With These Eyes

She watched him, as always. She couldn’t count the hours that she had spent in silence simply following his movements. He had an inherent grace that she envied in her clumsiness.

He tilted his neck back and laughed. She could see the tendons in his neck delineate with his movement. She loved the tanned length of his throat, so unlike most of the other boys in school. Blaise was perpetually bronze, as if he had his own personal sun. She knew that it was from the vast amount of time he spent outside, running about like a pagan, and from the home his family vacationed at in Majorca.

His eyes twinkled with amusement as he laughed. She could stare at his eyes indefinitely. They were an unusual shade for a man, an intense violet. The color enhanced the depth of emotions that could be read, when he allowed it. Millicent had been witness to the coldness that those eyes could exude, if he chose.

Blaise was often thought of as a poor man’s Draco Malfoy. He had an air of intenseness but he was not as dark or as brooding as Malfoy. Many thought Blaise was merely a cunning seducer of the fairer sex. But Millicent, having known him since they were young children, knew differently. There was much more to Blaise than his classmates knew, or thought they knew. It was all part of his game, only the stakes were much higher than any mere game.

His black hair gleamed in the candlelight. It was cropped and messily formed atop his head. Blaise always managed to appear as though his look was careless and natural. In fact everything he did seemed to be second nature. She admired his ability to look comfortable in any circumstance; it wasn’t a skill she possessed. Only on a broom or alone, did Millicent feel as though she were comfortably in her own skin.

Her eyes followed the strong curve that was his shoulder. His formal black robes hung elegantly. Having seen the boy in every type of dressing Millicent had become convinced that he could make a paper sack look elegant. His hand waved away the comment of an acquaintance. He possessed long elegant fingers, fingers of an artist or athlete – of which he was both. They were strong and tan just as the rest of him. He wore a family ring on his right hand; it glinted proudly as his hand moved.

Millicent’s eyes stopped as she saw the woman that clung gracefully to his arm. Daphne Greengrass. Daphne was everything that a woman was supposed to be; she Blaise’s equal. Daphne stood willow-slim next to Blaise her hand resting in the crook of his arm. She would titter and flip her hair behind her shoulder, showing off the impressive diamond studs that rested in her ears – a present from Blaise. She would tilt her head toward Blaise and gaze at him with her clear green eyes. Daphne always knew what to say to men, she could make them weak with lust at the drop of a hat. Daphne had the world at her fingertips. Her father was a prominent politician; her mother was a prominent designer. Her future was unlimited; she had beauty, wealth, and power.

To say that Millicent hated Daphne Greengrass would be an understatement. Envy ate at Millicent as the leggy blonde pulled Blaise into a dance as the music swelled. She rested her head on his shoulder as they swayed to the gentle beat. She was everything that Millicent could never be and everything that Millicent thought she should be...

Millicent picked at the black fabric that stretched across her lap. It was not silk, or satin or any other luxurious fabric. Millicent had never spent a great deal of time refining the female arts. She didn’t wear strategically revealing clothing, she didn’t play the damsel in distress to her advantage, and she didn’t flirt, batting her eyelashes or simpering. In fact she made it publicly known how much she despised girls who wasted their time perfecting these skills.

It was all a lie, something that Millicent only admitted when she was at her loneliest, in her moments of weakness. She knew that were she granted a fairy godmother her first wish would be to become that woman, the woman who could attract any man and better yet knew how to act around them as a proper lady. But Millicent wasn’t that girl and she knew the chances of a fairy godmother plopping down on the bench next to her were slim. Instead she reminded herself that she had something that those perfect women didn’t have – she was friends with all the men. She spent hours with them sharing butter beers and often something a bit stronger, joking, laughing and playing quidditch. She listened to the guys complain unceasingly at the annoying habits of their girlfriends.

She always complains that I spend more time with my broom than I do with her.

I swear if I hear “Don’t Terrence, you’ll mess up my hair and I just had it done” one more time...

And her personal favorite, “If it weren’t for her fantastic melons her nagging would drive me daft.”

Yet, despite all their complaining they remained with the girls. Millicent didn’t understand or rather didn’t like the understanding that was necessary. She accepted that in matters of the heart, attraction was often more important than compatibility in most cases. Perhaps some day when the novelty of pretty women and new hormones had worn off, the guys would see the value of a good friend who could enjoy a beer and a good quidditch game.

Millicent scoffed to herself as she stuffed a chocolate biscuit into her mouth. Not bloody likely! She stood up, she had had enough. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t likely to miss her. They were busy sipping on pumpkin juice and ogling Pansy and Tracey Davis. Millicent just wanted to get away. Her demons were too close to the surface.

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Blaise twirled the pretty blonde in his arms around. Daphne was gorgeous, there was no denying. She was a bit insipid, irritatingly so, the more he thought about it. She was everything a man of his class should be looking for in a woman. He knew his friends envied his capture of the lovely Ms. Greengrass, but something just didn’t feel right to Blaise.

He knew he was doing exactly what a man of his age and social status ought to be doing. Blaise had made his way through the ranks of Slytherin house females as per his father’s instructions. He was “to sow his wild oats” here before he found the perfect socialite to produce the requisite heir and to host his gatherings.

But it wasn’t what he wanted. He had never wanted that. Now, it wasn’t as though he wanted to run away, to hide in muggle London and rebel against everything he had ever known. Rather he just wanted to feel the freedom to explore what he wanted, to see the people he wanted... For the time being though, he would play the game until it was time for him to take his turn and make his move.

The song was coming to an end and he could feel Daphne moving in close. He felt her hot breath near his ear.

”Blaise, why don’t we head outside. It’s awfully stuffy in here.”

It was odd he thought. A phrase that would have sent most of the boys in his house into an apoplexy did little for him. He didn’t feel like playing the gentleman to Daphne’s lady tonight. It wasn’t as though he was going outside to a get a quick how’s your father. Daphne was not that sort of girl. She took fancy meals, expensive jewelry, and satin sheets to drop her knickers. He could have her if he wanted; it just seemed to him that the effort was not worth the result.

Girls like Daphne were everywhere - society’s daughters who felt that they were better because they had the privilege garnered by the parent’s wealth and status. They spent their days learning how to be perfect wives and hostesses. Lately Blaise had found himself wishing for more from a woman. He wanted someone he could talk to, someone who was interested in him not what he could offer her or how he could raise her social standing.

Blaise caught movement from the corner of his eye. He saw the figure of Millicent heading for the doors that led out to the lawn. His eyes lingered on her long black hair. It really was pretty, although he bet that Millicent would only scowl were he to tell her that.

He had known Millicent since they were children, they had romped starkers through his lawn until his mother had caught them and reminded him that Zabinis did not “romp.” He smiled at the memories.

Unfortunately Daphne caught his smile and assumed it was a response to her suggestion. She pulled back from his arms and grasped his hand, leading him from the festive Great Hall.

Blaise sighed, he would let her lead him about until it inconvenienced him too much then he would remind her that this dalliance was not for her convenience.

As they moved through the throngs of dancing students, he caught sight of Ginny Weasley, clad in a stunning gold dress at the edge of the dance floor, a pained expression on her face. He gave her a brief smile, wondering where Draco was, and continued on his way. His mind strayed back to Millicent though.

He was worried for her; she wasn’t the girl he used to know. The death of her parents had hit her hard. He knew that she worried for Wes as well. She generally didn’t seem happy anymore. He knew she was a strong girl, one to never let her emotions show, but perhaps she should let it out, let herself grieve. It had gotten to the point that even an evening of butter beer and quidditch didn’t place a smile on her face. Of course he remembered that there had been few of those evenings this term. Everyone seemed to be busy with school and well... girls.

He often wondered if Millicent missed that side of being a woman. She had never dated someone as far as he knew. In fact she usually came to the dances with Crabbe or Goyle as friends since it was expected that she would uphold their house’s honor and make an appearance. She was an amazing person few looked beyond her rough exterior to see the person inside. He knew that the minds of most boys his age were consumed with images of women that did not include Millicent. It really was a shame, her features were not extraordinarily attractive, but they possessed by a quiet beauty that was enhanced by the person inside. He wondered if she missed those moments when you were alone with the person you desired and everything came together. When they smiled at you and the feeling of anticipation snaked through your body.

He sometimes wondered if he missed those moments. He couldn’t delude himself into thinking that anyone of the women who had graced his bed had touched him on any level beyond the physical. In his moments of deepest reflection he wondered if it was all worth it, if perhaps there was something more that he was missing.

The cold winter air hit Blaise’s face. He knew he would have to give up his robes in a moment. Daphne was wearing a diaphanous gown of pale pink, which did little to warm her slight frame. Daphne moved toward him and snuck her arms inside his robe, around his waist. She tilted her head up and placed an inviting expression on her face. He knew everything she was doing was planned and practiced.

He didn’t want this right now! He wanted to sit with his thoughts, and pinpoint his confusion and discontent. But Daphne appeared to have other plans. She was nibbling at the patch of skin between the collar of his button-down and his neck. Actions that would normally have aroused him, served to only arouse his annoyance. He pulled back from her embrace.

“A bit presumptuous aren’t we Daphne?” He looked down at her, a cold light in his violet eyes.

For a moment Daphne looked taken aback, but her breeding quickly kicked in and she pulled a veneer of ice over her features.

“Blaise, you tease!” She playfully slapped at his chest and gifted him with a seductive smile. “A bit cranky are we... I’ll just go upstairs and grab the bottle of Champagne that you’ve been hiding. That should make you feel better.” She winked and sauntered off, confident in her ignorance.

Blaise let out a harsh sigh and snaked his hand through his hair as Daphne’s swaying hips disappeared from sight. He inhaled deeply willing his feelings of frustration and impotency away.

The soft sound of a choked sob caught his ears. Blaise stalked through the shrubbery in search of the source of the sound.

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Millicent didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t cry, she never cried! In fact she only remembered crying once, in the depths of the night, after her parents’ death. What use was there in crying, it didn’t solve anything it didn’t advance any cause, it only showed her weakness.

She found herself trying to choke back sobs on a bench outside the Great Hall. Originally she had meant to take a walk around the lake to clear her thoughts and remove herself from the food she normally comforted herself with. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was that had brought on this sudden bout of tears. If she thought about it long and hard she could probably attribute it to one thing, rather one person, Blaise.

She couldn’t watch him anymore, knowing that she could never be more to him than just his good friend, Millicent. She wanted him to whisper the ‘little nothings’ in her ear that she had spent too many nights listening to her classmates sigh over. She wished for his strong hands to gently stroke her hair and tell her that she was beautiful. She wanted to be the person that he desired to be with over all others.

But she knew it wouldn’t happen... it would never happen... Men like Blaise didn’t look at girls like Millicent and see someone they wanted to romance. She wasn’t beautiful rather she was heavy and plain. Her figure didn’t inspire desire and her features weren’t the sort one wrote poetry over. Deep down she knew someone as beautiful and perfect as Blaise deserved an equally perfect and beautiful mate, a girl he could be proud to escort about.

She was desperately afraid of being alone for the rest of her life, of only experiencing unrequited love. Her parents hadn’t experienced a torrid love affair; rather they had been happy and content with each other and their children. That was all Millicent wanted. Now she didn’t even have them to remind her that she was worth loving and that someday it she would find someone to share her life with. So she cried; she let her frustration with her appearance and her self-doubt run rampant. She supposed it was best that she get it out now rather than shed a tear in her rooms, with all the girls watching and listening.

It was thus that Blaise found Millicent crumpled on a cold stone bench, trying to muffle heart wrenching tears.

He paused as he rounded his corner. He blinked his eyes, unsure as to what he was witnessing. In all his years he had never seen someone cry with such emotion. He had seen a number of girls result to tears, but they were always calculated and done to ensure that their beauty and fragility would be highlighted. But this was different Millicent, his friend, was pouring out her soul in her tears. He had never seem Millicent cry, not even when she heard of her parents death, not even when she had held her brother for hours upon end trying to coax him out of his shell. He couldn’t fathom what it was that would cause her such emotion now.

He took a step closer; she didn’t seem to notice him.

Millicent knew someone was approaching. She thought that if she ignored them long enough perhaps they would let her be, but they hadn’t disappeared. So finally, she raised her eyes. They immediately locked with the violet orbs of Blaise. His eyes were filled with emotion, gone was the cold shield he often held up to the public.

He watched her crystal blue eyes rise up and lock with his own. They were red rimmed and glowed with feeling. She wasn’t crying for effect and it hurt him, deeper than he ever thought the sight of a crying female could ever affect him. She was biting her lip to hold in a sob, but a small sound managed to escape as she stared up at him.

“Oh, Millie...” He sunk down on the bench next to her and gathered her limp form into his arms.

She resisted at first, she wasn’t comfortable being touched in such a manner by people. Only her brother ever pulled into such an embrace. She felt big and awkward in Blaise’s arms. Although she shouldn’t; she knew he was a good six inches taller than her and weighed a great deal more than her, despite her size.

He felt her stiffen. With one hand he gently pushed her head onto his shoulder and began stroking her hair in a measure of comfort.

His hand ran through her hair. He really did love her hair, it was long and straight. The moonlight reflected the glossy sheen it possessed. He liked that she didn’t twist it up into some absurd confection atop her head. She was herself, no pretensions, just Millicent.

He whispered words of comfort, not really certain as to what he was saying. He felt her relax and hoped he was helping. He would get her to talk as soon as she stopped crying.

Millicent, despite her better judgment let herself be lulled by his gentle voice in her ear and his skilled hands in her hair. She knew she would regret it, but she was too weak to deny herself.

Her tears slowed and her breath returned, a bit choppy but no longer gasping. Still they remained sitting in silence.

Blaise felt contentment wash through his system. It was a feeling he had never experienced while he held a girl in his arms. It was the feeling he had when he soared through the air, or when he finished writing something. He felt at peace in his body – at home. It was a feeling that he had often tried to latch onto, but had been unsuccessful in harnessing.

He looked down at the figure that he held. It was his friend, someone he could talk to about almost anything. Someone that knew him almost as well as he knew himself. Someone that was interested in him, not his wealth or status. He stared dumbstruck at her black hair and black robes. It was Millicent; she was his home – what he had been looking for.

Millicent realized his hand had stilled, she knew it was time to come out of her dream and to return to herself and laugh off the situation. What would she say – her shoes pinched something awful and the pain was just unbearable. That was ridiculous. Perhaps she would say that was just overcome by sadness due to their recent loss to Gryffindor in Quidditch. She knew that excuse was just as pathetic as the first, Blaise knew her too well to buy anything of that nature.

Millicent slowly raised her head, attempting to brainstorm more possible stories to explain her torrent of tears. But she was saved from having to explain.

Blaise followed her eyes as her head came up. Her blues eyes were wet with the remains of her tears, but he thought he saw something else - love, etched with pain and sadness. He had never seen such emotion from someone directed at him before. He wanted to feel what was in her eyes; he wanted to experience what it was she felt, and what he was coming to realize that he felt.

Without thinking, without weighing the costs and benefits of his actions, Blaise merely reacted and followed his instincts. He placed a finger under chin tipping her wet-cheeked face up to his. She gasped at his action, not sure what to expect. Blaise leant down and placed his lips gently upon hers.

It was nothing he had ever felt before. It wasn’t the fireworks that romantics would speak of; rather it was just simply bliss, utter contentment and happiness. He knew deep in his soul that he could continue this forever and never find a better place to be.

Millicent was shocked down to her very soul. It was the last thing she had ever thought could happen during the course of this evening. She was far beyond her element. Her first kiss, from the man she loved. She didn’t know why it was happening but she, despite her Slytherin hardness, wasn't sure that she would be able to recover from this. She knew that any kiss she received after this would never compare. She only hoped that one day, long after school and after she watched the marriages of all her friends (including Blaise) she could bring this memory out again and cherish it without pain and regret flooding her soul.

Blaise reluctantly removed his lips from Millicent. She looked frightened he thought, he wondered if that had been her first kiss. He suddenly wanted to erase the fear from her features, he wanted love to light her features as they had in that unguarded moment before he had kissed her. He suddenly hoped to Merlin above that he hadn’t misread her. For once in his life he was scared, he was scared that he would lose Millicent as a friend and more importantly he realized he was afraid he would lose the woman he loved.

He was surprised at himself; he often thought he might be the sort of man that ran from such notions. He thought that the idea of loving a woman would confine him and restrict his soul. But he realized quite the opposite. Loving his childhood friend, a woman whose beauty was much deeper than the skin was perhaps the most liberating feeling one could experience.

She continued to stare at him, clueless as how to proceed. A line between friends had just been crossed. It turns out that few words were needed, just the correct words.

He looked down at her a smile gracing his features, bringing his dimple out of hiding. His hand brushed her cheek and he knew what had to be said, regardless of the consequences.

“I love you, Millie...”

Millicent’s mouth dropped open, she gaped in shock. It was the words that she had always wanted to hear, but never in her wildest dreams thought she would actually hear.

He continued to grin at her, all the while hoping that he wasn’t daft for having just said those words to Millicent.

He saw her eyes soften a bit, so he continued.

”I think I always have, I was just the daftest prat around and didn’t realize that my best mate, was also the beautiful woman that I loved.”

Tears began to run down Millicent’s cheeks yet again. The thought that she was becoming a regular old watering pot ran silently through the back of her mind. Her present thoughts were too engrossed in meeting the intense violet gaze of the man in front of her, comprehending the words he had just spoken to take note of her tears. She felt the pad of his thumb brush away the fresh cascade of salty tears.

She pushed any lingering self doubt from her thoughts, knowing that this was Blaise. There was no terrible trick being played here. Finally realizing that this was actually happening, she launched herself forward. She threw her arms around his neck.

Blaise let out a deep breath when he felt her form crush into him. He reciprocated and tightly banded his arms around her back. He would not be letting go anytime soon.

Words were murmured back and forth, interspersed with lingering kisses. She talked of her tears, of him and how long she had loved him. He told her that she filled the restless hole in his heart and he apologized for hurting her as he had. Coherent words rambled off and the quiet chirp of crickets and the lingering strains of music wafted across the night, the pair content to remain with each other, not quite ready to leave their outdoor sanctuary.

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