away from his surroundings because, for the first time, Blaise was embarrassed. There was nothing personal about his bedroom, nothing home-like about his whole flat. It was a space to sleep, not really a place to live, and he wanted Dean to want to live here.

Blaise broke off their kiss to pull Dean's shirt over his head. He stared at Dean's abs for a moment, awestruck, then looked up to see Dean staring at him, laughing.

"Blaise, look at you, looking at me like I'm the best thing to ever happen to you," Dean smiled. Was he blushing? Yes, Dean was blushing. So Blaise gave him the honest answer.

"You are."