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It was a green velvet ribbon.
I didn't know why it caught my eye. Maybe it was because it made him look cool and sophisticated. And he usually was.
But when we were alone together, he was different. He would drop the mask that he always wore around others. It had taken me a long time to help him drop the masks around me, and I was proud that he trusted me with his true emotions.
When he dropped the mask he was less composed. All I had to do was give him a smile and he'd give me that saucy grin of his, both carefree and knowing. Carefree because he knew that I wouldn't ridicule him for his emotions, and knowing because he knew what that grin did to me. He knows that if he grins, I feel on top of the world, because he doesn't smile for many people. And even then, the smile he shows me is special. The grin he gives when he sees me is for me. Not for anyone else, but me.
And when a god smiles especially for a peasant, with no useful talents to speak of, all you can do is smile back and feel special.
And Blaise Zabini was, undoubtedly, a god.