-.

Blaise pulled his shirt on and buttoned it quickly; he had to hurry. Classes were over for the day and his Master would be waiting. He pulled his bedroom door open and headed across the sitting room toward the door for the hall.

"Leaving again, Blaise?" a soft voice asked quietly.

He almost stumbled but halted, turning to see Draco sitting on the divan, feet propped up. He had clearly been waiting for Blaise to come out. "Um, yeah. I have… business to do."

"We need to talk, my friend." He said, straightening up.

Blaise swallowed nervously. He had to go, if he was late he would be punished again. "Talk? About what?"

"About what the bloody hell is going on with my best mate." He said, scowling. "I haven't seen you outside school for more than an hour a week and its making me insane, Blaise." He growled.

"Sorry, Dray, I just… I don't have any time lately."

"I have noticed." He said quietly, studying his friend. He looked thin, and paler than normal. "Are you going to make it to quidditch practice this evening?"

"We have one tonight?" Blaise asked distractedly. "I… I forgot. I've got a… a study group, its been planned for days…" he said, not meeting Draco's eyes. "I'll see if I can get out of it."

"Studying what?"

"Oh, um… charms." He answered. That Draco could believe, his friend had always had a bit of trouble in charms, though he was good in many other subjects.

Draco frowned. "I can help you with that." He said.

"Can we talk about this later?" Blaise said, clearly impatient to leave.

"As long as you can swear that you will schedule me into your busy life. I need you Blaise; I need someone to talk to, you know that…"

"I know; I'm sorry. I'll try to be back early tonight, and see if I can get free tomorrow. Okay…?" he asked, stepping back toward the door.

"No, its not okay. Damn it Blaise…!" Draco rose to his feet.

"Draco, I can't. I have to go." He said apologetically just before he fled out the door.

Draco shoved himself to his feet and immediately started after him; he slowed once he exited his room, though. Blaise had not wanted to talk to him… something was horribly wrong and he had to find out what the bloody buggering hell was going on!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Gregor relaxed against the stone pillar of the covered bridge over the gorge. His toy should be here in the next twenty minutes or so; it was time for another lesson. As it was the end of the week, he would have a full weekend to play with his slave and he was really looking forward to it.

Krum had been staying out of his life, which was just fine. The last time he had approached him was with that stupid letter. Who would have ever imagined that Weasley would go to Krum, the one who was courting the girl that he was clearly in love with? At least he had not gone to Karkaroff; that would have ruined everything. As it stood he did not have the little virgin to play with, but he was satisfied with the little slave he had captured. He was satisfied, for the moment. He had learned a bit about his slave's background; he might even be able to convince the boy to ask for a transfer to Durmstrang. He would make a very nice addition to his little harem; he might even make the two he had left behind into slaves for this one, as he was very obedient.

He was busy mulling over the power levels in his harem of sexual slaves and did not notice someone moving up to him.

"Ptriov." A voice spoke next to him.

He looked to see Ron Weasley standing a few feet away from him. He put on a neutral expression; he did not want to start anything that would ruin his current situation. Ron was the last person he wanted to chat with today. "Weasley." He said in acknowledgement.

"Hey, um..." Ron started awkwardly. He had no idea what to ask. "You okay?"

"Yes, am fine. You were giving my private note to Krum. Was not written to give to anyone, Weasley." His tone was cool and accusatory.

Ron fidgeted, staring down at his feet. "I couldn't do anything to help you. I had no idea what to do, I thought surely Krum could help you get things figured out." He looked up at the slightly taller seventeen-year-old. "I can see it worked, you're fine."

Gregor had to bite his tongue on the answer he wanted to give. Damn you, Ronald Weasley, he thought. He made no effort to lean closer to the Gryffindor who had already proven that he could resist his pheromone laden cologne without even realizing it. He could not keep the frown off his face. "Am fine, yes. But still needing comforts which you are not man enough to give."

Ron sighed softly. "I just… I don't know what you want I guess."

"I could be showings you but not now. Time is passed for us to be sharings." He said. "Krum and I spoke and we understand each other. You are not wanting me as friend, I am understanding that too." He said cooly, scowling now. What the bloody hell did this little virgin want of him? He was going to be in a lot of trouble if anyone saw them alone out here. "What is it you are wanting?"

"I… well, you see Draco Malfoy was asking if I knew you. Are… I mean… do you…?"

"Who is this Malfoy?" he scowled.

"He's a Slytherin, and usually a royal pain in the arse but he was asking…" Ron wasn't sure what Draco had even been asking about, but something had definitely been wrong.

"You should not be talking to me, Ronald Weasley." What I do is not business of anyone not my friends." He growled, growing irritated. He stood away from the rail. "You have no business askings me anything."

Ron hesitated. "I didn't… I mean…"

"You will be goings away, Weasley." He growled, eyes narrowing. "Go away and do not be looking for me again. You are too much trouble for me to be bothering with."

Ron took a step back; he could almost feel the anger of the older Durmstrang boy. "Sure. Whatever you say." He said, taking several more steps away.

Gregor glared after him, his mind working furiously. Another one of the Hogwarts boys was asking questions? That was not good for him at all; he had to find a way to get them to all leave him and his little slave alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Blaise stepped onto the long bridge and froze for a long moment. He could see Gregor, exactly where he said that he would be awaiting Blaise that evening. But standing beside him, TALKING to him was Ron. His heart skipped a beat and he finally caught his breath again, more fear filling his heart than he had ever felt. Gregor was still friends with Ron…? He could still pull him in. Merlin, would there ever be an end to all of this…? If Gregor forced him to ever do anything to Ron like Blaise had endured the past several weeks, he would never be able to do it. He would rather die.

His body went into motion once more and he found himself dazed as he continued down the hallway. The most wonderful thing he had ever witnessed in his life occurred when Ron backed away from Gregor and moved quickly off the other end of the bridge. Gregor stared after him then, arms folded, leaned back on the rail with a scowl upon his face.

Blaise could bear it if Ron was safe… if only he would remain safe. He hurried forward, silent until he was within quiet speaking distance. "Master?" he asked softly.

Gregor did not respond immediately. Blaise did not dare touch him or speak again; he'd been punished too many times for doing just that. Finally Gregor looked at him, his eyes narrow and calculating. "I'm going to give you a gift, little slave." He said quietly.

Blaise felt his heart drop. "A… gift, master?"

"Yes. You get a choice." He said, unfolding his arms and straightening.

"What is that choice, master?" he asked timidly.

"The choice I think you will prefer is to tell your little friend Weasley to back the bloody hell off. He is never to be bothering you, or me, again."

He looked up at him confused. "What is the other choice?" he asked softly, fear clutching at his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"If you do nothing, little slave, is simple." He said, now beginning to smile a wolfish, highly predatory grin. "Your friend will be the main guest at our next training session. And the pain you have felt from this point is nothing compared to what I will be doing to him. You will be watching – and helping – me to train him to be licking my boots and servicing me when I am demanding it of him." He leaned in as he spoke, so no one passing them on the bridge would hear anything he said. He watched Blaise and his grin grew when he saw the teenager pale. "Oh, yes, it will being delicious to train him…"

Blaise felt all the blood drain out of his face and he bowed his head. He knew what he was being told to do. "I will take care of it immediately, master." He murmured in a faint tone.

"Do that. I will being watching you, to making sure you do what you say you will being doing. If you are not doing this, your little yearmate will disappear."

He nodded numbly. He had to go and find Ron.

"Good. I am giving you tonight to be doing this. Tomorrow you will meeting me here, by ten, yes?"

"Yes, master." He said softly.

"Good. Go now, taking care of this." He commanded, releasing Blaise from his company. The fourth year turned and hurried away, following in the path of Ronald Weasley. Gregor followed after as well, at a much more leisurely pace. He planned to watch this and thoroughly enjoy himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Blaise found himself wandering the castle looking for Ron. He was not, as he usually was, with the other two members of the 'golden trio.' Asking about gave him the information that Hermione and Harry were in the tower, but Ron had yet to go where he could not be reached. It was Neville who finally pointed him in the right direction.

He moved to the edge of the archway of the east courtyard, pausing a moment. Ron was there, just where he had been told. He was seated on a bench in a corner of the courtyard, clearly quite involved in his book and ignoring the deepening chill in the air. He took a moment to take in the view. This was going to be the hardest thing that he had ever done.

He had fallen in love with the redheaded boy the moment he first saw him. He had never approached him because they were, of course, too young at eleven years old. Now that they were fifteen and their houses were so diametrically opposed, it wasn't even possible to voice his feelings.

And now, he had to tell him off. If he did this right, how he must, the redhead would likely never want to speak with him again. He took a shaky breath, trying to build up his resolve. He had to do this. Had to say the words that would make Ron hate him and avoid him from here on out.

He steeled himself and stepped forward into the cool sunlight, striding across the open area.

Ron didn't seem to notice him at all until he was almost at his side. He looked up from his book with a curious expression. He wasn't sure what the name of this Slytherin was, but he knew he had shared several classes with him. "Um… can I help you?" he asked in an unsure tone.

The simple, open expression on Ron's face almost disarmed Blaise. Merlin, he loved him so much. Perhaps he should just tell him how he felt; but no. Ron's aversion to same-sex relationships had been made very clear to one and all, and he didn't even seem to notice anyone except for Hermione. He had no choice, he had to do this; shove him away from him forever. "Gregor tells me you've been snooping around."

Ron's expression clouded. "Snooping? What? I wasn't snooping." He said defensively.

"You were prowling about and asking questions about things that are bloody well none of your business." He growled, his eyes narrow. He had to ensure that he was driving Ron away.

Ron scowled now, sliding away a bit on the bench and coming to his feet. "What I do isn't your business either, Blaine."

The darkskinned boy curled up his lip in a disgusted expression. "You've had classes with me for years and you don't even know my name is Blaise?" he asked sourly. "That's fine; to the likes of you its Zabini anyway."

"Why the bloody hells are you worried about what I do anyway?" Ron asked, slapping his book on quidditch teams closed and dropping it into his bag before slinging it over his shoulder. "You've got no right to come at me like that!"

Blaise had his mind focused on his mother, and how she would react to anyone that she thought was below her station and status in life. He drew himself up, looking down his nose at Ron; the image of haughty pride and arrogance. "Don't I?" he answered. "I'm a pureblood wizard from a neutral family with ten generations of pureblood wizards and witches, not a squib among them."

Ron glared. "My family is as pure as yours, Zabini."

"Your family, Weasley, is nothing but an over-bred bunch of jumped-up blood traitors!" he sneered.

"Then why the bloody hell are you wasting your time talking to me?" he demanded, though it was very clear by his expression that he was hurt by Blaise's words.

"Because you're the fool whose gone nosing about into things that are none of your affair. Snooping about where you don't belong, in my business, is going to get you hurt, very badly."

"Sounds like you're threatening me!" Ron said, stepping back.

"No, just telling you what will happen if you don't stay out of the business of your betters, you nasty little wranger."

Ron glared at him, deeply offended by the insult. "Go to bloody hell, Zabini." He growled, turning and stalking away.

Blaise watched him go, his heart sinking. He had succeeded. Ron would likely never talk to him again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.