At every party, there are two kinds of people – those who want to go home and those who don't. The problem is, they're usually married to each other.
THC
House: Slytherin
Class: DADA – Stand in
Standard
Prompt: "No way!" / "I'm in."
Word Count: 1841 words
Against All Odds
This party was meant to be the event of the decade but as Blaise looked around the decadently dressed ballroom, he couldn't figure out how anybody could enjoy themselves properly. The gaudy decorations alone were enough to make him throw up.
Through the wooden doors, Blaise could see all the people milling about, many of them faces that he didn't recognise. He saw the couples who danced near them, twirling each other, some happy and others forced by the social conventions. He saw the curt conversations between acquaintances. The hidden disgust in people's eyes as a 'lesser' spoke to them.
He wondered how many wizards chose to be here at this Ministry party.
His attention was pulled back to the man attached to his arm.
"I cannot believe you talked me into this," Neville grumbled, his breath hitting Blaise's neck as he leaned in close, his voice barely edging above a whisper.
"Just remember," Blaise said through gritted teeth as a polite smile graced his face, "this is all for a good cause."
"Is it, though? Isn't it more likely that it's just a large event so that wealthy wizards can watch the poorer jump through hoops and do tricks for them?" Neville said, exasperated.
Blaise rolled his eyes and grabbed Neville's hand, pulling him into a covered corner just before the large entrance way. One where they were almost hidden from the mass of the other wizards eyes in attendance. He gripped the labels of Neville's robes, fixing them despite their perfect position. "Could you maybe, I don't know, keep your voice down when you're criticising the people who may or may not give me the money that I'm looking for so I continue my research?" Blaise pleaded softly, his hands digging into Neville's shoulders. "The research is because of you, after all."
Blaise watched Neville's eyes flit between himself and what he could only imagine was elderly wizards with money signs written in their clothes before they finally settled on him.
"Fine," Neville whined quietly, "but only because you asked."
"And?" Blaise added.
"And?" Neville asked, cocking his head to one side.
"And… 'I love you, Blaise,'" Blaise finished, imitating Neville's voice. He grinned at the expression on Neville's face. "Aw, how sweet, Neville. I love you too. Now let's go meet our doom."
He grabbed Neville's hand and pulled him back into the sea of people entering the ballroom. Pulling on the perfect, stoic look from his youth, he began to bring Neville around the room, greeting every greying wizard with a practiced nod and a shake of the hand; the perfect start to sweet-talking them out of their money.
Two hours later, the pair finally found a moment to themselves. They collapsed into uncomfortable chairs near the toilets of the Ministry, exhausted.
"This was more work than I expected." Blaise sighed, taking a drink from the champagne glass in his hand.
"I didn't expect a bed of roses," Neville said, laughing. "Although, I could have done without the judgemental looks."
Blaise sighed loudly. He had to admit that there was an uncomfortably number of disapproving looks that were sent towards the two of them. While Blaise had received them in the past, particularly at Hogwarts, he was from a well-established family and never experienced that type of negativity at a ministry event. However, there was no reason to focus on that, after all, it was fun. "It's just because you managed to snatch the most eligible bachelor in Britain."
"And he's so modest too," Neville said, smirking.
"Modesty is overrated." Blaise drained the glass and placed it on the table beside him.
Silence reigned between the two as they watched the ongoings around them. Young wizards schmoozed the previous generations as the rich stared boredly through them. Blaise spotted Draco Malfoy, his arm wrapped around his wife, as they talked to Theo Nott. Blaise watched as Theo ducked to avoid Hermione's wildly gesturing hands as she appeared to be attempting to explain something to him as Draco smiled contently at her.
"Is it time to go yet?" Neville groaned, allowing his head to loll back onto the chair.
"I honestly don't know. I lost count of all the people I had to talk to," Blaise winced.
"Wonderful…"
"'Ello, you two," came a voice shouting across the room.
"Oh joy," Blaise groaned, encouraging a kick to his shin from his partner.
"Be nice," Neville hissed. "Hi Ron, how are you?"
"Bored out of my mind," Ron replied as he approached them fully and hovered a metre away. "Listen, some of us are heading to the pub down the road. Mainly a lot of Gryffindors, but 'Mione told me to come ask you two as well. Up for it?"
"No way!" Blaise's yelp echoed around the room.
"I'm in," Neville chirped.
His head snapped to the side as he looked at Neville, his mouth open in absolute shock. "You can't be serious, Neville."
"Why not?" Neville shrugged. "It sounds like fun."
"Because it sounds like death wrapped up in an innocent request," Blaise growled, leaning towards Neville in an attempt to use a hushed tone.
"Breathe, dear," Neville said with a grin, pressing his hand into Blaise's spine. "Just because they're Gryffindors who have invited us, it doesn't mean you'll die. Although, I suppose it did come close with Draco the last time." Neville tilted his head in recollection as Ron guffawed loudly.
"That was funny," Ron said through his laughter. "Do you remember the scowl on his face when the pie hit him? Poor 'Mione having to go home with that afterwards."
Blaise glared at the bearer of his grief before turning back to Neville. The love of his life, he reminded himself.
"Neville, please tell me that you're not actually planning to go with them! Because if you are, I will leave you and you can find somewhere else to sleep tonight," Blaise said, a threatening tone seeping through. Hopefully, his partner would recognise the seriousness in his voice.
"Only tonight?" Ron piped up. His annoying voice once again penetrated Blaise's ears. "Because he can stay with us if that's the case. Lav won't mind. She loves having guests."
"I can?" he questioned as a smile made its way to his face. Blaise could see the challenge in his eyes and refused to fall for it. "Perfect. Problem solved!"
"You're going to choose your friends over me?" Blaise cried, crossing his arms and pouting his bottom lip out.
"Would you be mad if I did?" Neville asked, carefully placing his hands on Blaise's biceps.
"I wouldn't be happy," Blaise said softly. "I mean, I'd have to go back to that big house all on my own. Sleep in that big bed… all by myself." He sniffed dramatically.
"Well, you could come with us," Neville replied.
"You're right. And if that's the only way to spend time with you, I will." Blaise nodded firmly.
"How does it feel to be played?" Ron's voice broke through their bubble.
"Shut up, Weasley," Blaise snarled, "or I'll tell Draco about how you actually got that black eye last month."
Ron raised his hands in defeat. "Merlin, you take one drink too many, get a little handsy and suddenly, it's blackmail." He rolled his eyes before marching away.
Blaise felt Neville's arm wrap around his waist, his hand clenching tightly into the side of his formal robes. He wrapped his hand around Neville's, pulling it away from the black clothes.
"Dear, I love you, but these are Italian," Blaise said. "Cease the clenching. You'll crease them."
"Just making sure you're not going to run away," Neville replied lightly.
"No, no," Blaise sighed, "someone has to make sure you don't get caught by Ron's hands."
"That's six-drink-Ron, I'm not sure it'll get that bad." Neville grinned before clutching Blaise's hand tightly. "Come on, we don't want to be the last to arrive."
Hands clasped together, they walked towards the exit and out to what Blaise considered his doom.
Three hours later, he was certain that it was actually his death he was facing. Gryffindors could drink anyone under the table, and the more they drank, the louder they got. Blaise was certain that he'd be deaf by the time the night was over.
He peered around the room, trying to spot Neville before giving up and falling back into the booth beside Draco who was sitting quietly, sipping on a glass of firewhiskey.
"You need to relax, Blaise," Draco said nonchalantly.
"But… I've lost him," Blaise whined.
Draco took another sip of his drink before replying. "He'll come back. Have another drink. You'll need it if you're going to survive this lot."
"How do you do this?" he asked, looking around at the chaos that surrounded them. "I mean looking at where we started, did you honestly think we'd be here?" He raised his hand to summon another drink from the bar.
Draco played with the glass in his hand, tipping the liquid back and forth.
"No, I didn't," he said finally, "but I get to go home with the woman I love and I wouldn't change a thing about that."
"I understand." Blaise took a drink from the glass that had appeared in front of him.
Suddenly, Draco sighed loudly before knocking back the last of his drink. "If you'll excuse me, Hermione seems to have drunk a little too much. She's about to start a riot. Lunch sometime this week?"
"Yes, sure. Send me an owl," Blaise replied, watching as Draco walked away and gathered his wife into his arms. With a whisper in her ear, he managed to coax her into her coat and together, they left the pub, happier than a Slytherin and a Gryffindor had ever been. Blaise smiled as he watched the door shut behind them, the grin growing bigger as he sensed Neville sit down beside him.
He turned to look at him, studying the rosy glow covering Neville's cheeks and the glassy, happy stare of his eyes.
"Hi," Neville said, smiling drunkenly at him.
"Hello," Blaise replied.
"Can we go home?" Neville asked, resting his head on Blaise's shoulder.
"We can indeed. Are you ready now?" Blaise replied. Neville nodded tiredly.
They got up, Blaise snaking an arm around his boyfriend's waist, and they left the pub with Blaise propping Neville up, waving at those that noticed them leaving. Stepping out into the night air, the bitter chill hit them and they huddled closer together. The pair wandered down the road together, arm in arm.
"Did you have fun?" Neville asked quietly.
Blaise looked at him, seeing the smile still remaining on his lips. "You know what, I think I did," he admitted.
"Yay." Neville drunkenly clapped in excitement. "That means you can come to boys night next week."
"It's not happening. No way!"
"Oh, please?"
"No," he stated with a simple shake of the head.
"But you said you enjoyed it."
"Not enough to do it regularly."
"Please…" Neville begged.
"No."
"Pretty please?"
"No."