Velvet Persuasion
Chapter Fourteen:
For the next two days, despite the uncertainty raging inside of him, Harry unconsciously stuck by Blaise as much as possible. He had seen the perils of Blaise being controlled by Draco already, and he didn't want Blaise falling under Draco's influence again.
Following Blaise began accidentally, when Harry had been on his way to Potions. He had been late getting up, and had even missed breakfast; Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be found.
And, just his luck, as he rounded a corner in the dungeons, he could see Draco and Blaise talking.
Blaise had already sensed him coming, Harry realized as their eyes met; Blaise had obviously been looking his direction for some time.
Draco scowled, but seemed to hold his tongue in term of Harry because of Blaise's presence. Harry could only imagine the thoughts and plans running through Draco's head, plots of revenge and everything else under the blue moon. But Harry was so worried about Blaise that none of that was of concern to him.
"What are you doing here?" Draco snarled. "And tell your little Mudblood friend to look out, because revenge is a bitch!"
"Draco," Blaise said warningly, and Draco stalked off. Blaise turned back to Harry with a pleasant smile. "Hello, Harry."
"Was Draco bothering you?" Harry asked tentatively; he didn't feel very comfortable being alone with Blaise anymore; how could Blaise behave as though he hadn't said what he'd said?
"…I suppose so," Blaise said uncertainly. "You get used to it after a while."
Harry couldn't help but feel the pity bubble to the surface.
Blaise frowned suddenly, looking away, and Harry knew it was because of that pity. For the first time between them, there was an awkward silence, one that Harry found strangely natural.
"We should hurry," Harry said, beginning to walk again. "We'll be late for Potions."
With that statement, a smirk reappeared on Blaise's features. "Or maybe we shouldn't go."
"What?"
"We shouldn't go." Blaise had resumed walking as well.
"To Potions? Snape'll kill us." He paused. "Snape'll kill me, at least. I can't afford to miss this class."
"What class can you afford to miss, then?"
"None of them! You shouldn't be ditching classes at all!"
"You sound like Granger. Next class, then. You have Defense Against the Dark Arts, no? I have Care of Magical Creatures. We're ditching."
It was then that they reached Snape's classroom. Blaise opened the door before holding it open for Harry, and sent a wink towards the Potions Master.
Harry's mouth gaped, a protest already poised on his lips, when he noticed that Snape didn't look even remotely like he was going to snap or take points from either of them.
My god…
(scene shift)
Draco swore. Where in the hell was Blaise? Care of Magical Creatures had begun all of twenty minutes ago, and Blaise hadn't yet arrived. Hagrid had noticed as well, seeing as Blaise was one of the best students in the class, but the oaf had of course written the absence off as an 'emergency', or else, by his dimwitted logic, Blaise would have been there.
Draco, however, knew it was more than a simply absence, or even an emergency. He knew that Blaise had not gone to class on purpose. And through his superior logic, it had to have something to do with Harry Potter.
(scene shift)
Harry laughed. He could not be having a better time. Immediately after Potions was dismissed, Blaise had taken him by the arm and pulled him from the classroom—to escape Draco, Hermione, and Ron all at once.
After making a short stop at the Slytherin Common Room, where Harry spent a very uncomfortable two minutes outside, they headed in the general direction of 'their classroom'.
On the way, they encountered Snape walking down the hall, who inquired as to why they were not in class. Harry, who had prepared to receive a detention, was impressed—and partially disgusted—as Blaise half talked, half flirted through an explanation of why they were in the corridor, late for class.
Snape's expression towards the end had given him away—while he accepted Blaise's excuse, he did not want to forgive Harry, who was a part of that explanation.
"Hurry to class, gentlemen," Snape said as he walked away. "And Potter—I don't want to see you in the halls after class begins again."
"Yes, Professor," Harry said obediently; despite the fact that he hated Snape, he was glad to have gotten through the encounter at all.
"See, Harry?" Blaise smiled. "I kept my promise."
"What?" Harry said, confused.
"I'll cover for you if we're caught…"
"Oh." Harry said quietly.
After that, they reached their destination without interruption.
"So," Harry ventured to ask. "What did you have to get from the dungeons?"
Blaise smiled, and pulled four bottles of Butterbeer from his schoolbag. "Draco and my connections keep Slytherin House in constant supply," he said proudly.
Harry thought of Fred and George briefly, smiling, and Blaise handed him a bottle.
"Now you can't have too much, Harry," Blaise said cautiously. "I don't want you stark drunk in your next class."
"I can handle myself," Harry said defensively.
Blaise smiled in response and opened his bottle with a small pop.
Silence ensued for the moment both boys took swigs of their Butterbeer. Harry could not remember the last time he had tasted that warm liquid. He savored it, and felt it settle in the bottom of his stomach.
And then, minutes later, the air felt warm, and he didn't think it was the Butterbeer. It was then that he looked at Blaise, and the Slytherin was smiling the most radiant smile Harry had ever seen on the boy's face. He put his Butterbeer bottle down on the table, slowly, while thinking,
"He can be overwhelmed by people's emotions, even controlled by them!"
Remembering Hermione's words, he wondered if it worked the other way, too. Was that why that gentle warmth was spreading around the room—because Blaise was happy?
"Blaise?" Harry said hesitantly.
At Harry's tone of voice, Blaise's smile faltered, but the warmth still clung to the air.
And Harry searched for the right words. "Does being here—with me—just…hanging out—does it make you…happy?"
Blaise seemed utterly surprised by this question, but blushed slightly and sheepishly nodded. "Is that…bad?"
Blaise's answering question bothered Harry. How could Blaise question the happiness of…happiness? Then he was struck with a horrifying thought: What if Blaise had never felt happiness of his own? Uninspired by other people?
Harry shook his head, to the idea and to Blaise's question. "No. It's almost never a bad thing when someone's genuinely happy. It's just…I can feel it."
Blaise placed his bottle down next to Harry's. "…feel what?"
Harry shrugged. "You're happy. I can feel it in the air. It's warm, and kind of…fuzzy, like Butterbeer when you drink it."
"…it does?" Blaise asked, looking around as though he was expecting to physically see it.
"It's kind of…nice. It's nice to know you can really be happy, Blaise."
Blaise paused, and then, "You really…care about what happens to me, don't you Harry?"
Harry answered this without hesitation. "Of course I do! How many times do I have to tell you that? I won't just sit here and let Malfoy manipulate you!"
"…thank you, Harry."
There was a silence, and a buildup of suspense within Harry, and when he couldn't stand it anymore, when all of his thoughts from the past few days had come rushing back, he blurted out, "Blaise, do you really love me?"
At his outburst, Blaise did not seem surprised at all, but he smiled, possibly with more depth than before, and his eyes sparkled.
"Yes," Blaise said, and the warmth in the room intensified—it did not get warmer, but all the same, the atmosphere was suddenly charged—with his words. "I do, Harry."
It was a simple answer, and Harry knew it was true.
Blaise's warmth still held the room captive, and Harry began to relax into it. He let the warmth swirl around him and settle into his skin. He felt wonderful on the inside, too, like he had no worries, no qualms with the world. It was just him and Blaise, and it was perfect.
"Blaise, I—"
"Quiet, Harry," sounded Blaise's voice from behind him. Wait. When did Blaise move? The question was left unanswered, but he didn't care; his mind felt sedated, and he knew suddenly that everything in the world, in his world, was going to be alright.
Except this one thing. He had to tell Blaise how he felt.
"But, Blaise—" Harry protested; what he had to say was important. What he had to say would really make everything better.
"No," Blaise interrupted. "Not now. Not this way. Tell me later. I'll listen then, I promise."
"Blaise—"
"I promise, Harry," Blaise's arms encircled around him from behind, and the Slytherin seated himself right behind Harry, his head resting on Harry's shoulder. "Just…be quiet for me right now, Harry."
The Gryffindor replied calmly, "Alright," but felt like he was bursting with joy on the inside. He couldn't ever remember being this happy. So he sat there, content to have Blaise's head on his shoulder, but still, there was something missing.
Harry wanted to tell Blaise he loved him, too.
A/N: I'm a sucker for good endings. I have to eventually do a story where the ending makes people sad. I haven't been able to grow the balls to do it. I had been considering making the final pairing Blaise/Draco, even as horrible as Draco's been to him, but I couldn't do it. I chickened out. I feel like, in this particular story, Blaise had gone through enough…