Saving Him

Written by: ecocolate

Chapter 1

A/N: Hi everyone! This pairing and story idea has been floating around in my head for quite some time now and I haven't seen too many fanfictions for it so I thought I would try it out. Consider this chapter a test run - I'm not sure if I actually want to write it. If I get enough reviews asking to continue I might. It won't be a super long story, maybe 5-10 chapters at most, but I want it to be out there. Thanks for reading and please review~

Blaise stood patiently in line at Quidditch practice as Draco barked out orders at them, frustrated at their loss against Gryffindor. A few of their younger teammates winced slightly out of fear, but Blaise knew Draco wouldn't actually hurt them. He was always like that. All bark and no bite.

But perhaps he wasn't afraid because he knew Draco better than anyone. Draco was always cold to everyone else, never letting anyone close enough to really know him. Part of it was his father's fault. Lucius Malfoy had wanted a son just like himself, and so he tried to raise Draco in the same way. Cold, calculating, and cruel. But despite the cool exterior, Blaise knew that Draco didn't really want that kind of life. He only thought he did. There was so much pressure on him from his father to please the Dark Lord that he was bound to crack sometime, and it worried Blaise.

In order to please his father, Draco put on a sneer to face the world. The world didn't know that it was only a mask. It wasn't that Draco was secretly kind and caring, like a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. He wasn't either of those things. No, he was definitely a Slytherin at heart. He simply didn't know any better than to behave how he was taught to, to believe what he was forced to. And no one else seemed to see that except for Blaise.

It began to rain. He watched as the young Malfoy took a deep breath to collect himself and gave out practice assignments before dismissing the team. Draco stood there in the rain, his hair sticking to the side of his face, beads of water running down the nape of his neck underneath his uniform. Despite intense Quidditch practices, he was beginning to lose a lot of his muscles and become thinner due to not eating as much anymore. He sunk to his knees in the mud, just holding that position looking defeated.

It hurt Blaise to see him like this. His best friend, his only friend, pretending everything was fine when it wasn't. The Dark Lord wanted Draco to find a way into the castle, and for him to kill Dumbledore. Two things far too horrible to put on the shoulders of one boy. Any struggle Draco had, Blaise had. Any pain Draco felt, Blaise felt.

Blaise Zabini was in love with Draco Malfoy.

He quietly walked over to Draco and placed a hand on his left shoulder. He squeezed comfortingly. The rain blurred his vision and soaked his robes.

"Draco?"

Draco didn't answer. He usually never let his guard down like this, not with anyone except for Blaise.

"Draco, come on. Let's get inside." He said quietly and pulled Draco up and walked with him back to the castle in silence.

When they got into an empty hallway, Draco finally spoke.

"He's going to kill me, Blaise. He's going to kill my family. I've failed." His voice was barely a whisper.

Blaise ran his hand through his wet black hair and met Draco's grey eyes. "I won't let him," he promised.

This was met with a hollow laugh. "There's nothing you can do."

"Then let's go back to the vanishing cabinet. There must be something that you missed, a word you said incorrectly in the spell. It's not over." Blaise insisted, trying to talk some sense into him.

"There's not."

"We'll check again tomorrow." Not wanting to hear any more of his friend's predictions about death, Blaise turned to go to the prefect's bathroom to clean himself up.

Blaise relaxed in the warm, bubbly water of the Prefect's Bathroom bathtub. The heat helped soothe his aching muscles and cleared his head enough to think. How did he even end up in this place with Draco?

It all began in third year. Draco thought he would be able to show off like Potter had and ride Buckbeak. Instead, the beast had reared up and broken Draco's arm. Not that he blamed the animal, but it wasn't a nice thing to do to anyone.

That day Blaise had also been in the infirmary. He had unfortunately been paired with that oaf Seamus in potions class and of course their cauldron exploded. Right in his face. He had been temporarily blinded and was instructed to stay the night there. He lying on a cot when Draco was brought in. He couldn't see him obviously, but he could hear him crying about his arm. It had taken hours to calm him down. His father came to the infirmary soon after, said something about Dumbledore paying for this dearly. Finally, everything quieted down. Draco was placed on the cot next to him.

Night fell and Blaise was soon awoken by whimpering from Draco's cot. It was a quiet kind of crying. One you would only be able to identify if you had heard it enough times in your life. There was no one else in the infirmary that night, otherwise Draco probably wouldn't have been crying so publicly, even if he was trying to hide it.

Slowly opening his eyes, Blaise realized he could see again. His vision was a little bit blurry, but he wasn't blind anymore.

He turned onto his side and looked at Draco's bed. The blonde boy's teeth were clenched shut but he was gritting them together like he was in pain. Tears streamed down his cheeks, staining the pillow next to his ears. It was pitiful.

Blaise had never spoken to the young Malfoy before, other than the casual nod in the hallway for a fellow housemate or when they were partnered occasionally in class.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

Draco's eyes snapped open and he turned his head towards Blaise. His expression was one of fear at first, fear that someone saw him in a moment of weakness. Then it morphed into embarrassment.

"Oh. It's you. Zabini, right?" He asked in a tight voice trying to conceal his pain. Blaise made a sound of confirmation.

Blaise knew that Draco was the most influential person in Slytherin. Everyone in the school knew that. He respected the ability to win people over so easily, even without being a decent person to them. He all but ignored most of the girls giving him attention, except for the really pretty ones. He kept the mindless drones, Crabbe and Goyle around for muscle power. He was more of a bully in the class than anything. But still, there was something about seeing someone so tough in a position so vulnerable that Blaise couldn't help but care a slight bit.

"Are you alright?" Blaise asked.

Draco let out a shaky breath. "I think my pain potion wore off. I was supposed to be asleep all night so that Madame Pomfrey could give me more in the morning."

Blaise reached his hand out to feel the table beside him and used it as a grip to stand up. He reached for his wand. "Lumos!"

That was a mistake. His eyes hadn't fully healed yet and the light was excruciating. He groaned in pain and quickly put it out.

Draco laughed somewhat cruelly. "What's wrong with you, Zabini?"

He narrowed his eyes slightly into the darkness at Draco, the concern for him quickly dissipating. Blaise might be one of the kinder Slytherins, but he wasn't one to be pushed around either. "Don't be an ass. I was going to get you some pain potions from the closet. Now, I think I'll just go back to bed. Goodnight, Malfoy." He said irritated, lifting the covers up getting ready to get in it.

"W-wait!" Draco said, trying to sit up. However, moving seemed to cause him even more aggravation and he yelped in pain. Now the whimpering was even worse.

Blaise frowned. He had broken his wrist once before and knew that broken bones were painful without pain medication. With a new resolve, he grabbed his wand and cast lumos again, covering it with his hand this time so that the light wasn't as bright as before. He made his way over to the supply cabinet, putting the wand under his shirt to still keep it slightly covered and grabbed a bottle of pain potion.

He brought it back to Draco. "Here, Malfoy. Drink this," he said tilting Draco's head forward so that he could drink it.

After a minute, Draco had calmed down. It took another second for Blaise to realize that Draco had actually fallen back asleep.

When Blaise woke up the next morning his vision was fine. He looked over to Draco's cot, but he wasn't there. Well, it wasn't like Blaise was expecting a thank-you. He and Draco weren't friends.

Blaise didn't really have friends. He had people in Slytherin that he was friendly with, but not any real friends. It never really bothered him though. It wasn't really a secret that Blaise wanted to be put into Ravenclaw during first year. He had quite loudly asked the sorting hat to. When the sorting hat placed him into Slytherin, most of them ignored him, not sensing any loyalty from him as he looked longingly at the Ravenclaw table.

After that, he began to accept the fact that he was stuck in Slytherin forever. Not that he didn't have any Slytherin qualities, quite the opposite. But he didn't really fit in with anyone in Slytherin. Most of the Ravenclaws stayed away from him too because of his house affiliation in the end.

That morning Blaise finished getting ready and was passing through the common room to head down to breakfast a little bit late since Madame Pomfrey made him stay longer to check his vision again. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were there waiting for him. Draco's arm was still in a sling, but it didn't look like he was in pain. Instead of the usual Malfoy sneer, his face remained passive.

"It took you long enough, Zabini."

He blinked at the three of them. "What?"

Draco lifted his chin slightly at him. "Come on. Let's go to breakfast." They turned and walked out the door. Blaise, seeing no other alternative, followed them.

After that day, Blaise officially became Draco's closest friend. They never discussed what happened in the infirmary that night again.

Blaise and Draco did everything together. They studied together, ate together, played Quidditch together, hang out on holidays together. They were the perfect representation of what Slytherin males were supposed to be. Perfect, wealthy, pureblood best friends.

None of the status mattered to Blaise. It was nice at first, as he wasn't used to so much attention. Over the years he grew wary of the limelight, choosing to stand a little behind Draco whenever they went places. Draco never questioned him about it.

When Draco would put on a sneer and mock Granger or Potter, Blaise simply stood back neither defending nor joining in. A neutral party. He never really cared about all the pure-blood aristocratic stuff, and Draco didn't push him or force him to change his perspective. It was another thing they didn't need to talk about.

Then 6th year came and everything changed. The Dark Lord was living in Draco's home, preparing for his inevitable return and destruction of Hogwarts. The only reason Blaise knew all of this was because Draco told him in a moment of weakness:

Blaise cornered Draco in the Quidditch team locker room after practice. All the other team members had left and it was just the two of them.

"What is wrong with you, Draco?" Blaise demanded of his friend. Lately Draco had been much more reserved than usual and barely eating anything. He had also been completely ignoring Blaise since the first few weeks of the year. It was their first practice session and Draco hadn't said a single thing to him. Blaise almost preferred it when he was lashing out at people, at least it would have been normal.

"Bugger off," Draco grumbled, turning away from his friend.

"You never returned any of my letters over the summer. I've barely seen you. And now you look like a ghost. Why are you ignoring me?" Blaise said angrily.

Draco's eyes glinted dangerously and Blaise knew he was treading on dangerous ground. "What are you, my mother? I don't want to see you anymore. Get that through your thick skull," he snapped.

Blaise's eyes widened in shock and he froze. "What?"

"You heard me. You're pathetic, Zabini. Always clinging onto me every chance you get it. What, are you in love with me or something? Can't go a few weeks without your boyfriend?"

That did it. Blaise snapped. He launched himself at Draco, tackling the now thinner boy to the ground and punching and kicking whatever he could.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" He yelled, managing to sock the blonde square in the jaw.

Draco finally came to his senses, putting on a sneer and starting to fight back. He might have lost some muscle, but he was still pretty strong. He shoved Blaise off and kicked him in the face. There was a sickening crunch as Blaise's nose broke and blood streamed down his face. This only angered Blaise further. Just as Draco began to stand up, Blaise lunged at his legs, bringing him down to the ground again.

The two of them wrestled for about five minutes, both forgetting they were wizards and trying to cause as much pain as they could.

It finally ended when Blaise managed to get Malfoy into a lock, shoving his face into the ground and yanking his arm painfully behind his back. After struggling a bit, Draco yelled out in frustration.

"Alright, alright! You've made your damn point now get off me!"

Blaise's ears were ringing and he wasn't able to see too clearly after being kicked in the head. The pain from his broken nose finally set in as the adrenaline left his system. He groaned in pain and released Draco, who rolled over but remained laying on the ground looking up at the sky defeated.

Blaise took a few calming breaths and wiped his mouth. Blood smeared the back of his hand and he inspected it.

"I'm sorry," Draco said in the faintest whisper. His shoulders began to shake violently as he began to cry for the second time in front of Blaise. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeated.

Watching Draco crumble in front of him again made Blaise's heart ache. No matter how angry he was with him, he couldn't stand seeing Draco like this. He sat down next to Draco on the dirty floor, not meeting his eyes.

"Why have you been ignoring me?" He asked again.

It was then that Draco told him everything. He told him about the death eaters, about the prophecy, Voldemort living in his house, his father being thrown in Azkaban. Blaise listened patiently, not interrupting. He understood that in his own way, Draco had been trying to protect him by pushing him away.

When it was over, Blaise left out a shaky breath. "I forgive you."

Draco fixed Blaise's nose and Blaise healed the scrape on Draco's cheek he caused when shoving his face into the ground. From that moment on, Blaise did what he could to support Draco without fully getting himself involved with the impending war. He had helped Draco find the vanishing cabinet, helped him research the proper transporting spells, and did his best to force Draco to eat occasionally to save his strength. He couldn't imagine the amount of pressure Draco was under, but he witnessed it himself as his once arrogant friend began to turn into only a shell of a man. Voldemort had taken everything from Draco, and Blaise hated him for it. He hated war. He hated getting involved in any sort of political conflict, but everything was different when it came to Draco.

Blaise loved Draco, a love that he knew would probably never be returned. It killed him every time Draco would fool around with girls. But Blaise could never let Draco know how he felt. No one could know how he felt.

He first realized his feelings the night of the Yule Ball in 4th year when he saw Pansy Parkinson kiss Draco possessively in the hallway after the dance. Blaise had gone with a girl from Beaubaxtons, who promptly ditched him halfway through the dance. He remembered feeling a sharp rage go through him at the sight of Draco and Pansy and not fully understanding why at the time. After thinking about it afterward, it had become quite clear.

Blaise loved the way Draco made him feel. He felt respected, needed, important, and protected in his presence. Draco was the first real friend he ever had, and the only one he really wanted.

He got out of the bath and dried himself off with a towel. After he got dressed he looked up at the sky out the window.

'Don't worry, Draco. I'll protect you,' he silently vowed to himself.