Title: Black and Deep Desires
By: Dr. Kim-chan
Lucius: I am still demanding that Blaise remove himself from my property!
Ron: (a little put off) "Property"?
Me: Hold your Hippogriffs, dammit! I didn't even get to the point where Blaise—
Lucius: (pulls out his wand): Crucio! (spell bounces off of me)
Me: Authoress powers, remember? Oh, but I told Ron this before you came along, so I guess you're not up to speed. (Lucius starts to have a fit.) In other big news, I now have the official forum up for this fic and its fandom on the website! (more mysterious confetti showers down from an unknown source) It's under the same title as this story, so go visit, discuss, predict, ask questions, and fawn over the loveliness that is Lucius/Ron.
Harry: And don't forget your other project.
Me: Oh yeah! Soon I'll be starting another fanfic called "Hogwarts 2240". What's it about, you ask? You'll have to find out when I'm ready for its debut. However, don't despair: it won't take away from this. But let's get to the nitty-gritty—and I do mean the nitty-gritty; there's one harsh word here—and get to the chappie! I tried to get artsy with this chapter like I had for the first 17 or so chapters, so if you see a lot of metaphors and one-liners, I apologize.
Lucius: As long as—
Me: Silencio! (Lucius shuts up) Nyeah-nyeah. Rolling! (click)
(Begin Chap. 34)
…From the very moment Blaise pulled him aside on the second floor to "talk to him for a brief moment", Draco knew none of this was going to end well. He should've turned back.
The solemn look on his face…nowhere near as frightening as the day when he invariably told him that his mother had died, but he knew right away something bigger was behind this. On top of which, this was the first time they talked since their awful tiff over a week ago.
He never thought of connecting the two together, but Draco also hadn't seen Ron tagging alongside Hermione all day neither. Huh. That sounded weird to his ears. Then again, it wouldn't be possible to say "alongside Harry" anymore. Now here was something even weirder: influence of the Malefecium Elixir or not, Draco was starting to believe this whole argument had gone too far, even for someone as unstable as Potter. Hadn't his own school-wide embarrassment in the Great Hall a week ago been evidence enough to get Weasley off the hook? And if Granger wasn't going to take sides, she'd be sucked up into this soon enough. He hadn't seen much animosity from the dark-haired Gryffindor being directed towards the girl yet, but it was a road being fast paved.
All of a sudden, rays of sunlight filled his eyes, forcing him to blink and distract himself from his thoughts. Draco had rounded the side of the hill facing away from the lake. From this point, he could stare off towards the distant Quidditch field and the northern section of the Forbidden Forest. The day was creeping ever closer to late afternoon. Students were taking their last classes of the day. Draco thought he could afford to skip Charms for the day. There was nothing more boring to him than sitting through that class anyway. Even Transfiguration provided some entertainment once in a while. The sky was a deep blue, beginning to be overcome by a gray blanket once again. The sun was inching towards the horizon, almost in line with the locker rooms on the castle's side…
The locker rooms.
That was where Blaise told him to meet.
Whatever it was, it must have been important; Blaise came to him with all of his Quidditch gear still on. As it almost always is with complicated choices such as these, there were two voices pestering him. One of them told him that nothing felt right about this, yet the other voice was trying to reassure him that this was still the Blaise Zabini he used to know and make love to. Just to make things easier, he decided to shut his inner pessimist's mouth. If it turned out badly, he thought, how bad could it get exactly?
He breathed in the wind deeply and made his way across the grassy meadow.
Poor boy had no idea.
...Time had passed. The sunlight had changed angles; its brightness filtered in through the small window, making it slightly lighter inside. Blaise could just make out the water taps behind Ron's back.
He expected Draco to be here earlier than this, yet this didn't faze Blaise.He might as well make it more interesting. Therefore, by this time they had moved themselves from the benches to the dry showers. But they were about to be dry no more. Blaise moved Ron to the side, sneaking his hand behind him and twisting the knob. In the next moment, a cascade of warm water flowed down in a single rushing flow. The water soaked completely through their clothes and made the porcelain tiles slick. The two slowly slipped down together until they were in the sitting position. Surprised by the sudden wetness, Ron tried to wipe his eyes. To help him, the dark-haired one gently pushed him into a corner where the water couldn't reach them.
"I haven't taken my shower yet," Blaise answered before he could start asking.
His hands wandered up to Ron's neck and unfastened his soggy black cloak. With a little maneuvering he threw it out of the way and moved on to the trickiest part of the Hogwarts uniform: the sweater. After a few moments, that was off and to the side as well. But before Blaise could wrap his deft fingers around the ivory buttons of the redhead's white blouse, Ron put a finger up to his lips. The young alchemist looked up at him inquiringly.
"If we're gonna go any further, then tell me why."
"Huh?"
"You're not doing this just to get back at Malfoy, are you?" Ron asked skeptically. "And if you're so sure I have feelings for Mr. Malfoy, then—"
He hadn't expected Ron to doubt this, not that he exactly took him as being easy. But Blaise had an answer ready. He was always prepared. That was the whole point of seduction: to expect the unexpected.
"Take my word for it: Mr. Malfoy amounts to nothing but danger," he replied solemnly. "As long as I've spent time with Draco at the manor, as long as my father's known his, I know exactly what he's like. Even if he's not trying to do you in, it'd raise a few eyebrows if you and he started having an affair. I mean, aren't you friends with Potter. I'm surprised you forgave him for whipping you that other time." (At this Ron stayed silent.) "And no, I don't want revenge on Draco. No offense to him but I can do a lot better."
It was then that Blaise's serious side came through and posed the all-important question.
"Face it: if you can't even trust me, how can you trust Draco's father?"
His head dove down to the nape of his neck and tasted the flavor of soft, moist skin, promptly making the redhead forget all previous concerns. Ron gasped and practically melted into Blaise's arms.
And…
Through the roaring of the shower…
He heard the doorknob turn.
…Blaise almost bit through the skin of Ron's neck as he whipped around at the sound of the door slamming open. He wasn't exactly surprised; the only part he was surprised about was that Draco had the strength to do something like that. Even then, he should at least act the part.
The dramatic backlight alone was enough to announce Draco's arrival. The vengeful figure's blonde hair was wild, thrown up and out, and not because of the wind. His eyes were of blue fire, prepared to burn both boys' organs clean away. The sound of the water, everyone's breathing…every molecule in the air slowed down. Ron could hear every little movement. He heard the stable, rapid tapping of footsteps coming towards them. In that instant, that very short second of time before everyone's world came crashing down, Ron Weasley actually felt respect towards Draco Malfoy.
Much to his shock (and relief), though, he didn't go after Ron first. An arm flashed out and grabbed Blaise by the neck, shoving him roughly against the tiles. Ron hoped to all the higher powers he did not hear one of them crack.
"You damn backstabbing Mudblood—!"
To further compound Ron's amazement, Blaise wasn't the least bit intimidated. His gray eyes narrowed severely. Standing up so straight so fast one would have forgotten that he was standing on wet porcelain, the dark-haired boy used his own strength and pushed him back. Draco's face crumpled into a look of confusion and horror as he stumbled and fell on top of the wooden bench, groaning with pain, but breathing heavily with furor. (It wouldn't even be logical to use the word 'stumble'. If not for the quick reflexes of his right hand, Draco would have completely fallen off and over the other side.) Stepping out of the shower, Blaise went to stand victoriously over his former lover.
"You moved on. I moved on," he said coldly.
There was a short and tense silence as Draco minded his wounds and tried (the key word being "tried") to catch his temper.
"But why Weasley?" he whined in frustration.
"So what? He doesn't look that bad, does he?" Blaise said. He looked behind his shoulder and smiled wryly at Ron as if Draco wasn't even there. "Besides, I still owed him from back at the manor."
Ron immediately took the hint that Blaise was toying with Draco's mind. He didn't fully understand why, but it was possible that he was trying to deliberately push Draco to a certain point. What that point was he didn't know, but he'd be lucky if he could get out of this unscathed. As soon as he pulled himself out of one scandal he became involved in another one.
"I'm not talking about his looks, though that's something in itself," Draco muttered. "It's his reputation. You never heard of the Weasleys? That family wouldn't recognize a Galleon if someone put a Wingardium Leviosa charm on it and floated it in front of their damn faces."
"That's not what I heard. According to the paper, he's about to get some of yours," Blaise retorted.
The cabin became dead silent with those words, a single drop of water expressing its utter shock. Ron used to believe Draco couldn't get any angrier than when he slammed the door open.
He was dead wrong.
His eyes deadly slits, Draco became like a liquid. This time with both arms straight out, his fingers bent like dragons' claws, he lunged forward for one more assault. With equal agility Blaise dodged, his cloak flapping amid those still molecules. He grabbed him at the back and shoved the blond into the rock slab of the ground below. That was too harsh even for Ron's amusement, so he punched Blaise in the arm with a ferocity one would expect from a Weasley.
"What're you, mad! That's a bloody stone floor!" he scolded. Not knowing what else to do, Blaise moved out of the way for Ron to kneel down. That turned out to be a huge mistake as well. His outstretched hand was slapped away immediately by the enraged Slytherin.
"Don't…fucking…touch me!"
He staggered up slowly like an old man, clutching the wooden bench for support. One half of his face was red and bruised, teeny stones entrenched in his right cheek. The sapphires in his eyes were shattered. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with unshed tears. Was that was Blaise told him to come here for? If so, he was better off going to Charms.
With clenched fists Draco stumbled through the threshold, his pride and his life all but ruined.
…Somehow, Draco knew this was the absolute end. His life couldn't get much worse than this.
Engaged in a seemingly futile mission for Voldemort, further complicated by his concealed passions…
His mother murdered by the Dark Lord, and the only thing his father did to show remorse was to change his will…
The ever-looming possibility that his father held true feelings for one of his greatest enemies…
Half of the fortune he was promised since birth given willingly to that aforementioned enemy…
His former lover, not only betraying him, but adding insult to injury by allowing him to witness that scene...
And soon, the only person he ever really loved would soon be taken by a deadly potion, not any better than if he had force-fed it to him himself.
Probably the saddest part of all this was that Draco couldn't get any farther than the Quidditch pitch. He had stumbled blindly, not exactly going anywhere. He didn't have a destination in mind; all he wanted was to escape that horrid scene. Blaise…together with Ron…he was going to be sick.
He collapsed to his knees near one of the stands and lifted his head weakly. Even the weather was plotting against him. What had been just gray lace on the horizon a few minutes before was now a thick cotton blanket. A few weak raindrops hit him in the face. They became stronger and faster until he and his clothes were as soaked as those two traitors in the locker room.
Ron…that was the last name he thought of before he blacked out.
..."It's about time your team's practiced."
"Nobody wanted to at first; it was lucky we got in one this month. I had to let everyone recover from Professor Mills' test…even myself."
Hermione pulled her black cloak farther over her head to make a shield from the rain, for a moment becoming lost in her thoughts. Then she looked over to Harry and glared.
"You could at least pull your cloak over your head. You're going to catch a cold."
Harry smirked and took off his glasses to rub the lenses the best he could.
"I swear, Hermione, sometimes I think you're really my mother."
Out of nowhere Hermione laughed, and soon so did Harry. He didn't know exactly what was so hilarious about it, but it felt good to laugh. He always did when he could; it seemed like the older he got, the more problems and death seemed to follow him. That was the first time he had actually failed a test of any kind in Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and something that serious really called for his attention. If Ron truly had pledged his loyalty to Lucius Malfoy, then…
As fast as she started, Hermione stopped laughing and gasped, nearly choking on the pouring rain.
Harry looked up from his glasses and squinted to see what exactly she was gawking at. From his perspective, it just looked like the mass of dark brown he could identify as the castle. He put the glasses back on and finally found a faint speck of white-yellow at the base of the wall.
"Who—?" he began to ask. Taking up on an instinct he began to run up the slope of wet grass, Hermione trailing close behind. He was tired, but that instinct kept nagging at him. Goodness knew he was almost always right—
They reached the yellow speck, which turned out to be attached to a black lump…a familiar black lump.
"Malfoy!" Hermione exclaimed. A quick glance could have told anybody he was unconscious. Harry bent down and touched his neck with his fingers to check his vitals.
"We have to take him to the hospital ward immediately," Harry told Hermione. She looked a bit scared, but nodded vigorously. As Harry hefted him up on his back, his eyes darted around, trying to find any shadows or enemies through the sheet of rain.
But what he would have never figured out was that the enemy was any he could see. That evening was the start of something, the start of something real.
At least, for their sake, let us hope it is.
(End Chap. 34)
Me: Well? How was it? If you're cheering, then I have bigger good news for you! On Friday, we here at "Black and Deep Desires" will be celebrating our Official One-Year Anniversary! And in honor of that, the subject matter of Chapter Thirty-Five is ENTIRELY UP TO YOU! Go now to the Black and Deep Desires Forum on FF.N and tell me what you want!
Harry: March tenth? Has it been this long already?
Plushie: You know what this means. Time to reminisce and get drunk while doing so! (jumps for joy, along he can't do it real high since he's got weak plushie legs)
Me: See you, the results of your votes, and all the good times in Chapter 35!