Disclaimer: See chapter two.
I think Harry's a bit OOC. So you have been warned.
Blaise hummed softly as he walked down the hallway. His footsteps added a clear cadence to the melody of the dreary elegy lilting off the edge of his breath. He stopped suddenly, turning his step into a right angle to turn the corner. He was about to cross the threshold of the library (as he was on the way to the Slytherin common room) when he heard a familiar voice.
"Well," his raven-haired love interest began from the other side of the wall, "I think that's a good idea, Hermone. I'll have to try that."
"Yeah, Hermione," Ron agreed, "Bloody brilliant."
"Well," Hermione sounded as if she were chewing over her words thoughtfully, "We'll have to test it out first, and see if whoever left you the message receives it. Or rather, if they receive it and decide to tell us about it."
Blaise frowned. 'Us'? This was supposed to be his line to Harry. Not his line to the Golden Trio. He shook his head. This would not do.
"Okay," Ron said, "So we're going to leave a response in the spot where Harry found the parchment?"
"Exactly," Hermione replied.
Blaise's frown lifted slightly, as he pondered what else the three would conjure up in means of their communication. It was border-line exciting. He smirked. Well, let them think that they have the upper hand. Before long, I'll have Granger and Weasley out of the picture, and only darling Harry in sight.
Harry wrote his response carefully, taking extra measures to make sure his penmanship was legible—tidy and neat. Ron and Hermione were somewhere else, leaving Harry alone to do this by himself. He was somewhat relieved that they weren't around for this part. He knew that whoever had left the note had meant it for him, not him plus Hermione and Ron, so he felt like he should respond as just him, not him plus Hermione and Ron.
To who left me the poem:
Who are you? Why did you leave me that poem? What did you mean by it?
There is a two-fold Silence- sea and shore-
Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places,
Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces,
Some human memories and tearful lore,
Render him terrorless: his name's 'No More.
What is that supposed to mean? Did you write it?
He sighed. He was getting somewhat frantic sounding and he knew it.
I don't mean to sound stupid, or naïve, or like I'm obsessing over this. After all, this could very well just be a scrap piece of parchment that someone lost, and that someone who lost it may never receive this.
I just want to know.
My life is so complicated as is. I tend to over think things and then I think that everything pertains to me. And I don't mean to sound conceited or arrogant. They just usually do pertain to me. And I'm going to feel really stupid if this letter is just going to sit on the floor of the bathroom and never get back to you.
But if you do get this, please reply. It would be nice to know that I'm not hallucinating.
Harry ended the 'g' with a flourish and stared down at his work with a blank expression. It was a hot mess of emotions, but he didn't know how to write it any way else. If Hermione had been there, it would be clinical and hard. If Ron had been there…who really knew.
He folded it into two and decided that it was good enough as it was. He set his quill down on the common room's table and made his way towards the boy's restroom.
Blaise smiled as he watched Harry place the response down on the tiled floor from his hiding place in the corner beside the sinks. He knew that Harry wouldn't notice him, he wasn't looking. Harry raked a hand through his black locks anxiously. He looked around the bathroom, and Blaise froze.
"Hey, Zabini," Harry greeted, uncharacteristically warm to the boy.
"Hello, Potter," Blaise returned, a bit stunned at the fact that Harry had noticed him. Blaise was used to blending in with the shadows. He was not used to people noticing him.
Harry threw him a toothy smile. "Studying for Potions?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. Blaise glanced down at the Potions book in his arms and felt a weight lift off of his chest. He smiled back. I can do this. I can talk to Harry, he thought, easy.
"Yeah, I am," he answered. "Never know when Snape might throw a pop quiz at us."
Harry laughed in agreement. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow in class then." He waved as he exited the bathroom, and Blaise stared at the doorway in awe.
"Well, I never thought that talking to him would be that easy," he said to himself, barely audible. He knew that he wasn't the most outgoing person, nor the most verbose and eloquent whilst speaking to people. But the conversation between himself and Harry had just flowed.
He grinned as he reached down for the reply to his poem.
Draco Malfoy frowned as he overheard the exchange between Zabini and Potter. It sounded almost as if the two were friends. He pressed himself flat against the side of the hallway when Potter exited the restroom. The other boy headed towards the Gryffindor tower without looking backwards once.
He was about to turn to leave, or go into that bathroom himself and confront Zabini about the oddity that had just occurred, (he hadn't quite made up his mind yet) when he heard Zabini muttering to himself about something. Draco smirked. He always knew that the brunette was a touch off in the head.
He made up his mind.
"Oi, Zabini," he drawled as he stepped into the other boy's line of sight. He barely noticed that Zabini slipped a piece of parchment into his Potions textbook before he drew the book closer to his side, in front of him so that it was almost shielding himself against Draco.
"Draco," Zabini flashed him a cool smile. "We've been dorm-mates for over six years now. Do I always have to remind you to call me Blaise?"
"You will just once more," Draco sneered cockily.
Blaise raised his eyebrows, but chose not to respond.
"I don't know why you're getting all cozy with Potter, but don't think that I haven't noticed it," Draco informed him. "I have. And I'll be keeping an eye on you from now on. As will, I'm sure, all the rest of Slytherin once I've told them about this."
Draco turned sharply to leave. Before he fully exited, he turned his head slightly to the side. "No decent Slytherin consorts with a Gryffindor. Or, at least, no Slytherin gets away with it."
Freaking short, I'm aware. But don't look for super long chapters here. They're going to be shorter and to-the-point.
Attention readers who are having a problem with Blaise. So as my lovely beta (thanks a bunch, dear) pointed out to me, Blaise is suffering from what I like to call the Kieran-syndrome. That means that since he's my baby at the moment I cringe when thinking of putting unattractive qualities into him. So Mary Sue for sure. I'll work on that for future. But bear with me, please and thank yous.
Reviews are greatly appreciated, or if you'd like to PM me with a question, don't be shy.