Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does.
Beta: Tsubasa Hane
A/N: anyone that had been reading my completed story "Brighter Than Sunshine", this is the promised Blaise/Neville story. Months later. Enjoy. =]
Bright blue lights, pounding beats, electric skin, sweaty skin, heat…blurred figures, a hazy face, dark hair, dry lips, a hot tongue—no. Rancid breath and stale cologne. Nausea. Bile. Tightness in my chest… A firm grip. A growl. Hot breath in my ear. Wet heat on my neck…pressure, teeth. Fear. Panic. Aggression. Blood. Blood on my lips? The dirty copper on my lips.
Strong hands, coarse. Cold wall, rough, harsh against my back. Hands fumbling, damp fingers, sticky on my skin…at the waist of my jeans and touching—
"Don't do this," I heard myself say; something in me trying to appeal to his better nature, the humanity within him. There was an awful stinging in my eyes. It was hot streaming down my face.
—creeping over my skin… His nails dragged slowly, lower and lower. His hands were under my pants…easing, unbuttoning and unzipping. Each second was a horror, each one worse than the next. I was helpless, it was so personal, and why me?
Anger. At myself. At Marcel. At the situation.
Guilt. For Blaise, no longer the first. Happiness and elation…gone. Lightness, joy, togetherness…gone. I felt an empty dread. Cold sweat. Disorientation. He knew where to touch. He knew where to tease. My body reacted, against my will, disloyal.
"I'll make you feel amazing," he purred. "I thought that was what you wanted."
Not even. "No, but—"
"I promise. You'll feel so good," he breathed.
His hand went further. Then he was touching me.
I begged him to stop, please stop. Again and again. Wet lips down my neck. Teeth grazing. Nipping and sucking. And I sobbed. I wanted him away, but—
"Neville!" Blaise.
The room was suddenly brighter.
Everything shook and I startled awake, reaching to grab at wrinkled sheets to keep from falling.
"Neville, you…wake up…"
"Blaise?" I murmured groggily, voice heavy with sleep and confusion. My mind was severely disorientated, foggy and unclear; still more asleep than awake, it was difficult to make sense of anything but the fact that I had been woken from one of the worst nightmares I had ever experienced.
"Hey…how's…filing never villa…okay?"
What? Blaise should know better than to speak in riddles this early in the morning. Or he could have at least had the courtesy to ask how I was feeling after dragging me to that forsaken underground club.
I grumbled and turned away from his voice, pulling the covers with me and out of his grip. There was a strange satisfaction in knowing that I was in control because for once, I had the choice of whether he was worth the energy or not. He was trying to talk to me and I was turning him away, not that he ever turned me away when I had something to say. Yes, it was satisfying, but I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and I did say it was strange. I would have sat up when he shook me awake, but this was no ordinary morning, and I didn't think my arms could support more than my head on the pillow.
A hand settled on my shoulder after the bed dipped beside me, a warm weight. Unable to fall back asleep after the nightmarish dream, I peeked past the top of the covers only to be met with the blinding rays of the sun that filtered through the curtains. My eyes translated the light to pain and I winced, groaning in protest of everything. Much quicker than I could've attempted, the covers were kindly returned to their proper place over my head.
Thank you, Blaise.
There was another voice from farther away and as they chattered amongst themselves, Blaise's warm hand rested heavily on my hip, caressing and squeezing, comforting. My mind was hazy, but from what I could hear, I had sufficient reason to believe they were laughing at my expense. No surprise there.
To be honest with myself, I felt like crap. It was as if someone had infused lead into my every limb while I slept because I could not, for the life of me, muster any strength to lift my head off the pillow. The fluffy pillow with the cotton pillowcase that was very reminiscent of the feeling of my tongue, heavy in my mouth, thick and dry. For this, and many other reasons I would recall later in the day, I told myself that I should never drink again. I drifted closer to consciousness, alertness, but with the blinding light streaming through the gaps in my cocoon, I burrowed deeper under the sheets. All I could feel was the overwhelming desire to go back sleep.
"Neville," Blaise sang as his hand snuck under the covers, his teasing fingers eased up my side, light barely-there touches that tickled more than anything else.
I couldn't even laugh, barely managing a snort as I escaped to the other side of the bed with a few choice words of annoyance. They made sense in my head, but when I spoke, they sounded absurd, complete nonsense even to someone that had swallowed more pepper up potion that they were supposed to. I rubbed wearily at my face, completely lacking the desire or intent to leave my welcoming shelter at all. But Blaise happened to mention a hangover potion and newly discovered was the desire along with a surge of energy that was just enough to sit up, chug down the bitter liquid, then collapse back to bed.
"Thought you might need it, you lightweight," he said, delivering a smack to my bum before leaving me to recover in peace.
:: The Night Before ::
"Neville! Blaise is here!"
"Alright mum, I'll be right down!"
I checked myself in the mirror one last time before grabbing my wand, shrinking it, and slipping it into my pocket. The door slammed loudly behind me as I hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping over my feet in my hurry. Not that I was late, but I didn't want Blaise knocking on our front door if he got tired of waiting. He could certainly put on a charming front when the situation called for it, but the problem lay with my parents, who were very good at embarrassing me whenever I introduced new friends.
Dad quirked a curious eyebrow in my direction as I walked past the couch. He was smirking as he asked, "What's the rush, son? Got a date tonight we don't know about?"
I resisted the urge to fidget and I whined, "We're already late, dad."
"Alright, son. Be careful."
"Okay, dad," I said, and then I poked into the kitchen to say goodbye to mum too, knowing she would have a fit if I left without her knowledge. "Bye mum!"
"Oh!" she turned away from the stove with her hand over her heart. "Don't scare me like that, Neville!"
I started thinking that I should have just left without saying bye. She was stalling, looking at me in that way mothers do when they're subtly trying to make sure your clothes are all in order, or figure something out because you won't tell them yourself. I was used to it, but I didn't like it any more. In fact, I liked it less because now, I felt like I was actually keeping secrets from her.
"Mum, I've got to go."
"Okay, okay," she said, smoothing her hands over my shoulders, then she looked me straight in the eye, soul to soul, mother to son, so I thought that maybe she'd figured it out herself. "Just be careful, okay?"
"I will, mum," I droned, and she just had to kiss me on the forehead.
As I had practically flew out the door, I almost felt bad for, not lying, but for not being outright with mum and dad about my "friendship" with Blaise. To some people, not coming clean and lying are the same thing, but I'd come to learn that there was a slight grey area that proved they were less synonymous as much as they were simply related. This knowledge came in handy for my conscience.
Since things settled down and I'd been allowed more time with Blaise, the pressure to tell my parents about us had become a persistent nagging in the back of my mind. Each time, I tried to ignore the nagging, pretend it was nothing, but it came back stronger and even more tenacious than the last, haunting me like a terrible confession. A bittersweet, terrible confession that I wanted to share with them so badly.
But the truth of the matter was that I was terrified. Mum and dad were very loving and accepting and would no doubt pull me into their welcoming arms, saddened that I had ever doubted them. Moments later, they would tell me over and over again how proud they were of me for trusting them, for letting them into my life, allowing them to be a part of me. I know they feared that I was becoming more private, more independent as the days wore on. They feared I was maturing and wouldn't need them anymore, but that wasn't true.
I didn't want to make it an occasion, ask them to sit in a grave voice like I'd been diagnosed with an incurable disease, but at the same time, I didn't want to blurt it out in the middle of dinner, caught mid-bite or mid-swallow. I had been tempted on multiple occasions. In one night. It was just so personal. We weren't really personal.
I strolled to the black Peugeot that was parked in front of our modest house, more than a little miffed that Blaise had once again decided to pick me up in his showy ride. As far as cars went, it was particularly nice though I would never admit it to him since I would never hear the end of it. It would come back to bit me in the ass in memories, reminiscing, "Remember when…?"
He knew it and I knew it. The neighbors were peering through the curtains, their beady eyes studying the conspicuous vehicle. There was no doubt in my mind it would be the talk of the water cooler come Monday morning, then at dinner, mum would try to bring it up like she hadn't been meaning to say something about it all day.
"So Neville, your friend, Blaise…Where did you two meet?"
And I wasn't sure she realized how often she asked me that.
As always, Blaise was dressed impeccably. Just the watch on his left wrist looked like it cost more than my whole outfit, and his pants and shirt were perfectly tailored to his frame. A phone was pressed to his ear and his face was void of expression as he listened to the drawling of the voice on the other line with practiced patience. He glanced at me coyly with an appreciative wink, reaching out to clasp my hand tightly, tracing random patterns over my skin. But then he kept staring with that look in his eyes and an inevitable blush crept up my neck. I averted my gaze, looking out the window where I could see mum's silhouette bustling around the dining room.
Blaise sighed. "I already have plans tonight, Draco. I told you this yesterday." A frustrated groan could be heard from the other side before the voice started chattering away again. "I can't tell you." Pause. "Because," he ground out, and I noticed he glanced briefly at me.
I didn't know why it was still a big secret since I was going to find out soon anyway.
Both lines were quiet for a few moments, a few words were said from the other side, silence, and then a female voice cut in.
"Yeah Pansy…that's where we're going. I'm glad someone was listening." He paused. "You'll meet us there or what? Alright then, see you soon." There was an excited scream from the other line as Blaise flipped the phone shut before tossing it carelessly into the glove box.
"Hey," he said, leaning over the gears to kiss me lightly on the cheek.
A fleeting, though intense, panic rose in my chest when he tried to kiss me on the lips. I hesitated, glancing briefly towards the house before giving in.
"I've missed you," he mumbled against my lips.
"You too," I said with a grin that was beyond my control. "So…where are we going exactly? Are you going to tell me?"
Blaise put the keys into the ignition and revved up the engine. "I don't think I will, though I can tell you that a lot of our year's going to be there too," he hinted. He changed the gears and momentarily pressed his feet to the accelerator causing the car to lurch harshly.
My instincts of self preservation not lost in the war, I found myself grabbing the arm of the door so I didn't end up flying through the windshield when the car jerked to a stop. I threw him a sideways glare that he chose to blatantly ignore.
"So is this a party thing, or…" I wondered out loud.
"You'll see." He leaned in to kiss me again, and his lips lingered a little longer, pressing closer. And as wonderful as the sensation my body produced was, panic returned and I protested, pushing him away with firm hands on his chest.
"Not in front of my house, Blaise…"
His expression turned sour. "Sure," was all he said.
I buried the sudden pang of guilt that reared its head right were my heart was. He knew I hadn't told my parents about us yet, so it wasn't fair of him to act that way. Yes, he made it clear that he was tired of being secretive, but it was wrong of him to not try to keep it quiet for my sake. Somehow though, especially with that sour expression on his face, I always ended up feeling like I was the one in the wrong.
"But you owe me, Nevs."
"What?"
"You owe me. Big time."
"What are you—" I started to say, but then I realized he was joking and punched him in the shoulder. The Slytherin, such a sly bugger, I couldn't even tell when he was joking or not. "Does your mum know I'll be staying at your place tonight?"
I put on the stereo, turning up the volume. It blasted through the speakers just as Blaise answered.
"Sorry, what did you say?" I asked sheepishly.
He raised an eyebrow at my choice of station before muttering bitterly, "Mother knows I'm having friends over tonight. I doubt she'll even be home herself seeing as how it's a Friday. She's probably out man-hunting."
I nodded and didn't say anything else. That was a touchy subject.
As we reached the Zabini mansion, Blaise slowed the car to a moderate speed, parking it in the large driveway that wound around the back house.
"We can apparate from here," he said.
"Wait, why didn't we just apparate from my house?"
"Neville. You know I like to show off my baby," he said, fingers caressing the sleek hood of the car.
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Sometimes I didn't even know why I bothered asking. And sometimes I wondered just how much he really loved his baby. "Of course, how could I forget about your baby? I'm such a bad boyfriend," I said in the most sincere voice I could muster.
"I have no idea, and yes you are. But here," he said as he reached a hand out to me. And I stupidly let him grab me. "If you rub her the right way, she'll forgive you and I might forgive you."
I drew my arm back and shook my head at his stupidity, arms crossed stubbornly in front of me. "You're such an idiot, Blaise."
He sighed dramatically with his eyes drifting over the surface of his car, following the same line of movement as his hand over its shiny paint. "That's not what my baby says."
I huffed impatiently and shifted my weight on his legs as he took his time appreciating the body of the car. "Blaise…"
He chuckled, shaking his head at my normal behavior as he gestured towards me. "C'mon, I'll apparate us there."
"Or I could also—"
"What?" Blaise teased.
And I wasn't one to pout, but if I was…"—apparate myself, you know."
"I know. But what's the use of that when it allows me to do this..." There was a predatory gaze in Blaise's eyes when he pounced.
Playing innocent, I pretended I hadn't seen this from a mile away. I was rewarded for my acting skills by the warm sensation of Blaise's rugged form pressed miraculously against mine. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his smiling ones as his strong arms wound around my waist. When we stumbled against the car, I reveled in the security of being sandwiched between Blaise's warmth and the mass of metal and horsepower behind me.
"At least your baby's good for something," I mumbled between kisses.
"My baby is good for a lot of things," Blaise suggested as his hands slid snugly into the back pockets of my pants. My arms tightened around him, a moan escaping my lips and into the kiss as Blaise's tongue probed my mouth. It slid against teeth and the sensitive roof, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine.
At the sensation of cool fingertips brushing the skin above the curve of my ass, I drew away in amazement but mostly anxiety, wondering when his hands had crept underneath and why it had to feel so good. Reaching for his hands on my hips, I delivered one last kiss before completely detaching from the randy beast that was Blaise.
"Aren't we late already?" I asked quietly.
"Yeah," he replied with his voice husky from arousal. "Just give me a minute." And he turned to lean against the roof of the car. I stood awkwardly behind him, trying to decide whether to tuck my hands into my pockets and wait or fill the silence with something witty—or both.
At first, I felt a little uncertain at how fast things seemed to move between us. It was only a little over six months since we'd became official, but on most days, I felt like I was ready for so much more; I could feel the desire growing within me each passing day that I spent with Blaise. I thought I was ready, but every time Blaise's hands started to drift under my clothes, I tensed. Soon, I realized I didn't know how to open up, allow myself to feel so freely.
Sex. It was so physical; I wasn't insecure about my body, I was comfortable in my skin. But sharing it so freely with another person? Naked and in the open? That was something so personal and intimate, and I worried sometimes if I would ever be ready for it.
Granted, Blaise was a virgin just as well, but he always had this air of knowledge and experience about him, even with things he only just tried. Meanwhile, I, Neville Longbottom, along with other things in my life, just wasn't sure, so I stole kisses and appreciated those moments when we were pressed together so firmly.
xxxxx
Blaise eventually apparated us to a dark alley and immediately, I sensed that we were a far ways from home. I took in my surrounding, noting how much darker it was and how the air felt heavier around me. I stared up at the stars peeking through the blanket of darkness above us and noticed that there weren't nearly as many as there would be if we were back home.
Before I had time to make any connections, he ushered me towards an inconspicuous one-story brick building on the other side of the street. I stared at it suspiciously, tugging on Blaise's hand as we approached.
"Where is this?" I asked, worry ringing in my tone.
"You'll see."
"Blaise…"
"Neville…" he mirrored.
I stopped and tugged again. "Tell me." I could be stubborn when the situation called for it.
He sighed. "Well, you remember that underground clu—"
"Blaise, you didn't!" I yelled and pulled out of his grasp. I stepped away from him and stared at the drab building ahead of us. "This is where you brought me for our date?" I asked incredulously.
He nodded. "This is it," he replied casually. "Something different. Isn't that what you wanted?"
I was skeptical.
"Trust me," he said.
The truth? I was a very comfortable person. Comfortable in the sense that I didn't like to try new things. Especially social new things, but Blaise always felt that maybe it was part of his place, his "role", so to speak, in our relationship, to expose me to things that I wouldn't experience otherwise. Sure, what they say is true: "you never know until you try", but he always liked to mention how sometimes, all it took was a little persuasion from someone I trusted.
By sometimes, he meant a lot of times. By a little, he meant a lot of persuasion. And by someone, he was talking about himself. Typical.
I stared at the building in disbelief before turning to Blaise with arms crossed over my chest. There was a mixture of emotions running through my mind and I couldn't decide which was the most relevant, which would make the difference. Uncertainty.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive," he said beckoning me back to his side, gesturing at the building with a dramatic wave of his hand. "This is Stardust, the infamous underground club for wizards, witches, and magical beings." It sounded so official.
"Okay," I accepted, though I remained unconvinced.
"Trust me," he repeated.
He walked up to the heavy wooden door to pull the brass knocker. He knocked three times, then twice, then once, continuously eyeing me while I stood uneasily beside him. I ran my fingers through my short hair to calm my nerves, but Blaise, fed up with my endless fidgeting grabbed my hand to stop my nervous habit.
"Relax. You'll pull all your hair out. Geez, you and Draco, both," he said shaking his head. "Besides, I rather like your hair…"
"I didn't cut it for you, you know," I responded confidently.
"Sure you didn't. It just happened to lose a few inches the very same week I commented on how long it was getting. What a coincidence, Neville."
I blushed and looked anywhere but at Blaise. "Don't flatter yourself."
"It's okay, Nevs. I find it absolutely endearing, adorable even, that you would do that for me," he said in a smooth voice, pulling me into a hug to run his fingers through my hair.
"I'm not adorable!" I mumbled, unresponsive to his attentions.
"So you did do it for me?" he asked, eyes searching.
Maybe. Maybe not.
The heavy door swung open to reveal a tall girl dressed in black from head to toe. She wore a long-sleeved fishnet crop top over a metallic bandeau, displaying her belly button ring and several tattoos. Her skirt, made of leather, went halfway down her thigh, leaving her legs bare but for the gladiator sandals that wrapped around up to her knees. Her hair was a myriad of colors ranging from a dark purple to a fiery red, and piercings adorned her lips, her nose, her eyebrows; when she opened her mouth to speak, the shiny head of a tongue ring glistened from the streetlights.
"Hi, I'm Jamie!" She held out her hand in introduction and waved us in. "Come on in, the party's only getting started!" The timbre of her voice was rich. She gave off an air of warmth and friendliness, quite contradictory to her appearance.
As we followed behind her, I noted that she had the tattoo of a tiny dark red rose on the back of one of her calves and the rose vine swirled into a name that we couldn't decipher.
"Blaise…" I whispered lowly, "Are you sure?" I asked again, emphasizing the last word.
"Yes, I'm absolutely, positively, most assuredly sure. Are you?" he teased.
"Obviously not."
Jamie led us through a colorful waterfall of beaded curtains and then everything was different.
The first thing I noticed—well, heard—about the room was the loud music blaring from the walls. It was like the walls were the speakers because I could feel the music echoing all around us. It bounced off the walls and through my feet, and at the same time, I could feel it in the air waves and under my skin. The walls were a dark purple with blue lights infused all around. The air was heavy around us from the collected body heat of its occupants and it reeked of alcohol and musk, a scent I feared would take some time to adjust to.
On a lower level, to the left, was a seating area of leather booths and tables littered with abandoned food, drinks, and belongings. Directly to the right was the bar, which took up a whole corner of the large room. The counter was shaped like a curved angle, making it available to people coming from both the seating area and the dance floor. The crowded dance floor took up the most amount of space in the large area, stretching past the bar on the right and far into the left.
Jamie turned around with her hands on her hips. "SO!" She clasped her hands in front of her. "The lounge is on the lower level, the dance floor is over there, and that there, is obviously the bar. YOU GUYS HAVE FUN!" she exclaimed.
A few steps off, she pivoted on her feet with a hand stretched out. There was a saccharine smile stretched across her face as she snapped her fingers at us. "Waaands," she sang.
Blaise frowned at the idea of having to hand his wand over to a stranger who snapped her fingers at him and sang to him when he didn't request it. I nervously patted my pockets before reaching into my pants, resizing my wand and handing it over.
"Don't worry boys, I'll take good care of these."
All too soon, she walked away, throwing her hands in the air and swaying her leather clad hips as she moved to the music. She disappeared behind a door by the bar, yelling something out to Marcel as she went by.
"C'mon, let's go find everyone," Blaise said, eyes roaming around the room.
I worried my lip as he tugged me along. "Will our wands be okay?"
Blaise chuckled at my genuine concern. "I don't know about yours, but my wand's doing just fine."
"Oh…" I replied, at a loss for words.
"Our wands are fine, Neville," he reassured.
As we headed towards a mop of hair that undoubtedly belonged to Ron Weasley, Blaise uncaringly pushed aside sweaty bodies, teenagers that seemed to be high off the possibilities of the young night.
I spotted Harry and Draco in a darker corner of the arena. Draco was pressed against the wall and it looked like his the grip of his legs and arms wound around Harry's body was the only thing keeping him upright. Harry was obsessed with Draco neck; he was always nuzzling, biting, and even now, he was attached. The first time I had accidentally caught them snogging had been a little embarrassing, and not for them, for me. Harry had said hi, then went back to nuzzling, biting, as if snogging your boyfriend in the middle of the boy's common room was the most normal thing to do. The same thing happened a lot more times after that.
By now, it was fairly normal to see them like that, but I still felt weird about it.
Blaise shook his head at their display as he took my hand in his. The room was warm and I was nervous, so unsurprisingly, my palm was a bit sweaty. Whether he didn't notice or just didn't care, I didn't know, but I was equally satisfied with both.
"Neville! Blaise!" Hermione screeched. She gazed excitedly between the two of us as if we hadn't had lunch just the day before.
I waved. "Hey, Hermione."
She grabbed each of us in a tight overenthusiastic hug and stood back to take in our attire, nodding in genuine appreciation, and even going as far as to smooth her arms over the collar of my vest.
"Looking good, Nev," she said with a wink, one eye flitting to Blaise.
I blushed. I'd say I dressed pretty appropriately considering I hadn't known where I was going tonight. And I had almost worn some nicer pants. Thank Merlin they hadn't been pressed. "Thanks Hermione."
Blaise nodded subtly and said with a grin that showed off his teeth, "Not too bad yourself, Granger." There was that friendly charm again.
She giggled excitedly and waved off his compliment, turning back to Ron as she gestured for us to follow. She was dressed in a burgundy camisole and a pair of dark gray dress shorts with matching cuffs on her left wrists. Her hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail that swung behind her as she danced away. I noticed she swayed slightly ahead of us, her movements slightly unsteady and heavy, and it probably didn't help that she was wearing four inch heels.
I'd never seen her like this before, not even at the Graduation Ball after-party that we had for all the 8th years.
"Oh, my God," I said quietly, "Hermione's drunk."
"Don't worry," Blaise said. "We'll get there soon."
He was so excited to get to drinking, but the thought of being so unaware was a little unnerving to me. At the same time, I didn't want to be the only one not enjoying myself because I couldn't relax a little. Even Hermione had let loose. And so, after a bit of self-negotiating, I decided that one drink couldn't be that bad, and maybe even two if I could still see straight afterwards.
"You look like you're trying to remember how to make a potion," Blaise joked. "And we all know how that usually ends up," he said, nudging me with his elbow.
For some strange reason, I'd gradually developed the ability to laugh at my shortcomings, Potions included. "Thank Merlin those days are over…"
"Yeah," he said.
As we cut through the crowd around the bar, I stayed close, allowing his arm to linger comfortably around my waist. It was strange. So many people were gathered around the bar, some snapping their fingers impatiently at the bartender that was working his butt off just to get their orders out, but no one was willing to sit and wait for it. We finally got some spots on two of the many empty stools, and Blaise leaned in to whisper in my ear, though with the blasting music, it came out more like a shout:
"We drink then we dance," he said, eyes alight with anticipation. And when he spoke, his lips subtly brushed the shell of my ear and induced a shiver as hot breath drifted over my skin.
"…okay." I had made my peace with the first part of that statement, but the second, not so much.
"We have some catching up to do!" he said excitedly. He signaled to Marcel that we were ready to order, smooth and confident as ever.
"I'll be right with you, man," the bartender stated, eyes barely focusing, then lingering, looking me over in a way that made me uncomfortable.
"What do you want?" Blaise asked.
I shrugged. "I don't know, you pick."
Moments later, Marcel walked up to us, smiling brightly, a film of perspiration reflecting the light of the club on his brow. He was a man of average height in his early twenties with short dark hair and dark brown eyes. His face was clean cut and expressive, faint lines creasing on his brow, around his eyes and lips when he spoke.
"What can I get you two?" he drawled, eyes piercing, an unknown meaning in his gaze.
And I didn't like him at all.
He was at the other side making our drinks when I confided in Blaise. "Did he seem a little strange to you?"
"Bartenders are always a little strange, Neville," he responded.
I frowned because he obviously didn't understand the point I was trying to make. "No, I mean, he sort of creeps me out…" I said, tracing the nicks and scratches on the table. "You know?"
He laughed and teased me for being hyped up, in a bad way. "Geez Neville, relax for a change."
Change. Change was a funny thing.
"I'm sorry," he said, noticing that I wasn't going along with the uptight-Neville joke.
Change is bound to happen, though for some, later than sooner. I could always feel something simmering below the surface of who I was on a daily basis. I just didn't know how to let it grow. In the end, it took several battles and a war to let it out, knowing that I was needed as an essential part of something that mattered. I suppose I just needed to know that there was a reason for the change. And it's kind of funny, but once I reached that point where everything was changing, I started changing too, and afterwards, I couldn't imagine myself being any other way.
Then the war had started closing in around us and everything happened so quickly. Students were coming together, houses were joining, rivalries were being pushed aside—enemies even became…involved—and amidst the war all we had was each other, we supported each other because together we were stronger.
Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. All working together for the greater good. Like Hermione had said, history itself was circular. Hogwarts hadstarted with the four founders working together to build a place where all magical children could come to as a safe haven, a place to learn more about their heritage and how to grow into their powers. Years later, all four houses once again came together to help protect and rebuild that magical world.
Of course, Salazar's Slytherin had gone on a tirade about Blood Purity which led to the Chamber of Secrets, but that was the kind of history that people learned from and hopefully didn't repeat.
Months later, here we were: the night wasn't heavy with dread and we were free of the inevitable doom that settled over our heads for those many months.
And Harry! Harry was nearly shagging Draco against the wall on the dance floor. Watching them always made me wonder what people saw when they saw Blaise and I together. It was different for Harry and Draco. Physically, they were polar opposites, but emotionally and in all the ways that mattered, they wanted the same things. With Blaise and I, we were just different, and in a strange way, not opposite end of magnets like Harry and Draco. Just different.
Someone nudged me and pulled me from my thoughts. It was Blaise, and he was smirking at me mischievously, almost as if he was thinking of something that he thought I should be aware of but didn't want to say it out loud.
"What are you brooding about?" he asked.
"Nothing."
"Okay," he said, but he was still smirking.
His eyes didn't leave mine as hand crept up my thigh under the table, his energy seeping into my skin. It was warm and exciting, the way Luna said she felt when she ate that last biscuit that she knew everyone wanted to grab but wouldn't. His hand moved further up, to the point where his thumb continually brushed against my groin and after a few seconds, the heady rush of something hot and tingly throughout my body alerted my reasonable side that it was too much. I eased his hand away and stared at the assortment of drinks lined up against the wall, along the bar, different shades of different colors.
I subtly glanced around the bar. I hoped no one was watching, but within moments, I had the misfortune of making eye contact with Marcel. His dark eyes were shifty and he attempted a smile, an acknowledging nod that my mind refused to register.
Beside me, Blaise cleared his throat and adjusted himself on the stool. "So, I ordered your drink for you since you were brooding. About nothing," he said with a slight emphasis.
"Oh. Wha'd'you get me?"
"You'll see."
"Blaise…I'm not sure you really know what I like," I teased.
He laughed, probably remembering the look on my face after I bit into the Reuben sandwich he had urged me to try at lunch the day before.
"Really, now?" He leaned in and I could feel his breath on my ear, "because that's not what you said last night," he whispered, a peck, then a nibble that had my stomach lurching.
"We didn't even see each other last night, stupid," I retorted as quickly as the thought crossed my mind. Our faces were so close together, I could almost see the individual specks of brown radiating from the center of his eyes.
"I know, but I saw you in my dreams," he said, "and last night was an especially good dream." He licked his lips hungrily and I caught his eyes as they gazed down to my lips.
I knew he was talking about one of those dreams of course, but the fact that he so openly admitted it made the hot tingle feel like a sunburst, the heat trying to escape my body all at once. It made me feel antsy to get up and anything but sit still, knowing he was watching me so closely, probably thinking about all the things that happened in that dream that I was too nervous to do in reality.
"That's nice…"
He chuckled at my bafflement. "I told Mother about you yesterday…"
"Oh. What did she say?" I was surprised that he would bring her up in conversation.
"Nothing. She has no idea who you are," he said with a small smile. "But then I told her that we'd been steady for six months now…"
"Okay," I said.
Marcel approached us with our drinks, setting blue square napkins beneath the glasses. The blue liquid sloshed over the side of my glass and dripped over his fingers. He wiped his hand with a small cloth from his back pocket, lingering by us as though he had something to say.
"Enjoy."
And I swear Blaise must have night blindness, because he didn't witness the obvious advance that Marcel was making on his own boyfriend right in front of his eyes. I stared at him in disbelief.
"Do you want to hear the rest of the story?" he asked, stirring the straw in his drink.
"Not if you're going to make me beg for it," I accused. "Because I won't." He had a habit of unnecessarily dragging out the details of a story almost to the point when everyone listening was practically begging him to get it over with.
"Aww. Well, then I told her that if I could manage to date a Gryffindor for six months, she can try to keep a wizard for that long. Well, that, plus a few expletives here and there."
"Why does it matter that I was a Gryffindor?"
"It doesn't," he reassured. "I was just trying to make a point, but I don't think she got it." Then he laughed, but I noticed that it didn't reach his eyes.
"I don't think she cares," I admitted, watching him stare into his drink.
"Well, I wish she cared about something," he confessed. "Then maybe I'd let her meet you." He finally looked up from his drink, but his face was blank of expression save for a sad lopsided grin.
I smiled back at him, showing my support in the best way I knew how, but he was distracted. He kept glancing over at the dance floor where a group of Slytherins I didn't know were congregated. Now, there were all looking in his direction, waving him over after they spotted him in the crowd.
"I'll be right back Nev," he said, landing a small kiss to my lips. "Don't get drunk without me."
Left alone at a bar, I watched sadly as he walked towards the dance floor, squeezing past gyrating bodies and swaying hips. After he reached the group of Slytherins, I drew my eyes away from his slim figure, instead, scanning the crowd for anyone else I might know. I spotted Ron and Hermione moving together, with each other. It was still a little difficult to wrap my mind around Hermione's not quite sober state. Never in my lifetime would I have thought that I would see her dressed like that, dancing like that… and drunk. But alas.
People continued drifting into the club, some of their faces familiar, some of us strangers.
I wasn't much of a dancer, but I couldn't help swaying a bit to the bumping bass of the music blasting from the speakers, tapping my foot with the rhythms.
"You two together?" I heard a voice ask.
I turned towards the voice. It was the bartender guy. What was his name? Mark? Mason? Marcel. How could I have forgotten?
He set our drinks down on the bar and when he glanced up, his brown eyes were extremely focused, so much so that it appeared he had trained his self to maintain a certain level of eye contact in such situations. He had a strange expression on his face that I couldn't decipher, except to say that it was open, yet controlled.
"Yeah, have been for a few months now," I replied as easily as I could. I wasn't too fond of talking to strangers and especially not a creepy stranger at a bar that made too much eye contact.
He picked up a dirty glass from the counter to clean it with a small rag as he nodded to my response. One of his eyebrows arched mid-sentence, and his tone changed noticeably. It was colder, almost hostile. "You make an interesting couple," he said. And though it wasn't an outright statement, I felt that he was suggesting Blaise and I were not fit to be together.
"Thanks," I replied indifferently. I didn't ask his approval so I didn't feel the need to defend the honor of my relationship with Blaise.
Placing the glass back on the shelf, he picked another, nodding to someone at the other end of the bar. I sipped from my drink and watched the condensed droplets of water slide down the glass of Blaise's drink. "Don't take offense to this, mate, but he doesn't really seem like your type."
My glass was halfway to my mouth when I felt my shoulders tense, only to aim what I hoped was an irritated gaze his way. "Okay, mate," I said, setting the glass down forcefully. "What exactly are you getting at?"
He raised his hands in the air in a sign of surrender—glass, rag, and all. "Nothing, just saying."
"Well, say nothing to someone else," I spat and turned to face the dance floor.
Slamming my now empty glass onto the counter, I grabbed Blaise's shorter glass to steal a sip of the cold drink. It was bitter, burning as it went down my throat, leaving behind a warmth that was not too unpleasant. I turned back to Marcel and, not even bothering to hide my irritation, ordered another of the drink I had just finished. The deal I made with myself earlier still stood. After all, I could still see straight.
Heslid the bright blue cocktail to me with a crooked grin. "Careful with that. It tastes sweet, but it's dangerous."
I grabbed the drink off the counter—Blaise's now diluted mix in my other hand—and headed towards the dance floor, far, far away from Marcel and his out of place humor, if he had meant for that statement to be funny.
xxxxx
I slowly made my way towards Blaise on the dance floor, squeezing between sweaty bodies with my arms raised to keep the drinks from being jostled. Merlin, I hated crowds. It was too many people in one place at once.
"Neville!" The music was loud, but I could hear my name being called from somewhere.
"Neeeville!" Oh, Hermione. "Yoo-hoo!" A very drunken Hermione.
I followed the bellowing to find her and a few others of the Gryffindor gang plus Pansy and Draco trying to cram into a small booth. Blaise looked a little busy with his Slytherin posse, so I decided to join since I figured he wouldn't be looking for me for quite some time.
Pansy didn't even give me a moment to breathe after I sat before she started asking all sorts of questions. "So…what's up with you and Blaise tonight?"She peeked over her martini glass.
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Watching her sip from her glass, I was reminded of my drink and Blaise's now lighter one still in my hand. I pushed to the center of the table and drank some of the blue liquid in my glass, enjoying the sweetness overcoming my taste buds. Well, maybe Blaise did know what I liked because if there was any alcohol in my drink, I certainly couldn't taste it.
"I mean…" she leaned in closer, and I could smell the fruitiness of her drink as she breathed heavily in my face in an attempt to whisper. "…do you guys have any plans for tonight?" And she wiggled her eyebrows. "The horizontal tango? A little roll in hay? Did you guys do it yet? Did you shag?" She fired off all at once, and at first I really had no idea what she was trying to say with all the expressions she was throwing at me, but her last question was blunt enough to make me squirm in my seat.
"Well…" I shifted uncomfortably.
Pansy and Hermione burst out into a fit of giggles. Ron shook his head and his face was probably as red as mine. No, mine was definitely redder. And Harry just laughed until Draco elbowed him in the ribs, whispering something into his ear.
How embarrassing.
"You guys, lay off it…" Draco started, "…he's obviously a blushing virgin."
Was it that obvious? "We're waiting!" I managed to get out.
Where was Blaise anyway, he'd been gone since forever. I sighed, flustered, and stirred the ice in my drink.
"Aw, Nevs, we're sorry," Hermione said, reaching across the table to squeeze my wrist. "You know we're just teasing."
"Don't worry about it, 'Mione."
"Let's go dance!" Pansy screamed.
But before I had the chance to decline, she had grabbed my wrists and the next thing I know, we were headed to the dance floor, Hermione in tow. I was flanked by two drunk, crazed girls but since I knew them, it was difficult to decide if this was an unfortunate situation or not. Just because I was being dragged to the dance floor and I knew I didn't know how to dance, I protested all the way there, whining my complaints to deaf ears.
Stationary in the middle of too many moving bodies, Pansy grabbed my arms, encouraging movement as she swayed her hips to the music. And then she tried to get me to dance with her.
"Spin me!" she ordered, leading herself into a spin.
Hermione took hold of my other arm, and I guess I had had too much to drink because my resistance was weak, leading me to find myself in the center of the dance floor.
"I don't know about this Pansy…" I said.
I felt weird, like the music was creeping into my body; I wanted to dance, but I couldn't let the music take control.
"Just dance Neville!" Hermione yelled. Ron had joined her and they were extremely close and moving against each other in a very…sexual way.
Pansy grabbed my arms and started to dance for me and she danced around me, forcing me to move with her.
It was awkward as I watched everyone else move so easily. It was even more awkward when I caught a glance of Marcel, and he was watching me carefully. I didn't want to believe that he was really looking at me, of course. Maybe he was just looking in my general direction, scoping out the crowd, making sure everything was going okay. Maybe I had made eye contact at the exact time that he looked at the little area in the middle of the dance floor where we were dancing. Maybe…and I wanted to believe that it was all a coincidence, but something in my gut was telling me otherwise.
Too soon, I gave into the force that seemed to be driving everyone else. I felt better when I didn't try to fight it. Then something happened. I couldn't really define what it was but it was quick to take hold in my existence in that moment. It was in my bones, in my blood, under my skin, everywhere.
I started to move, trying to dance with the music and what little discomfort I was feeling eased as all thoughts of Marcel left my mind. There was a rush of blood to my head and a flood of warm energy to my body; my arms waved around in the air, my hips swayed, and my feet stomped. I was in synchrony with the music, and it felt too right and perfect, like nothing I'd ever experienced before.
I was dancing and everyone around me was dancing too, just like me, with bodies crushing against each other, laughter and grins everywhere. The energy on the dance floor swam through the hot air and through the atmosphere that grew increasingly dense with it. That energy was building up within me too and I wondered if everyone else felt it the same way that I did. So I threw my head back, screaming as I sang along with the song blasting through the speakers and everyone screamed too and so I sang some more and we sang together like a conversation until we were communicating as one.
Everyone was happy and I was happy. I could feel the grin stretched across my face, but I still felt like it did nothing to show to pure joy that was running through my veins and I couldn't find the words to describe the way I felt so I sang some more. And in retrospect, I realized that I didn't know the lyrics to the songs that were played but the words that I said and the words that everyone said seemed to fit so perfectly, I was almost sure I had known these songs before.
There were bodies everywhere. As Pansy danced on me, Hermione brushed against me and strangers touched me. It was warm skin against warm skin, soft skin against soft skin, and just skin teasing me. It was like cuddling with Blaise under the blankets; his hands would ease underneath to caress, his hot tongue would lick my neck, and his teeth would graze my earlobes in a way that was nice and comforting and wholesome. And I wanted, wanted, wanted to touch everyone and I wanted everyone to touch me.
I flung my arms around Pansy, pressing the length of my body against hers. We danced and we all had a good time with our skin against each other.
"Not so bad now, is it?" she asked.
I laughed loudly though my throat was dry. I was parched. "This is amazing!" I rasped out.
Then I had to make my way off the dance floor, heading towards the bar for some water, some juice maybe, just no more drinks, none of that blue stuff. I swayed slightly as I made my way over, bodies crashing into me, and unlike before where I had been irritated, the bodies excited me and I smiled, I laughed, and I hugged because it felt right, like it was the only thing to do when another person brushed against me.
I thought I spotted Blaise along the way there, but someone bumped into me, and in the moment that I turned to acknowledge them, Blaise had disappeared, so I shrugged to myself and carried on.
As I made way to a stool, it appeared that Marcel was expecting me, his eyes trained on me until I found a seat that allowed me a good view of the dance floor. I hadn't forgotten our earlier conversation, but it seemed he hadn't either because he didn't say anything when I asked for a bottle of water, simply tossing me one smugly, as if he knew something that I didn't.
His eyes shone like he understood how I felt, and the spirit of the moment, I thought that it wouldn't hurt to be kind. After all, I would never see him again after tonight. I tossed back a few gulps of water, offered a grin, then headed to the restroom.
At the sink, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, a little confused at the image staring back at me. I was sweaty and very much disheveled, having the appearance of someone who had gotten lost somewhere and barely made it out in time.
I had just walked out of the restroom when someone shoved me against the wall, pressing their body into mine.
Still in a haze, it took me a while to realize who it was. It was Marcel, but there was a strange feeling in my gut telling me that the Marcel I was looking at now was not the same one that I had been introduced to earlier that night. He had a grin on his face, but it was lacking the open warmth that I found so endearing when Blaise grinned. His grin was practiced and cocky. He put his hands on either side my head, heat from his body surrounding my already warm one.
"Marcel."
"Neville, was it?"
"Neville, it is."
I felt a little uncertain looking into his shifting eyes. Everything was a little hazy and I couldn't remember why I should feel this way but for the fact that his cologne was too strong and he was in my personal space. With a hand on his chest, I pushed him back so he wasn't huffing in my face.
He took my hand, but instead of shaking it and releasing it, held on with his rough clammy hand, tracing his fingertips over my palm—a move that was soothing with Blaise, but had no effect with him, whatsoever. "Are you a virgin?"
"Er, why do you want to know?"
He laughed. "How do you feel right now?" His face was extremely close, his stale breath too warm, and I didn't understand why he was asking all these strange questions.
"Pretty amazing."
"I can make you feel even more amazing," he growled, and I could feel the deep rumble in his chest as he pressed himself against me.
I doubted that I could feel better than I already did, but I laughed anyway. "How?"
"Neville!" Blaise.
Blaise hurried over to me with his face twisted in concern, pain, and guilt. In the blink of an eye, Marcel was shoved to the ground where Harry stood over his prone form, a foot pressed angrily into his back.
Terrified, and probably very uncomfortable with his vulnerable position, Marcel squirmed beneath Harry's heavy foot, trying to ease the pressure holding him down.
"Don't you fucking move!" Harry yelled.
"Neville," Blaise said, tapping my cheek lightly to draw my attention away from Harry and Marcel. "Are you okay?"
"What? I'm fine," I said brushing off his hands that had settled on my shoulder.
For some reason, Blaise grew irate at my answer and turned to unleash his anger on Marcel, who, sensing the anger coming his way, started to squirm again. Harry knelt to force his knee into Marcel's back, twisting his arms behind him.
Blaise yelled, absolutely livid, "You bloody fucking ASSHOLE!" He kicked Marcel in the side.
"Blaise!"
He didn't hear me, or pretended not to, and continued deliver blow after blow to Marcel's side, ribs, back—designer shoes and all. There was enough strength behind each kick that I could hear bones…something cracking beneath the pressure.
"Blaise! You don't have to—" I reached towards him, fear bubbling up in my chest, but Harry held me against the wall, a firm hand on my chest.
"It's okay, Neville. He's deserves it," he said acidly.
"I don't understand," I said.
Blaise spun on his heels. "What?" he asked angrily. "That scumbag had his hands all over you!"
"He didn't do anything Blaise!"
"He hadn't done anything, yet," he said, delivering another kick to the groaning body lying on the floor as if he was promising that there was more to come. He hadn't done anything yet compared to what still lay in stock for him. "Sleazy git." Another blow, more gruesome than the last. A few more before it got to be too much.
I winced and turned away, a strange tightness in my chest.
"Hey," Blaise said, standing in front of me, arms on both sides of my body, so I couldn't see past him. It was then I realized I had been so focused on removing myself from the situation that I hadn't noticed when Harry left my side. "I'm sorry, let's go, okay?" His expression was one of sadness, but guilt was etched into the downturned corners of his lips and eyes.
"Blaise…"
"I'm sorry! Let's just go," he repeated. "Okay? I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have. And especially not with him. You told me he made you uncomfortable, you told me you didn't like the way he was looking at you, you told me all of this and I left you alone with him! Who knows what he—" His hand slammed against the wall, then came to curve at my cheek. "But you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." If a little light-headed.
"You're okay," he repeated. By now, it seemed to me he was trying to reassure himself more than anything else.
"Watch him," he said to Harry, eyeing Marcel with pure hate in his eyes. "We're not done with you yet. Your manager's going to hear about this too." He pulled me into the restroom; he wanted to know what happened.
"I don't remember very well."
He pressed me into a wall and placed his hands on my shoulders, urging me to focus.
"Neville, look at me," he said, a directing hand on my chin. "What have you been drinking?" He was concerned, but I didn't understand why.
"Nothing," I grinned, "just some water and a sip…."
"A sip of what?" he asked. He kept looking in my eyes as if he expected to find the answer to all these questions he had all of a sudden. "Tell me what you had to drink, Neville," he commanded.
"Just the…blue stuff and your stuff and some water stuff."
A fit of giggles and hiccups later, I was looking into disturbed brown eyes.
"Yeah, we're leaving."
Harry had forced Marcel against the wall and the side of his face pressed harshly into the rough surface. He and Blaise shared a look to which Blaise nodded before leading away with an arm wrapped tightly around my waist.
As we left, I dared a glance to catch Marcel's apologetic gaze. There was fear in his eyes too, but I didn't know what to make of it.
Halfway between the restroom and the booths, he suddenly steered us towards the dance floor, holding me very close and I felt like he was dragging me along through a field of swaying bodies. I also wrapped my arms around his waist as he forced his way through the masses, reveling in his body and the warmth that we shared intertwined. The energy coming from him was the hottest of all, fiery and alive.
He was whispering something to Draco, who kept glancing over at me with that same scrutinizing look on his face. I was tired of standing around and told Blaise that I wanted to dance, but apparently, he didn't think it was a good idea, repeating over and over that we were leaving, and "don't you remember?"
We were heading back towards the lounge with Draco and Pansy trailing behind us. All the way there, I protested having to leave so early since we'd only gotten there a few hours ago, but Blaise continually told me the same thing:
"Neville, we're going home, okay?"
"Okay, Blaise."
"Okay?" he asked.
"A-Okay," I replied with a grin, but he only smiled tightly.
I grabbed his cheeks. "Cheer up!" I said, pulling so his lips turned upwards. "You should've danced…with me," I mumbled into his ear. Then I laughed as I stared at his head because it almost glistened under the lights of the club.
"I guess I owe you a dance then."
"You're very sexy," I admitted to him. "You have a nice head." And then I let my hands stray lower on his body, "and a nice ass," I added, and all the while he just kept dragging me along with a firm grip around my waist like I would really leave his fiery energy when he was the hottest. "And I bet you have a beautiful—"
"Neville."
"Blaise!"
We got to the booth and everyone gathered their things as I jealously stared at the people still dancing on the dance floor. Blaise appeared in my line of sight, his hand coming to rest on my hip.
"See you soon, okay?" he said.
I nodded and received a quick peck on the lips before I saw him head back to the hallway with the restrooms.
Draco, who also looked a little put off about leaving, took me by the hand and we made our way to the exit. We got our wands back, and then we were at Malfoy Manor.
At the manor, the party continued. The house elves herded us into a small lounge where there were snacks and drinks sitting on the counter by the small home bar against the wall. There were couches and sofas and a music system was set up in the front of the room by the fireplace where a small fire was growing.
Ron and Hermione immediately settled into one of the smaller seats, Hermione dropping herself into his lap. Unsurprisingly, Pansy stalked to the bar to mix more drinks and Draco unceremoniously dumped me on the couch and grabbed the stereo remote. I spread out on cushions made of the softest material I ever had the chance of touching, rubbing my cheeks into the couch. The cool fabric felt extremely nice and I could have fallen asleep right then if I weren't so jittery.
"Where's Blaise…and Harry?" I looked up at Draco for an answer because he seemed to know what was going on but he shrugged. "What are they doing to Marcel?"
"I don't know Neville," he sighed. He sounded annoyed as he fiddled with the buttons on the stereo. "They'll be here soon enough."
"Is Luna still coming?" I asked.
"Yeah, and a lot of others too!" Pansy exclaimed, falling on the couch and draping herself over my lower body comfortably.
I was very aware of the warmth of every inch of her body pressing into mine and I buzzed inside at her proximity. Not that I was attracted to her, but I found it extremely pleasant to have her body pressing into mine. I could have stayed that way all night.
Then Blaise and Harry stormed into the small room with identical expressions of disgust. It confused me because Blaise was usually unexpressive, but right then—and a lot of times in the past few hours—he was an open book.
"Move it, Pansy," he snapped.
"Whoa, relax, tall, dark, and handsome, he's all yours." She slipped away from the couch and settled into the other single chair across from Ron and Hermione, sighing heavily and in a rather unladylike manner. She would have realized it if she wasn't so drunk.
Harry and Draco must have been talking about something scandalous. Harry had a goofy grin on his face like his insides were melting with bliss and Draco was smirking at him, and then kissing him lightly on the cheek, only to draw back with a smirk. And then the music started playing around the room, blasting out the walls though not nearly as loud as it had been at the club.
Blaise scooted closer, facing me. "I'm sorry about what happened earlier, tonight general. I ruined our date…" he said quietly, sincerely, fingers fiddling with the hair at the back of my neck.
"Err, no, it's okay. You can make it up," I teased, playing with the gold buttons on his shirt. "What was up with you and Harry, anyway?"
"Let's just say that Marcel isn't as nice as you think he is."
Well, what a surprise. I might not remember a lot of details about tonight's happenings, but I do remember saying something about a certain beady eyed bartender with a creepy vibe.
"His intentions were not…" I watched his expression change as he searched for the right words to say.
"Good?" I finished.
"Yes, precisely," he agreed and I glanced up to be brought face to face, nose to nose and chin to chin, because he was suddenly much closer than he had been only moments before.
Our eyes met and I tried to swallow the dryness in my throat.
"But it's taken care of now," he said, his wet tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip.
"Err…yeah…" What I wanted the most was just to—
"Bloody hell, just kiss already!" screamed Pansy.
"Shut the fuck up!" he yelled and I backed away, now aware that we were being watched.
Blaise grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me into the hallway with determination. Behind us, Pansy threw out catcalls that were followed by a chorus of laughter from the remaining occupants of the room.
"Where are we going?" I could smell the subtle musk of his cologne when he rested a warm hand on my back to steer me towards a semi-lit alcove. And then he pushed me back against a cold wall, surrounding me in his arms.
"I know you get embarrassed easily, and I've wanted to do this since I saw you dancing like a madman," he said with a slightly wavering voice.
"Oh, do what?" I asked, acting oblivious though I could feel his hands slipping down my back to my ass.
He leaned in slowly and I felt myself inching closer as well, our breaths mingling between us. He paused tentatively to stare and I whined in disappointment, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to pull us closer. His eyes sparkled, and he gave a low chuckle before brushing his lips against mine in a small, chaste kiss.
It wasn't enough.
Our kisses deepened and our breaths turned heavy. I pressed closer, a warm, excited sweetness running through me at the strength of his body forcing me against the wall. He pushed a leg between my thighs to brush against my groin and delicious heat rose between my legs.
"Blaise…" I breathed.
I felt my body reacting. I was getting harder and harder by the second, and I wasn't sure what I wanted, but I just felt so good and I didn't want to let that go. He bit my lip, sucking, and I groaned in response, his tongue tracing random patterns in my mouth.
And when his hand brushed my growing arousal as he unzipped my pants, Merlin, I couldn't wait. Inhibitions aside, I watched with hooded eyes and heavy breath—my shaking hands falling from his shoulder to hang beside me—as he stroked the outline of erection.
"I didn't know you could dance like that Neville," he whispered huskily, wrapping warm fingers around my hard length. I shut my eyes at the excess stimulation startling my nerves. He pulled me closer, planting a bruising kiss to my lips while his hand continued it's slow, deliberate movement.
I felt like my body wasn't mine, only borrowed, because right then it was too free.
FIN
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