Author's notes- Just finishing everything off now. I decided to make Flint
seem more human in this chapter rather than make him a heartless bastard.
Woo. This is the end, although I *do* have plans for a sort of follow-up
using the same characters. It won't be a particularly happy piece, so feel
free to think of it as AU rather than a real sequel. Huge thanks to anyone
and everyone who has commented. I really enjoyed writing this.
Disclaimers- Still not mine.
We limp into the infirmary together. Neither of us feel quite capable of standing. Dumbledore is already there. Our entire affair was a secret between us two, therefore he knows all the sordid details. I wonder if he has an Invisibility Cloak of his own sometimes, I really do. He doesn't intefere with us too much. Madam Pomfrey frowns over my injury, prods it with her wand and then forces Blaise to swallow something a rather violent shade of purple. When I kiss him later, I can taste strawberries from whatever medication he swallowed. Blaise sleeps with me in the same bed, curtains drawn. There's no sex. We're too exhausted for anything like that.
The next morning I awake before him. Blaise looks younger when he sleeps. Madam Pomfrey doesn't look at all startled to see us together although I feel faintly embarassed. Dumbledore sits beside the bed quietly and confirms what happened. He doesn't seem inclined to talk to Blaise himself. "You know best, Harry," He says simply. I nod.
Blaise wakes at last. He was exhausted, poor thing. Ron and Hermione turn up. I feel even more embarassment- we *are* in bed together after all.
"It's cool," Ron mutters, turning a deep crimson. It doesn't become him.
"Actually, I think it's time we told them something too," Hermione says pointedly. Ron gulps.
"Er, er, me and Hermione are together too," He stutters. I put on my best astonished-but-pleased look.
"Really? That's amazing!" He beams and hugs Hermione enthusiastically.
Ginny arrives shortly after and enters with Malka. She looks calm, perfectly at peace with us. Blaise and Ginny get on well. They chatter happily enough. I suspect everyone knows what happened for whatever reason, but they don't mention it. I can't help noticing how *close* Ginny and Malka seem anyway. They touch hands several times without seeming to notice. Well, they'd make a stunning couple with their willowy figures and flaming hair. Gryffindors and Slytherins go together so wonderfully.
They leave. We dress. And as we're leaving, a less welcome person arrives. Flint. He towers over both of us, and our joined hands part instantly.
"Come on, Blaise," He inclines his head slightly. Blaise doesn't move.
"You can't be serious about Potter!" He looks appalled. "Come on baby, you know I'll forgive you if you've fooled around a bit. I'm sorry about whatever happened.. the tower-thing.. yeah, but it can be alright-" He looks confused and I feel sorry for him. Perhaps he really does have some affection for Blaise. Too late, and too little though. Poor Flint. He can't help anyone.
"Come on," He holds his arms open. I think of Aunt Marge calling her favourite pet dog. Blaise shakes his head slowly.
"Sorry, Flint," He walks back to me. We walk past Flint and leave him standing there, alone and confused. He wasn't the evil fairytale wizard. I suppose he wasn't much more than a rather over-possessive, sexually- frustrated boy with no idea of how to show affection or care for the people he loved. Not that different from many teenagers really. He leaves Blaise and myself alone for the last few months of the year anyway. Then he leaves, presumably to follow his life as a Death Eater, live terribly and die at the end of an Auror's wand. Like I said, I feel sorry for him. But you can't save everyone.
So life went on. We finally slept together. And then again, and again. We're teenagers, we're allowed to do it five times a day. Malka and Ginny did get together. I couldn't help noticing how their hair clashed. They made an excellent couple anyway. Blaise immediately adopted Ginny as his other best friend for talking about "girl stuff" with. He really should have been born a woman. Not that gender makes any difference to me.
We talked a lot. About life, and each other. I shared my deepest fears and insecurities. How close I'd came to suicide after Cedric died. How much I sometimes wanted people to remember the Boy Who Lived is still only a boy. He opened up about his own past. His parents were indeed death eaters, rather cool and distant and not particularly caring if important visitors chose to use their son. If it helped them to get what they wanted, his beauty could be an excellent tool in negotiations. He'd met Marcus that way. His father had been a regular visitor and had started bringing his son with him. Flint had only been a few years older than Blaise but they had started sleeping together even back then. When Blaise came to Hogwarts, he explained it had seemed easier to let things continue. Life was easier if you let people do what they want. I wanted to cry for him, but he didn't seem too bothered any more. It was in the past, after all. And when he'd came to Hogwarts, he'd had a choice. Perhaps he'd chosen badly but it didn't matter any more.
We went to stay with the Weasleys over summer. It was terribly crowded there, with myself and Blaise and Hermione and Malka besides all the usual tribe. Mrs Weasley seemed delighted though. She immediately decided Blaise was in desperate need of a mother figure and spent much of the summer determinedly looking after him. He didn't object too much, although I rescued him when he had a "save me" look in his eyes as she tried to interest him in helping her bake gingerbread men or go shopping. That summer helped a lot. There were some scars that could never be erased entirely, but perhaps they could fade until they only troubled us in deepest nightmares. By the time we returned to Hogwarts, we both felt the past was well and truly over. We were in love, for the first real time. And although Blaise's dark eyes still seemed to suck in the light of the world, for the first time I thought I could see the light shining back out.
Disclaimers- Still not mine.
We limp into the infirmary together. Neither of us feel quite capable of standing. Dumbledore is already there. Our entire affair was a secret between us two, therefore he knows all the sordid details. I wonder if he has an Invisibility Cloak of his own sometimes, I really do. He doesn't intefere with us too much. Madam Pomfrey frowns over my injury, prods it with her wand and then forces Blaise to swallow something a rather violent shade of purple. When I kiss him later, I can taste strawberries from whatever medication he swallowed. Blaise sleeps with me in the same bed, curtains drawn. There's no sex. We're too exhausted for anything like that.
The next morning I awake before him. Blaise looks younger when he sleeps. Madam Pomfrey doesn't look at all startled to see us together although I feel faintly embarassed. Dumbledore sits beside the bed quietly and confirms what happened. He doesn't seem inclined to talk to Blaise himself. "You know best, Harry," He says simply. I nod.
Blaise wakes at last. He was exhausted, poor thing. Ron and Hermione turn up. I feel even more embarassment- we *are* in bed together after all.
"It's cool," Ron mutters, turning a deep crimson. It doesn't become him.
"Actually, I think it's time we told them something too," Hermione says pointedly. Ron gulps.
"Er, er, me and Hermione are together too," He stutters. I put on my best astonished-but-pleased look.
"Really? That's amazing!" He beams and hugs Hermione enthusiastically.
Ginny arrives shortly after and enters with Malka. She looks calm, perfectly at peace with us. Blaise and Ginny get on well. They chatter happily enough. I suspect everyone knows what happened for whatever reason, but they don't mention it. I can't help noticing how *close* Ginny and Malka seem anyway. They touch hands several times without seeming to notice. Well, they'd make a stunning couple with their willowy figures and flaming hair. Gryffindors and Slytherins go together so wonderfully.
They leave. We dress. And as we're leaving, a less welcome person arrives. Flint. He towers over both of us, and our joined hands part instantly.
"Come on, Blaise," He inclines his head slightly. Blaise doesn't move.
"You can't be serious about Potter!" He looks appalled. "Come on baby, you know I'll forgive you if you've fooled around a bit. I'm sorry about whatever happened.. the tower-thing.. yeah, but it can be alright-" He looks confused and I feel sorry for him. Perhaps he really does have some affection for Blaise. Too late, and too little though. Poor Flint. He can't help anyone.
"Come on," He holds his arms open. I think of Aunt Marge calling her favourite pet dog. Blaise shakes his head slowly.
"Sorry, Flint," He walks back to me. We walk past Flint and leave him standing there, alone and confused. He wasn't the evil fairytale wizard. I suppose he wasn't much more than a rather over-possessive, sexually- frustrated boy with no idea of how to show affection or care for the people he loved. Not that different from many teenagers really. He leaves Blaise and myself alone for the last few months of the year anyway. Then he leaves, presumably to follow his life as a Death Eater, live terribly and die at the end of an Auror's wand. Like I said, I feel sorry for him. But you can't save everyone.
So life went on. We finally slept together. And then again, and again. We're teenagers, we're allowed to do it five times a day. Malka and Ginny did get together. I couldn't help noticing how their hair clashed. They made an excellent couple anyway. Blaise immediately adopted Ginny as his other best friend for talking about "girl stuff" with. He really should have been born a woman. Not that gender makes any difference to me.
We talked a lot. About life, and each other. I shared my deepest fears and insecurities. How close I'd came to suicide after Cedric died. How much I sometimes wanted people to remember the Boy Who Lived is still only a boy. He opened up about his own past. His parents were indeed death eaters, rather cool and distant and not particularly caring if important visitors chose to use their son. If it helped them to get what they wanted, his beauty could be an excellent tool in negotiations. He'd met Marcus that way. His father had been a regular visitor and had started bringing his son with him. Flint had only been a few years older than Blaise but they had started sleeping together even back then. When Blaise came to Hogwarts, he explained it had seemed easier to let things continue. Life was easier if you let people do what they want. I wanted to cry for him, but he didn't seem too bothered any more. It was in the past, after all. And when he'd came to Hogwarts, he'd had a choice. Perhaps he'd chosen badly but it didn't matter any more.
We went to stay with the Weasleys over summer. It was terribly crowded there, with myself and Blaise and Hermione and Malka besides all the usual tribe. Mrs Weasley seemed delighted though. She immediately decided Blaise was in desperate need of a mother figure and spent much of the summer determinedly looking after him. He didn't object too much, although I rescued him when he had a "save me" look in his eyes as she tried to interest him in helping her bake gingerbread men or go shopping. That summer helped a lot. There were some scars that could never be erased entirely, but perhaps they could fade until they only troubled us in deepest nightmares. By the time we returned to Hogwarts, we both felt the past was well and truly over. We were in love, for the first real time. And although Blaise's dark eyes still seemed to suck in the light of the world, for the first time I thought I could see the light shining back out.