For Better, For Worse

Chapter Fourteen

songs for this chapter:
dream boy - beach bunny
robbers - the 1975

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October 1st, 1995

"Morning, love, sleep well?"

Blaise sits down next to me promptly at 8:30 every morning, without fail. It's becomes new part of our routine over the past two weeks. He hands me a copy of the Prophet with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, and then he goes to fix his tea.

Daphne and Theo smirk at me from across the table the entire time.

Malfoy scowls— and I feel a great sense of pride in that.

"Horribly stressed about this Divination assessment, tossed and turned all night, I'm afraid," I reply, biting into my piece of toast with a frown.

"Well, I've got impeccable skills in Divination, and I can promise you you'll do just fine." Blaise grins, nudging my elbow. "Partners, yeah? I'll keep my paper within your eyesight."

"Swear to it?" I smile in his direction.

"On my life!" He nods seriously, furrowing his brow like a real, hard-working businessman making a deal. I chuckle at him, my smile growing wider.

"You're an angel, Zabini." I tilt my head, leaning in to kiss his cheek lightly before reaching down to grab my bag.

"You two are disgusting." Daphne groans from across the way, eyeing us above the fold of the Prophet's society section.

"I think they're adorable." Theo pouts, shoving his shoulder against Daphne's.

"Appreciated, Nott." Blaise smiles, picking up his own bag and abandoning the rest of his breakfast. "Offended, Greengrass."

"Then I've accomplished my goal." She smirks behind her paper, still reading the words rather than looking up at Blaise.

I roll my eyes at her before turning back to him, now standing up from his seat.

"Walk together to class, then?" He holds his hand out to me, "I'll quiz you on the way."

"You hardly touched your food—"

"And you don't want to receive a 'T', correct?" He raises a brow, smirking because he knows I'll give in.

With a sigh of annoyance, I clasp my hand around his and stand up, grabbing a croissant from his plate and shoving it into his other hand.

"You'll eat on the way," I say with forced sternness, but he only smiles, grinning as he wraps the croissant in a napkin and tosses it into his bag.

The last thing I see as we turn the corner out of the Great Hall is Malfoy's eyes trained on us all the way from the Slytherin table— his arm around Pansy's back rigid and his lips in a deep frown.

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"Oh, and there's this lovely dress Mum just sent me— I'll have to show it to you, Draco! You'll absolutely die—"

"I'm sure it's lovely, Pans," Malfoy replies, not making any effort to mask his bored tone. He and Pansy walk slightly ahead of me as we make our rounds of the castle that night— although I think I could hear Pansy's voice from a mile away.

"Ugh." Pansy groans, flipping her hair and turning back to me. "You'll look at my dress, won't you?"

"Of course." I nod with a smile, and her face lights up in glee.

"It's this gorgeous burgundy—"

"Enough about dresses, Pans." Malfoy reaches for her elbow, pulling her back around to walk with him. "I'll buy you a thousand dresses if I never have to hear you talk about them again."