Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is not mine, but JKRs, as much as I may wish otherwise.
Warning: This is slash, if you don't like it please don't read it - I don't have the patience for flames.
Points of View:
Blaise
Harry
You wake up. In the dungeons there is no moonlight, but you know instinctively that it is time. You slip from between the silk sheets and draw the emerald hangings shut. You step to the end of the bed and swiftly pull a sleeveless ebony robe over the loose trousers tied securely at your hips. They are made of Acromantula silk; the material is cool against your skin, and it is unrestricting, perfect for duelling. You place a twisting chain of white gold, deceptively seeming delicate and fragile, around your waist, and the tips melt together to hold the robe in place. You pause, looking at the last item lying on the end of the bed. You reach out and brush your fingertips across it before lifting it slowly. A circlet of a similar shimmering silver, formed by threads that appear almost like liquid, intertwining in intricate patterns. In the centre is held an orb of emerald with a ruby shining within, the colours complimenting each other perfectly. For a moment it is before your eyes and you see a reflection of yourself, dressed in the same battle robes as you know your lover will be wearing at this moment. The reflection is passes and the circlet comes to rest upon your head.
You lift the circlet and place it on your untameable black hair. You straighten up, standing with effortless aristocratic grace. You glance around the dormitories once more, the red hangings the colour of blood in the darkness, before turning and leaving the dormitory. You move barefoot down the stone steps leading to the Gryffindor Common Room, across the carpet, and out the portrait hole, footsteps making no sound. As the portrait closes, you hear someone walking towards you. You sneer slightly; the footsteps are heavy, clumsy, a lantern is swinging noisily from his hand. Filch. You step back against the wall and melt into the shadows, the darkness enveloping you before you reappear behind Filch. You reach towards him and he crumples swiftly to the ground as an ice blue mist leaves your hand, flowing around him, sending him safely into a deep sleep. You continue downwards to the Great Hall, the stairs remaining still for you. You thank Hogwarts and she breathes a whispering reassurance in your mind.
You open the door leading from the Slytherin seventh year dormitories and climb the stairs to the Common Room, bare feet making no sound. The portrait swings open and you ascend a second set of stairs. As you approach the doors of the Great Hall you see a figure walking soundlessly towards you, graceful and elegant. The battle robes he wears leaves his muscled shoulders, arms and chest exposed, his skin tanned and smooth. He wears neither the glamour nor the glasses he usually wears to maintain appearances; underestimation can be a powerful weapon. No longer hidden, his eyes shine like the most exquisite emeralds and positively glow with power. You reach the doors at the same time. His lips are a deep, blood red. Irresistible. You place a hand on the back of his neck and he does the same, your lips meeting. He tastes the same as always, sweet, sharp, soothing, sinful and seductive, and his aura and presence seem to exude overwhelming power.
You see him walk towards you as you near the oaken doors. As always when you see him without his glamour, you admire how muscular yet lithe his body is, similar to your own, and the pair of you draw close to each other, savouring each others presence. As your hand touches the back of his neck to bring his lips to your own you notice how your skin is exactly the same colour, a deep olive tan. Your hair is black, jet black, and his seems to be the same, but you know that when touched by moonlight, or candlelight, it reveals the tinge of the deepest purple. Your eyes flicker to his crimson lips before lifting to his eyes. His eyes are a startling violet, as striking as your own, and emanating almost as much power as yours do, and then both emerald and violet disappear as you close your eyes and your lips meet.
You draw apart from the lingering kiss and effortlessly open the doors with a simple gesture. You need no wand; the pair of you came into your inheritances over the summer, when you came of age. Mages were rare, and High Mages like yourselves even more so, the last known one being Merlin. You look over at Harry and smile, your fingers entwining with his. He smiles back and you walk into the deserted Hall.
You stand in the middle of the empty Great Hall and look up at the enchanted ceiling above you. The midnight sky is a deep navy swirling with jet black, the stars glowing a clear silver around the full moon. You tear your gaze away and hold out your arms, palms upwards. Blaise does the same beside you and in a burst of red, orange and gold flames two swords appear in your hands. In your left hands you both hold one of Salazar Slytherin's swords, and in your right one of Godric Gryffindor's. The four swords only appear to spiritual descendants of the Four Founders, those who are judged worthy. All four seem to glow with a white light, making the emeralds and rubies in the hilts glitter. You check your swords for damage; even with swords as powerfully enchanted as these it never pays to be careless. Seeing them to be in perfect condition you slowly open your hands and they hang in the air for a paused moment before glowing softly and disappearing. The glow you see in the corner of your eye tells you Blaise has done the same. You turn to the man on your left as he turns to you, and you let your love for him show in your eyes, burning alongside the power visible there. Where no one else did, you understood each other. Now, having been through so much together, escaping abusive families, destroying the Horcruxes, there was no need for words between you. You understood him perfectly, as he did you. You faced the towering doors which were the castle's only entrance, and waited, listening in the silence.
You stand next to the man you love with all your heart, who saved you when no one else would, and you wait. You know that the moment is mere breaths away, and so with some complicated hand movements you and Harry cast a protective shield around the entire Hall. Anyone entering will now not be able to leave until you remove it. Turning to each other, you smirk slightly as you cast each others glamours, leaving an untalented Slytherin loner unnoticed by everybody and a scrawny little Gryffindor, complete with taped glasses. You both summon your wands for appearance's sake, to maintain the deception, and they materialise in your hands. For a heartbeat, there is total silence, and then the huge doors slam open. You stand by Harry's side, unflinching, as Voldemort enters the hall, followed by his Death Eaters and the few remaining dementors.
They stream through the doors, freezing when they realise Voldemort has stopped. He is watching the two figures in the hall with obvious disdain, and a little confusion; the quintessential Gryffindor, standing uncaring next to a Slytherin, a Death Eater's child? You make an effort to refrain from smirking, because you are wearing your Gryffindor Golden Boy form, and The Gryffindor Golden Boy doesn't smirk.
"Potter." He drawls, voice laced with contempt, and ignoring Blaise completely.
"Tom." Harry acknowledges. There is silence. Voldemort watches the two children before him, measuring them up. His red eyes flicker as he comes to a decision.
"Kill them both." This time you cannot resist, and a smirk curves slyly onto your lips.
The Death Eaters begin to run the distance of the hall to the two scrawny boys they see. Your lips curl delicately into a smirk identical to the one gracing your lovers' lips. You turn to each other, and with a gentle caress, dispel the glamours. The Death Eaters falter as the two men turn to face them, but they continue at Voldemort's snarled command. You hold out your arms and feel the familiar weight of the Founders' swords, fitting comfortably in your hands. There is a pause, and you breathe deeply, before the mass of Death Eaters are upon you.
Swiftly, you pull up a shield of pure magic as Blaise does. Spells come flying towards you, but as they hit the humming shield it just gets stronger, absorbing the spells energy. You slice through the crowd, swords spiralling and twisting around you, flashing in the spell-light. It is exhilarating, the freedom with which you move, the ease with which the blades carve through the air between opponents. It is almost like flying, as you turn through the air, spin low on the ground, ducking a weapon and arcing over a Death Eater in one fluid movement.
Your entire awarness is centred on the magic around you and the lethal swords in your hands, everything else fades into the background. You dance through the maze of Death Eater robes, gracefully twirling the fatal blades, battle robes swirling around you. Time seems to stop, as you feel that almost as soon as you have begun, the last Death Eaters are falling, leaving only three figures standing in the moonlit hall. You clean the blades in your hands with a gentle rush of magic, banishing them as you stalk over to the raven haired man with piercing emerald eyes.
The masked figure in front of you falls, the muffled thump of his body, and that of another Death Eater falling limply to the ground the only sound in the deathly silence of the Hall. You slash your swords sharply downwards, and the Death Eaters' blood coating them hits the floor, leaving the blades flawless once more. You banish them, and look up at the violet-eyed vision before you, returning his wicked smirk. He extends his hand and you take it, the pair of you turning to face the Dark Wizard at the other end of the Hall.
"Interesting," is all Voldemort says, dispassionately surveying the bodies strewn around the floor.
"Indeed," I reply, "I confess myself disappointed." Riddle raises a single eyebrow, wordlessly inviting you to elaborate. You exchange a glance with your lover and smirk, "I expected more of a challenge," you clarify, revelling in the irritation that momentarily clouds Riddle's face.
"Such confidence..." he taunts, tracing his fingers deliberately over his wand. "I fear you may discover it to be... misplaced."
"Well..." you drawl delicately, and step towards Riddle, smiling as you feel Blaise wrap his strong arms around you, trailing his lips up your exposed neck, and pressing a kiss below your ear before releasing you, "Shall we find out?"
You place a kiss beneath his ear, reminding him soundlessly how much you love him, and take a single step back as he approaches Riddle. Riddle raises his wand, and your lover just smiles. Voldemort looks him over appraisingly, "I will offer you one last chance to join me, Potter. It would be such a waste to kill you and your...lover..." His eyes rake down your bodies lecherously as he twirls the yew wand between pale fingers. Disgust mirroring my own flickers over his expression. "I think not, Riddle." The serpentine Dark Lord sighs, unconcerned. "Such a shame. No matter." With a flick of his wrist, almost too fast to see, a sickly, mottled green light is flying towards me.
As the killing curse slices through the air, too fast for any normal wizard to stop, you laugh. Confusion and irritation flare on Riddle's face, and you hold up a hand. The curse freezes, nowhere near Blaise, spinning mid-air as though suspended by an invisible thread...And there is nothing more to be said. It is over. He knows it. The pulsating green orb hits his chest, and he is enveloped in twisting vines of Avada green.
Bodies litter the floor in a sea of Death Eater cloaks, but there is a circle in the centre of the hall where no Death Eaters lie. With a final gasp, Tom Riddle crumples to the ground, his last expression one of horror, fear and defeat, surrounded by the Dark Wizards who followed him. Your lover turns away as he falls, walking towards you. You reach out for his hand and the pair of you let the shield drop, absently noting the charred figures at the edge of the shield line where some tried to escape. You replace it with an age barrier, so the sixth years and younger cannot enter the hall until it is cleared. You straighten his spotless robe, smiling as he does the same to you, trailing his fingers gently over the circlet you wear, matching the one adorning his own jet black hair.
You look back towards the doors through which you entered the hall, the doors leading deeper into Hogwarts, where the professors and students lie fast asleep, oblivious. You allow your thoughts to drift for one moment, knowing your lover is doing the same. Perhaps they are not all asleep. Perhaps at the moment Bellatrix Lestrange fell, Neville jolted awake from another painful nightmare of his parents' torture, breathing heavily, cold sweat clammy on his brow. Perhaps at the moment Lucius Malfoy fell, Draco was pacing the room of requirement as he so often did, right hand rubbing the unblemished skin of his left forearm, terror at what they would do to his mother should he not take the mark, warring with disgust at the thought of the Dark Lord's mark writhing maliciously under his skin. Perhaps at the moment Voldemort crumpled, lifeless, to the ground, the normally perfectly composed Daphne Greengrass was sobbing onto her lover's shoulder, clutching a photo of her brother as Hermione calimingly stroked her hair, whispering loving reassurances into her ear. You sigh softly and turn from the doors.
You look into your lover's eyes and smile gently back at him in silent agreement. You walk away from the closed doors you entered by, towards the open doors that lead out of Hogwarts. Sadly you rest your linked hands on the doors, letting your love for the castle flow into it's magic, strengthening it. A soft touch brushes your minds, saying goodbye. You smile, because you know you will always have a home here.
Your hands fall from the doors as you leave the castle, savouring the silence of the night. The grass is dewy beneath your bare feet, and the warm breeze tugs playfully at your hair and thin robe. Your lover pulls you into his arms and you slide your own around his neck as he lowers his lips to yours, heat blossoming inside you at his touch.
You wrap your lover in a tight embrace, and the kiss is tender, soul-searing, passionate. Love burns like fire through your body, only intensifying at the feel of his heated skin on yours...And then you are gone. The grounds lie undisturbed once more. The branches of a lone willow sway peacefully, the glittering stars reflected brightly in the still surface of the lake...