A/N: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters

Word Count: 455

"I said apricot," Blaise stated, nodding to the robes in front of him. They were a bright orange color. "These are nectarine," he added. Blaise knew his colors, every little shade, every hue. Colors were one of his ways of coping with the world. He loved how different shades had different names, how each color seemed to spawn an infinite number of other colors depending on what was added to it. Blaise dreamed about the colors, about finding paints that actually mirrored the images he could see in his mind's eye. One day, one day he would find the right colors to creature his masterpiece.

"I'm so sorry, sir. I will make sure to find the right color."

Blaise nodded. He knew making a fuss about the robes was just asinine, but it was the only thing he could control right now. His life was spiraling again. Things were changing again and he didn't deal with change well.

His mother was marrying again, a man she'd just met. They'd had what she called a whirlwind romance. Romance was a red word, red that led to the white dress his mother always wore when she wed. White always seemed to lead to black, to death.

He knew the truth about her, about every single one of her marriages. He knew it wasn't just a coincidence that most of his step-fathers had disappeared under suspicious circumstances. It didn't hurt either that most of them had been rich, or were well connected in some way.

The only one who didn't seem share any of these qualities was his own father. Blaise had never met his father. He'd left before Blaise had been born. His mother rarely talked about him. Blaise wondered if he had been the one man his mother had loved, and with him abandoning her, she'd decided love was something that hurt too much to pursue.

Blaise saw love as a soft pink, a rose just about to bloom. Love was something he'd yet to find, but he knew it was out there, waiting for him when the time was right. He smiled thinking about love, about how someday he'd be the one getting married, and he was most certainly not going to force anyone to wear apricot colored robes.

Instead, she dated around, married quickly and ended up a widow once again. He could never prove anything, and as long as she didn't turn her murderous intentions towards him, he'd just hope and pray this one escaped unscathed. Until then, he was going to make sure this wedding ceremony went perfectly, it was for his mother after all and she deserved the best, even if she didn't share Blaise's vision about a perfectly colored world.