A/N The chapter where things FINALLY start to happen. A preemptive apology to any Hermione fans that may be insulted by Draco's language. I'm just trying to keep them in character! Also, ignore the Blaise I have written in the previous chapter!!! [Insert Evil Laughter Here]
Part VI: Outside, Over There
---Blaise's POV
I'm a person who's not always there.
It's human nature for people to cling to survival. And I do so by fading.
It seems contradictory in terms, but there it is. As long as I'm just a faded wisp of a person no one can truly harm me. How can you harm something you don't even know is there?
Unfortunately, being unnoticed has left me with some amount of burden. People are hardly afraid to share their secrets when they don't realize an existing force is near them. I know too much about the castle, the students and teachers... Even about people and... things that don't belong to this school.
So now, walking down the hallways, no one sees me. They empty quickly into the great hall for lunch, and no one notices that I'm not there, amongst them. No one would notice if I were with them, either, so it hardly seems to matter either way.
And it's not strange to me when I walk in on a familiar scene, unnoticed. A familiar scene, in fact, that all things different about it are thrown into sharp perspective, and it becomes clear to me that I should walk away, before another burdening secret joins the rest.
But every person is born with curiosity.
---Draco's POV
"Come on, Harry, he's not worth it..."
I have heard that phrase so many times now. But it's clear, made so as know-it-all Granger says it and then makes a pointed attempt at a haughty sneer, that's it's meant to harm me. It doesn't. But that doesn't stop a little piece of me from wanting to be harmed.
The remark having not effected me as intended... it makes it feel more true then anything else would have.
Potter growls at me, swipes, and, and would have connected if the Mudblood hadn't held him back. I feel the urge to tell her to let him go. Any excuse to hit him square in face would have been deeply appreciated.
But something distracts me. Ron stands behind both of him friends, silent. His red hair has dropped in front of his eyes, making it difficult to tell if he's feeling any emotions at all. He's been acting strangely all morning. Through breakfast, and Potions, and whenever I passed him in the hall.
I need to know what's wrong... I *need* to know.
Unfortunately, I can't just stop this meaningless little spat and say 'Hey, mate, you feeling all right over there?' Then again, that would have interesting results, to say the least. Instead, though, I choose my worst possible option...
"What's wrong with your boyfriend, Potter? Didn't you let him get enough sleep last night?" The perfect sneer, my voice one hundred percent sarcasm, with the accompanied toss of the head, and Potter is beginning to boil up a murderous rage.
But there's no change in Ron. Not even the slightest flicker of movement.
Suddenly, Potter's all controlled self portrayal and the picture of a matured teen. The only thing that gives away how hard he's working at it is the slight twitching in his left eyebrow, and the difficult way the corners of his mouth pull up.
"You're right, Hermione. He's not worth it," He turns, his black robes swirling slightly around his ankles before settling back into proper place as he pauses and glances over his shoulder. "I mean, just ask his father." And then he walks away, a startled Hermione following at his heels.
I feel a slow, red flush creep across my face. Okay, so he hit a nerve. I let out a calm breath. I've hit at least twelve.
---Blaise's POV
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walk past me like a breath. They walked within three inches of me and had no idea I was there.
Well, I am good, at least that's certain. My existence isn't, but I *am* good.
The words I hear, though, make my skin cold and my robes feel a little too heavy...
"Harry, what--?"
"Don't worry. I'm not taking this from him anymore. I've got a plan."
---Draco's POV
I'm ready to walk away when I notice that Ron's still standing stock still. I scowl slightly at that, because it embarrasses me. A moment of weakness and he'd seen it.
"You know, Weasley, you're impression of a wall doesn't work with that hair color." It didn't sound like an insult. Maybe I didn't want it to be an insult.
I turn away from him and take exactly five steps when I feel his hands on my shoulders. I tense, ready to turn around and throw a punch at the last person I want to. When his forehead bumps gently into the back of my skull and rests there. My heart begins to race. His arms slide forward until his hands are as far out in front of me as they can be, and he presses himself against my back.
This has to be a dream.
I'm sure my heart is going to jump out of my chest. His lips are on the nape of my neck, soft breath colliding with the small hairs there. I concentrate on his hands. On the piece of folded parchment resting in them.
Oh, no.
"You wrote this."
Barely audible. It's not a question, so I don't know what to say. It's hard to breathe. The still castle air seems too thin. I can't fill my lungs properly. But it doesn't matter. All that matters, all that the entire world is focused on Ron and Ron alone.
"I-I..." Love you. *Want* you. I wrote it, so take me right here, right now? What is there to say? He knows what there is for him to say, though it surprises me.
"Thank you..." I feel light headed. And everything has gone very, very quiet inside my head. It's just his breath on me. His hands finding mine. Him spinning me around. His hands sliding down me. His lips on my lips.
It's all very real, and different then how I imagined it. It's hot and wet and definitely not perfect. There's desperation and need in it. But I found myself falling into it.
Besides... that way... it made it more exciting...
TBC
Part VI: Outside, Over There
---Blaise's POV
I'm a person who's not always there.
It's human nature for people to cling to survival. And I do so by fading.
It seems contradictory in terms, but there it is. As long as I'm just a faded wisp of a person no one can truly harm me. How can you harm something you don't even know is there?
Unfortunately, being unnoticed has left me with some amount of burden. People are hardly afraid to share their secrets when they don't realize an existing force is near them. I know too much about the castle, the students and teachers... Even about people and... things that don't belong to this school.
So now, walking down the hallways, no one sees me. They empty quickly into the great hall for lunch, and no one notices that I'm not there, amongst them. No one would notice if I were with them, either, so it hardly seems to matter either way.
And it's not strange to me when I walk in on a familiar scene, unnoticed. A familiar scene, in fact, that all things different about it are thrown into sharp perspective, and it becomes clear to me that I should walk away, before another burdening secret joins the rest.
But every person is born with curiosity.
---Draco's POV
"Come on, Harry, he's not worth it..."
I have heard that phrase so many times now. But it's clear, made so as know-it-all Granger says it and then makes a pointed attempt at a haughty sneer, that's it's meant to harm me. It doesn't. But that doesn't stop a little piece of me from wanting to be harmed.
The remark having not effected me as intended... it makes it feel more true then anything else would have.
Potter growls at me, swipes, and, and would have connected if the Mudblood hadn't held him back. I feel the urge to tell her to let him go. Any excuse to hit him square in face would have been deeply appreciated.
But something distracts me. Ron stands behind both of him friends, silent. His red hair has dropped in front of his eyes, making it difficult to tell if he's feeling any emotions at all. He's been acting strangely all morning. Through breakfast, and Potions, and whenever I passed him in the hall.
I need to know what's wrong... I *need* to know.
Unfortunately, I can't just stop this meaningless little spat and say 'Hey, mate, you feeling all right over there?' Then again, that would have interesting results, to say the least. Instead, though, I choose my worst possible option...
"What's wrong with your boyfriend, Potter? Didn't you let him get enough sleep last night?" The perfect sneer, my voice one hundred percent sarcasm, with the accompanied toss of the head, and Potter is beginning to boil up a murderous rage.
But there's no change in Ron. Not even the slightest flicker of movement.
Suddenly, Potter's all controlled self portrayal and the picture of a matured teen. The only thing that gives away how hard he's working at it is the slight twitching in his left eyebrow, and the difficult way the corners of his mouth pull up.
"You're right, Hermione. He's not worth it," He turns, his black robes swirling slightly around his ankles before settling back into proper place as he pauses and glances over his shoulder. "I mean, just ask his father." And then he walks away, a startled Hermione following at his heels.
I feel a slow, red flush creep across my face. Okay, so he hit a nerve. I let out a calm breath. I've hit at least twelve.
---Blaise's POV
Harry Potter and Hermione Granger walk past me like a breath. They walked within three inches of me and had no idea I was there.
Well, I am good, at least that's certain. My existence isn't, but I *am* good.
The words I hear, though, make my skin cold and my robes feel a little too heavy...
"Harry, what--?"
"Don't worry. I'm not taking this from him anymore. I've got a plan."
---Draco's POV
I'm ready to walk away when I notice that Ron's still standing stock still. I scowl slightly at that, because it embarrasses me. A moment of weakness and he'd seen it.
"You know, Weasley, you're impression of a wall doesn't work with that hair color." It didn't sound like an insult. Maybe I didn't want it to be an insult.
I turn away from him and take exactly five steps when I feel his hands on my shoulders. I tense, ready to turn around and throw a punch at the last person I want to. When his forehead bumps gently into the back of my skull and rests there. My heart begins to race. His arms slide forward until his hands are as far out in front of me as they can be, and he presses himself against my back.
This has to be a dream.
I'm sure my heart is going to jump out of my chest. His lips are on the nape of my neck, soft breath colliding with the small hairs there. I concentrate on his hands. On the piece of folded parchment resting in them.
Oh, no.
"You wrote this."
Barely audible. It's not a question, so I don't know what to say. It's hard to breathe. The still castle air seems too thin. I can't fill my lungs properly. But it doesn't matter. All that matters, all that the entire world is focused on Ron and Ron alone.
"I-I..." Love you. *Want* you. I wrote it, so take me right here, right now? What is there to say? He knows what there is for him to say, though it surprises me.
"Thank you..." I feel light headed. And everything has gone very, very quiet inside my head. It's just his breath on me. His hands finding mine. Him spinning me around. His hands sliding down me. His lips on my lips.
It's all very real, and different then how I imagined it. It's hot and wet and definitely not perfect. There's desperation and need in it. But I found myself falling into it.
Besides... that way... it made it more exciting...
TBC