HP is the product of J.K. Rowling's imagination, not disturbinglyprofound.

Mathematics

All the sparkles were distracting, really. Padma knew that the store was merely trying to show off as much as possible, in hopes of securing a few hundred Galleons of their money, but with this sort of arrogance, she was rather turned off.

"What do you think of this one, Padma?" asked her shopping partner. Terry was grinning, rolling his eyes in a way that made her think he agreed with her. But in his hand was a classic diamond ring, not too ostentatious and yet it fit in perfectly with the rest of the jewellery.

"It's beautiful," she smiled, holding it up to the light.

"Try it on," he urged.

"I don't know if it'll fit," Padma hesitated. "My knuckles are larger, aren't they?"

"Don't be silly," he laughed. "You're the same size you always were."

The brisk, chilly air wasn't much of a deterrent for the aging Mrs. Zabini, who, at nearly sixty, was still in possession of many of the eligible bachelors of the Wizarding World. Her current status, however, was that of grieving widow, and for once, Blaise had to think wryly, he had died of natural causes. His mother had never admitted outright her hand in her husbands' deaths, but the suspicion was always there. Unfortunate that the authorities were never able to gather enough evidence.

"Blaise, darling," said his mother, stopping them just in front of one of the most esteemed jewellery stores in all of England. "Perhaps Pansy would appreciate a gift."

"Mother," he said exasperatedly. "I've already purchased something for Pansy."

Mrs. Zabini's nose wrinkled ever-so-slightly. "Sapphires are far too... inexpensive for a woman who could be your future wife."

It was Blaise's turn to wrinkle his nose. "I've told you, Mother, that Pansy and I are far from an item."

"Yes, well." His mother could be quite idealistic for such a sly, cunning woman. "It wouldn't hurt to look, would it? I believe I will require a new set of emeralds for Draco and Astoria's engagement."

For all the poor choices Draco had made in his life, Blaise agreed wholeheartedly with his latest – Astoria was prim and proper, yes, not unlike her sister, but she possessed a deep and unwavering sense of warmth, truly uncharacteristic of a Slytherin, but yet her crackling wit and charm made her the lure of many men. Draco, of course, only wanted the best. And Astoria was as good as they came, at least to many.

Blaise could beg to differ.

"Fine," he relented, and held the door open for his mother. Though he welcomed the cozy warmth of what was otherwise an eyesore of a store, he would have preferred the biting cold, at least as an alternative to what lay in front of him.

Standing far too close together was an older Terry Boot and Padma Patil, with the rosy cheeks of a newly engaged couple. She was absolutely radiant, a vision in purple, while he, Blaise observed with revulsion, was dressed in tattered robes, utterly dishevelled, and far beneath her – damn if he was a half-blood.

Blaise left his mother near the front of the store, where she was intensely perusing the emeralds she so desired to purchase, and casually – though pointedly – glided to the back, where the engagement rings were. Doubtfully, as he watched the couple marvel over an expensive ring, he wondered if Boot could afford anything here.

"Mr. Zabini," came a clear voice. The gentleman who was responsible for the jewellery Blaise and his mother purchased had evidently found them. "How may I help you today, sir?" Usually, the man was meek; the War had obviously put some backbone into him. Blaise didn't mind, so long as the half-blood remembered what his status was.

When both Boot and Padma looked up, however, he was suddenly perturbed by his jeweller's confidence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boot stiffen.

"No," snapped Blaise. "Not now."

Bewildered, the cashier apologized and retreated. But the damage was done.

"Zabini," said Boot, sounding hesitant. "Fancy meeting you here." He laughed nervously.

"Yes," said Blaise, without looking at either him or Padma. "Purchasing your wedding rings, I see?"

"My fiancée's been insisting on it," Terry admitted, glancing at Padma. Blaise couldn't bear to look. She smiled back at her former housemate encouragingly. "I proposed, but I'm still looking for the perfect ring."

"Well, good luck," said Blaise gruffly. It was like being put under the Cruciatus Curse and then being asked to brew the Draught of Living Death. But that was what this was. The pain was unbearable.

He needed to leave.

Without mustering a goodbye, he hurried to catch up with his mother, who was still at the emerald cases.

"Who were you talking to, Blaise?" she asked, when he returned.

"Old schoolmates," he responded vaguely.

"Oh?" She turned and craned her head to look. "Is that Terry Boot with Padma Patil?"

"Yes, Mother," muttered Blaise. "Are you finished?"

"I think I would be interested in this piece here." She pointed out an emerald-encrusted centaur pin. "It's quite majestic, is it not?"

"Sure," he said agreeably. "Why don't I wait outside until you're finished?"

"In the cold?" she said skeptically. "I don't think so." She called over the jeweller, who avoided Blaise and instead paid attention to his mother. To finalize the purchase, she was asked to sign some documents at the back of the shop and provide verification. Blaise normally found it tedious – there were better magical ways of verifying these things – but now, it was intensified.

But his mother was already in the back, chatting animatedly with Boot and Padma. He caught up with the conversation from his position a few paces away.

"Congratulations," said Mrs. Zabini, as her pin was wrapped and boxed.

"On what?" asked Terry.

"Your engagement, of course. You two would make a fine Pureblood couple."

Blaise clenched his teeth. Fine Pureblood couple, his wand –

"Oh," laughed Padma. "Terry and I are not engaged. I'm helping him pick out a ring for his fiancée – she's a close friend and trusts my judgement."

He was so surprised by the sudden news that for a moment, he stood transfixed.

She was not engaged. She was not committed permanently to anyone.

He still had a chance.

"Padma," he said, before he could stop himself – how utterly Gryffindor of him – and she looked up in surprise. Boot, too, but Blaise didn't care too much about that. "Would you mind if we speak in private?"

His mother was smiling to herself when Padma obliged. Terry was only suspicious.

He took a deep breath. It was one thing to speak out of the blue – quite another to speak without a thought of what he was supposed to say.

But in the end, he didn't have to speak first.

"You are a puzzle, Blaise Zabini," said Padma quietly. He blinked.

Fifteen years flipped through in an instant. He was taken back to that day, two years before Hogwarts, a million before the War that would split them further than they'd ever been split before, when they'd chatted in the corner, away from the antics of their Pureblood brothers and sisters.

0

"You're a puzzle, Padma," he said quietly, and she blinked.

"A puzzle?" she repeated.

He nodded. "But I like puzzles," he said.

0

And here they were, fifteen years the wiser. But fifteen years had not given him the right words for this moment. Padma had been given enough time, though, to think of exactly what she wanted to say to the man who had first been an intelligent acquaintance, then a friend, then an enemy, and now –

"A puzzle," he repeated. "Well, I suppose we're one and the same, then, aren't we?"

A smile touched her lips. "I suppose so," she agreed.

He licked his lips. "Why don't we simplify things then," he suggested. "Would you like to go first?"

"After you," she murmured politely. He appreciated the gesture.

"I love you," he said simply. "And damn, does it feel good to say it."

Padma laughed. "Me too," she replied. "But that doesn't simplify anything."

"I've realized that much," Blaise sighed. He reached out to touch her face, trace his thumb over her bottom lip. "I apologize for all my wrongs – does that unravel things a bit more?"

"If I forgive you, yes." Her smile said enough in that respect.

"Blaise," came a new voice. His hand fell from her face. The moment was broken for now, but not for long.

"Mother," he said, his tone cordial, "you've met Padma Patil, haven't you?"

"I have." Mrs. Zabini held out a gloved hand to Padma, who shook it politely.

"Would it be impolite of me to escort Miss Patil to Florean Florescue's?" asked Blaise.

"Now? It's quite cold, isn't it, for ice cream?"

Padma looked to Blaise, who, after all these years, was wearing the smirk she so adored, the one that suggested nothing but trouble.

Well, kids, it's all over! You can probably guess what'll happen now... love and more love for our lovebirds. Thank you for sticking with me on this very uneven updating path and hope you enjoyed all these years :D Please review!

P.S. I believe they are around 24-25 in this last chapter. It wasn't explicitly mentioned so I wanted to clarify. *I don't know why*

- disturbinglyprofound :)