Hey guys, thanks for the massive boom in reviews, favs and follows! It truly boggled my mind when I checked my story three days ago and saw seven thousand reads, and then today when I saw eleven thousand! I've never had this sort of reaction to any of my stories! Like, ever!

I've always just written for the sake of writing, for putting down my ideas on paper (or screen, if you want to be specific!) and reading them over so that I could say, 'Wow, I actually wrote that!' and give myself a self-esteem boost, so I could actually be proud of something, so I could have my own little virtual world where I'm away from reality. And to have someone say that my ideas are actually good and worth reading...? I couldn't be more mind-blown than that.

So, to you who read this, thank you. So, so much.

(I of course, don't own nor do I make a profit, from this story. This is all for the obsession that I'm beginning to have.)

P.s. There's a warning in here, just because there's a bit of Blaise/Harry of the bad kind (non-con and all that) so I've made it rather obvious for those who dislike Blaise/Harry (Blarry? Haise?) so anyone who don't want to read it, skip on! But read the last bit, that's the only thing you need for the next chapter to make sense. Enjoy!

J.K. Rowling is beautiful, amazing and the most intelligent and gifted person ever.

-oOoOoOo-

The dark water of the Black Lake lapped at the bank with a peaceful rhythm, providing Harry a small comfort in his chaotic mind as the wind played with his long half-curled hair, and cuddled his knees to his chest in an long-shot attempt at giving himself security and comfort. He really needed it after what had happened back in the bathroom, it still brought a quake to his knees and a growl past his lips whenever he thought about it. Which he tried in vain not to do.

The lake was in itself was a well thought out distraction, the soothing waves and nippy wind were merely bonuses.

It was odd to be sitting in a place so familiar, but knowing that you were far more different than the last time you were here. The last time had been after the first attack at the Ministry, the beginning of the end of Voldemort. He had sat on this very boulder, arms in almost the exact same place around his knees and looking out over the lake, but with the fiercest of fires burning within his chest. He had escaped the mothering clutches of Molly Weasley in exchange for the cool air that the Black Lake offered, having found that being anywhere near his incensed friends had shattered any and all attempts at calming down and thinking through things rationally. As they always did.

But as he sat here and listened to the gentle hush of the water soothing over the bank, he couldn't help but think that this was a far more pleasant, if not strange, circumstance. He wasn't entirely as enraged as he had been those few nights, raging at anything and everything; the sky, the water, even the Giant Squid, for the most simplest of things.

No, while he was angry and beyond seething, it was himself that it was all directed at. It rankled him to the point of madness; how could he have allowed Malfoy to use him like that?

He wasn't weak, he was nowhere near submissive in any form. So why had his body betrayed him? For pleasure? He had a hand for that, and anyone else out there that fancied him – which he knew there were, as there were many more sacks of betrothal offers than he'd had in any other year just waiting for him to sort through, now that he'd finally ended the nightmare that Tom Riddle was. He had more than enough time for a romantic relationship – one that Ginny and himself had once had.

Was it his body's way of saying that he was more than ready for sex? No, while he was certainly ready for a relationship, sex was not included just yet. And most definitely not with Malfoy of all people, he was alright with having sex with a guy -not that he'd ever really considered it-, but not that guy. He'd rather have sex with a Goblin than that bastard.

So therefore, the question remains; how could he have allowed Malfoy to use him like that?

He could feel his stomach grumbling its want for food, but he couldn't bring himself to care about food just at that moment. He was still in the mood to wring someone's neck or tear down the castle. He didn't think he could handle sitting down at the same table as the bastard and eat his lunch like nothing happened, it was too much and way too soon. Never would be too soon to see the devil blonde's face. He didn't think he could hold himself back from knocking his teeth out.

And that was an oh-so tempting thing to do right now.

Too many things had happened today, already. First the barrage of bumbling idiots almost blowing up the common room, secondly being injured with by a cutting curse -he was almost sure that it had been Fred who had miscast-, and lastly having to square up with Lucius Malfoy over a simple misconstrued statement! He was inwardly contemplating the chances of Sirius allowing him to drop out of Hogwarts now, because if he already had a headache on the second day back then he couldn't possibly handle being here for the remaining two years. It just wasn't worth it.

"Why didn't you join us?"

Harry didn't turn to face him, not finding the need to look away from one of the two things keeping him calm and sane. "Didn't feel the need to," he replied, ignoring the crunching footsteps leading to the space next to him on the low boulder. "I figured a nice walk out here with the cool air would be better."

"Yes, I myself find shivering, blue lips and most likely freezing fingertips to be far better than food," said Blaise satirically, sitting down gracefully on the cleanest and smoothest part of the rock beside him. "It does absolute wonders for the skin."

"Is there a reason you're out here, other than to give me beauty tips I'm sure I don't need?" Harry asked flatly, staring out at the lake with dark eyes. He didn't want anyone with him, not now or so soon at least. Not until he knew that he could control himself without at least attempting to skin someone, the only thing holding him back from snapping was the serenity and silence that the lake offered.

"Contrary to popular belief, Potter, we Slytherins actually do have a sense of when someone is upset and in need of a friend. It's all about the who is upset that matters," Blaise said, clasping his hands in his lap to keep them warm. "What's happened to make you this way? I understand the part about squaring up to Lord Malfoy - that would put a damper on anyone's day, but usually not this bad … did something happen after we all left?"

"Nothing happened," Harry answered forcefully, looking determinedly at the lake and silently willing the other to leave. Zabini has no business asking him all these questions, they weren't even properly friends yet.

It was silent then, Blaise obviously giving Harry time to calm slightly. Harry was just beginning to think that the Italian was about to leave, when he spoke. "Whatever he said to you to make you act like this, just ignore it. He's not that good of a talker, and he's even less of a people's person. Sometimes I think he only had himself to talk to, that or his parents put him in a – what's that Muggle prison term I heard from Theo? Oh – yes, solitary confinement."

Harry's lips tightened despite the joking tone, making the purple-blue hue pale in the dull light of the grey sun, and he scowled darkly. "I don't know what you're talking about ––"

"Oh please, anyone with a pair of eyes and a brain cell can tell that Draco said something to you," Blaise interrupted impatiently, giving up on the joke. "It really doesn't take a genius to work it out; you're out here avoiding everyone inside and Draco's inside pestering his mum and dad with the most pitiful face I've ever seen. He's annoying everyone, including Lady and Lord Malfoy, with his childish behavior," Blaise snorted indelicately, shaking his head.

"And it sort of helps to have a strong sense of smell," he added slyly, brushing his clothed arm against Harry's bare freezing one, and ignoring how Harry jumped from the touch.

Harry startled. "Nothing happened ––"

Blaise snorted again, turning his head to stare into the side of Harry's face incredulously. "If getting off on each other is nothing, then I'd hate to see what something is, because that scent was amazingly strong for just rutting against each other."

Harry didn't answer, finding his mouth suddenly too dry to speak. If Blaise had smelt what they'd done, then everyone else would have been able to as well. Including the elder Malfoy's and Ernie. And Remus. Poor Remus.

And how did Blaise know that they did nothing else but frot up against each other. As disgustingly embarrassing as that sounds. Heat flooded his face and turned his skin a delicate pink, despite the chilly wind freezing him.

"You don't need to be embarrassed, Potter," said Blaise in amusement, smirking. "It's a natural reaction between two attractive people; they just can't keep each others hands off of one another. I have to admit that it took me a little over an hour to figure out what that scent was, but when I did, it became insanely obvious, especially when I realized that Draco had the relaxed frustration face going on. But I doubt anyone else figured it out, they weren't sitting close enough to smell it, so don't worry," Blaise said, knocking his arm jokingly into Harry's and hardly noticing that Harry neither reciprocated or jumped away.

Harry paled. "It was that obvious?" He asked quietly, hoping he'd misheard.

"Quite," Blaise answered happily enough, unaware that he was making the raven-haired teen panic. "Draco seemed quite adamant that nothing happened, by the way. Something about not wanting to upset his parents, or you."

When Harry didn't say anything, Blaise turned to face him. Harry was staring out at the lake with wide green eyes, his plump lips a small thin line and his lithe body tense and rigid. He was very pale. "But if you're truly worried about it, I could always spell it away for you. Or rip the nostrils out of the faces of anyone who dares to say anything," he added hurriedly, a charming smile settled across his plump dark lips.

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, picturing in his mind the Malfoy's faces without their noses. But that was a bit too close to Voldemort's face, and he shivered as their hair disappeared and they became gaunt and skeletal. The freezing wind seemed to pick up then, carrying his long hair from his once warm back and shifting it to the side of his shoulder. His grit his teeth in an effort to stop them from chattering. "As funny as that would be, I somehow don't think they'd be happy with you."

He was startled when a large warm cloak was thrown around him, and he squirmed when he realized that it was Blaise's robe. "Why –?"

"You looked like you were freezing, so I decided to be a gentleman and give you my robe," Blaise said unnecessarily, smiling slightly at Harry's blatant look of discomfort. However, the smile dropped when he found himself having to fight off the cold, realizing just how freezing it is just a tad too late.

Harry bit at his bottom lip, frowning at the handsome -and surprisingly kind- Slytherin beside him. He looked a little stiff from the cold. Could he really resist helping the person who had just helped him? No, he couldn't. "Do you want it back? I can just cast a warming charm," he offered, sweeping out one side of the cloak to Blaise and ignoring the sudden wash of cold air that met him.

Blaise smirked, although it didn't have its normal amount of mischief and vibrance as he was fighting off the shivers that threatened to shake him, and shook his head. "I'll be fine, I can handle the cold," he assured, moving to hug himself around the waist to keep his arms warm.

Harry rolled his eyes and shed the robe, exposing himself to the freezing wind once again, and threw it around a protesting Blaise. He's been exposed to far worse temperatures than this, he can cope with this for at least a few more minutes. "Yeah, I can see that you're fine alright. Your lips are already chapping up and you look frozen." Pushing aside the queasy feeling in his stomach, Harry took to closing the clasps.

The Italian stopped fussing at that and allowed him to clasp the flaps closed. He seemed a little troubled, but otherwise calm. "Looking at my lips?" He asked, his dark eyes watching him fiddle with the expensive dragon tooth clasps with an indecipherable emotion.

Why anyone would have teeth as a button, Harry didn't know, they were fickle as hell when trying to get them through their opposite loops, slipping back out just as you think they're about to lock together. His fingers stumbled slightly when Blaise removed his hands from the warmth of his robe, but he continued to avoid Blaise's eye. He was having some real trouble with the clasps now.

**** (WARNING IS APPLIED HERE) ****

His hands were suddenly cradled by a pair of warmer, darker and larger hands, his fingers being covered by thicker but equally graceful ones and his palms pressed together in a praying position. Green burned into dark brown as Harry looked up into the face of the Italian Slytherin. "Just repaying the favour, I guess," he answered quietly, remembering what Blaise had said upon finding him. He forced a small smile to his face to relieve the sudden and weird tension surrounding them, but found that it just worsened.

They were so close, their faces just a few breaths apart from each other. Harry couldn't help but notice that Blaise's hands were incredibly warm around his smaller ice cold ones, but they were the wrong type of heat, the wrong type of feel. Their breaths mixed together in a cloud and blew away in the freezing wind, their eyes staying connected to one another as they unconsciously gravitated towards each other. But this was the wrong face, the wrong person.

Harry's cheeks flamed when their noses bumped, and he pulled back enough to breathe without tasting Blaise's fresh and sweet breath on his tongue. "S - sorry," he whispered, swiping his tongue over his dry lips to wet them. What the hell is happening? He thought, unsure about just what was happening.

Blaise's eyes were dark and alight with an unfamiliar emotion as he stared at Harry's mouth, his mouth slightly open as if he was about to speak. But he didn't. Instead, he undid the few clasps Harry had managed to close in quick succession, and slowly, giving Harry time to pull away, pulled the younger and smaller boy into his chest and into the warmth of the surprisingly large robe.

Harry allowed himself to enter the circle of Blaise's arms, unaware of the soft waves and cold wind blowing around them as he was drawn against another muscled chest, this time willingly. But it was the wrong chest.

"No need to be, Harry," replied Blaise in a low whisper, his eyes staring intensely into Harry's own like molten brown orbs. Harry was distracted by a thought that they were the wrong eyes, totally unaware of the cold air pushing his hair past the both of their heads like a long silky black curtain. It was all so wonderfully but worriedly intense, much like the time in the shower that Harry had shared with Malfoy. But it lacked something important, something Harry couldn't place a finger on what. "I want to kiss you," Blaise continued whispering, his face shifting into a confused look of hunger.

Harry was shocked into silence, his eyes wide. Blaise continued staring at him, his brown eyes flickering all over his face like heat seekers. "But I don't know why ... or where," he said distractedly. Alarm bells were beginning to ring in Harry's mind by the time Blaise's head began to dip forward, completely missing Harry's plump and inviting lips in favour of the slightly exposed and lightly bruised pale neck.

A cold nose pressed against the skin just under his jaw, eliciting a small yelp from Harry's lips. And then Blaise was inhaling sharply and deeply. "You smell so good," Blaise breathed, yanking Harry roughly from his seat beside him so that he was straddling his thighs, pulling Harry in more firmly against his torso by the waist. Panic began to swell in Harry's chest at the thought of another situation like the one he'd had in the shower. "Like sweet strawberries, dark chocolate and vanilla ..."

"Zabini – stop!" Harry swallowed down another yelp as a pair of soft wet lips pressed against his jugular, and sharp teeth slowly began to trace the skin there. "Zabini stop, I don't want you to do this!" He grunted, gaining enough space to move his hands to Blaise's rapidly rising and falling chest, where he pushed.

A low whine fell from Blaise's parted lips, and Harry felt the ghost of his hot breath rush down his neck as something hard pushed against the inside of his thigh. He really began to panic then. "You smell so amazing, like nothing I've ever smelt before. Rich, sweet, spicy, heavenly .. I could go on forever and never stop."

"I don't care!" Harry snapped, a low growl in his voice. He was now shoving against Blaise's chest, anger and wrongness filling and twisting his gut something fierce. This was so much worse than what Malfoy had done to him. "Just get the fuck off of me!" He yelled.

A low hiss was all he heard before those sharp teeth were penetrating his skin, and blood began to seep from the wounds there. He was totally unprepared for the red haze that slid over his vision, and a beast from within his chest to roar and run rampant through his blood. His blood was for another, not for him!

He roared as loudly as he could, an animalistic roar that sent birds shooting out of their nests hidden in the tall trees of the Forbidden Forest and animals sprinting from the edges of the tree-line. From his fogged mind, he noticed that other animals and creatures in the forest all squealed, squawked and roared along with him.

Blaise was flung away from him with a powerful shove, and he jumped back off of the boulder. Blaise landed in a crouch, his back arched backward and his gleaming slightly bloodstained fangs visible to all who looked. His eyes glowed red where the white once was, giving the illusion that his dark brown irises were darker than they appeared.

Harry tossed the large cloak onto the floor and snarled threateningly when Blaise made to move forward, his human mind long gone in the heat of the moment and his Valerian instincts taking complete control.

"Harry!" Someone screamed in the distance, but Harry was still focused intensely on Blaise, his own teeth bared in an animalistic snarl.

"Zabini, control yourself! You will not attack him!" Harry heard Lucius Malfoy snap, but he didn't chance a glance in the direction of the blonde man in case Blaise decided to use the distraction to strike.

Blaise took a threatening step forward and Harry snarled, snapping his teeth in anger as the dark teen edged his way closer. As soon as Blaise was close enough, Harry wouldn't hesitate in attacking, he'd rip the head off of the vampire that dared to harm him. Blaise took another step closer, and Harry snarled once more, readying himself to pounce.

"BLAISE!" Screamed a woman, and this time, Blaise responded. The red tinge in his eyes faded and the fangs in his mouth shrank until they were nothing more than normal canine and lateral incisors. But Harry was still crouched and stuck in the haze, unable to calm down until the vampire was further away.

Blaise immediately straightened from his crouch, his face displaying horror and pain as he saw Harry snarling at him, and turned to his mother when he saw no semblance of humanity in the dark haired youths eyes. "Mother I'm sorry I – I didn't mean to –" he tried to say, his tone pleading and distressed.

Lady Zabini inhaled deeply and carefully made her way to where her distraught son stood, eyeing Harry as he growled warningly and retreated a step, she wrapped her delicate arms wrapping around his waist -the only place she could reach and be comfortable-, and pulled him closer to the other vampires and further from Harry. "I know, sweetheart," she said soothingly. "This is exactly the reason why we are here, to help guide and protect you, to help you prevent the wrongs before they happen. You did a very good thing, don't worry son."

Harry forced the fierce prowling beast within his chest to back down when Blaise began to cry, but the roars did not stop, and they did not slow. He had to get away before he couldn't stop himself from tearing Blaise apart. He spun on his heel and tore away from the large group of shocked and wary vampires, not caring where he went so long as he left.

No one noticed him leave, unsurprisingly. Or, no one that cared to reveal themselves.