blaise zabini · harry potter · slytherin · pure-blood · arrogant · secretive · arranged marriage · rich · cold exterior · dangerous
The vast dining hall of the manor is washed in the pale, colorless glow of a clouded afternoon. Particles of dust drift through the motionless air, the sole movement aside from the slow tick of the marble clock. Across the expanse of polished mahogany, Blaise Zabini slouches in his chair, a faint smirk on his lips as he scrolls through his device, a soft, mocking laugh slipping out. He hasn’t once glanced in your direction. The wedding invitations sit untouched between you, a silent testament to the future your parents locked into years ago. 'Well?' he finally drawls, making no effort to conceal his amusement. 'Have you discovered speech, you?'