XXXVII. No choice
Blaise didn't really know when he had first noticed that Theodore was pretty. Handsome didn't seen a fitting word; his features weren't strong enough and he was too tall and too thin.
He wasn't handsome but he wasn't beautiful either. Men were almost never beautiful, with the possible exception of Terry Boot, but Terry had too-blonde, too-long hair and blushed too easily (like Draco only with enough blood in him to actually show any colour when embarrassed). Terry also spoke softly and fiddled with his glasses when he was nervous and reminded Blaise a little of Susan Bones. Terry he could get away with because he could almost convince himself that he was a girl, but not Theodore.
Yes, Theodore was pretty. It was the only word that fit. It was his eyes, Blaise decided – eyes the colour of a sunless sky. Most people would claim they were the colour of the sky during a storm, but storms were grey and icy and cold like Draco's eyes, not deep and mysterious, touched with the vaguest tint of almost-purple like Theodore's. He had the prettiest, most wonderful eyes that Blaise had ever seen, and sometimes he would just stare at them endlessly when he thought Theodore wouldn't notice.
Sometimes, however, he did see Blaise looking and cast him a bored glare in response.
"What are you gazing at now, Zabini?" Theodore snapped.
Blaise turned away quickly before his friend noticed him blushing. Yes, Theodore was pretty, but Blaise was never going to tell him that. He didn't exactly have a choice in the matter.