Apologies if I've been a review whore towards anyone. I clicked "send" too many times, I think. I am happy with this chapter. Relations between all 3 develop. =)
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PROMPTS:
Lake
Charm
2 a.m.
Needle
Turpentine kisses and mistaken blows
Wire
Every you, every me
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EVERY YOU, EVERY ME
by The Ultimate Otaku
Chapter 4
DRACO
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Draco blanched; his heart pounded. What was Snape saying? He, teach Potter Occlumency? He didn't know how, first of all. And he hated the way his hands were getting sweaty at the thought of being in repeated close contact with Potter…watching that messy head of hair turn, that beautiful glare, the turn of the full mouth….for every day? Until Potter learned it? Merlin's balls, he wasn't sure if he wanted to shout in anger or in joy.
He knew he looked stupid just gawping, but Potter saved him from humiliation. Whipping his wand out, he shouted at Snape, "Wait a bloody minute! I'm not learning from Malfoy! You're better than him at it, Dumbledore said you're expert, and besides, the only reason I haven't learned is because you haven't told me what to do! You just attack me! Just like last year. I don't know why Dumbledore made us try it again, but I'll tell him to just quit it."
Snape sneered at Potter. "Quitting already, Potter? I thought the Chosen One couldn't quit. In fact, you can't, unless you get Dumbledore's permission. I doubt he'll listen to you though, Potter, because we need you to block the Dark Lord from your mind."
Horror shot into Draco's guts and he swallowed back bile. The Dark Lord was in Potter's head? He could hear Potter's thoughts all the time? Or could Potter hear his? Merlin…A twisting, ugly feeling was winding all through Draco's limbs, burning in his belly, and he felt himself shaking. When Snape looked at him though, he pulled himself together. He didn't want Snape to see that he was, in fact, terrified of the Dark Lord; because then Snape would butt in, and wreck everything…
He wasn't sure if by 'wrecking' he meant, Snape would take Draco's task from him, or that Snape would force Draco to do his task. Both doing it and not doing it held dread for Draco.
"Draco. I am going to cast Legilimens on you, so Potter can observe. Then I want you to give Potter tips on how he can block Legilimency."
Without further ado, those black fathomless eyes were staring at Draco. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, as Snape hissed, "Legilimens!"
He was a young boy, riding around on his broom through the Quidditch pitch his father had had built for his fifth birthday…he was eleven, and addressing a dark-haired boy with glasses and shocking green eyes in Madam Malkin's…he was watching his mother cry, secretly, after his father was taken away…he was alone on his bed, and woke up tangled in his sheets, green, green eyes emblazoned in his mind…
"STOP."
He shook his head, and Snape was out of his mind. The Potions Master was glaring at him. "That was a sorry excuse for Occlumency, Draco. I thought Bellatrix had taught you better than that."
At the mention of Bellatrix, Potter was seething. Why? Draco hadn't seen him quite so angry before. It was a quiet sort of anger though, kept to itself, and one could not see it just by looking at his body; it stormed in his eyes. And Draco didn't think someone who didn't watch Potter as much as he did would see it. Deep within was grief and pain in with the anger. It took Draco one second to catch it all, to sense it, and it was like a sweeping blow to his stomach. He could relate to that sadness and anger.
He stared back at Snape, and then shut his eyes and took a deep breath again. He shoved Potter out of his mind, and imagined a white wall in front of him. With each inhale, he imagined that white wall growing, until he was surrounded by four walls. With each exhale, he left behind his emotions – anger, curiosity, sadness, frustration, everything that was whirling in his mind right now.
He imagined that he was staring out at the lake from his Common Room. This always calmed him. Taking that feeling deep inside himself, he filled himself up with it. He pictured the lake, and focused on it, letting the undulating underwater plants, the flash of mermaid hair, the curious fish, watch him and be watched, for a moment.
"I'm ready, Professor," he breathed quietly. "Go again."
This time, when Snape said the spell, Draco felt that pressing sensation in his mind, but it could not get through. It could not see anything. He was watching the waters of the lake, he was surrounded by white light, and he was breathing, in and out, in and out…
Snape withdrew. Draco felt it, and opened his eyes. Now the Potions Master was looking at him with approval. It was hard to read on Snape, but it was there. Draco smiled to himself.
"Now teach Potter how to do that."
Draco cleared his throat, hating that he was felt a tad nervous, and turned slightly towards Potter. "Now, sir?"
Snape was nodding. "Now. And more, if we must. It may take the two of us to get through the cotton in his skull."
Potter's glare burned at both of them, and he said quietly, "I'm going to speak to Dumbledore about this."
Snape sneered. Turning towards Potter reluctantly, Draco asked, "What do you usually do when you try to block Professor Snape?"
He was surprised that such a normal question popped out of his mouth, and it wasn't snarky. But he felt a little of the calm left from the Occlumency, and the satisfaction that came from having that power. Especially because Potter didn't have it. Why did he have to teach this to Potter? He finally had something Potter didn't. But he remembered the hissing voice of the Dark Lord, and while it was bad enough having it in his nightmares, he couldn't imagine actually seeing into the Dark Lord's mind…or having the Dark Lord looking into his again and again.
He had to admit it: he did not want Potter to be subjected to the horrors of the Dark Lord, no matter what he may have said.
But… then why was he currently creating a plan to kidnap Potter and bring him personally to the Dark Lord? Merlin, his head was messed up. He would like to blame his father and mother for that, and Voldemort, who had given him no choice. He loved his parents, woe as he was to say so, and in order to save them from certain death, he had to give Potter to Voldemort.
Potter had opened his mouth stupidly at Draco's question, and now he closed it, and his brow furrowed in thought. "Well, usually I try to fling up some sort of mental shield – but it's like trying to cast a non-verbal spell. Nothing happens. I just get…attacked." He glared at Snape.
Draco nodded. "Okay. What's your mindset before he casts the spell? Right before?"
Potter bit his lip, and then said reluctantly, "Anger." He knew it was the wrong answer.
Draco smirked. "Anger. Of course. Well, Potter, anger doesn't work for Occlumency. It's better used for the Cruciatus Curse. What you need is calm, or even utter blankness, to make your mind a proper fortress to stick behind. It's a little like using an unlocking spell, like alohomora, except instead of forcing something open, you're forcing it closed. It takes a lot of will power. I saw you resist Imperius. Why not this?"
Potter gaped. Snape looked bemused. It felt good to talk to Potter normally. Draco felt a warmth building in him. He hated Potter sometimes, and he was envious of him, but he also wanted him…and wanted to know him. Talking to him like this – and especially when he had the upper hand – felt good. And Potter looked so stupid.
And even stupid like that, Draco wanted to kiss him again. Blast it!
"Um, er, okay," Potter said. "So…so should I picture a wall around my head or something? Like a shield? Or, um…"
"That's good. But it would be better if you could control your emotion. That's key. It's not about picturing anything, although that can help. You really have to feel…nothing."
"Easy for you to say," Potter snarled, "You're just -"
Snape said silkily, "Potter, if you don't shut your trap and listen, I will give you a week's worth of detention. And if you say anything after this, I will speak to Dumbledore about the importance of Occlumency over Quidditch."
After this warning from Snape, Potter shut up immediately. Draco smiled. Again, he could relate. No matter how many times he lost to Potter, he still, somehow, loved playing Quidditch.
He wiped the smile off his face when Potter looked at him with that hatred and confusion again and said, "Try it."
Lazily now, Snape waved his wand and drawled, "Legilimens."
Draco blinked. Snape was good. Usually Legilimency took immense concentration. Only the Dark Lord himself could pull it off so casually. Bellatrix, when she had taught Draco, had always had a look of immense concentration on her face when she cast the spell.
Potter scrunched his body up in this odd way, making his height closer to Draco's. His eyes were shut tight, and his teeth were biting his lower lip. He looked ridiculous, but Draco didn't laugh. He didn't want to break Potter's concentration. He wanted Potter to succeed.
Snape drew back a few moments later, and sighed loudly. Potter un-scrunched his body, and grumbled. "I felt it was a little better that time."
Snape murmured, "Marginally, Potter. And you have Draco to thank for that. I'll have you two in my office twice a week now. I don't want you practicing alone. You'll be at each other's throats in a moment if that were allowed. Now go!"
Potter shuffled out of there so fast, that he bumped Draco's shoulder on the way out. He glanced back at Draco, who only rubbed his shoulder and winced. He wasn't going to say anything. He was too angry with himself for liking Potter, and with Blaise, for preventing him from harassing Potter. If he could go back to harassing Potter, then he could go back to pretending he didn't want to shag Potter against every available wall in Hogwarts.
Potter bit his lip again, and mumbled, "Um, sorry. And er…thanks."
Draco just shot him a glare and ambled back to Slytherin Common Room.
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BLAISE
Tension was usually something Blaise enjoyed. He enjoyed observing it from the shadows. He had once almost enjoyed seeing Malfoy bother Potter, except for the envy it had brought in him, because he had desired to have Malfoy's attention for himself.
Now, tension was within him and without. He noticed it in Malfoy that night, and decided to keep away and observe from afar. Again Malfoy got up in the late night as Blaise read a book, and again took some potion. How much sleep did he get, anyway?
Blaise wanted to know what had Malfoy so tense. He hadn't said a word to Blaise all day the next day, so finally, after classes, Blaise slid next to Malfoy on the window seat in the Common Room. He didn't look at Malfoy or say anything, he just sat. Aggressive tactics worked with Malfoy, but it was hard to tell what mood Malfoy was going to be in, whether he would be seduced or not, and whether he was in the mood for conversation. He was so damn moody lately, too.
So Blaise waited. He hated waiting, but waiting seemed to work. He waited that day, sitting quietly, but Malfoy said nothing. The next day, and the day after that, he didn't pay as much attention to Malfoy. Malfoy seemed content to ignore their deal, and he seemed preoccupied, too. He was looking over at Potter during meals much more than Blaise liked.
He decided to try another tactic, to suit Malfoy's god damn moodiness, and be nice. So when he saw Malfoy with his cronies in the Common Room one evening, he sat down. By now they'd gotten used to him. Parkinson protested when Blaise sat next to Malfoy, squeezing between them, but she didn't make a move to stop him. From a game of Exploding Snap, Nott winked at him. Malfoy saw it, and glared at his friend.
Of all of them, it seemed Nott was the one Malfoy talked to the most. Blaise had seen Nott disappear behind Malfoy's curtains more than once, and he hoped to god they weren't together. He hoped they were just talking, and that he couldn't hear it because of Malfoy's Imperturbable Charm. Malfoy going for that weaselly little git was almost worse than Malfoy going for Potter.
Blaise squeezed in a little closer to Malfoy, and put his arm around the other's shoulder. When Malfoy didn't move away, Blaise smiled. Good. Parkinson was glaring at him, and Malfoy was letting him draw his hand through his hair. This was perfect.
When his fingertips slid down to brush the tender skin at the back of Malfoy's neck, the blonde shivered. Blaise let his fingers trail up and down, up and down, and at the same time, he cocked his head to look at Bulstrode.
"Millie. How are things?"
The bulky Slytherin girl smiled at him, and putting her fat hands together, she said, "Good. Today, my grandparents ordered me a new cat, after the other one got killed in an accident –" Blaise rolled his eyes. They all knew that Bulstrode had simply squeezed the cat too hard, possibly on purpose – "And, I got to knock Potter's Mudblood friend a good one. She was saying things about me."
Blaise put on a frown. "Really? Well, Mudblood has no right. She thinks she's so smart, but really she's probably just a whore. Who knows what she's doing with Weasley and Potter."
His fellow Slytherins laughed. Ugh. He couldn't believe he was wasting his time with this. This was the sort of talk Malfoy regularly engaged in? Gryffindor-bashing and other nonsense? It wasn't high fun at all, in Blaise's opinion. He would much rather talk about, well, anything else. Quidditch. Books. Spells. Music. Dancing. Sex. Anything!
Malfoy let out a soft sigh, because Blaise was now squeezing the tense muscles in his shoulder, and it probably felt good. He seemed to ignore the comment against Potter, nor was he inclined to join in.
Crabbe said, "You can't talk, Zabini. Your mum's a whore."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Yes, we all know that. Tell us something new."
Nott and the girls laughed, and the two lumps, Crabbe and Goyle, didn't seem to understand. Blaise had reached his other hand in and was now kneading both of Draco's shoulders. The blonde had left the world a little, it seemed, for he allowed his head to drop back and another sigh came out of him.
Parkinson was now staring at Blaise and Malfoy. Blaise grinned. Nott winked at him again when Malfoy wasn't looking, and mouthed, "Friends with benefits?" Blaise shook his head to the right, once, and to prove that this was more than friends – really, it wasn't even that – he leaned in and gave Malfoy a lick across the ear.
Malfoy bolted up at that, glaring at him, and he tried to leave in a huff, but Blaise followed him out to the corridor, and he heard Parkinson shrieking and Nott saying something behind them, before the door shut.
Malfoy turned to face Blaise. "Do you have to have your hands all over me like that? In front of everyone? I thought you liked your privacy."
Blaise smirked. "I like my privacy, yes. But with Parkinson in the room, I just had to show her what's what."
Malfoy scowled. "I'm not your little toy, Zabini."
Blaise sighed. "I know. But you won't talk to me. Not like you talk to Nott."
Malfoy clenched his fists. "Right, well I've known him for years, and you're just…you're…you! I can't talk to you about anything and everything. You said I don't have friends, but apparently, you don't know how to make them. All you know is how to be a whore."
Blaise shoved Malfoy against the wall, and as he kissed Malfoy, hard, again and again, he said, "Maybe…but…you like it…more than…you want to admit."
Then he was thrusting his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, and unlike kisses before, this one seemed to melt Malfoy. He had seemed especially tense, liked he really needed it, but Blaise knew he wasn't just giving in because he was stressed. He liked it, too. His arms wrapped around Blaise's neck, and he pushed his body against Blaise. His tongue worked against Blaise's, teasing, pushing, and then pulling away. His breath was hot in Blaise's mouth, and he didn't seem to mind Blaise's hands hard on his hips.
When Blaise moved his hands down, down to grope over that firm, round ass, Malfoy broke the kiss. "You don't have my permission," he panted, "to do that."
Blaise ignored him, and as he licked and sucked a trail down Malfoy's neck, making Malfoy moan, he kneaded his hands against Malfoy's ass more. Too bad robes were in the way. He went so far as to pull the cheeks apart, groaning that he was actually doing it, and slipped his finger in the crevice.
Malfoy was gasping now, and his robes were riding up, and he was moaning as Blaise suckled his neck while sliding his finger back and forth. Then Blaise created a tear in Malfoy's robes with a flick of his wand, and against the blonde's protesting, he moved his suckling mouth to more bare skin. It was only a cut in the chest of Malfoy's robes, but it enabled him to tease hard, pink nipples with his tongue. Then he grinded up against the smaller boy, and pushed his hands in past the robes, and groped Malfoy's ass.
This time it was bare to his fingers. He used his wand to create a squirt of lube, and coating his fingers with it, he pushed one into Malfoy. At the same time, he was grinding his hard cock against the tent in Malfoy's robes. His body felt overheated, and languid with lust, except for the tight, excited state of his cock.
Malfoy seemed to like his cock, for he was whimpering as Blaise shoved up against him. His face was flushed, and with every push of Blaise's fingers into him he was gasping. When Blaise pushed in harder, it earned him a hard groan.
He put a second finger in then, and worked Malfoy hard. The Slytherin was pushing back against the invasion, loving it, being a total fuck toy like he'd said he wasn't, and Blaise was so hard he thought he might burst. He would come in his trousers any second, were it not for the experience he had in teasing, and how he loved to make people wait.
Then Blaise was on his knees, sticky fingers removed, and his dragged his tongue over the hard arousal that Malfoy was hiding in his robes. The Slytherin was trying to recover his dignity, and attempted a spell to repair his robes, but his wand fell from his shaky fingers, and when Blaise suckled the head of his cock, Malfoy's hands buried in his hair. He yanked Blaise's hair hard, cursing, as Blaise slid his tongue down Malfoy's length.
It was so good to be close to that heat, even if he couldn't quite taste it yet – couldn't quite taste the sweat, couldn't quite lick up the precome. It was good enough having Malfoy's hard cock against his mouth in some capacity, and those little fingers wrenching his hair, while Malfoy pushed his cock against Blaise while making a sobbing sort of sound. Blaise suspected Malfoy hadn't been sucked off before. He immediately wanted to give Malfoy the time of his life. But he also didn't want to be hexed by the moody Slytherin, especially not with his raging erection. He had been spelled while hard before, and sometimes the pressure of magic physically hurt his cock. Not fun.
He moved down to Malfoy's balls, and all that cloth got in the way too much, and he really wanted to just flip Malfoy's robes up and suck him. But the corridor wouldn't be empty for long, it was nearly dinner time. He could only expect Nott to help his little seduction mission so long, too.
So Blaise pulled away, and stood up. He was going to honor Malfoy's whining and not let people see them all over each other. But meanwhile, his cock was hard, and Malfoy was staring at him with fury written all over his face.
"What?" Blaise snapped.
Malfoy licked his lips. God. Did he have to do that? Blaise wanted to plunge his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, or more, when he did that. "You," Malfoy cleared his throat, "What do you think you're doing? Get back down there."
Blaise stared at Malfoy for a second, and then laughed. "'Get back down there'? Well well, Malfoy. Perhaps I've got a whore in training, here. Ever heard of wanking it off in the shower? But fine. I'll go ahead. If anyone shows up, it's your bloody fault."
Malfoy laughed along with him, and then he grabbed hold of Blaise's waist, and pulled Blaise against him. Blaise wasn't into having Malfoy shove him around anymore than that (at least, not right now, but maybe another time, with chains or something), so he knelt down again quickly.
This time, he only got in a couple licks before Malfoy was tugging his hair and kicking him. Shit, impatient, anyone? But Blaise smirked, because he enjoyed the fact that he was driving Malfoy crazy hot for him. He took two glances down either side of the corridor. Then he was under Malfoy's robes like a sick prostitute, and he pushed his fingernails so hard against Malfoy's thighs that they bled. He slid one nail delicately up the hard length Malfoy sported, and then he couldn't wait any longer.
The blonde made a delicious, fuckable, groaning growl when Blaise's tongue slicked up his cock. He was suckling the balls next, slow and good, and Malfoy's noises were loud, and his thighs clenched over Blaise. Mmm. When Blaise suckled slow, tonguing kisses over Malfoy's cock, the blonde groaned. His hands were yanking Blaise's hair and his own robes, and he slung one leg over Blaise's shoulder. For every kiss and bit of tongue, his thigh scraped over Blaise. It was hot and slick with sweat, gliding against Blaise's cheek. He loved it.
Malfoy had a good cock. He was sizeable, long and hard. His noises were so good. They sent shivers up and down Blaise's body. His cock was pleading with him, but he ignored it for the feast he was having. He pushed his tongue in the little crevice between Malfoy's erection and his belly. He slid his teeth gently along the underside, and earned a painful tug and a whimper.
Then he was lapping at Malfoy's cock, hard and eager, groaning, dripping with his own sweat and saliva and it was so stuffy under the robe. But it was good, because Malfoy was swearing, and whispered, "Blaise," and then a longer, better, "Blaiiissse!" when Blaise's tongue touched the head.
He suckled it, fast then slow. Then Malfoy was thrusting into his mouth, fast and hard, so eager. His thighs were hot against Blaise, and he was groaning and making little "Yes" and "mmm" sounds, and then he came, and Blaise drank it. He pulled down his trousers then, freeing himself from Malfoy's robes. Malfoy watched as Blaise rubbed his cock, and tugged it in long, hard strokes, and came with a sigh.
They heard the bustling of people around the corner then, and Malfoy was trying to cast quick cleaning spells, but considering that he'd just been sucked off delightfully by Blaise, he couldn't get them all right. Blaise cleaned him up smartly, and the moment Malfoy was free, he ducked back into the Common Room without even a thanks, like the little shit he was.
Blaise pulled himself up to stand and ambled down the corridor. He ran his hands through his hair, having scourgified his body and mouth, and he wondered again, where was the Prefect bathroom with that lovely pool-sized tub?
A body slammed into him, rushing down the corridor, and Blaise suddenly had scraggly black hair in his mouth. He spat it out, and stepped back.
"Potter. What are you doing down here?"
The Gryffindor was panting, and flushed in embarrassment, before stuttering, "Wh-Where's Malfoy?"
Potter was easy to read, like a book. Blaise had even seen him giving Blaise these tell-tale little looks when they were in the library. Perhaps Blaise had the power to turn straight-as-iron Gryffindors into gays. Perhaps not. Potter wasn't so good at showing his attraction, if that was the case. Blaise had decided not to mention anything to Malfoy.
"What do you want with Malfoy?"
He didn't like that Potter was looking for Malfoy. Why would he do that? Was he still angry over the kiss? Blaise didn't think so. Potter would have done something about that, by now. He wasn't some plotting, conniving little Slytherin. He was Gryffindor, and "wore his heart on his sleeve", as the Muggles said. If he'd wanted revenge, he would've gotten it by now.
"He was supposed to show up for a private lesson with me and Snape," Potter breathed, and he seemed to man himself up for Blaise's response, looking Blaise straight in the eye.
"Remedial Potions? Why would Malfoy be part of that? He's expert with potions."
Harry sighed. "He's helping me out. And making sure Snape doesn't lose his patience. We had to go without him today, and…he should've showed." The last part was a growl. "He was there earlier this week."
Earlier this week? Blaise frowned. He'd thought Malfoy was keeping their deal and avoiding Potter. Apparently not! But maybe Snape had forced it. He would've thought Potter would be glad that Malfoy skipped, but maybe Snape had punished Potter for Malfoy's skipping.
Blaise noticed then how Potter was distinctly having trouble. He had his forehead clutched in his hand, as if he feared he had a fever, or as if his scar hurt him. Blaise had heard of the occasional fainting spells Potter had when his scar hurt him very badly. Nobody really knew why Potter was fainting left and right though. Rumor went that when the Dark Lord was pissed, he sent a little pain in Potter's direction through some unknown dark magic spell.
"Is Snape giving you both detentions for him not showing up? What's it to you?"
Potter cringed against some internal pain, and clutched his forehead harder, letting out a deep breath. "Ow. Um. He might. Together. To punish us. And. It's harder. For me. Without Malfoy there."
Blaise immediately felt jealousy flare up in him, coiling and whirling like a snake. It was fierce enough to choke him, for a moment. He ground out, "Why is it harder?"
Potter flashed him a puzzled look, and leaned against a corridor wall, cursing under his breath. Merlin, what the hell was wrong with him? He spoke haltingly again. "Snape doesn't…isn't…Malfoy is more. Straightforward. in his explanations. Snape. doesn't really. Explain. what to do very well…"
"Potter, I knew you were an idiot, but how hard is it to read a Potions textbook and a list of ingredients and what to do with them? Snape writes down instructions on the board. He's not like Binns, or flighty Flitwick, or self-absorbed Slughorn. Why aren't you doing Remedial Potions with Slughorn?"
Potter sank against the floor suddenly, gasping. On instinct, before he was thinking about it, Blaise had caught him before he hit the floor entirely, and the Gryffindor sagged in his arms. Those green eyes were wide open but seeing nothing, and Potter's breaths came sharp and fast. Blaise shoved off the hand that Potter still pressed up against his forehead, and when his fingertips accidentally brushed the lightning scar, it burned like fire!
Blaise yanked his hand away, swearing. What in Salazar's name? He made his grip stronger as shudders wracked through Potter's body again and again. They weren't hard like a seizure, but spasmodic, and his hands were twitching. The lightning scar on his forehead stood out starkly against his face, which had gone ashen. He yelled out in pain at one point, a quick, high-pitched scream of fear.
It was horrifying. Blaise hadn't heard Potter scream before. He hadn't seen Potter this scared since the Dementors in third year, and he hadn't seen Potter possessed, or whatever this was, ever. He felt ill seeing it, and he hoped Potter wasn't going to croak in his arms right there. Dumbledore would be angry, and Malfoy, well…he didn't want to think what Malfoy would feel.
Potter remained like that, ashen and blank, for a few more moments. Then his hands stopped twitching. Shit shit shit. Was he dead?
Suddenly, like a fish returning to the ocean, Potter gasped loudly. He sat up, and his head slammed into Blaise's. "OUCH! You idiot!"
Potter pulled away, blinking furiously, and looked very dazedly at Blaise. He didn't even seem to have heard Blaise's yelling. "What…what…Zabini?"
"What the hell just happened?" Blaise blurted. He felt shaky from having witnessed it. He'd known the Dark Lord was real, and he'd seen how that knowledge frightened Malfoy, and then there'd been that article last year with Potter's account of the Dark Lord's rebirth…but none of that was quite like seeing Potter with the scar from the Dark Lord, falling on the floor and losing his mind for a couple seconds.
Blaise had seen a lot of things. He had seen multiple men killed by his own mother, via the Cruciatus Curse. He had briefly encountered other dark magic in shifty liaisons with various wizards. He had tried out some of the Dark Arts himself, none with the eagerness or joy that many of his peers felt. But having no Death Eater as a parent, he had never been privy to anything involving the Dark Lord directly.
Potter, innocent, stupid Potter, who Blaise had thought was only frightfully lucky, was clearly something more, just as Malfoy had said. This didn't make Blaise want to snog him madly, but…Merlin, it did change things. It was alarming. It was even scary. He swallowed the urge to be angry with Potter, which would only reveal his fear, or to hug him, which he felt an odd urge to do after seeing Potter's eyes so blank…
"What the hell just happened?" He repeated, a little more calmly.
Potter had some sense returned to him, it seemed. A flush spilled down from his cheeks to his neck when he realized he was on Blaise's lap, and both boys immediately pulled apart.
XOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXO
More soon!
