Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and I appreciated it! If you could, again, copy and paste your favorite lines into your reviews, that would be wonderful! :) This chapter also sort of explains how the song/title fits in with the story, a bit.
Endless amounts of gratitude to bonapuella, who edited this beast of a story.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, except for the idea.
Part Two: Decisions
Blaise and Draco were talking.
It wasn't that they didn't talk; they did. Theodore discovered that startling fact when he'd walked in on one of their conversations and they'd both fallen silent. They were friends. Good friends, by the looks of it. But they were having a very intense talk, both persons leaning in seriously, hands waving in agitation, mouths moving quickly to express their words and eyes glittering. In fact, there was some hair raking on Blaise's part, giving him a casually messy look.
Theodore was sitting by the fire. He'd walked into the Common Room and seen Draco and Blaise lounging in a corner, which the blonde never did unless it was about something secretive. He'd pretended to want to get an early start on his homework and didn't join them, but his mind ended up wandering over to the two every chance it got.
He traced the letters in the books title, watching the firelight flicker off the glossy cover. It was mesmerizing, yet his attention continually led his eyes to his friends. He wasn't quite sure if friend was the right word for Draco. Draco hadn't seemed to forgive him for becoming so antisocial the previous year. Harry Potter rejected his friendship and six years later he still hated him with a passion, so Theodore had just given up on trying to smooth over the rut. He would get over it eventually.
Blaise stood up and he tried to make it look like he hadn't been looking. The darker male walked straight by him and left. Theodore looked over at Draco in suspicion, only to find the blond looking at him as well. Draco sighed, before making his way over to him and sat down.
"How was your summer?" The young Malfoy asked in a resigned voice.
He made a few good responses, asked the same and then carried the conversation on to their classes this year. After he'd decided he'd spent a substantial amount of time talking, so as not to offend Draco once more, he stood up, muttered something about lack of sleep and walked over to the stairs leading up to the boys' dormitory. He glanced back quickly, just in case Blaise walked in, and then went upstairs.
Several minutes later, while he was lying on his bed staring up into the canopy, he wondered why he hadn't been included in their discussion. He was trying to make up for the previous year, he really was. Draco seemed quite insulted by his behavior even now, but he seemed to be making an effort to reconcile, if their recent conversation was any indication.
How long he laid there he wasn't sure, it could have been hours, but he was still completely awake when someone opened the door and slipped in. They moved quietly and there was a small shuffling by the bed beside his. "Blaise?" He opened his hangings.
"Oh! I thought you were sleeping." Blaise said in a strange voice, eyes flickering to the bathroom door. "I was just going to go to bed." He had his pajamas in hand and his robes had been dropped into his trunk.
"What's with you and Draco?" He asked, a bit more bluntly than he would have liked.
"What do you mean?" Blaise sounded nonchalant and uncaring, turning his back to his friend as he rummaged through his trunk.
"You looked like you were talking about something pretty important." Theodore said, shrugging and straightening out the blankets covering his lower half.
"Oh, tonight? That was nothing." He replied and then sighed a bit loudly. "Well, I'm off. Drake told me you're tired. If I were you, I'd try a sleeping charm."
Drake. If anyone else called Draco that, they'd be dead in seconds. Apparently he didn't mind if Blaise said it, though, something Theodore decided with bitter annoyance.
"Sure, thanks." He said, a bit confused, and leaned back down. The door to the adjoining bathroom clicked shut and he rolled over, grabbed his wand from the table beside his bed and cast a light sleeping charm on himself. It took approximately five seconds to take action, and so when Blaise opened the door again, face full of indecision, he was already too fast asleep to hear the soft, "Theo?" and see the hurt on his best friend's face as he thought he was being ignored.
Draco grinned mischievously from behind a nearby oak tree. Theodore saw him, but didn't mention it to Blaise, who was complaining about how unfair the 'A' he'd gotten was, when Weasley got an 'E' on his Transfiguration paper.
He watched Blaise blow on his gloved hands as Draco took out his wand. Somewhat warily, he made sure that Draco didn't look like he was angry, and then took a small step backwards. Blaise looked quizzically at him, but he merely shrugged.
Quite suddenly, a gust of wind blew by and a pile of leaves flew into Blaise's face. Theodore burst into laughter as his friend spluttered, spat a few out and began to shake them off him. Draco stepped out from behind the tree and strolled casually over, carefully stowing his wand in his pocket. "Hello."
"Hi," Blaise said, muttering, 'Damn wind,' and trying to detach several leaves from his back. Theodore laughed at him and the other Slytherin glared at him. "Oh, shut up."
Theodore continued to laugh, but helped him brush the leaves from his back. He didn't notice when his friend stiffened, as he was still chuckling to himself. One particularly determined leaf was on his collar, so he took off his glove and swept it off with his bare fingers, grazing the dark skin on his friend's neck, just below the earlobe.
Blaise shuddered and Theodore's laughter subsided. "Are you cold?"
"Er, no." Blaise said, turning his face away. He cleared his throat and licked his lips.
"Should we go back inside?" He asked, concerned. It was a bit cold out for a clear October day.
"I said I'm fine." Blaise snapped at him, looking away the moment his eyes made contact with Theo's face.
"Okay, sorry," he muttered, pulling his glove back on.
Draco watched them, frowning. After a moment of silence, he sighed. "Let's go, you wankers. I'm cold."
Theodore went to exchange exasperated looks with Blaise, but found the other male carefully avoiding his eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion and he fell into step on Draco's other side. Oblivious to the tension between them, Draco talked on and on about Quidditch, the newest set of robes his mother had sent him and his annoyance over Pansy's clingy behavior.
By the time he'd moved on to how frustrating it was to have Granger in almost every class, they'd reached the dungeon and neither Theodore nor Blaise had spoken. He tried to catch Blaise's eye as they climbed the stairs to their dormitory, but he seemed transfixed with the floor. At last he began to strip off his layers – a Slytherin scarf, his heavier robes, his sweater – and he kicked off his shoes, before flopping onto the bed before him.
"Lazy," Draco muttered. "What time did you get up today? Two hours ago?"
Theodore lifted his pillow from under his head and chucked it in the direction he'd heard Draco. "Ponce."
"Now, now. Is it really necessary to start unprovoked attacks?" Draco asked and Theo let out a low groan of exasperation, before propping himself up on his elbows to see what he was talking about.
"Oh. Sorry Blaise." He laughed again as he realized who he'd hit instead. Everything seemed brighter that day and he kept laughing at such small things. It felt nice to experience carefree moments, as if the past year hadn't formed a bit of a glass wall between them.
"Mm. Okay." Blaise said, throwing the pillow back to him. It landed at the foot of his bed. Slightly robotically, Blaise turned and walked downstairs without another word.
"What's wrong with him?" Theodore asked, confused for the second time in the hour.
Draco surveyed him. "You are truly stupid."
"Er…Thanks." He said, unsure of where this was coming from. The blond stood up and walked downstairs, leaving Theodore to himself. With a loud sigh he leaned back on his bed ad stared up at the ceiling.
I don't understand them.
He sighed again.
It was late November when the course for it was set to play, the point of no return in their unexplained exchanges, the trigger for events so strong they were mind blowing. He would never have expected it to happen that way, though of course he never expected it to happen in the first place.
Classes had just ended and they'd decided to grab a quick dinner and then savor some of the last moments they'd have without snow. Theodore threw his scarf over his shoulder, pocketed his gloves and carried his thickest coat down with him.
"Ready, then?" Blaise asked and he nodded. Together they made their way down to the Great Hall. "I hope it's not too cold out, yet."
He shrugged, "I like the cold."
"I know." His friend grinned, "I figured that out in our third year, when I thought Sirius Black had gotten you, but all you wanted was to sit outside for a bit. You're lucky the Dementors didn't get you."
He shuddered, "At least if they did, I wouldn't remember."
"I would have to remember, though." Blaise said, frowning. "How would you feel if you found me out on the grounds with my soul sucked out?"
"I'd rather not think about it." Theodore replied, his stomach twisting unpleasantly as he imagined stumbling across his friend's body outside. There would probably still be Dementors, swirling around, and Blaise's coffee colored skin, pale…He shuddered again.
"Yeah…" They walked in silence until they reached the Slytherin Table. Theodore thought of how often silence crept into their conversations and was slightly perturbed. The night before they'd been studying Defense Against the Dark Arts and joking around a bit, when their laughter faded away and neither had spoken for awhile. He didn't understand why, when they used to talk about anything and everything, and he couldn't feel any unresolved problems between them.
"Are you going outside?" Crabbe asked when they sat down.
"No, I just brought all this for fun." Theodore said sarcastically and sighed.
"Oh."
Blaise snorted and dished himself some kidney pie. For a short moment the only sound was that of forks and knives on plates. That was, until Draco swept into the room and settled himself down gracefully beside Theodore. With a 'hmmph' noise he speared a piece of chicken and began to tear it up with his knife, fork still deeply imbedded.
"Uh, Drake?" Blaise asked warily. He poked him. "Drake?"
"What?" He snapped, moving onto his potatoes and leaving the massacred chicken alone.
"Why are you so angry?"
"Me? I'm not angry." He growled and his fork let out a loud screech on the plate.
"Okaaay." Theodore said, raising his eyebrows as he took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Why are you in such a good mood, then?"
"Because," he dropped his utensils with a clatter and snatched up Blaise's glass. Ignoring his protests, he downed it all and slammed it into the table. "Because, did you know that they're changing the curfews?"
"Er…What?" He asked in surprise. Draco could usually control himself a bit better, especially over something nearly insignificant.
"Oh." Blaise said, sounding disappointed. It was evident that they were thinking about something in particular that Theodore wasn't included in. "When?"
"The Prefects were just briefed. So Dumbledore is going to make an announcement tonight. For us, we have to be back in at 10:00 instead of 10:30!" Draco looked absolutely furious.
"Why is this a problem?" Theodore asked, looking between the two with his eyebrows drawn together.
Draco glared at him in a way that suggested he was stupid. "Hm, let's think about this. One, it's a total violation of our rights! They can't change it now! Two, they didn't give us a real reason! Just some half-crap answer about lack of academic performance with tired students. Three, now this sets all our plans back, and I'll have to listen to more and more complaining from him," he nodded at Blaise, who was staring at him in horror, perhaps at what he was saying. "Three-"
"Students, if I could have your attention." Dumbledore stood up and the hall quieted immediately. "The staff and I have had a long discussion about this, and we feel a change in curfew is necessary…"
He watched Blaise's expression go from disappointment, to anger, to annoyance and then to wistfulness. He looked at Draco, who gave no indication he even heard what Dumbledore was saying.
With a sigh he set about watching Blaise's continuing expressions with interest. He hadn't thought one person capable of displaying that many different feelings on their face in so short a time. The black male saw him looking and frowned, "Aren't you the least bit annoyed?"
"Yes," he said, something about Blaise's tone putting him on the defensive. "But I don't see why it's enough to make you all freak out."
"We're supposed to go out to the lake." Blaise reminded him tersely.
"Yeah, we'll just not stay out so late." He replied, giving his friend look that asked him why he was overreacting so much.
"If it means nothing, let's not even bother going at all!" He stood up abruptly, threw his leg over the bench and stormed away. Theodore watched him in amazement.
"What's wrong with him?" Theodore asked as Blaise shoved open the door and nearly ran into a few third years.
Draco looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "I can't fathom a reason."
As the blond stood up and followed him, Theodore was left to puzzle over what he was missing.
It was eleven o'clock that night before he decided to creep upstairs and attempt to brave the frigid air in their dormitory. Even with the fireplaces burning fiercely you could still see your breath in the air. Of course, it was always coldest in the Slytherin Common Room, but it had never been this cold. The House Elves were going to have to start putting heating charms on their furniture.
Draco was out patrolling. Apparently, in defiance of the curfew changes, a lot of students had started running around in the halls like madmen. At first the staff had been able to deal with it, but then someone had tried to set off coloured sparks and set a 450 year old tapestry on fire. So the Prefects had been called in as backup assistance. Crabbe and Goyle were downstairs attempting to play Gobstones and Blaise… Well, he wasn't altogether sure where Blaise was. He was only slightly worried. He was so stealthy he could probably walk straight through the middle of the Common Room without being detected, so chances were he was already sleeping.
Teeth chattering he changed into his pajamas, got ready in the bathroom and slipped into his covers. Blaise's hangings were closed, which was a sure sign that he was in there.
Well, at least he thought that's what it meant.
It could mean that he was gone, and had closed the hangings so no one could know.
In fact, what if he'd been crossed by one of the rabid curfew changing un-supporters?
What if he'd been attacked?
What if, unbeknownst to Theodore, he was lying outside, frozen by the lake?
What if, in the morning when they sent out a search party, they found him dead outside? His thoughts flashed back to what they'd been talking about earlier and he could imagine Blaise's dead body, covered in frost, unmoving and unresponsive...
Theodore jolted out of his bed and dashed over to Blaise's hangings. He ripped them open, glanced at the bed in time to squint and see that it was empty, and then raced downstairs, irrational fear and horror driving him onward. Not even bothering to grab his cloak he dashed through Hogwarts in his cotton pajamas. He narrowly avoided being caught by Prefects and had a close call in which he thought Ernie Macmillan had seen him. By the time he reached the big doors leading out of the castle he was gasping for breath.
Clutching his side he pulled on the heavy doors and squeezed through the gap he created. It was darker than he'd imagined it would be and he felt around for his wand. With a sinking feeling, his brain realized what he'd done faster than his hands, so they kept searching. He hadn't even grabbed his wand from his bedside table. His eyes traveled from the dark grounds to the streak of light shimmering in the air. It would take too long to go back; he had no choice but to go onwards.
With a small moan of discomfort he began a slippery trek towards what he was hoping was the lake. When the ground began to slope slightly he knew he was moving in the general direction, and figured that if he started calling out soon, Blaise would answer. If he was conscious. However, when he got distracted by a movement to his left he slipped and, with a loud yell of 'fuck!' he fell to the ground.
Unfortunately, the hill didn't even out and he rolled down the small slope, fingers trying to get a hold in the wet ground and failing. With a gasp he hit what could only be the lake. His lungs turned to ice as he inhaled and his entire body froze up. His soaked pajamas made him feel heavy, but he was still in shallow water.
Shuddering and coughing he moved onto his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. He tried to get up and take a step but went keeling forward, crashing into the water and hitting his arms on the lake's floor. By now he was hacking up water and could hardly breathe. My body will go into shock. If it isn't already there now. He thought and tried to crawl forward.
How amusing that he'd come out to save Blaise, who it seemed wasn't even out here, and had ended up hurting himself instead. In water that was only about a meter deep. What an embarrassing way to die.
"Theodore?"
Great. Hallucinations. His mind thought dryly as he stumbled forward, submerging again and driving all thought from his mind.
"-eodore! Theodore! Theodore!" It sounded a bit like Draco. He turned his eyes to the voice and saw the tip of a wand lighten up.
"Draco!" He croaked and dragged his numb limbs forward, struggling quite a bit – was it really only three steps? - until he collapsed on the side bank and pressed his forehead into the cold ground, gasping for air he couldn't seem to inhale. It would have required effort he couldn't even imagine to raise his arms or call out.
"Theodore! Good Merlin, you chose now to go swimming?" Draco reached him and dragged off his cloak, wrapping it around his friend's shaking body. "What were you doing out here?"
"L-l-l-looking for B-B-Blaise." He said, trembling and using Draco as support to help him to his feet. When it became apparent that he had little to no strength, Draco dragged one of his arms around his neck and hauled him to his feet.
"And you thought you'd find him in the lake?"
"I-I checked h-h-his b-b-bed and h-he wa-wasn't there." He said, clutching Draco's arm, as though cutting off his circulation would somehow help his own lack of warmth. "I thought h-he'd b-b-be b-b-by the l-lake s-so I came h-here t-t-to l-look f-for him. H-h-how d-did y-you f-f-find m-me?"
"MacMillan saw you and came running off to find me. So I went to the Common Room and Blaise said you'd ran off in a storm and he didn't know why. We sort of came to the conclusion you'd come here, since you yanked open his hangings first. He wanted to come charging down here himself, but I made him stay. And here you are."
"Oh." He said, shuffling alongside Draco. His teeth clacked together and his hair felt frozen.
"There's the school. We should hurry."
"M-m-mhm-m." He agreed softly, clutching his soaked arms to his chest. No doubt the clinging material showed off exactly how unattractively skinny he was. He hoped it didn't outline his ribs. The idea of Blaise seeing him like that was very unappealing.
Once they reached the school – it seemed to take ages – his body gladly went into the light and heat. After he'd shoved the door closed, Draco retrieved his wand from his robes and raised it, but they heard the distinct noise of footsteps coming right for them. Swearing under his breath, Draco muttered, 'Nox!' and they were plunged into darkness.
The footsteps drew nearer and he was worried his teeth might be heard, so he tried to clench his jaw together. Unfortunately, this caused pain, but it was a small sacrifice compared to a million detentions.
"Anyone?" Asked a student, though he didn't know who it was. Their wand was lit up and he prayed that it didn't graze their feet.
"No." Macmillan replied, "But if Nott was out here, Malfoy probably got him in pretty fast."
"I don't know why you'd bother doing him any favors, he's a Slytherin." The other voice muttered somewhat sullenly.
"Prefects are supposed to rise above preferential treatment based on House," Ernie snapped, "and he wasn't doing anything to cause chaos, so I figured I'd let him off the hook."
"I don't know why he'd even want to go out, it's bloody cold!"
"I don't try to understand people who do strange things," Ernie said in a low voice. "We should go back, the teachers won't want us over here."
"Yeah." They turned and their footsteps retreated. Draco had his hand on Theodore's arm and he quickly followed them. When they reached a divide in the corridor, the Hufflepuffs thankfully took the one that led away from the dungeons. They shuffled down the halls and his breathing, labored from poor physical condition and the icy holes piercing his lungs with each breath he drew, was forming in clouds before him.
When they got back to the Slytherin Dormitories, the Common Room was completely empty, except for one person. Blaise was pacing in front of the couch by the fire in his striped pajama bottoms and long sleeved shirt. "Oh my God!" He strode across the room as soon as they stepped in. "What happened?"
"Theodore decided to take a swim." Draco said dryly. Blaise inhaled sharply, which Theodore probably wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been standing so close.
"You imbecile!" He said, even as his hands moved to Theodore's upper arms and began to rub fervently across them in an effort to create heat. "Why? Are you suicidal?"
"No," he said tiredly, comforted by Blaise's warm hands, and he automatically leaned in and let his friend support some of his weight. He must have charmed them with something, because waves of heat washed over him from the contact.
"You're fucking cold," Blaise continued, glaring at him in a way that suggested he was offended by this turn of events.
"I n-noticed." He said back, very glad his stuttering had ceased slightly. Abruptly, the dark skinned male threw his arms around him. For a moment, Theodore felt completely warm and his eyes fluttered shut, his own arms lifting to encircle Blaise. The heat from the other body seemed to mesh perfectly with his own and he pulled the other male a bit closer, sighing with content, hands resting on the small of his back while Blaise's traced up and down his spine.
"Well, hurry up and get upstairs!" Draco said and Theodore felt Blaise jump, "You can have a shower."
He nodded, extremely discomfited by the loss of his friend's body, who was looking at him with a sort of worry and embarrassment. He made it upstairs – though he still moved slowly. Everything seemed much, much harder with his entire body frozen and his lungs still hurting with each breath.
Blaise shoved him into the bathroom and turned off the water as he stripped away his clothes. A bit of ice had actually started forming over it and his chest ached. He'd peeled off his shirt when Blaise turned around and ceased movement, staring, immobile, at him.
"What's wrong?" He asked somewhat sluggishly, fighting to remove the button on his trousers. For a moment he thought Blaise was going to come over and do it for him – his eyes focused intensely on Theodore's fumbling hands – but then didn't.
"Nothing." He murmured, turning his eyes back to the water, now pouring steam into the bathroom and fogging up the mirror. "I'll check on you in five minutes…Make sure you don't drown or something."
He managed a weak laugh, a bit confused by the strange, foreign quality in Blaise's voice. It was almost…deeper. And a bit hoarse, but not in the way someone's voice went when they were sick. His friend left and shut the door quietly behind him. After removing the remainder of his clothes from his body he stepped into the shower.
The water seared his skin and he let out a small yelp. While it did warm him up, there was still a cold feeling in his stomach. Turning his face up into the downpour he closed his eyes and felt the heat wash over him, fighting to destroy the remnants of his cold. When he turned off the water and stepped out he found a pair of fresh pajamas folded by the sink. After toweling himself dry he slipped them on, collected his other clothes and hung them out on a rack.
He had just about opened the door when there was a quick knock. "Theo?" Grinning, he opened the door and watched as the steam rushed out into Blaise's face. "Good, you're alive, than."
"Yeah," he said, breezing past him and shivering as the heat from the bathroom disappeared. "Sorry to keep you up."
"No explanation?" Blaise asked him, following his progress to his bed. "You just felt like jumping in the lake?"
"I was worried and you weren't in here." He corrected, wrapping himself up in blankets. "So I checked your bed and you weren't there-"
"Yeah I was. You just didn't look closely enough." His friend interrupted, standing over his bed. Draco was nowhere in sight, so he assumed that he'd gone back to join the Prefects.
"OK, well I thought you were in the halls. I got worried that someone had attacked you-"
"Attacked me?" Blaise snorted, rubbing his right forearm.
"Do you want to know or not? You know how I get worked up over these things." He muttered, and continued when the darker male didn't speak. "So I went out looking for you. Only I forgot my wand, but it would take too long to come back and get it. So I went anyway, but I slipped on the grass. I rolled down the hill, into the lake. Then Draco came and helped me out."
"You ran out into the dark, because you were worried about me?" Blaise asked, a dubious expression on his face.
"Er…Yeah?" He asked, hoping that was the right answer. It was hard to tell these days whether or not the truth would set Blaise off– his moods all seemed to be variations of pissed off.
"Oh. But you hate the dark. It reminds you of home." Blaise said and stared at him, his eyebrows drawn together. "Theo, I-"
"It's okay, Blaise. You would do the same for me." Theodore said and laid down, effectively ending their conversation. There was a silence as Blaise got into bed as well and he thought he heard a sigh.
A long pause ensued and the air felt static. A part of him was trying to come up with something to say, while the other part was trying to sleep, and another part was shaking because it was fucking cold. It was as though he knew Blaise expected him to say something – as though something special was happening that he shouldn't ignore.
And then the moment passed and he released tension he hadn't realized he'd had. Unfortunately, this provided more opportunity to feel the cold, slowly creeping under his skin and into his bones. When his teeth began to chatter again he tried to muffle in by pulling the blankets over his head, but it didn't really work.
There was a loud noise, somewhat like a sigh, as Blaise rolled over. "Theo." He peered over the duvet. The other male had lifted his blankets with one hand and was holding them up. "Hurry up, it's cold."
Without hesitation he jumped across the space between their beds and slid under Blaise's blankets. It had been awhile since they'd slept in the same bed, but it didn't feel awkward. To him, at least. The bed's other occupant just accepted his presence and dropped the blankets down.
The heat that Blaise's body gave off, combined with the excess in the blankets, made him sigh with content for the second time that night. With a mischievous smile he put his hands on Blaise's shirt, shoved the material up and let his colds fingers rest on his bare skin.
"God," Blaise hissed, trying to shy away from them. "That's cold."
"I know." He said, running them up his torso, letting the cold digits rest just over his ribcage. Blaise sucked in another breath as he let them hover, absorbing the warmth. Chuckling slightly he used his feet to push up the legs on his friend's pants and rested his feet on his calves. Blaise jumped again, his breathing quickening.
"What are you doing?"
"Exploiting your body heat. Getting warm." He replied casually. Blaise hissed again and he smirked. "Ticklish?"
"Oh, shut up." The other Slytherin said in a constricted way. He felt a bit bad, apparently Blaise really didn't like the cold - it made him breathe all funny and practically jump off the bed.
Snickering he extended his fingers and made a tickling movement again. Blaise let out a small noise from the back of his throat and grabbed his wrists. "Theodore," he said in a low voice.
His attention was drawn upwards to Blaise's face. It was very dark, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he could see faint shadows of his features. Features that were suddenly very close.
Theodore's heartbeat sped up. It seemed to have to do with Blaise's breath, gently fanning his left cheekbone. Mouth opening slightly, he struggled to find something to find to ease the newly intense atmosphere. His mind drew a blank. The slight scent of the mint toothpaste Blaise used made him want to inhale, it was so nice. Heat began to flame across his face as Blaise's moved closer until…until…
His anticipation – his longing – his need - for what was sure to come was so strong it was almost blinding. Yet he still managed to see the dark, dark blue of his friend's glittering eyes, and the intensity with which they regarded him as their lips brushed.
He could have fainted from the very sensation of someone, and not just someone, but Blaise's lips touching his own, had he not been so eager to find out what happened next.
Which was nothing.
Crabbe stood up and they both froze as he ambled into the bathroom. Still frozen, they heard the toilet flush and then he lumbered back, falling onto his bed and beginning to snore.
The electricity that had flowed between them seemed to dissipate, to be replaced by questions and uncertainty. "G'night." Blaise mumbled, turning his face into the pillow and almost pushing away Theodore's hands.
Face flaming he extracted his body parts from Blaise and rolled over, facing his own empty bed. "Night."
A few minutes later – after Blaise's breathing evened out - he got out of the bed to grab his writing journal. After flipping to a free page he started scribbling into it, describing the sensation of being so close, the confusion that enveloped one upon realizing how much they wanted something they'd never thought was missing, and the intense way Blaise's eyes seemed to see his soul. He let the questions flow freely and described his insecurity with the entire situation, ink coating his fingers and his writing messy and uncontrolled. The tight ball of anxiety that had formed within him lessened a bit as he wrote, channeling his fear into the only medium of expression he had.
'The most wonderful, scary, amazing thing just happened to me…'
After he was satisfied that his feelings had been accurately released he debated returning to bed with Blaise, but decided he might as well to avoid questioning about why he'd left. He stuffed his journal underneath his blankets and then rejoined his sleeping friend, staring at the dark ceiling until he fell asleep.
Needless to say, any cold he'd experienced was now gone.
The next morning he woke up alone. The bed he was lying on was not his own, he could feel it, and that realization brought back all his memories from the previous night.
Oh buggar. What am I supposed to say to him this morning? Shaking off his momentary paralysis he quickly hopped out of bed, looking around to see if any of the other room's occupants were around. To his happiness they weren't, so he made his side of the bed and then hurried to his own, distancing himself from the scene of the crime.
The abrupt end to the sound of running was cut through his current relief like a knife. What do I do? What do I do?
He turned his back to the door and hurried over to his trunk. After stuffing his journal beneath his dress robes, right at the bottom, he pulled out a clean set of robes. Blaise opened the door and there was a short silence, before he walked over to his trunk, opened it and dumped in his pajamas. "Morning." He said quietly, leaving Theodore the choice of what to say.
"Morning." He replied, unsure of what else to say. "Did you sleep well?"
Shit. Bad place to go. Bad place to go. Don't mention sleeping. Or the bed. Or kissing. Or any thoughts you might have about doing it again. Or doing more. Or -
"Okay," Blaise replied and there was another moment of silence. "Are you going down to breakfast?"
"Yeah," he eagerly seized the subject for its normality. "I just need to get changed. Meet me there?"
"Sure," his friend turned away from him. "See you down there."
"Yeah," Theodore nodded a few too many times and snatched up his robes, before fleeing to the bathroom. With a small sigh he wondered if he'd just made a big mistake.
It wasn't but a few days later when Draco came after him.
Well, came after wasn't exactly the best way to put it. He didn't hunthim down, or anything. But he did seem intent on seeking him out and having a few words. Theodore tried to avoid being alone, but Draco was also a Slytherin, a bloody good one at that, and therefore managed to pull him away on the pretense of a difficult problem for Arithmancy. Nothing like the mention of Arithmancy to scatter a crowd.
"There," he closed the door to the empty classroom they were in. "Now no one will overhear."
"Great." Theodore replied weakly.
"So, there was something I need to talk to you about." Draco said seriously and Theodore involuntarily took a step back.
"What is it?"
"Blaise." he answered simply, yet it still managed to cause a bit of fear in Theodore.
"Oh, yeah. He has seemed a bit off the last few weeks, but the one time I asked you, you called me a stupid-"
Draco cut him off mid-babble. "Don't be an idiot. I know what happened."
"He told you?" he gaped, eyes widening. There was no doubt in his mind about what Draco could be referring to.
Draco's lips pressed in a tight line. "Actually no, I was awake at the time. And then I forced him to recount events for me the next day."
"Oh," Theodore said, as his face blushed fuchsia. He didn't know why, they hadn't done anything incriminating – so what, their lips had touched a bit? It was dark, and hard to see. It was probably an accident. In fact, Theodore couldn't be sure it had even happened. Maybe he'd hallucinated.
"Yeah, oh." Draco said and then his already intimidating tone lowered, "So all I have to say is stay the fuck away from him."
"What?" He gasped, surprised, as millions of scenarios – many involving Draco and Blaise as a couple, which was absurd because neither of them was like that– began to run through his head.
"Blaise does not need you to fuck around with him right now, alright? I don't care if you're his friend, don't play games with him."
"I'm not." He protested, folding his arms across his chest in a startlingly overt display of anger. "Why would you care, anyway?"
"If you think I'm interested in Blaise, you're wrong. Trust me, I am completely heterosexual." Draco laughed, "But he's a good friend, and I won't refrain from beating your brains out if you hurt him in any way, shape or form. Got it?"
"I doubt you could beat my brains out."
"Fine, I'll get someone else to do it." he said smoothly. "No matter. Your condition will be the same."
"Look, why's it any of your business? There's nothing going on." He changed tactics, trying to use the truth instead. Frankly, he didn't have any idea what was going on, but denying it seemed like a good idea. What had happened that night…If it had happened, really…Well, it was just a strange, awkward situation. Probably inspired by the hands Theodore had shoved up his friend's shirt. They were both teenage boys and, now that he thought about it, if someone starting touching his bare chest, he'd probably want to kiss them too.
Draco narrowed his eyes and surveyed him for a few long moments. "You honestly don't know?"
"Don't know what?" he demanded, frustrated. Draco managed to be very direct and elusive at the same, an irritating combination.
Draco sighed, rubbing a temple. "Look, Blaise likes you."
It took him a long time to even begin to contemplate why these words were important. Draco wasn't interesting in waiting, so he rephrased the statement when it became apparent that Theodore didn't understand. "Blaise, our good friend, fancies you."
Theodore just stood there, mouth open and an expression of incomprehension on his face. "God, you're an imbecile. He's attracted to you, so when you stick your hands up his shirt, guess what happens?"
"Oh." he said stupidly as his head reeled with this information.
"Yeah, oh. So if you keep on doing these things to him-"
"Okay, that was one time!" he managed to protest weakly.
Draco snorted. No doubt as another jab at Theodore's intelligence. "How about when you touch his neck? Or his hand? Shoulder? When you stare at him-"
"I don't stare at him!"
"Yes, you do. In fact, he's actually mentioned it a few times to me. It makes him hopeful."
He continued to gawk at Draco, gulping like a goldfish. No, this was all wrong, Blaise was the one who always stared at him! He caught him doing it all the time! All the time! In fact, Theodore could almost not recall a time where he'd taken a good, long look at the expression on Blaise's face and hadn't seen a clearly staring face! He told this to Draco, who actually threw his head back and laughed.
"You just said that you watch him all the time."
Oh. Oh dear Merlin, I do! I do stare! Apparently, he had also announced this out loud, because Draco laughed again.
"Yeah, so if you wouldn't mind keeping your hands to yourself for awhile, Blaise might be a bit happier."
"He's unhappy?" Theodore asked, frowning and trying to ignore the glaze of heat he felt on his face.
"Yeah, obviously. Think about it, Theodore." Draco moved even closer, eyes intent on proving his point. "He's attracted to you. Do you know what that means?"
"Er...No."
"It means he may be gay." Draco explained carefully. "But he doesn't really know. Also, he's attracted to you."
Theodore was expecting a snide remark about how pitiful it would be to fancy someone as pathetic as he was, so what Draco said came as a bit of a shock.
"You're his best friend. So he's trying to change how he feels, ignore what he is feeling, and make sure you don't find out."
"You just told me!" Theodore glared at Draco, folding his arms over his chest. "Why would you do that if he didn't want me to know?"
"Because you can make it easier for him! If you sort of distance yourself, stop sending him signals-"
"I haven't been sending him signals!"
"Well he's definitely been getting them! So, if you will listen," he received an icy glare, "You can reduce the pressure. He's feeling really weird, imagine how you would feel if you were attracted to him. So will you just lay off?"
Theodore and Draco glared into each other's eyes, before he couldn't keep the eye contact and turned his attention to the floor. "Fine. Fine, I'll stay away." He lifted his arms in surrender and left without a backward glance.
This wasn't fair. He was Blaise's friend, and even if Blaise did like him…Well, why did they both have to suffer? What if Blaise got over him, if those were even the right words, and then they started being friends again and then he fell back?
What if Blaise met someone else? As in, a male someone else?
His stomach clenched painfully as his mind continued to consider what would happen in gruesome detail. He would introduce the mystery guy to his friends first, and then his family. Then he would be invited to their family reunion, an honor that Theodore was familiar with but no one else was. Would this stupid guy Blaise fancied know what to do when his Uncle Gilroy drank too much Firewhiskey and starting singing and dancing on the tables, like he did every year at Christmas?
No, he wouldn't. And would he know what to do if Blaise consumed too much alcohol while he was supposed to be confiscating it from Aunt Erma? No, probably not.
In fact, that stupid idiot probably thought he was going to waltz right in and take Theodore's place in Blaise's life.
Well, he had another thing coming.
The problem was, he realized after the worst event in history had occurred, that he had been curious. For the next few weeks after the incident with Draco, he'd wanted to see exactly how Blaise would react to things he did.
They were little things, of course. Just small touches.
It was probably really horrible, but it hadn't been that bad. He'd asked for a spare quill, Blaise had handed him one and he'd purposefully let his fingers brush Blaise's. He often leaned over him during meals, or moved quite close to him while someone sat beside him. Not big deals at all.
In fact, if he really thought about it, they were all just tests to confirm what Draco had said. And maybe a normal person would have been satisfied with the small shiver that Blaise had given when their fingers had brushed, but a small chill had swept through the room at the time, so Theodore had gotten a tingly feeling up his spine, too. That hardly proved anything.
And perhaps that time in Potions, when he'd gone to say something to Blaise and instead whispered it in his ear might have shown him the truth, as well. Accidentally - it actually was accidental - his tongue had touched the skin just below Blaise's earlobe. Blaise's sharp intake of air was probably enough evidence, but at precisely that time Longbottom succeeded in melting his 5th cauldron of the year, so the failed potion inside was burning people and slowly creeping towards them. Hence the reason Theodore's head had been spinning as he'd grabbed Blaise's hand and pulled them both up onto chairs. It was also why Draco, who had become very watchful of Theodore, didn't see.
He admitted that getting changed in front of his dark skinned friend on purpose one night had been a bit mean. Especially since he took a laboriously long time taking his clothes off, as he was trying to gauge Blaise's reaction without making it obvious. Of course, just because the other Slytherin had cleared his throat and then hurried downstairs because he'd forgotten something didn't mean anything. In fact, that whole scenario was a bit embarrassing, because Theodore was kind of scrawny, so maybe he'd been trying not to laugh.
The one time he acknowledged he'd gone a bit too far was once during dinner. They'd been finishing up dessert and he'd been eating a delicious looking pudding. Draco, Blaise and a seventh year named Davis had been discussing the most recent Quidditch Match (predictably, Gryffindor skinned Hufflepuff alive) when he noticed Blaise had fallen silent. With more interest than he'd displayed the entire conversation he looked up and across the table.
Theodore experienced a small jolt in his stomach when he saw the glazed over eyes staring, transfixed, at him and then way Blaise's lips were open slightly, almost as if he imagined doing something with them.
Perhaps a normal person would have been mortified if their friend, who seemed to fancy them, may or may not have been having some sort of sexually inspired fantasy involving them. However, Theodore wasn't just a normal person. So, still watching Blaise, he stuck out his tongue and licked some pudding off the spoon in a slow swipe.
To his surprise, Blaise didn't do anything too drastic. His face just darkened considerably, as did his eyes, and he bit his lip, before looking away. Theodore found himself unable to avert his eyes and continued to watch his friend. The image it created as his head angled away was truly…well, handsome. The arch of his neck made his chin more prominent, and his lips looked quite soft. He'd never noticed before, how delicately the color of his dark skin shifted to his lips, which opened over his white teeth when he smiled wonderfully. His nose, slightly pointed, drew a straight ridge to his eyes, which were half-lidded. His black lashes almost touched his cheek and cast light shadows on his skin.
Blaise turned again, this time with an expression of light confusion, and caught Theodore staring. A bit horrified, he couldn't bring himself to look away, or even duck his head in embarrassment. His friend just stared evenly back, as though the exchanged meant nothing, as though he couldn't see Theodore's eyes, pouring out feelings he didn't even understand.
"Theodore, are you done?" Draco asked tersely and he jerked his head to the side, breaking their eye contact.
"Yeah."
"Let's go, then, I have another question about Arithmancy." Those words alerted Theodore to the fact that it was very, very obvious Draco had seen what had happened. The pursing of his lips indicated his displeasure and the crease in his brow showed his annoyance.
"Of course."
"We'll see you later, Blaise." Draco said, carefully deflecting any questions about whether or not his presence was wanted.
"Sure," he said in a husky voice that, had Theodore not been determined to avoid his gaze, would made him look back in interest. Instead he flushed, shouldered his bag and followed Draco's casual saunter.
They walked in silence to the dungeons and he shoved his hands in his pockets. It was still very cold, but the House Elves had put heating charms around the dungeons. They had certain abilities that made them good creatures to take care of humans, so if their owner was often cold, their magic would send small veins of warmth through the wall and effectively warm the room. This was often used by wizards negotiating big deals. When their opponent, of sorts, walked into a cold room it put them on edge, but the warming temperature gradually made them more comfortable and susceptible to persuasion.
They stepped into the Common Room and Theodore stopped, expecting an immediate confrontation, but instead Draco kept walking up into the dormitory. With a slight sense of apprehension he followed, slowly adopting an expression of defiance to counteract what Draco would inevitably say.
As soon as he'd closed the door to their room, Draco rounded on him and crossed his arms. "What is wrong with you?"
"Hm, well, this freaky looking person is glaring at me and looks like they want to rip out my throat." He stated calmly, amazed by his ability not to cower in fear. "But I can't imagine what's wrong with me."
"Did you even listen to what I said?" The blond snapped, "What kind of stupid demonstration was that?"
"What?" He asked in a snide voice, examining his thumb nail.
Draco threw up his hands in frustration. "You stupid, arrogant, imbecile! You just- Merlin, you've gotno idea, do you?"
"No idea about what?" He demanded, eyes furrowed.
"Blaise really, really fancies you." Draco bit out, grinding his teeth together so loudly Theodore could hear them gyrating. "A lot. Merlin knows why. He wants you more than you've probably ever wanted anything in your life."
Theodore flushed, just as he always did when he thought about that subject. Which was uncomfortably often. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted him and began to advance. "He thinks about you almost every waking hour." Another step. "He dreams about you, too." Another step. "He hasn't touched anyone else this year, because the only person he thinks about is you." Another step. "He tries to make you happy, all the time, because he likes when you smile, and when you're gone, he's upset. When he talks to me about you, he talks in a wistful voice and sometimes, he wishes you fancied him back so much it actually hurts him to see you every day."
Theodore was really quite uneasy at that moment. For one thing, Draco looked very menacing when he was walking in that way. For another, the idea that someone would feel that for him was slightly unreal. And foremost was the fact that this was Blaise. His best friend, his almost constant companion, the only person he'd ever felt truly connected to. Why did things have to be so complicated?
"Look, why do you keep telling me this stuff?" Theodore asked, glaring at the blond.
"Why do you think?"
"I don't know, that's why I asked you!" he snapped through gritted teeth.
"OK, fine, I'll be completely straight with you – more straight than I already have been, because you're much stupider than I ever anticipated. Blaise fancies you a lot, and you need to stop playing around with his feelings because you find the whole idea fascinating!"
"I do not play around with him!" He protested, feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.
"Yes, you do. I've seen you! Today, licking the fucking spoon like that? It's not funny! So stop messing around with him!"
"I can mess around with what I want!" He shouted back, flinging him arm out and hitting a book off Crabbe's bedside table. A layer of dust exploded off it, and as he blinked he noticed something beyond horrible – something so terrifying and awful he couldn't breathe.
It was Blaise. At the door, with his mouth hanging open in shock and an expression of agony on his face. In the two seconds following the time when Theodore's eyes took Blaise in, the dust slowly fluttered the ground and nothing was between them.
"Blaise?" Theodore acted quickly, somehow desperate words forming past his suddenly heavy lips. "Blaise, how much did you just hear?"
Draco walked towards him but the dark male backed up against the door, his face contorting into different expressions. The most noticeable, and also painful, was the one that conveyed his complete humiliation, the likes of which Theodore had never seen adorn his friend's face. "Blaise?"
"Shut up, Draco." He hissed, hand twisting the knob. "Just - just shut the fuck up."
"Blaise-" Theodore tried to speak, to say something that would change the catastrophic situation they were now in, but couldn't even figure out how to use his voice.
"Don't talk to me." Blaise said in a biting tone, making him cringe away. "Don't you ever fucking talk to me again. I-I don't care if you think you can do whatever you want with me. Stay away."
The words hardly meant anything in comparison to the way they were said. The bitter defence in his voice and the slight tremble there – though from fear of anger he couldn't tell – made his heart break into tiny pieces. Theodore didn't even understand why he was feeling these things with such severity.
"Please, listen." He found himself pleading, taking another step forward.
"No. No, just fuck off." Blaise finally twisted the doorknob's handle and whipped open the door and sprinted through it, nearly running into the frame. His footsteps seemed to echo off the walls in the now silent room.
"He-heard-it-all!" He turned wildly to Draco, who looked so shocked it might have been comical, but really wasn't.
"I had no idea." Was the sarcastic response he got, not satisfying in the slightest. There should have been yelling and screaming.
"I hate you."
"You hate me?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "That sure does hurt. This isn't my fault, you know."
"How is this not your fault? You shouldn't have been saying those things anyway, and now he's too upset to even talk to me-"
"I thought you two were friends." Draco cut in and Theodore resisted the urge to scream, something he'd only had to do a few times in his life.
"We were, but now he's too embarrassed-"
"I meant that if you're his friend, don't you realize what upset him the most? It wasn't me telling you all that."
He tried to think back to what Draco was talking about, but all he could see in his mind was Blaise, backing away, looking afraid, and hurt and-
"It was you. Yes, he heard me telling you things but you said you could do whatever you wanted, you practically admitted you'd been messing around with him for fun." Draco didn't seem inclined to wait for his mind to catch up to recent events.
"But I wasn't." He wailed, his hands ended up flailing in an attempt to get across how he felt and grabbed Draco's forearms. "I wasn't trying to mess with him, I just wanted to know if he really felt all that! But it never worked, there kept being chills and accidents and-"
"What are you talking about?"
He just kept on going. "So I kept shivering and was trying to get away from the potion and I don't know why I feel so feverish all the time but maybe I have some sort of disease-"
"Theodore, shut up." Draco said, his eyes were guarded but glittered mysteriously. "You feel-" He broke off, frowning. "Oh no."
He was so panicked he hardly noticed that the blond was saying anything. "What do I do? What do I say?"
"Theodore, listen to me." Draco gripped his forearms. "Listen closely because I'm going to say this once. I fucked up, okay? I messed up really, really badly. You have to talk to Blaise."
"What?" Theodore asked stupidly, "Didn't you just finish telling me to stay away from him?"
"Good God, you've no idea." Draco let go of him and turned around, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I'm stuck in the middle of this. Look, just try and figure out how you – no, no, just find Blaise as soon as you can and try and talk to him."
"What do I say?" He demanded frantically.
"Just wing it." Draco turned him to the door, and for a moment Theodore had to resist the urge to burst into laughter. "Hurry up!"
He stumbled to the door and, suddenly blinded by the desire to chase after his friend, he threw it open. After nearly tripping over his feet he hurried down the stairs, through the Common Room and darted through the door into the dungeons. He didn't really have a plan of action, like Draco probably would have, but he felt like he knew where to go.
It didn't take him long to reach the lake once he started on the grass, though he was immensely grateful for the heat his wand provided. He approached the tree they'd often sat under, heart beating frantically. He turned around the trunk and –
No one was there. Disappointment rose through him and he dropped to the ground, head spinning. The grass was wet from the rain he hadn't even noticed was falling and as it soaked his clothes he was reminded of his encounter with the lake, not so long ago.
Everything had moved so fast. He'd been having a normal, threatening conversation that somehow turned into the most horrible thing he'd ever experienced. He couldn't believe it had happened. Blaise knew. In fact, perhaps even worse was that he knew for sure; he had no more ways of denying it to himself. It was almost as if this was some sort of intense revelation about himself that he'd always known but hadn't accepted, yet it was really just acknowledging his best friend's homosexual feelings for him.
What to do? The very prospect of facing Blaise now made him feel more than a little ill. It was now up to him to make a choice: return the feelings or reject them. Of course, he didn't even know why he even considered there to be a choice, he wasn't like that. He didn't fancy other males. He just didn't.
Angrily he kicked at the tree, crying out when his foot started to throb from pain. The fury that began to rock through him soon drowned out the pain. It wasn't in his natural frame of mind to initiate confrontations and make life altering choices – a fact well known to Blaise, but those were the things his 'friend' was forcing him to do. It wasn't fair. Didn't his feelings matter at all, or was it all about Blaise? No doubt Draco would somehow get Blaise to blame everything on him, and then he'd be isolated all over again, except this time, Blaise wouldn't seek him out to try and become friends again. It was all him.
He suddenly felt truly alone, not in the way he had when he'd gone home to Christmas the previous year and his Father hadn't recognized him. Because some part of him must have realized that he'd had Blaise. But now he didn't. Now it was between him and Blaise, and the other male had put everything he had up on the table. The thought made his fury bubble until before he knew it he'd launched himself to his feet and was storming back to the castle.
If a confrontation was what Blaise wanted, it was what he was going to get.
When he got to their dormitory, he waited a moment outside to catch his breath and then ripped open the door, anger still in full throttle. It possessed his body and had egged him on throughout his walk conjuring up image after image of Blaise's apparent desolation.
The conversation inside came to an abrupt halt – Draco with his hands behind his back and Blaise with his covering his head – and Theodore stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, though now only from the emotion boiling beneath his skin. "Blaise," he snapped out, "I need to talk to you. Now."
Blaise looked up and Theodore felt a small pang when he noticed the redness around his eyes, but it was short-lived. "In the Common Room."
"Is anyone else there?" Draco asked shortly, as the third male seemed incapable of speech.
"No." He replied and whirled around, "Let's go."
There was a long silence behind him, but he let the door swing closed. He knew that his friend would come, if only for the cruel reason that if he fancied Theodore enough, he would go because that's what Theodore wanted. He took a seat in front of the fireplace and then stood, pacing in front of the blazing tendrils of flame.
After what felt like days in his impatient mind, he heard a door click open and Blaise came down, face ashen. In fact, he looked to be on the point of a nervous breakdown as he hovered at the bottom of the stairs.
"You can sit." Theodore jerked his head at the couch. His companion did as was said, and he found he didn't like this new obedience. Or the fear that clearly accompanied it. "So." He said, crossing the threshold two more times. "So."
He stopped in front of the fire, so that he could see his silhouette against the floor, surrounded by glittering flickers of light. "You fancy me?" There was no reply. "No point in lying."
Blaise was staring at the ground, hands clamped together on his lap. Theodore saw them shaking. "Yes," he croaked, voice hoarse.
Theodore's stomach jolted uncomfortably. "How much?"
"A lot."
"Why?" He demanded, slamming a fist into the wall, bolded by the anger and frustration rocketing through him.
"Do you really want to know?" Blaise whispered after a moment, looking up and then quickly averting his eyes.
"Yes." He replied and began pacing again. "Tell me everything."
"Because." Blaise spoke so softly – and yet his voice was still cracking every other word and it seemed like he was forcing each sound past his lips - Theodore had to stop moving to hear the words, much to his chagrin. "You're funny, you make me laugh all the time… When you read, your lips sometimes mouth the sentences you like, and I think it's…" He broke off, took a few deep, shuddering breaths and continued. "You're really intelligent. I…I admire it. I admire you…I think you're beautiful." He let out a choked noise that Theodore didn't think he wanted to know what it was. Probably because it involved tears.
"Men aren't supposed to be beautiful." He said snappily, feeling both insulted and flattered.
"You are." Blaise replied, in a voice that was a bit congested. "Your eyes are so deep, and your hair is really soft…"
He experienced another jolt, though he didn't know if it was the tone of his friend's wistful voice or the words he spoke. "Your lips look really soft, and the bottom one is slightly more full than the upper one…"
"What else?" He demanded, and noted with slight self-pity that he was drinking up the words desperately. He wondered why Blaise was even answering his question; surely it would be embarrassing. Unless he realized how much Theodore truly needed to hear each word, how much he wanted to hear affection, because so much had been missing from his life.
"You talk in your sleep, sometimes." His tone told Theodore he was on the brink of a meltdown; he just needed one reason to break. "And you've said my name a few times, and I've seen you look at me with a weird expression and I find it really…I don't know…I must have interpreted it the way I wished it was..."
Another jolt. Theodore began to pace again, because he felt like if he didn't he would explode. "So you fancy me?" Again, with the indescribable emotion. It felt like a balloon of fire was expanding just below his ribcage, making it hard to breathe and hurting his chest. It was stronger now, and he raked a hand through his hair. He wondered what it would feel like if Blaise did that. "You honest to God fancy me?"
"Yes." Blaise screwed his eyes shut.
"That's - that's just disgusting!" He realized he was yelling. "Why would you like me? I mean, I'm a guy! I can't believe this!"
He hardly heard the words coming from his mouth in a stream of disbelief. He ranted about how Blaise's life was so empty he had to turn desperately to Theodore, about how frustrating it was for him to have to deal with it, and how it was unfair for him to be in that position, about how could his friend like him, if they were both males?
That was when Blaise started to really cry. His eyes had been filling up, but when he started talking about how they were both boys he began to sob in earnest. For a moment Theodore stared, dumbfounded. That wasn't in the plan. In the plan, Blaise fought back. He didn't start crying in the plan. He wasn't supposed to bury his head in his hands and just weep.
"Blaise?" He asked, his voice confused. There was no response. "Blaise?"
Nothing.
He debated for several seconds what to do – and then he went with his natural impulse, which was always abnormally informal with Blaise – he sat down, placing a hand on his arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it."
There was no response and he continued to apologize pointlessly, until Blaise finally quieted down and drew his arm away. For a moment there was only silence, and then he slid down off the coach onto the floor and stared into the fire. All his fury had died the second Blaise began to cry, and now he felt lost and embarrassed. And horribly cruel.
"I'm sorry." He said again, as though somehow that could change things. As though it could change everything.
"Me, too." Blaise murmured.
"You shouldn't have to apologize." Theodore said back quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't be such an arse."
"I shouldn't like you." Blaise's voice cracked.
"I don't mind." He blurted out, before he could stop himself. "I guess, I mean, it doesn't really matter…"
"Yeah," Blaise said and Theodore hit himself mentally, because he sounded close to losing it again.
There was another silence, full of a prickling awkwardness that he hated. It was driving a solid block between the two of them, and he felt that if he tried to touch Blaise, he would meet a glass wall.
"I'll…I'll be back…" Blaise stood up, using the corner of the sofa to support himself. "I just have to…"
"Yeah." Theodore replied, drawing his knees to his chest. He wondered if Blaise would actually return. He wasn't sure if he wanted him to.
Minutes ticked by. He looked at his watch and was startled to find that it was almost midnight. His perception of time had been completely thrown off, and for all he knew, a few dayscould have passed since dinner.
He relaxed against the furniture, resting his elbows on his knees and letting the heat from the flames wash over him. However, inside, his heart was beating frantically and his thoughts were rampaging. Everything was different. It would be a miracle if they could even stay friends after the whole mess was sorted out.
A churning sensation bubbled in his stomach, accompanying his thoughts. After it was all sorted out, when Blaise no longer fancied him… He issued a long sigh, nearly overlapping the quiet click as the door to their dormitory opened and then closed. So he was back.
Theodore didn't look up; he was concerned about his heart, because it had sped up to a slightly scary rate. He hoped he wasn't having a heart attack or something. His left arm felt okay, but did it always feel numb or tingly in those instances? Maybe he was some sort of wonder person, who never had the normal symptoms to things and would soon experience heart failure, and Blaise would stand over his dead body and realized he'd never fancied him anyway and walk away and –
Blaise sat down on his left, which silenced his inner panic. Theodore snuck a look at him, wondering why he was willing to be close to him now, as his earlier behavior indicated that he didn't. The vulnerable, hurt Blaise who'd been crying not too long ago was almost gone. There were streaks on his cheeks where his tears had fallen, and his eyes were red and bloodshot, but the way he held his head showed that something had changed in the past fifteen or so minutes.
Blaise caught him looking. He felt himself blush a deep red and looked back into the fireplace. What was he supposed to do? Tell the dark male he wasn't comfortable being that close? Blaise turned his body slightly and opened his mouth to say something, and then apparently chickened out. The fire was entirely too hot, and Theodore's entire body felt like he was on fire.
Something funny was going on, he could feel it. His magic was sizzling inside him, looking for a channel and his head was spinning. His mouth was dry; his stomach was making nervous jumps. What was happening to him?
"Theo," Blaise said, voice nearly breaking again. He couldn't help it – he turned his head.
The world stopped moving. He was completely frozen, almost in a trance, only one thing existed anymore, and that was Blaise, who was staring back, his eyes open and intense, an expression of something he hadn't recognized until that night on his face.
After a moment of hesitation and an expression of anxious indecision, he leaned in and closed the difference of space between their faces and his lips met Theodore's. He heard a dull thud – though that could have been his heart – and for a moment he felt quite faint.
It was perfect. It was like finally reaching the surface of the water that time he'd tried to see how long he could stay underwater for, and then had gotten his hair stuck to a pool drain and had to nearly rip it out to move. Theodore didn't know what he was doing. Judging by the tremble in Blaise's hand as it came up to cup the side of his face, neither did he. His eyes fluttered closed automatically and his hands slipped off his legs onto the ground.
Blaise must have noticed that he was responding because he turned onto his knees and nudged Theodore's legs open. He was entirely unbothered by that procession, and found himself encouraging the dark male by pulling him closer, until their bodies were pressed against one another. It was then that Blaise began to full on snog the life out of him.
Theodore surrendered control naturally, letting Blaise tilt his head back and opened his mouth. One of his hands slid around the other male's waist and the other threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. It was strange, but he felt like every other moment of his life he'd been dead, until now. The sensations waking up inside him were so vibrant and so new that he could hardly control himself.
The fire was definitely too hot now, a fact which Blaise must have realized as well because his hands tugged at Theodore's shirt and he was only too happy to help him get it off. Amid their struggle with his clothing, a strange alarm bell began to go off in his head. A short absence of his friend's lips gave him enough time to clear his mind and realize what it was that was happening.
They had to stop.
Now.
"Stop," he gasped, more out of breath than he had been from dashing around the castle. "Stop."
The abrupt cease in movement from Blaise gave him the general idea that his protests had been expected. But when their eyes met something strange possessed him, a kind of fire and desperation he'd never felt before and he leaned back in, connecting their lips once more.
It was different, though. Slower and softer and less fiery. It sent tingles down his spine and made him want to sigh with happiness. It was strange, kissing Blaise. It felt so comfortable, like sleeping at night in his bed or wearing his favourite pair of slacks.
And then he heard footsteps. Walls began to slam down like metal gates, leaving hollow echoes in his mind and a deep horror in his stomach. Oh no. If they walked in – if they saw the position they were in – they would think – they would know what they were doing.
Blaise seemed to realize this at the same moment, because he leapt off him and hurriedly positioned himself on the couch in an attempt to look casual. Theodore buried his head in his hands, trying to not to do something really weird, like burst into hysterical laughter or run screaming from the room.
Two girls emerged from the bend in the stairs, one of them complaining. She broke off, however, when they saw the two boys. "Oh, sorry."
It was obvious that they weren't acting as casual as they had hoped, because no one had ever apologized for entering the Common Room before. He was disappointed and afraid, because he'd thought that his casual I'm-still-up-because-I'm-nocturnal look had been effective enough to fool a couple of fourth years. "Let's just talk upstairs, Maddie. They're asleep anyways." The other girl said in an airy voice and they retreated, leaving an awkward silence.
He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that when he opened them, he would be far, far away from Blaise. It was too complicated – he wasn't ready to have the conversation that they needed to have. There was no way in hell he was going to initiate it, either.
The empty pause stretched on and he tried not to cough awkwardly, an almost instinctive reaction that can only be developed through copious amounts of uncomfortable encounters. A strange, hot prickling started in his eyes and he got the feeling that he might start crying.
"Theo…" Blaise began slowly, resuming the frightened, uncharacteristically vulnerable person he'd been before. "Why did you kiss me back?"
I don't know.
Because I was curious, but it wasn't what I expected.
I couldn't see it was you in the dark, I thought you were someone else.
I'm not feeling so well, maybe I've got an incurable disease - you should go to the hospital. Also, I may forget about this all because of it.
Even before Blaise had finished the question, his brain began to work on making up answers; excuses to get out of it. But I always do that. This isn't the time. This is real. He realized with horror. He couldn't just run away from here and expect everything to be wonderful again tomorrow. It was just like what he'd realized earlier –except he actually understood.
"I wanted to." He finally said, staring down at his hands, fighting the urge to bury his head in them.
"Oh. Do you want to now?"
"I don't know." A part of his mind was demanding he tell the complete truth – an idea that didn't exactly appeal to him, but he did nonetheless.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"So…So do you…do you…y'know…me…as well…?"
"I don't know." He repeated and then, because he felt that maybe if he hurried the conversation along it would be less painful. That maybe it wouldn't be him ruthlessly crushing the slight, weak hope in Blaise's voice. "I'm just…I'm not ready to…to think about what this is supposed to mean…"
"What?" Hopelessness edged into Blaise's voice and guilt twisted inside Theodore.
"I'm just…I'm just not ready."
"I see."
"Yeah…So…Where does this leave us?"
"I don't know." Blaise said and slowly a hard edge crept into his voice. It sounded false, though, as though by kissing him, Theodore had become immune to his defensiveness. "I'm just not ready to think about it."
Ouch.
"I'll see you in the morning, Theodore."
"OK," his voice faltered, only for a moment, as Blaise stood up and rigidly walked upstairs.
With a small noise of distress he buried his head in his hands and cried.
How many times can I break 'til I shatter?