Lace

character: Blaise Zabini

By:

Ariana Ethaitrius (Hufflepuff)

*Disclaimer:* I do not own the Harry Potter universe, but the plot is mine.

Snow. Why did it have to snow? He walked through Hogsmeade and his thoughts were swirling in his head Just as the snow was swirling around
him.

Blaise hated snow, there was no point denying that fact, it was wet and cold and he never saw the fascination with it.

He stopped at Eyelops to get some food for his owl Mordred, his only friend and companion. As he walked through the practically deserted shop eyes of every possible colour stared down at him. He noticed, as always, that the sleepy hooting of the owls comforted him for some strange reason. He grabbed the food quickly.

As Blaise stopped to pay, a figure knocked into him.

"Watch where you are going!" He was not in a pleasant mood, and it only got worse after he noticed the person who knocked into him had also managed to knock his package of owl treats for Mordred to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the voice said and Blaise was disgusted to see it was a girl. A girl had knocked him aside, like they always did, like he wasn't worth their time.

Blaise bent down to pick up the package of owl treats and he heard his "attacker" (well, she had bumped into him) again, "I am really sorry Blaise, I didn't see you there."

The fact that she knew his name startled him/. How did she know his name?/ He didn't want to know the answer to that question; for he did not care.

"Don't worry about it," he murmured, as he turned to leave. For some reason she followed him, so he closed the door behind himself, leaving the girl to wrestle with the door in the biting wind (hey, he was a Slytherin).

"It's a lovely day, is it not?" she asked, walking up to him/. Did she not know what being alone was like?/

"If you say so." Blaise walked quicker, trying to get rid of her, but she was keeping up with his every movement. How she could call this (and he glared around at the snow as they walked) a "beautiful" day, he did not know.

They trudged through the snow to the Three Broomsticks where she sat, uninvited across from him.

"I really am sorry," she said, brushing snow from her cloak. Blaise shrugged and she looked away, as if to hide her expression.

"Would you allow me to get you a drink?" she politely enquired moments later, with a smile planted on her lips.

Blaise sighed, she definitely wasn't going to give up, "Fine."

She stood and walked over to the bar and she got a butter beer for him and another one for herself. Truthfully, he loved the stuff, but he wasn't going to mention that to this girl, whoever /she /was. He had seen her before, but he just couldn't remember her name.

They sat and talked and she told him of how her parents wanted her to go home, with her twin sister, for it "would be safer and we will know that you are protected," she said, imitating her parents.

"Do they not know," she said, pausing, her eyes closing for a moment, "that Hogwarts is the safest place in the Wizarding and probably Muggle world there is?" she asked, but Blaise was unsure if this fact was true. Whatever she might think of Albus Dumbledore, he thought him to be an old fool with no real idea of what the danger was that they faced.

"I don't want to leave school," she went on, taking a sip from her drink. "My friends are here, my classes," Blaise wondered why in the world a girl like her would miss classes, "I just don't want to leave."

A huge tear fell from her eye and onto her hand that rested upon the table. She looked at the tear and she sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said and wordlessly, Blaise conjured a lace handkerchief and he handed it to her. Their hands brushed against one another and he felt something pass through him, that he had never felt before. Whatever it was, he liked the feeling.

"I must go," she said, standing up.

"Wait," Blaise said, standing up also, "what is your name?" he asked, feeling really stupid, after all, she knew his.

"I am Parvati, Blaise." With that, Parvati stood up leaving him alone once more.

The next day an owl returned his handkerchief, a simple note attached/. 'Thank you.'/

He passed his hands through the handkerchief's lace, raising it to his
face for some absurd reason. It smelled like lavender. /Did she smell
like lavender?/ He would have to find out. Maybe he wouldn't be so alone
anymore.