Title: The Good People
Author: Darkmoon666/Moony
Words: 3584
Rating: T for Light SLASH, Character death.
Warning: I haven't read the seventh book since it came out, so I'm a little unsteady on the plot line. Please review if I have made any mistakes.
Pairing: Harry/Blaise
Summary: After the Final Battle, Harry is hounded by countless reporters begging for the story of how he defeated Lord Voldemort, while Harry is grieving his own secret love, killed by one of his own. Whose love brought down the Dark Lord after all? Light Slash.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and Co.; they are the property of J. K. Rowling, her napkins, and the companies that make and cell the books written on said napkins. I just enjoy messing with the minds of characters, since I get in trouble doing it in real life.
Harry tossed and turned as he dreamed of the dark olive skin against his own, thick black hair that blended in with his own, rose-red lips gracing white teeth, and dreamy navy eyes obscured by thick lashes. Tears fell from his eyes in his sleep, soaking his pillow, as the seventeen-year-old mourned his lover in his dreams. Blaise Zabini, ever the cold Slytherin, was Harry's in life and in death.
Back in the beginning of sixth year, when Harry went to one of Slughorn's parties, he was ambushed by the Italian boy on his way out of the Slytherin dungeons. Zabini had dragged Harry through a maze of hall ways, either to deter any followers, or to confuse Harry of where he was. It was in an abandoned room off of one of the halls that Blaise admitted to liking Harry, and that he would do anything for Harry to return the affection.
At that time, Harry was still considering his sexual orientation. Since the fiasco of Cho during fifth year and the loss of his godfather at the Ministry, Harry really was confused on deep emotional levels.
When it had looked like Harry wouldn't answer him, Zabini had seized Harry by the sides of his face and pushed his lips down on the smaller boy's. Harry had stood frozen at the touch, and nearly shoved Zabini from him, when the taller teen let go. They remained connected at the lips, standing with their bodies in reach of the other if they were to simply sway forward.
Harry didn't pull back even with the lost contact. Instead, he had closed his eyes and relaxed into Blaise. Some time and many kisses later, Harry agreed to give the relationship a try, so long as Blaise swore to either be Neutral or Light in the war. Zabini had smiled tenderly down at Harry and said that his family had always been neutral, regardless of how many men his mother did kill.
Thus, a secret romance was started. Harry and Blaise were somewhat put out that Harry's Quidditch ban had been lifted, for the sport kept the two parted. In what free time the two teens had between friends, homework, and Slughorn's 'Slug Club' meetings, Harry and Blaise explored each other as none had done before.
Blaise was a secretive bloke, spending time with Malfoy's crowd, but not going so far as to join the Dark Lord, or help scheme on the Gryffindors. It was Blaise's idea for Harry to go so far as to kiss Ginny Weasley, so as to throw friends off the trail that Harry had a secret lover. For, by that time, the two males were lovers, Harry submissive to his Slytherin, even though sly for one in Gryffindor House.
It amused Blaise as it angered his friends to watch Harry chasing after Malfoy, intent on proving his loyalty to You-Know-Who. Blaise knew his sometimes-friend was sly, and keeping secrets was natural for a Malfoy. He tried to discourage his boyfriend as it was a waste of time for Harry to try and find out what Draco was up to.
Regardless of how many times Blaise pestered Harry to stop, though coming short of nagging as his friends did, Harry continued on like a dog after food. Blaise pretended to be jealous that Harry was spending so much time following after Malfoy and acting with his girlfriend that Harry finally told him of the prophecy, and why he had to find out what the blond was up to.
Blaise didn't understand the pressure, as it had never been on him. He tried to be consoling to his boyfriend, and the experience brought the two closer.
Some weeks later, to the end of sixth year, Harry bounced excitedly to his boyfriend who had been drowsing in his dorm room. As Slytherin occupied the entire dungeon, fifth through seventh years were permitted their own room as long as it stayed neat. The brunette had exclaimed over how he had gotten a memory off of Slughorn, and how it had helped the cause immensely.
Blaise was nervous for his lover, for he didn't want Harry to die, for Harry to forget the prophecy. He didn't voice his thoughts aloud and instead resumed to consummate his relationship with the last Potter.
It was then, weeks later, with the two far into love, that Harry followed Dumbledore out on a suicidal mission, coming home with a sick man, a false locket, and chaos. Blaise had known not of Draco's plans, and had spent the night in the common room, only coming out when he heard footsteps down the hall along with a muttered curse from behind the door.
Blaise watched from a spot behind armor as Harry chased after Snape and Draco. He escaped to the outside and saw as Snape threw his love backwards even as Malfoy ran away. He saw the truth break in his boyfriend's eyes even in the darkness. Once Snape had cursed Harry one last time and ran away to the forest, followed by an odd assortment of Death Eaters and a singular werewolf, Blaise emerged from his spot and went to Harry.
He helped Harry up, supporting him as he cried in grief over losing the Headmaster, the old man killed with an Avada Kedavra and thrown from the Astronomy Tower. Before anyone came looking for Harry, the smaller teen had tried to end their relationship, proclaiming that it was too dangerous, and he wouldn't submit Blaise to the danger of his future.
Blaise's protests finally won the argument, and with a hurried kiss goodbye for the night, the two parted company, Harry to the tower, Blaise to make a round-about trip and go to where the Headmaster lay broken.
When he arrived, he saw Harry taking a Weasley to the side. He didn't hear any words, or see an expression, for Harry kept his face blank as he told the girl something. Blaise may not have known what was said, but he saw the girl's face when Harry turned away, a small smile at the corners of his mouth, visible to only Blaise, who knew him so well.
Later than night, while Blaise was holding Harry and wiping away his grief over the loss of Dumbledore, Harry announced that he was going hunting for the pieces of Voldemort's soul, what was left of it. Blaise could do nothing other than offer his love to Harry for one more night, for both of them knew that Blaise among Harry would bring the Dark Lord down upon them.
A year passed, bringing with it the Final Battle. Harry infrequently sent owls to his lover, telling him of what passed. Harry had written one last time with the news that he would be at Hogwarts soon, for that was where Blaise was. Zabini didn't want Harry to come because of the teachers, but Harry heard nothing of it, and snuck into the castle to retrieve the diadem hidden in the Room of Requirements, and meet with Blaise.
The two spent one night together before Harry went after the tiara, and in the process saving Malfoy and one of the goons.
That save was the opening to one of the worst battles in history.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
Harry tossed as he saw what happened in his dream-turned-nightmare. Everything had passed from the room. He saw Snape as he was bit by Nagini, hearing Voldemort's laughter in the background. He saw the man's deep eyes as he gathered the memories falling from his head like water.
Harry saw the forest, once he had killed Nagini. He watched from afar as his body was killed and the final Horcrux destroyed, saw what happened as he was carried to the castle. Harry watched as his eyes cracked open from his resting place in Hagrid's arms.
The rest of what happened was a blur. Harry saw a red-headed person parrying with Blaise, his Blaise. He heard the shouts of whether Zabini was Light, for he kept trying to avoid all spells. Blaise answered negatively, but it was enough for the person to send cutting hex after cutting hex toward the tall Italian.
Harry watched as Blaise Zabini, his lover and friend, fell with a slit throat, last words mouthed on his lips, I love you, Harry. No one heard his last words, and only Harry saw. Harry felt his heart break again, the pieces shattering into too complex of a puzzle to even begin to conceive putting together again. That grief, replacing the love that had held steady for two years, was what brought the power to kill Lord Voldemort, Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, You-Know-Who, and to succeed in doing so.
Harry closed his eyes and mourned.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
His real self gasped and threw himself to a sitting position in bed. Great salty tears poured from red-rimmed eyes. Harry's shoulders heaved forward as he flopped sideways onto the pillows, curling in on his stomach. He sobbed as if his heart was breaking all over again.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
Hours passed when the tears slowed, as Harry had drifted to sleep again, still as he was exhausted. He still cried as he got into the shower when the alarm sounded, waking him from the deep slumber.
He was going to lunch with George at his shop that afternoon. As the hour approached, Harry entered through the back of the shop where customers were denied access. Harry was still surrounded by people begging for his attention wherever he went, even though the war had ended almost a year ago.
He sighed and ducked from the room that hid him from view. Luckily, George had enough sense to close off the back of the shop so Harry could get to the stairs. He saw through a shield spell around the sectioned off isles the hoards of people gathered, buying products new and old. He saw the store's help, mostly older teens, helping as many customers as they could.
George had sensors set on the back room for whenever people Apparated in, so the man was making his way up to the loft above the shop already, much to the disappointment of the people below. The notice-me-not charms bordered the steps, so Harry was hidden completely when he stepped up.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
The lunch went smoothly, Harry smiling a bit when he saw the antics George and Angelina's kids got up to. Normally they were with Angelina at the Burrow, helping Molly and playing on the Quidditch Pitch, but they considered Harry to be 'Uncle,' and so ate with them.
"You know, mate, Ginny's still after you," George said. "She said the war's over with so you had best get to her before she's gone." He advised.
Harry merely shrugged. He was certainly not going to date Ginny Weasley. The bright red hair from his dream was vivid in his mind's eye. He shivered minutely, but George caught the motion.
"There's something you're not telling me, Harry. I don't know what it is, neither am I going to pressure you into telling me. But please, put us out of our misery and tell Ginny yes or no. She still thinks you're getting married any day now."
Harry shrugged and George grinned, considering it a well-enough answer. "Excellent, she's just down at Madam Malkins, finishing up for the day. I'm sure you'll catch her before she gets too far."
He sighed and exited the room, heading down into the shop, where the flow of customers had slowed as many were eating lunch. The few still in the shop grew louder as they saw Harry emerge from the closed-off stairs. Fingers flew in his direction as he ducked his head, his shoulders coming up much like a turtle retreats in its shell.
The people parted as he headed to the exit, planning on going to the robe shop to end any chances of a relationship Ginny had with him. Harry wasn't able to handle any people close to his heart like Blaise once had been, and he didn't plan on it in the future.
His exit from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes bought the attention of a few people entering the store, then more as "It's Harry Potter!" was called down the streets. He hurried from the store with his hair hiding his scar, without much luck.
Too soon, Harry was surrounded on all sides by people with cameras, pictures and quills, questions, and quills and parchment. Voices were loud as they shouted questions, and Harry relied on his sense of direction to get him to the shop as he was blinded by flashes of light. Harry was stopped from progressing as the crowd pressed in. The questions flew, but one comment was heard the loudest.
"Why won't you tell us the story, Potter?" a rude inquirer said from the back of the crowd, out of Harry's sight. Though, he wouldn't have been able to see much anyway, as his eighteen-year-old self was much shorter than everyone else due to his childhood. "After all, you went after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the good of our world, and all who lives in it."
"Do you think I did it for you?" Harry asked the reporters mulling around him as he tried to get through the crowd again. "Do you really think I would sacrifice myself for the very same people that ostracize me on a whim?"
The crowd grew unsettled. Harry's lips pulled back as he bared his teeth and declared, "I did not save the Wizarding World for the good of the people. I could care less about everyone. I killed Lord Voldemort for my lover, but I was too late to save them! So, no, to answer your questions, I do not want to sign any autographs, I do not want to date and or marry someone, and I refuse to be acknowledged as your savior." With another glare, Harry pushed through the crowd that suddenly parted as if he were a king.
He never saw Ginny Weasley at the newly-cleared end of the crowd where Harry had started his journey.
Harry entered the robe shop and looked around him for the flash of tell-tale red hair. The bell rung behind him as the door opened, catching his attention. There was Ginny, standing with wide-open eyes, her cheeks blazing redder than her hair, fists clenched at her sides.
"Harry James, tell me what that out there was about!" she screeched, her voice harsh.
Harry didn't have the heart to flinch, instead setting about staring at the she-banshee before him. He didn't like Ginny much when he was a child, when he was 'dating' her, or now, especially not now. "What was what about?" he asked, playing coy.
"You know what I'm talking about! You said just then that you killed Voldemort for your now-dead lover! I'm standing right here, Harry, so you had better go and fix what you just said to the public before they print it in the evening paper."
Harry eyed her. "What ever gave you the idea that I was talking about you, Ginny?"
She sputtered indignantly. "What idea are you on about? We went out for months and you break up with me for my safety, which means you care! If you care, then we can progress in our relationship. And I am not dead, Harry James Potter.
"Just for your information, when I'm your wife, I expect that you will get your social life back in gear.
"So, where's my ring?" Ginny asked, sticking out her left hand, nearly waving it off before Harry's face.
He glared at her, the look all the more intensive once it was no longer hidden behind glasses. "It's obvious you heard me, Ginny, so I don't really know what you want. I've refused to marry anyone, least of all you, considering you were the one who dealt the final blow to my lover. I watched as the blood fell from their slit throat, watering the ground beneath their warm body."
He gave the red head one last glance before shaking his head and walking away. He left behind Ginny Weasley frozen with a suspended wrist and surprise etched on her face. He left behind a room full of customers and workers that had just heard every nasty detail. He left behind no doubts that he meant what he said. And he left behind no doubts that Harry Potter had loved and lost, and that said lover was killed by his ex-girlfriend.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
Ginny left the shop as soon as she gathered her wits about her. Luckily, the crowd had thinned out, so she went unnoticed. The woman fled from the Alley and Apparated to the apartment she lived in.
She quickly brought a Pensive passed down from Prewitt woman to Prewitt woman and sat it on the coffee table before the single sofa. With a twist of her wand, Ginny pulled forth all memories of the Final Battle, and dived into her memories to see who it was she lost Her Harry to.
The sights she had glanced over while in the heat of the battle brought tears to her eyes as she saw enemies and allies alike die before her very eyes. And finally, she saw the one figure that she killed with cutting curses.
Blaise Zabini.
Mr. Blaise Zabini.
The lover of Harry Potter.
Mr. Harry Potter.
The Boy-Who-Lived.
Ginny forced herself from the memories and ran to the bathroom to vomit. She had lost her Harry to the abomination of a man? What had the world come to? Ginny quickly dialed Hermione's number. The woman lived in the Muggle World with her husband, another Muggle born.
"Hello, Ginny, how are you?" Hermione said knowingly.
"Hermione, are there spells or potions that leave a person in love after death?" Ginny said, holding back the onslaught of tears with a heave of air.
Hermione was silent for a few minutes. "Hermione?" Ginny questioned with panic lacing her voice.
"One moment, Gin," she told the other woman. "Nuh duh…. Yes, here it is, I think…. No, that's right.
"I'm sorry Gin. Any spell or potion that was laid on another person while alive ends when the caster or maker dies. Also, the spell or potion only infatuates the receiver with the other. Love isn't able to be made.
"May I ask why you needed to know?"
Ginny shook her head then remembered she was on a phone, not face-to-face with Hermione. She blushed at her error and told the other girl, "No, I can't tell you that much, sorry. Thanks for your help, Hermione."
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
A few hours later, Ginny Weasley rang the doorbell to Harry Potter's flat hidden in a far-off magical neighborhood. Very few people knew of the house's existence, though it wasn't under Fidelius. Harry answered the door, and Ginny pushed her way past him into the living room, where she sat upon the two-seater couch. Rather than sit next to her, Harry stood at the doorway, leaning against the wall.
His eyebrow rose. "Can I help you, Ginny?"
"Yes, you can tell me how you came to be associated with Blaise Zabini of all people!"
Harry's quirked eyebrow fell as he glared at the woman defiling his couch. "Get out," he said gruffly.
"No, I want to know, and I deserve an explanation after all these months!" Her voice had raised a pitch, and the sound hurt Harry's ears.
"It is none of your business, Miss Weasley, what I have done with my life. You are not my wife, and you never will be."
"When did you get together with him, then? Was it while you were away for my sixth year, after you left me? Did you fall in love," she said with a sneer on her face, "with the Slytherin boy?"
"We were together since my sixth year, and continued to be together right up until you killed him."
"You cheated on me with a boy!" Ginny screamed.
"No, I used you. There's a difference. Blaise and I were together since Slughorn's first Slug Club. You were the distraction so people would look away from me involved in a secret relationship."
Her face went from furious to pale. She suddenly stood and walked to where Harry waited, on her way to the door. Her hand rose and she slapped him full across the face. Ginny left him behind stunned, red burning on his right cheek.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
That night, Harry lay in bed with tears again soaking into his pillow. He clutched the blankets around him, wishing they were Blaise's arms rather than cloth. He missed the warmth that was present when he woke up, the spicy scent on the pillow. He missed the bright blue eyes of his one true love. He missed the way his face expressed emotions, even if he had the cold exterior of a Pure Blood wizard.
Most of all, Harry missed the love he had craved since his parent's death that was freely given, then ripped away in spite.
BZ*HP*BZ*HP
Ghostly fingers rippled over smooth flesh. Butterfly kisses rained upon the upturned face, swallowing the salty tears. A body pressed against the warmth from behind, lines matching lines. Arms embraced the one true love.
For the first time in nearly a year, Harry Potter slept peacefully, tears held at bay.
Eighteen-year-old Harry Potter never woke again. He lay content in the spirit of his dead lover, sent to bring his soul to eternal happiness.
I apologize for the sad ending…but hey, he gets eternal happiness with Blaise! This, by the way, is a new character for me to write, though I love the character as male or female. Here, Blaise is male.
Please review and tell me if you like the fic, because I am a bit unsure of it myself. Again, also review if there are any mistakes in the timeline!
~Moony