Summery: Blaise Zabini is a little... twisted. No, wait that is a lie, he is very twisted.
Disclaimer: I do not own, never have, never well.
A/N: I have no idea where this came from, other then I wanted to write this pairing for a while. I might write another story with them later. If anyone knows of any livejournal communities I can post this story in can you tell me? If you do, I'll love you forever.
Blaise Zabini is a little... twisted. No, wait that is a lie, he is very twisted. And it's not like he had a problem with it either. Truthfully, he quite liked it. Blaise would rather be twisted then be normal any day of the week.
He had lots of good reasons for being so twisted though. He made a list of them too. It wasn't in order or anything; it just came out of his head.
1. He never had a steady father figure to look up to. And it's not like he would have liked to look up to any of them anyway. He hated every single man his mother ever married.
2. His mother let him get a way with everything. In his mother's eyes he could do no wrong, he was the perfect child.
3. He was never given a proper way to vent his anger and frustrations. Years of dealing with men he hated, and men that hated him right back.
4. He was a Slytherin through and through. Yeah right, as if I'm going to explain this one.
5. He always got what he wanted, from everyone and anyone. Again, I see no reason to explain, it's rather simple.
And if everything went your way, you never got in any trouble, had more then a fair amount of anger and frustration to deal with, no father figure, and were a Slytherin wouldn't you be a little twisted too? And, don't lie; lying will get you nowhere. No wait, now I'm lying, sorry.
Sure, to get what he wanted sometimes took a little persistence, the little persistence being very little. A few promises, deals, and straight out lies have always gotten him what he wanted. Sometimes though the promises, deals, and straight out lies had to be a little sweeter then he would have liked. But when it comes to things he wanted, he would go to all most any length. He would never beg though, begging was pathetic, begging was a last ditch effort. Begging was much too low for him. What he wanted changed more then often then his mother's husbands, which changed a lot.
At that moment what he wanted was Neville.
Neville was very sweet.
Neville was incredibly innocent.
Neville was awfully weak.
Neville was dreadfully fearful.
It was one of those, 'it just hit me' occasions, suddenly one day he looked over at Neville and it hit him. He wanted to have Neville. And have him he well.
One day back in fourth year Neville fucked up in potions, again, and had to stay and clean up the mess he made, again. Blaise waited outside the classroom until Snape left for some reason that Blaise could care less about. He didn't care about Snape, he cared about Neville. Not in a romantic or friendly way or anything, he would tell himself. When Snape was far enough away Blaise walked into the room.
Neville was kneeling over the floor scrubbing at the thick, red, tar like mass that covered the cold stone floor. Blaise strolled into the room and leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the room from Neville. He made no sound and Neville never turned around. Neville knew he was in the room, Blaise could tell. He could tell by the way Neville's whole body tightened and his breathing became too thought out to be normal. In Blaise's head he could hear Neville constant mantra of inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
Blaise stood there watching Neville for no more then ten minutes before leaving. He left the room with uncomfortably tight pants; his mind wondering about who could give him easy release, and how long it would be before Neville would.
"I have to go to the staff room; I'll be back in a minute don't mess anything else up while I'm gone." Snape opened the classroom door and quickly walked down the hall silently. When Snape turned the corner Blaise walked through the open door quietly and leaned against the wall. Slowly Neville's shoulders hunched up, but he kept working.
It would turn out that Neville was a hell of a lot harder to convince then everyone else was.
It wasn't because Neville knew what Blaise really wanted, or that he had someone else, or was just too fucking stupid to play Blaise's simple game.
It was something that Blaise didn't even think about, it was something that never even past his mind until he was way, way too far in.
Blaise's pretty promises, deals, and straight out lies didn't work on Neville, because as it would turn out, the innocents Neville had was only beaten out by his fear.
And that made Blaise want him more.
Blaise fell for... no he didn't fall for him. Blaise doesn't fall for anyone.
Blaise became attracted to the fear that Neville possessed. Okay that's better.
The more fearful Neville became the more Blaise wanted him. The more Neville ran away the more Blaise ran after. The more Neville hid the more Blaise would seek. One plus one equals two, it's as simple as that. It was an unfunny game of cat and mouse for both of them. Neville was scared and Blaise was annoyed.
It would turn out that Blaise wanted Neville more then anyone he ever wanted before.
Blaise once found Neville all alone, by himself, unattended, companionless in one of the halls.
Neville found him self pinned to one of the many the rough, coarse, uneven, harsh walls of Hogwarts by Blaise.
While Neville found himself pinned, Blaise found some things he liked.
Blaise found out that he liked the way Neville's skin paled in fear. Blaise found out he liked the way his dark skin looked against Neville's pale skin.
The contrast was lovely, alluring, captivating, beauteous.
While Blaise found out what he liked, Neville found out some things he didn't like.
Neville found out he didn't like the way Blaise smirked at him. Neville found out that he didn't like the way he reacted when Blaise smirked and pressed his hand against his neck.
The terror that took over Neville's mind and body was overwhelming, fierce, severe, distressing.
The desire that Blaise felt was controlling, commanding, ruling, dominant.
The fear that Neville felt was controlling, commanding, ruling, dominant.
"Don't move." Blaise grabbed Neville's wrists tightly in his hands and pressed him into the wall. "I don't want you to move." Neville paled as Blaise moved one his hands to Neville's neck. "This," Blaise stoked Neville's neck, "this is perfect."
For a while, Blaise felt like he was going nowhere fast.
That was until one night he found Neville stuck in the trick step. Neville was trapped, trapped like a rat.
Blaise was smiling like the Cheshire cat, with a large grin that stretched from ear to ear. Neville couldn't run away anymore, it was late and he was alone. Blaise had Neville right where he wanted him.
Neville was too busy trying to pull himself free from the step to notice Blaise as he slowly swaggered down the stairs. However, Neville did take notice when Blaise sat on the step above him. Blaise watched Neville with calm, cruel eyes as Neville struggled to free himself. Nevertheless, Neville's attempts to free himself only made him more stuck.
So with quite words Neville did the only thing he could think of, he asked Blaise for help. The grin that was on Blaise's face grew. It looked like it was all going to work out in the end for Blaise. Blaise's mind was buzzing, what was he going to now that everything was finally going his way.
Blaise wondered if he should see how far Neville would go. Or of it would be better to barter with something simple and easy. He didn't want to scare Neville, if he did something like that it could take a long time to get what he wanted. On the other hand, he had waited long enough.
Finally after a few minuets he came to the decision, he had been waiting much, much too long. He was going to see how far Neville would go.
Blaise put up his first price and Neville accepted.
Blaise sat one stair above Neville and watched as the small, chubby boy tried to pull his leg free, only succeeding in pushing it in farther. Neville looked up at Blaise smirking face before quickly looking back down. Neville's face turned red as he asked, "Well you help me get out?" The smirk on Blaise's face grew.
The next night Neville stood in front of the room like Blaise had told him to. With large amounts of fear Neville knocked with near silent fists. Blaise opened the door with no hesitation and pulled Neville inside with no hesitation either. Blaise directed Neville to a collection of blankets and pillows that lay spread out on the floor.
A small bottle of fear in Neville exploded, his stomach clenched up and his heart pounded. Nasty little voiced in his head told him he should run away; get out of the room, out of Hogwarts, out of the country. They told him he had to get as far away as he could. Neville pushed them back; reminding himself that running away wasn't very Gryffindor. But then again, what he was about to do probably wasn't very Gryffindor either.
Neville sat on the blankets, and Blaise walked up and pushed him so he was lying. Neville closed his eyes as Blaise's hand reached out for his clothing.
Neville quietly knocked on the door, hoping more then anything that Blaise wouldn't answer. He didn't care why; he just really didn't want the door to open. In the time it took Neville to move his hand from the wood to his pocket was all the time that Blaise needed to open the door. Blaise grinned, no smirked, when he saw Neville standing in the doorway. "Come in," Blaise said as he reached out and dragged Neville in.
Neville shouldn't have liked what had happening, but he did. Or at least his body did, he wasn't really that sure about his mind. His mind was like fuzz at that moment, he couldn't think.
Though later when he was able to think again he hoped it wasn't post coitus bliss, or anything like that. He didn't want to admit that he liked... the sex, even if it was only his body that liked it. He was supposed to hate it; every part of his body was supposed to hate it. He shouldn't have liked it; no part of his body should have liked it
When Blaise finished he kind of fell to the side and to lay down beside Neville.
Neville made a move to get up, but Blaise stopped him. Blaise shot his arm across Neville so he couldn't get up any farther.
Blaise asked him not to leave, and for some unknown reason Neville didn't.
Neville didn't even know why he stayed; it wasn't like Blaise asked nicely or anything. There was no please, and there was no thank you involved. There was no kind voice that betrayed the clam, cruel eyes that sat in Blaise skull. There was no reason why Neville should stay, but he did.
Blaise relaxed his arm around Neville and pulled him closer. Neville found he couldn't get over the strange sensation of another persons naked skin against his.
Strangely enough, Neville found himself falling asleep despite the pain, despite the buzzing in his mind, and despite every single thing that had happened.
Neville slowly sat up, his back and ass stung with low throbbing pain. Suddenly before Neville could fully sit up, one of Blaise's arms moved to prevent him. "Don't leave yet okay?" It was asked in an emotionless manner. "Okay," Neville said and laid back down trying to find a place that didn't cause his back and ass any more discomfort. Blaise didn't move his arm off Neville, he did, however pull Neville closer.
Blaise was twisted and there is no ands, ifs, or buts about it. He had no problem with it, and all of the people he would call his friends knew it. And now Neville knew it. Though Neville would never admit it, he would rather Blaise be twisted then normal, any day of the week.
Lying can get you anywhere, and Blaise lied to him self quite a bit. He told himself that now that he got what he wanted; he wouldn't want Neville any more. What a lie he was telling himself. Blaise would hate to admit it but he was falling for Neville.
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