title: a night in the common room
rated: pg
author: mtgoblet
summary: Boy!Blaise and Draco discuss quidditch and love... b/d and reference to d/h *SLASH*
an: please r/r if you have time! i love hearing from you guys! i'm not sure if this should be a continued story or just stop here... lemme know what you think! xoxo
*~*
Blaise took another swig of Firewhiskey and let out a deep hiss. He and Draco were laying against each other rather innocently in the Slytherin common room, discussing Quidditch tactics.
"You'd think after a while that everyone would catch on to the Wronskei Feint..." Blaise remarked. Draco squinted at him, twirling his fingers in his hair.
"You're missing the point mate, it isn't about studying the move, it's about fear and conquering it... When you are rushing toward the pitch at upwards of 75 kph, you don't have time to think, it's all actions and split-second decisions." Blaise raised up and looked at Draco squarely.
"So that time Potter pulled it-"
"That was different." Draco cut in hastely, taking a sip of Blaise's drink. He didn't even blink. Blaise looked down at his hands, his fingers multiplying in front of his face. He let his head fall onto Draco's stomach, closing his eyes against the dizziness.
"What it all comes down to is that Quidditch is a boring sport unless you make it interesting for people. For instance, William McGremsie and Mol-" Draco's words blurred in Blaise's ears as drunkeness set in. He had to find something to concentrate on or his head would explode. His lead filled hands found the fabric of Draco's trousers and he rubbed it between his fingers. Satin. He felt a roaring in his ears and realised he was yawning. Draco was still talking, oblivious to the fact that he was thoroughly sloshed, and not paying attention. Blaise concentrated on listening.
"-far as to take out their wands mid-flight, and pretend to have a go at each other. The refs practically had to drag them out of the sky. It was brilliant, really." Draco paused, obviously waiting for input. Blaise concentrated on talking.
"Yes, brill... So does that mean that you and Potter are just an act?" Sometime earlier Draco's hand had found its way into Blaise's hair, now it rested softly on top of his head. Draco was quiet, and obviously choosing his words carefully.
"I suppose in some manner of speaking you could say that..." Draco shifted, causing Blaise to lose his bit of fabric. Now he was massaging Draco's hip with his thumb. Draco apparently didn't care, he was still twirling his fingers in Blaise's dark locks. Blaise's thumb found the hem of Draco's trousers again and hooked beneath it. Draco moved his hand down to the nape of Blaise's neck and continued to massage. His other hand was resting beside Blaise's head. Blaise was concentrating on it now. It was long and pale and each finger seemed to stretch a mile from joint to joint. Aristocratic fingernails stuck out at the ends, all of them perfectly filed and clean. They strummed across Draco's midsection once.
Twice.
Three times.
Blaise reached out his right hand and touched Draco's timidly, tracing the cuticles and creases of the skin. It was like a labyrinth, his own little labyrinth to get lost in. Draco flexed his fingers against Blaise's. Finally Draco picked up his hand and brought it to his mouth, gently sucking on Blaise's thumb. Blaise removed his hand from Draco's waist and moved upward until he was straddling his hips with one hand in that velvet mouth and the other running across his stomach. Draco's shirt had ridden up and his ribs stuck out like bars of glass.
"Even off the field?" he inquired, taking his fingers out of Draco's mouth and resting his forehead against the blonde's. Draco lay there in thick silence, debating his thoughts. Finally he decided that if Blaise DID remember this in the morning, he could always erase his memory.
"Absolutely." Draco sighed, closing his eyes to escape Blaise's clouded stare. When he opened them moments later, Blaise was looking down at some distant point near Draco's cheek.
"So... All those times you came in with bruised lips, it wasn't from fighting." He avoided Draco's eyes. Draco brought his hand up to caress his face, running his thumb over Blaise's jaw.
"Did you really think I'd let Potter hit me?" the question was cold, and not wanton of answer. Blaise closed his eyes heavily and worried his lower lip. Truthfully, he wasn't attracted to Draco sexually. He was the 'Harry Potter' of Slytherin house. Everyone knew that Draco would always have a plan, he'd always know what to do next. But now Blaise saw that he really was just like the rest of them, traitorous and lonely.
Blaise removed himself from Draco and scooted down to the end of the couch, folding his arms over his chest. Draco just continued to look up at the spot he'd just been in. Blaise stared into the fire, mesmerized by its dancing flames, popping wood sending sparks up into the chimney that didn't actually exist. When he thought about it, alot of things in this place didn't actually exist. Magic was all about creating falsehoods and distortions, lies in other words.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Blaise asked nonchalantly. Draco placed a delicate hand over his eyes, feigning fatigue.
"It's not really any of your business. I don't make a habit of sharing things." He waved his hand dismissively.
"Yet, you're telling me now. Why?" there was no answer for a long period of time. Only the quiet crackling of the fire. Then Draco turned over on his side and stared at the floor.
"I thought you might have a right to know." he paused, "But apparently I was wrong in my assumptions."
"Do you want to be wrong?" Blaise asked, picking at his fingernails. It was a nervous tick he had and it gave away all of his feelings to Draco. Draco had no nervous ticks.
"Sometimes... Perhaps not now." the silence stretched out again.
"You know, he reminds me of you." Draco said quietly, "Once his glasses are off, and if his hair is pasted down over that bloody scar."
"He reminds you of me, or I remind you of him?" Blaise snorted, throwing strategy out the window. Draco didn't answer, he just stared into the fireplace looking contemplative.
"I'm going to bed." Blaise stood up and started to take a step but all of his blood rushed to his head suddenly, and he toppled over, back onto the couch where Draco caught at him to keep him from falling to the floor. He clung to Draco's arm, tears running freely down his face. He slid down onto the rug in front of the sofa sobbing into the seat cushion. Draco rested his hand on Blaise's head again, running his fingers through the dark hair.
"Maybe I wasn't wrong." he whispered, lifting Blaise's face up and looking into his eyes, "But now I wish I had been."
And with that, Draco Malfoy went to bed.
rated: pg
author: mtgoblet
summary: Boy!Blaise and Draco discuss quidditch and love... b/d and reference to d/h *SLASH*
an: please r/r if you have time! i love hearing from you guys! i'm not sure if this should be a continued story or just stop here... lemme know what you think! xoxo
*~*
Blaise took another swig of Firewhiskey and let out a deep hiss. He and Draco were laying against each other rather innocently in the Slytherin common room, discussing Quidditch tactics.
"You'd think after a while that everyone would catch on to the Wronskei Feint..." Blaise remarked. Draco squinted at him, twirling his fingers in his hair.
"You're missing the point mate, it isn't about studying the move, it's about fear and conquering it... When you are rushing toward the pitch at upwards of 75 kph, you don't have time to think, it's all actions and split-second decisions." Blaise raised up and looked at Draco squarely.
"So that time Potter pulled it-"
"That was different." Draco cut in hastely, taking a sip of Blaise's drink. He didn't even blink. Blaise looked down at his hands, his fingers multiplying in front of his face. He let his head fall onto Draco's stomach, closing his eyes against the dizziness.
"What it all comes down to is that Quidditch is a boring sport unless you make it interesting for people. For instance, William McGremsie and Mol-" Draco's words blurred in Blaise's ears as drunkeness set in. He had to find something to concentrate on or his head would explode. His lead filled hands found the fabric of Draco's trousers and he rubbed it between his fingers. Satin. He felt a roaring in his ears and realised he was yawning. Draco was still talking, oblivious to the fact that he was thoroughly sloshed, and not paying attention. Blaise concentrated on listening.
"-far as to take out their wands mid-flight, and pretend to have a go at each other. The refs practically had to drag them out of the sky. It was brilliant, really." Draco paused, obviously waiting for input. Blaise concentrated on talking.
"Yes, brill... So does that mean that you and Potter are just an act?" Sometime earlier Draco's hand had found its way into Blaise's hair, now it rested softly on top of his head. Draco was quiet, and obviously choosing his words carefully.
"I suppose in some manner of speaking you could say that..." Draco shifted, causing Blaise to lose his bit of fabric. Now he was massaging Draco's hip with his thumb. Draco apparently didn't care, he was still twirling his fingers in Blaise's dark locks. Blaise's thumb found the hem of Draco's trousers again and hooked beneath it. Draco moved his hand down to the nape of Blaise's neck and continued to massage. His other hand was resting beside Blaise's head. Blaise was concentrating on it now. It was long and pale and each finger seemed to stretch a mile from joint to joint. Aristocratic fingernails stuck out at the ends, all of them perfectly filed and clean. They strummed across Draco's midsection once.
Twice.
Three times.
Blaise reached out his right hand and touched Draco's timidly, tracing the cuticles and creases of the skin. It was like a labyrinth, his own little labyrinth to get lost in. Draco flexed his fingers against Blaise's. Finally Draco picked up his hand and brought it to his mouth, gently sucking on Blaise's thumb. Blaise removed his hand from Draco's waist and moved upward until he was straddling his hips with one hand in that velvet mouth and the other running across his stomach. Draco's shirt had ridden up and his ribs stuck out like bars of glass.
"Even off the field?" he inquired, taking his fingers out of Draco's mouth and resting his forehead against the blonde's. Draco lay there in thick silence, debating his thoughts. Finally he decided that if Blaise DID remember this in the morning, he could always erase his memory.
"Absolutely." Draco sighed, closing his eyes to escape Blaise's clouded stare. When he opened them moments later, Blaise was looking down at some distant point near Draco's cheek.
"So... All those times you came in with bruised lips, it wasn't from fighting." He avoided Draco's eyes. Draco brought his hand up to caress his face, running his thumb over Blaise's jaw.
"Did you really think I'd let Potter hit me?" the question was cold, and not wanton of answer. Blaise closed his eyes heavily and worried his lower lip. Truthfully, he wasn't attracted to Draco sexually. He was the 'Harry Potter' of Slytherin house. Everyone knew that Draco would always have a plan, he'd always know what to do next. But now Blaise saw that he really was just like the rest of them, traitorous and lonely.
Blaise removed himself from Draco and scooted down to the end of the couch, folding his arms over his chest. Draco just continued to look up at the spot he'd just been in. Blaise stared into the fire, mesmerized by its dancing flames, popping wood sending sparks up into the chimney that didn't actually exist. When he thought about it, alot of things in this place didn't actually exist. Magic was all about creating falsehoods and distortions, lies in other words.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Blaise asked nonchalantly. Draco placed a delicate hand over his eyes, feigning fatigue.
"It's not really any of your business. I don't make a habit of sharing things." He waved his hand dismissively.
"Yet, you're telling me now. Why?" there was no answer for a long period of time. Only the quiet crackling of the fire. Then Draco turned over on his side and stared at the floor.
"I thought you might have a right to know." he paused, "But apparently I was wrong in my assumptions."
"Do you want to be wrong?" Blaise asked, picking at his fingernails. It was a nervous tick he had and it gave away all of his feelings to Draco. Draco had no nervous ticks.
"Sometimes... Perhaps not now." the silence stretched out again.
"You know, he reminds me of you." Draco said quietly, "Once his glasses are off, and if his hair is pasted down over that bloody scar."
"He reminds you of me, or I remind you of him?" Blaise snorted, throwing strategy out the window. Draco didn't answer, he just stared into the fireplace looking contemplative.
"I'm going to bed." Blaise stood up and started to take a step but all of his blood rushed to his head suddenly, and he toppled over, back onto the couch where Draco caught at him to keep him from falling to the floor. He clung to Draco's arm, tears running freely down his face. He slid down onto the rug in front of the sofa sobbing into the seat cushion. Draco rested his hand on Blaise's head again, running his fingers through the dark hair.
"Maybe I wasn't wrong." he whispered, lifting Blaise's face up and looking into his eyes, "But now I wish I had been."
And with that, Draco Malfoy went to bed.