Word Count: 987

"Blaise!" Daphne's eyes are wide. "Don't you dare!"

But it's too late. Laughing, Blaise slings the snowball at her. It smacks against her shoulder, bursting and leaving clumps of snow clinging to her blonde hair.

Daphne's cheeks flush a deep pink, but Blaise doesn't know if it's from the cold or something else. Blaise thinks it's cute.

She giggles and shakes the snow out of her hair. Blaise doesn't waste any time. He sends another snowball flying at her. This one hits her square in the chest. Daphne squeals and brushes it away, her green eyes narrowing at him.

"You're going to provoke retaliation," she warns, her perfectly glossed lips puckering the way they do whenever her clever mind goes to work.

"Good." He throws another.

Daphne is fast. She dodges, landing on her knees without flinching. A moment later, she sends a snowball his way. Her aim is much better than his, and she manages to nail him in the forehead.

"That's cheating! Out of bounds!" he calls.

But she doesn't seem to care. Really, he doesn't either. It's all for fun. Just a bit of silliness because fifth year has been more stressful than either will ever admit. He loves that he can have these softer, lighter moments with her, that they can let their masks fall and just enjoy the world around them.

It's easy with Daphne. Blaise doesn't have to pretend to be impressed by what someone's father did, or where someone's family went on holiday. It isn't a competition with her. They can just be two people, young and in love, and so happy to be together.

By the time it's over, they're both shivering. His teeth chatters as he adjusts his scarf. Like everything else they're wearing, his scarf is soaked with too-cold water, the melted remnants of countless snowballs.

"Did you know," Daphne says, peeling away her mittens and tucking them into her coat pockets, "you can exchange body heat easily if both parties are naked?"

Blaise snorts, eyes rolling. "If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask," he teases, and he wonders if it's some made up fact, or if she's being serious.

Daphne leans in, and Blaise wraps an arm around her, holding her closer and kissing her forehead.

…

They sit in the common room together, both dry and comfortable now. The fire crackles as it dances in the fireplace. Daphne is curled into his side, snuggling closer.

"I love what we have," she whispers, reaching up and tracing her fingers lightly over his jawline. "It's nice."

Nice is an understatement. Blaise would go as far as to call this relationship perfect. No one else really understands him like Daphne. She sees more than just the arrogant boy who is oh so picky, and she knows that his standards are high because he's always wanted more.

And, by some miracle, she gives him exactly that. He can be himself with her. It hadn't taken him long to realize that Slytherin usually comes with a part to play. Daphne seems to have rejected that notion from the jump, and she makes it so easy for Blaise to do the same.

"You're staring," she murmurs.

"Yep," he says, unabashed and unapologetic.

"Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," he answers, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Because you're perfect."

"I'm hardly perfect."

But she really is, and somehow he is lucky enough to be able to call her his.

"Agree to disagree."

Daphne sits up, and Blaise resists the urge to pout. She looks at him, arms folded over her chest, brows raised. For several moments, she doesn't speak; she just studies him with the same look she gets whenever she's presented with a subject that interests her. Sometimes Blaise wonders how she ended up here and not in Ravenclaw.

"You are head over heels in love with me, aren't you?" she asks, eyes wide with realization. She blushes.

"I thought I already made that clear," he says.

They haven't said I love you many times, but they have said it. He's meant it every time, and he likes to think that she means it too.

"There's a difference between loving someone and being in love," she tells him.

He shrugs because it doesn't matter. All he knows is that he loves Daphne, and he has since he was thirteen. "I love you, Daph," he says, shaking his head. "I love everything about you. Not just the good. I love you when you're having a bad day, and when your anxiety is overwhelming. I love you no matter what."

He wonders if it's too much, if he has said the wrong thing. What if she turns away? What if this is how it ends?

Except maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe he's just needed to get those words out and give voice to feelings he's held deep in his heart. He hopes for the best but braces himself for the worst.

With a smile, Daphne takes his hand, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "I'm not in love with you, I don't think."

Blaise swallows dryly. It doesn't sound like rejection or a breakup. Still, it makes him nervous.

"But I do love you," she adds, and Blaise wonders if she can see the confusion in his eyes. "I love you so much, and I don't want to ever stop loving you. You're my best friend, and I am so lucky to be able to call you my boyfriend too."

It isn't what he had expected, but it still makes his insides feel warm and fuzzy. This love that they have is perfect. He wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Maybe she isn't in love with him, but that's okay.

They share a love is theirs, and it is real, and Blaise knows that it can only grow from here.