There was so much to do in so little time; Hermione found this to be a recurring theme at Hogwarts. They'd met in the Chamber as planned, joined by Luna and Neville, and decided on next Monday for the public meeting. It had been a straightforward meeting, but Hermione still thought they weren't thinking big enough. The more she thought about it, the more attractive the idea of a guild was; they needed structure. While Harry may be the type to flourish in unmitigated chaos, she needed order. Everything was still far too improvised for her liking.
Ron nudged her out of her reverie, leaning in close. "What's up with them?"
Following where Ron had pointed, she saw Blaise stalking down the Slytherin table with Daphne at his side looking more forbidding than usual. He looked like he was at his wit's end, and it was a far cry from his usual impassive arrogance.
"It's a mystery, I imagine," Hermione stated, not really caring either way.
She was still undecided as to whether she was sold on Blaise as a tentative ally. Tact wasn't something that came to her easily, but she liked to think that she wasn't rude on purpose. He, on the other hand, just didn't care.
Turning to Harry, Ron asked for his opinion. "Harry, do you know?"
Harry looked up at them from his cereal, more than a little groggy after likely spending a long night with Ginny. "What?"
"Blaise," Hermione said flatly.
Compared to his previous sluggish behaviour, he seemed to bolt upright in his seat, looking just as alive as if there was imminent Quidditch practice.
Hermione wondered frequently how neither Ginny nor Ron seemed to catch the laser-like focus that Harry adopted wherever the Slytherin was concerned. With how long Ginny had pined after Harry, Hermione could excuse her wilful blindness, but she did think Ron could be a little more discerning. Looking at her boyfriend fondly as he ate breakfast, she smiled to herself. She'd long concluded that Ron would be a long-term project, but she loved projects, and it seemed like the Slytherins had done half the work for her. He was studying unassisted without prompting. It was frightening, really. If all it would have taken for Harry and Ron to do their own homework was Harry to have one accident on a staircase and one long chat with Slytherins, she'd have pushed him off herself and offered Malfoy as his attending nurse. On second thought, Snape did seem more capable. She loved Harry that much.
"Seems a bit down," Harry remarked after a minute of intense staring. His eyes had turned incredibly soft at the idea of Blaise being upset, and she wondered if he knew. She decided no: Harry had always been a bit dim when it came to his own emotions. "I'll find out."
"Probably nothing," Ron said. "He is a moody bloke."
Harry hummed noncommittally, returning to his cereal. Still, he kept an eye on Daphne and Blaise's intent conversation.
Hermione pursed her lips. As much as she agreed with Ron on the latter, Blaise didn't seem the type to storm into the Great Hall looking thunderous with anger. Despite that, she didn't have much curiosity as to finding out why. Not that she needed to. With the intentness of Harry's gaze, he'd likely find out not before long.
Part of her tackled with the idea of just confronting Harry, but this was his mistake to make, and he wouldn't react well if she voiced her suspicions. It was blindingly obvious to her, what with Harry and Ginny's admittedly wooden chemistry, that Harry was far more invested in Blaise. Remembering his even weaker chemistry with Cho, Hermione pondered whether he was gay and wasn't aware of it before immediately dismissing the thought. As Harry has increasingly begun telling her these days, she was getting ahead of herself. Still, it was almost as if Ginny ceased to exist when the Slytherin was around.
"Morning," Ginny said brightly as she approached them.
"Morning, Gin," Harry offered with a half-smile, still keeping an eye on the Slytherin table.
If not for Ginny sneaking a kiss when she sat next to Harry, Hermione would have almost believed them to be mere acquaintances. Hermione considered checking Harry for a Compulsion Charm but decided that it was highly unlikely he was under one considering she'd checked yesterday.
She'd do what she always did and help catch the pieces.
Blaise was avoiding him. There was no question of it. Transfiguration and Charms on Wednesday? Immediately after class, he seemed to vanish into thin air. DADA on Thursday? Harry was sure that he'd waited until Harry had entered the classroom before making his appearance. It was too coincidental not to be true.
"You will not need any writing materials," Snape said as he strode into the room.
As Snape took to the front of the classroom, perfect silence instantly materialised. It was typical but no less impressive, Harry was forced to admit.
"You will be pleased to know that your sixth-year exams will contain a considerable practical component," Snape said. "I pray you have been practicing your silent casting."
He surveyed the room. "In fact, let us see if anyone in this room has learnt anything this year."
Harry met his searching gaze readily. He likely wouldn't win, but any opportunity to potentially embarrass the old bat was well worth taking.
"Mr Zabini," Snape announced after a tense moment of subjecting the class to his beady gaze. "Let us see if you have gained any noticeable skill in nonverbal magic this year."
With the rest of the class, Harry dared to look at the Slytherin, finding him sat in the back-right corner. He was openly sneering at their Professor. After a heavy pause, he rose to his feet and walked to the front of the class. Harry noted that his wand was the washed-out pale colour of his Ollivander matched wand, not his father's wand. It just added to the series of questions that Harry had.
"This is to ensure that there is no temptation to vocalise, Mr Zabini," Snape said, and he smiled thinly without humour. "Oscausi."
There was a low murmur of horror throughout the class as Blaise's lips smoothed over, leaving everything below his nose a flat expanse of dark skin. Disturbed, Harry shifted in his seat.
"Silence," Snape ordered. "This is a variant of the Sealing Charm. Nothing particularly… nefarious."
Even without his mouth, it was clear that Blaise's face had momentarily contorted into a murderous grimace before it relaxed. In the tense silence of the room, Harry just about heard Parkinson remark to her neighbour that his face was an improvement. Swallowing down the urge to jinx her, Harry faced Blaise, willing him on with his eyes.
"Now," Snape silkily said. "We will see if Mr Zabini can display self-control while employing counter-curses."
The next minutes were a seeming battle of wills between Snape and Blaise. Snape threw out a series of unpleasant jinxes and hexes that aimed more to embarrass than to harm. It started off simple with Blaise's feet exploding into a frenzied tapdance. He simply stuck his feet to the ground before reversing the hex with ease, legs trembling spastically before coming to a halt.
The exchange slowly intensified with Snape firing jinxes and hexes in quick succession. Blaise coped better than Harry thought he would, showing some decent reflexes and remarkable control, though he was overwhelmed at several points. Harry knew he'd have long lost his temper and cast a Blasting Curse at Snape or a Levicorpus in response.
With one final wave of his wand, Blaise crashed to the floor, landing on his hands and feet as the bubble he was trapped in ruptured, sending a wave of water crashing to the floor. The Slytherin vanished the water and his Bubblehead Charm. With a low grunt, he gracefully got back to his feet. Watching as Blaise dried himself with repeated Drying Charms, Harry was a tad sympathetic to the ratty appearance of his hair. It looked worse than his at its worst.
"Five points to Slytherin. Mr Zabini is demonstrating quite well the importance of will and self-restraint," Snape said. Heedless of Blaise's cold eyes, he continued unfazed. "Emotional outbursts can hinder the capacity of a witch or wizard to reverse an opponent's spellwork and can even lead to fundamental errors in judgment being made. When under duress, it is imperative that self-mastery is maintained. I hope this is a lesson to some of us regarding the importance of keeping a cool head."
Still facing the class, Snape cast a final Disarming Charm at Blaise, without wand movement. Blaise blocked it, but only just going by the wobble of his wand. Harry nodded to himself grimly; Blaise was at least serviceable, though Harry was curious how he would cope if he had to really fight, and not simply reverse spellwork. Blaise pointed his wand at his mouth, brows furrowing in concentration, and his mouth appeared once more.
"Ten points to Slytherin for an adequate performance," Snape said calmly, as if Blaise didn't look like he was on the verge of cursing him. If anything, Harry would say Snape looked rather satisfied, and not in the "my House is meeting my expectations by virtue of being Slytherin" sort of way. "I hope this has been a lesson to you all. Return to your seat, Mr Zabini."
When that strange moment had passed, Snape banished all of their belongings to the side of the room and vanished the desks.
"Collect your essays and we will commence with paired work. Do not dally otherwise I will pair you myself."
"What on Earth was that?" Neville muttered as they crossed paths on their way to collect their essays.
"No idea, Nev," Harry replied. He was going to find out though.
Seeing the Exceeds Expectation on his own work was bittersweet. Harry was sure he deserved better, but Snape hadn't yet given him a single Outstanding this year, even for practical work. Then again, he hadn't given anyone an Outstanding from what he'd heard. Whether that was a testament to his exacting standards for DADA or his hatred of Harry was a wash.
As he stood opposite Neville, ready to do what he did best, Harry chanced a look at Blaise. Stood across from Nott, he still looked furious. Something big had happened, something involving Blaise and possibly Snape. Harry, typically finding himself at the heart of every catastrophe that happened at Hogwarts, didn't like it when he didn't know what was happening.
He considered hunting down Blaise with the Marauder's Map that night, but he had practice and Ginny wanted to spend some time with him after their shared detention with Flitwick. It'd have to wait for after the match, most likely.
They all rattled through the assigned spells with ease.
"Impressive," Flitwick said. "Let's make things interesting before the Patronus Charm. One wildcard spell. I want you to wow each other. Ms Granger, would you like to go first?"
Hermione smiled. "I've been working on a little project on remote communication," she said. "It involves – "
As she prepared to delve into a, no doubt, extremely exhaustive explanation of her methodology, Tracey cleared her throat impatiently.
"Show and tell please," she said.
With a quick nod and thinning of her lips, Hermione brought out several sheets of parchment, placing them on her desk. A complicated motion of her wand later, she began writing on each of them in turn with the messages appearing in various colours on other sheets.
"A modified Protean Charm?" Blaise asked, sounding interested and almost kind. "Not bad, Hermione. Maybe Flitwick should just give you your NEWT now."
Half-fixated on Flitwick inspecting her parchment with inquisitive waves of his wand, she gave the Slytherin a soft smile. "It's still in an early state. I've managed to link parchment together and show differing outputs based on where the input originates, but I want to make it more sophisticated for more organisational purposes."
Thinking of guilds, Harry shared a significant look with Ron.
Blaise hummed in consideration. "Let's talk at some point," he said. "I have some ideas."
Hermione looked at Harry strangely, as if seeking his opinion. He shrugged. If the intention for her project was what he thought, he intended to ask Blaise to join their guild at some point anyway. It seemed logical if they made one.
"Sure," she said.
"I look forward to seeing the end result, particularly how it will cope at distance or between separate Unplottable locations," Flitwick murmured. "Interesting."
As Daphne jumped out of her seat impatiently, Tracey groaned.
"Remember what we discussed, Daph," Tracey warned. "Seriously."
Blaise immediately cast a Bubblehead on himself, and Harry followed him without hesitation.
With everybody protected from the ensuing danger, Daphne stepped forward with a smirk.
"Incendio rotamare," she said with a violent swish of her wand.
With a loud roar, a vortex of flame appeared in the middle of the room, reaching from floor to ceiling. It pulsated with every long inhale of breath Daphne took as she visibly kept herself calm and in control. If not for the fact it wasn't burning anything or that Flitwick was standing by at the ready, Harry would have panicked purely based on the look in her eyes. There was no missing the smouldering delight there. After a long minute where she steered it across the room, crossing tables and desks without any damage, she pulled it back into the centre. With a final, graceful arc of her wand, the vortex collapsed into two separate cartwheels which ringed around her before being summoned back into her wand with a sibilant hiss.
"Brilliant control," Flitwick remarked, for lack of anything else to say. Harry was certain, like the rest of them, he was looking at her with well-deserved caution.
They all stared at Daphne.
"We all have our hobbies. Blaise and his music, Tracey and football, our resident Gryffindors and elaborately heroic suicide attempts," she said in a demure tone, heedless of their giggles. "Mine is just a tad more dangerous than others and, dare I say it, more artistic."
Tracey looked up from her position with her head in her hands.
"Another long talk then," Tracey said. "Is this what you do when you say you're going to visit Tori in the morning?"
Daphne's eyes narrowed dangerously at Tracey. Her voice was ice cold. "You take that back. Blaise, tell her."
"We'll discuss this later," Blaise said calmly, though he looked on the verge of pissing himself with laughter.
"Mr Weasley," Flitwick said in a prompt tone. "Your turn."
Like Hermione, he opted to cast nonverbally, which was a surprise considering how much Ron had been struggling with it. His spell caused a shockwave to radiate throughout the room, knocking chairs to the floor and some of them to wobble in their seats.
"Well done – however, some refinement of your technique wouldn't go amiss. For those of you who don't know, that was the Omnidirectional Tripping Jinx," Flitwick remarked. "I haven't seen that one in a while. Good if you're overwhelmed by Inferi and fire isn't an option, if I recall the source material."
He turned to Blaise, bouncing on his heels expectantly.
"I've always been more for subtlety than elemental chaos and loud bangs," Blaise said, sounding remarkably like Snape during their first Potions class.
"Excuses," Ron said.
"The excuses of the untalented," Daphne added.
With one final eye roll, the dark-skinned Slytherin twirled his wand around his head and vanished.
"Oh, Disillusionment," Tracey said with audible disappointment.
Even with his improved vision, Harry couldn't make out any signs of refraction or a characteristic haze that came with use of the Disillusionment Charm. More impressed than he thought he'd be, Harry thought that some members of the Order could stand to learn something from Blaise.
"Point me Blaise Zabini," Hermione said.
Her wand span like a compass in her palm, but it never seemed to settle on a direction, instead pointing every which way.
Flitwick tapped his nose with his wand, and after a few moments, he confidently strode to the entrance of his office. With a wave of his wand, Blaise reappeared, leaning against the wall next to the door with a smirk.
"Quite good, Mr Zabini. Some further refinements towards scent wouldn't go amiss," Flitwick said.
"Of course, Professor," he said, walking back to his seat. "Your turn, Tracey."
Tracey conjured a massive slab of stone in the air, transfiguring it as it slowly began to descend into two large, shambling humanoid figures. They landed onto the ground with a low rumble, standing unnaturally still before proceeding to line dance.
They all laughed as the dancing golems repeatedly sped up and slowed down until Flitwick blasted them both into dust with an offhand wave of his wand.
"Early days, Professor," Tracey said matter-of-factly.
"Yes, Ms Davis. It's a good start," he said cheerfully. "You have good control of them both, so we'll see what combat capability they have next week."
"Blaise gave me a hand with animating them," she said, turning to face the boy in question to blow a kiss his way.
Harry clenched his fists, out of sight.
"Harry, you're up mate," Ron said.
With a grim nod, he stepped forwards, a myriad of spells on his lips that he'd been practicing. In the end, Flitwick had said to impress, so impress he would.
"Protego horribilis," he intoned.
Like in his practice, the spell was incredibly draining. Feeding magic into this spell often left Harry with the impression he was offering a part of himself in the process. As if an inaudible thunderclap had taken place, the floor shook and an ethereal, honeycomb-like barrier of golden threads surrounded him. Flitwick tested it with a few careless flicks of his wand, jets of light and shockwaves harmlessly splashing off his barrier, his smile slowly growing with each deflection. Finally, a massive, ghostly lance flew out of his wand and impacted his barrier in an explosion of sparks, and after a long struggle with Flitwick visibly growing red with exertion, Harry's barrier finally fell, threads receding into nothingness. The magical backlash hit Harry like an avalanche, almost sending him to his knees but he held his ground, buoyed by Flitwick's soft smile and Blaise's awestruck expression.
"Yes, this will do," Flitwick murmured. "Very well done."
"That was a Sapper Curse, Professor," Hermione said quietly. "They're borderline illegal, last I checked."
Flitwick nodded. "I really had to try," he said, still speaking sotto voce. He looked at Harry with unrestrained pride, and Harry felt his face turn a violent red. "Even with such effort on my part, Mr Potter almost defeated it. Ward sapping is generally done via plural-casting or wizards acting in communion, so don't become too proud. You have ways to go yet."
Harry thought he hid his satisfied smirk admirably well.
"The-Boy-Who-Warded," Tracey said with a giggle.
Harry shook his head rapidly, not liking where this was going one bit. "No, no, no. Don't you dare, Tracey."
"You've been holding back on us all, Harry," Hermione said, looking sideways at him. There was pride and envy all warring within her tone. "That was a really difficult and impressive bit of warding magic."
Harry didn't tell her that warding magic felt almost instinctual to him, wary of both her envy and Ron's heavy silence. Trying to think more positively, he considered that perhaps warding magic was just the natural direction for him to focus. He did have an apparent saving people thing, after all.
"Very impressive," Daphne agreed, and she sounded strangely proud. "I hope you don't hold back in the future, Harry."
When it came time for the Patronuses, they all said the incantation as one. Hermione and Ron's otter and Jack Russell bloomed into life, running together as one, and his stag followed, trotting around the room at a graceful gallop. It easily outstripped the combined brilliant luminescence his friends had produced.
"Marvellous!" Flitwick exclaimed.
"That's really impressive," Tracey said, sounding incredibly sincere.
Harry nodded at her, feeling the heat of a blush return to his cheeks. She followed on her second attempt with a gentle smile, and her hyena joined the mix, lazily sprawling on the floor in front of her, lolling its tongue playfully at them all.
They all turned to Blaise and Daphne. There were the beginnings of a smile on Blaise's face, palming his wand with growing confidence. Daphne had closed her eyes as if she were about to recite a prayer.
"Remember!" Flitwick said excitedly. His eyes followed the already summoned Patronuses with clear delight. "Focus on your happy memory, ex-pek-toh pa-TRO-num, and make a spiral motion with your wand."
Blaise went first, and the sight of a leopard pouncing out of his wand was a marvel. There was no hiding the elation on the Slytherin's face, and the sight of it after days of watching him glower and scowl made Harry indescribably satisfied.
Both Tracey and Hermione were watching him rather than Blaise's racing leopard. While Tracey looked incredibly amused, Hermione's face was filled with calculation. When they made eye contact, she worried at her lip, visibly anxious. Harry gave her a quick smile of encouragement, unaware of what could be causing her that reaction, before turning back to face Blaise. His smile had faded, but the remnants of it were a far sight better than how he'd presented himself before.
"Nice," Tracey said after a long whistle. "About time, Blaisey."
"Damn it, Blaise," Daphne hissed. "You weren't meant to succeed."
She huffed loudly. "Now I'm going to look like the incompetent one."
They all laughed but Harry. He instead attempted to encourage her. "It doesn't have to be a happy memory. It could be something you wish for. Something that the mere idea of makes you happy."
Blaise looked rather pained as he gave Daphne an encouraging nod.
It took her several attempts, but with their gentle encouragement, a large bear joined their menagerie of animals. Harry would never have anticipated Daphne having a bear for a Patronus, but going by Blaise and Tracey's lack of shock, he conceded that he was still getting to know her.
"Easy," she declared with a flick of her hair, as if daring anyone to tell her otherwise.
Hermione rolled her eyes, and she turned to Flitwick. "What about you, Professor?"
"I can't reveal all my secrets, Ms Granger," Flitwick said with a sly wink.
"But you've seen all of our Patronuses," she said.
The beginning of Hermione's attempts at needling Flitwick into sharing were interrupted by Blaise clearing his throat.
"Hang on a moment," Blaise said with uncharacteristic hesitation. He turned to Harry, giving him his full attention for the first time in days. "Harry, your Patronus is a stag."
Harry looked weirdly at him. "Whatever happened to only Gryffindors stating the obvious?"
"You haven't gone blind have you, Blaise?" Daphne asked as gently as her snide question could be.
"Blaise has finally lost it I'm afraid," Tracey muttered under her breath. "I thought we had at least a couple more days."
"Not that he ever had it," Daphne said, just as quiet.
Feeling the beginnings of a Slytherin byplay well on the way to being established, Harry cleared his throat and offered more information to remove the clear confusion on Blaise's face. "My Patronus is the same as my father's."
Blaise's face filled with unadulterated horror. "Professor Snape's Patronus is a doe," he uttered, stricken.
Daphne's eyes visibly bulged, and Hermione hummed to herself as if that disgusting revelation was a particularly fascinating homework assignment. Remembering Tonks' newly lupine Patronus, Harry audibly retched. The implications were beyond disturbing. How did Blaise even know that anyway?
"You're having us on," Ron said bluntly.
"I swear," Blaise said. He looked at Harry beseechingly, as if Harry could somehow save him from having dropped this bombshell on all of them. "You think I want all these mental images?"
"No way," Tracey said, and she turned to Harry with a shit-eating grin. "Go Harry's dad."
Remembering Snape's memories in the Pensieve, Harry knew that wasn't the case. No, the truth, at least the truth he was leaning towards, was far more sinister.
"I was more along the lines of go Harry," Daphne said. The sight of her broad smile was almost as jarring as her sudden banter. Coupled with the idea of Snape's Patronus, it took him aback to the point where he forgot how to speak and just stared without seeing.
Scenting blood, Daphne closed in for the kill, eyeing Blaise as she did so. "It all makes sense now. Such belligerent… sexual… tension."
Tracey and Daphne shared devilish grins, while Blaise gave them an unimpressed glare.
"I do adore a love triangle," Tracey purred.
Hiding her head in her hands, Hermione groaned painfully as Ron chuckled. Harry would be on his way to joining her if he hadn't been disgusted into a near catatonic state.
"Ms Davis! Ms Greengrass!" Flitwick squeaked in chastisement, though his erratically twitching moustache failed to hide his mirth. "Do not be obscene!"
"Shut it, Tracey," Harry ordered. She smiled brightly at him before miming zipping her mouth.
He turned to Daphne, hoping that he sounded authoritative. "And you."
Daphne's unimpressed glare was far less intimidating than Harry imagined she would have liked considering he'd had Occlumency lessons with Snape. It also helped that her Patronus was lumbering around clumsily in the corner behind her.
"My dad and Snape hated each other," Harry announced to the suddenly silent room.
Tracey tittered.
"Were Harry's mother and Professor Snape friends at school?" Hermione asked in a rush.
Flitwick looked at them all flabbergasted. "None of you know? I'm surprised neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Slughorn let something slip. Professor Snape and Lily Potter were friends once; it was hardly a secret."
"I think I'm going to be sick," Ron said, and he honestly looked a bit pale.
Harry felt the same, if their minds had both leant in the same direction. It explained so much; the animosity between his father and Snape, the animosity between himself and Snape, and Snape's often reluctant and begrudged assistance during times of difficulty. If their friendship had ended, why was Snape so obsessed with her?
And the vileness of the situation rolled over him anew.
"What a mess," was all Hermione had to offer, and Harry didn't dare meet her eyes. He could already feel her sympathy a mile away.
"Imagine Snape having a grudge against you for being into your mother," Blaise said, and he just looked at his hands as if they were the only thing that made sense. His voice had managed to evolve beyond simple disgust. "I hate to say it, but this school is beyond tragic."
When Blaise put it like that, Harry could hardly disagree. Still, he didn't appreciate Hermione's snort and Ron's guffaws. Tracey and Daphne's laughter he could deal with, but his housemates should have known better. Flitwick was the worst though. He outright cackled.
"Enough, really," Flitwick said between chortles. "Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything. Anyway, let's continue onto duelling."
As they begun to dismiss their Patronuses, Harry swore that his stag and Blaise's leopard brushed against each other as they vanished with the others into the fog of mist that enveloped the centre of the room.
Harry found Blaise easily on Sunday with the help of the Marauder's Map. He was on his way to the kitchens. By the time he got there, having eventually fibbed an excuse to Ginny about a detention with Snape, Blaise was leaving.
"I was wondering when you'd come chase me down," Blaise remarked in a soft voice.
Harry smiled bashfully, incredibly embarrassed at how easily Blaise saw through him. "You've been avoiding me."
"I have," Blaise admitted without missing a beat. "Shouldn't you be celebrating your blow-out victory? 160-0 was it?"
Harry blushed remembering the events of the last two days. Ginny had thought the embarrassing defeat he'd handed to Cho was deserving of more than just a simple reward.
Looking at the Slytherin who was visibly sneering at him, he asked one of his many questions. "Why have you been avoiding me?"
"How about a trade, Harry. I ask a question, you ask me one," he offered.
Harry nodded, and Blaise went ahead. "How did you know that you didn't need a happy memory for a Patronus Charm?"
It blindsided Harry, but he answered readily. Knowing that Daphne had needed the same impetus to cast a Patronus more than blunted the shame he usually felt at the fact he didn't have sufficiently happy memories. "I don't have any memories happy enough, I guess. I've been using happy thoughts: thinking about Ron and Hermione, Umbridge being sacked before it happened…"
Blaise looked at him, as if having never seen him before. "Didn't you have a happy upbringing?"
"What? Who told you that?"
Still looking at him strangely, he answered. "The Prophet?"
Stifling a groan, Harry offered bits and pieces about the Dursleys. By the end, Blaise was unnaturally still.
"And let me guess, Dumbledore sends you there every summer," Blaise said, the feeble smirk on his face entirely betrayed by his intense, narrow eyes.
Harry exhaled heavily. "Yeah."
Blaise sighed. "I really wish you were being sarcastic."
"I hate this place, you know. Dumbledore especially," Blaise admitted in a low, venomous whisper.
Harry stared. Constant murder attempts aside, Hogwarts was great. Though, Harry admitted that he wasn't the best judge considering his alternative was the Dursleys. Dumbledore, though? Harry's opinion continued to fluctuate between sour and grateful. "What? Why?"
Blaise looked askance at him with brows furrowed. "I thought you'd understand with what you've been through."
Harry just sighed, tired of this conversation already. He rubbed at his forehead in a futile attempt to rub away the headache that thinking of the Dursleys brought on. "Hogwarts is as good – "
Blaise snatched at his hand, taking it in his own and brought it to eye-level. His fingers felt unnaturally hot, and there was a brightness to his eyes and a grimness to the thin line of his mouth. Too taken aback at the warmth of Blaise so near him, he almost didn't catch the anger in voice. "What's this? You're not self-harm – "
Harry hissed in a breath, fighting not to be affected by his firm touch. "No. Umbridge made me write it with a Blood Quill in detention."
Blaise had never really given Harry the impression of someone who was dangerous, like Daphne or Hermione at times did, but the visible fury in his face gave him the impression that he might be just as capable. "I must not tell lies," he read in a flat tone.
"We got even," Harry stated.
Dropping their hands back to waist level, Blaise gave him a challenging smirk. Combined with the promise of violence in his eyes, it seemed bloodthirsty. "Oh yeah?"
"Hermione and I let her talk to a herd of centaurs. You can imagine how well that went," Harry said.
Blaise gave a low chuckle, and Harry would have joined him if he wasn't obsessed with the slow, almost sensual circling that Blaise had started on the back of his hand with his thumb, as if to soothe him. Harry wanted to start asking his own questions, aware that Blaise had asked several in quick succession, but he was far too afraid that would cause him to stop his ministrations. Harry didn't want him to stop. The splay of Blaise's mouth in anticipation, revealing the glimmer of white teeth, had Harry transfixed in a way that Ginny had never achieved.
"We – we shouldn't do this. It's a bad idea," Blaise huffed, though the look in his hooded eyes suggested that it was the only good idea.
Harry stared back at him, knowing he felt the same. Being with Ginny was easy, even with his massive inner conflict. It was almost like dating his best friend. They had a lot in common, and she was far from the clingy image that Cho and Lavender had given him of girls, but it just didn't feel like it was enough. He'd never wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to know her, like he does Blaise. His full lips, acting more like a lighthouse beacon to Harry, didn't help things.
It was almost an automatic reaction to lace their fingers together, and his heart filled with euphoric triumph at the surprise in Blaise's eyes. The pleased smile that momentarily graced his face faded, and he made to separate them, but Harry's grip was firm. With the beginnings of a frown, Blaise didn't fight it, if anything his own grip tightened, and he pulled them together until their bodies were on the verge of touching. This close, Harry had to look upwards to maintain eye contact with the tall Slytherin.
"You're with Weasley," Blaise said in a low whisper, lips hovering over his own.
He could feel Blaise's breath on his mouth, and he would have at least half-heartedly moved if he didn't have his back to the wall. He wasn't nervous, unsettled or offended, as he should be. No, he was just half-hard in his jeans with the knowledge that if he just moved an inch or two forward, he'd get to see if kissing Blaise matched his expectations.
"I am," Harry confirmed, betrayed by the hoarseness of his own voice.
Blaise stared at him for a moment before he broke eye contact.
"I wish you weren't," Blaise admitted, shaking his head. His voice trailed into a soft whisper as he continued speaking. "This is fucked up."
Harry had long ago come to the same conclusion. "I know."
Blaise closed his eyes, and Harry joined him, knowing that only his fraying willpower was stopping him from committing a mistake. Just as Harry was about to throw caution into the wind, they were interrupted.
"Oh dear," a dreamy voice called to them. The familiar voice sounded more amused than chastising. "Blaise, you do seem quite hungry."
Clad in a pretty yellow dress, Luna was stood at the mouth of the hallway, likely also coming from the kitchens. Between delicate nibbles of a slab of chocolate, she slowly approached them.
"In some ways," Blaise muttered under his breath. He gave Harry one last significant look before finally stepping away and releasing his hand. The way Blaise's fingers slowly slipped through his own gave Harry the impression that he was just as reluctant to separate as he was.
Luna eyed the two of them with none of her usual airy temperament. Giving Blaise a cool look, she stepped past him to look Harry in the eye.
"Ginny is my friend and your girlfriend, Harry. Be stronger," she stated bluntly before turning to the Slytherin. "Blaise, you shouldn't use your lure on Harry. That's horribly impolite."
Blaise gawked at her. "Lure? What? I can assure you this was – "
Before Blaise made the hole they were in more akin to the underground expanse of Gringotts, Harry interjected. Luna could clearly see through the attraction they had to each other, and the best way to prevent this turning into a complete mess would be for them to play along. If that meant Blaise was some sort of vampire incubus, it wasn't his problem. "You're absolutely right, Luna. I'll have to work on my self-control."
He really did. He couldn't do this to Ginny. She deserved better.
Luna nodded happily.
"Splitting your affections like this is a sure-fire way to attract Wrackspurts, Harry," Luna said. She patted him amiably on the shoulder. "I know Blaise is making it difficult, but you need to make a decision."
"I'm going to ignore the difficult comment," Blaise said, looking oddly amused considering the situation. Harry could concede that Luna generally did provoke that reaction. "Is it that obvious that I'm into Harry?"
Luna smiled faintly at them both. "If you want to see it, yes."
Blaise and Harry shared a look, both equally bewildered at Luna's admission that she wanted them to be attracted to each other.
"You want to see it?" Blaise asked. "No, forget I asked."
"I just think it'd be good for Harry to be with someone who can ward off Wrackspurts," she explained, looking at Blaise with clear envy. "He attracts a lot of them."
Harry valiantly fought the urge to meet Blaise's gaze.
"I'm so happy to have your blessing, Lovegood," Blaise said, sounding anything but. His tone turned bitterly caustic. "I'll remember you when Harry and I elope at Malfoy Manor."
Harry choked.
Luna clapped her hands, letting out a sound of delight as she did so. "Luna, and please do. That sounds wonderful," she said.
Harry snorted after having got his mounting paranoia under control. If Luna could clearly see through them both, what was stopping everyone else? Maybe the rumours that were going round were people seeing what he couldn't see. "As funny as this is, who else knows?"
"I'm fairly sure Hermione has had an idea since Slug Club," Luna admitted. "Ginny sees what she wants to see. She's wanted Harry for years, but even she'll begin to notice if you keep this up."
"I see," Harry said. "Thanks for the advice?"
Leaving them both bewildered in her wake, she walked away humming tunelessly under her breath.
"That lure, huh?" Harry asked.
"Lure? Sorry, Harry," Blaise said, and his annoyed expression at Luna's sudden retreat was suddenly replaced with an unabashed grin. "That's just me being hot in general."
Harry shook his head, fighting the pleasure in his heart at Blaise's smile. "This can't happen again."
Blaise's smile faded, but he nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Harry was more infuriated by Blaise's easy apology than he'd have liked. It wasn't fair that he was in this situation; things were far simpler when the only person on his mind was Ginny. "Is that it?"
Blaise shrugged. "I don't know what else you want me to say. Do you want me to want you?"
"Yes!" He spat, and the ensuing rise of Blaise's eyebrows made him take it back immediately. He hadn't meant to say that. "No."
"Harry… Merlin, it's like Smith all over again," Blaise said. The warmth in his eyes was still there, but he was amused. Blaise peered at Harry out of the corner of his eyes, as he chose to focus his gaze on the staircase Luna had taken to leave.
"Someone please spare me from the fickleness of bicurious boys," Blaise lamented in a monotone.
"I'm not fickle," Harry said.
He was just a conflicted mess.
"If you're not fickle, then get your shit together, Harry," Blaise said, still not daring to look at him. Harry would have believed him entirely dispassionate if not for his clenched fists. "Go and find your Weasley."
He cared, and that was enough for him.
"You're into me too," Harry said.
"I am, but I'm also not the one who would be cheating," he said without shame. "I'm not going to let you turn yourself into a mess of guilt over me."
"Now you're just being a martyr," Harry said, internally cursing himself for the hypocrisy.
Blaise sputtered indignantly. "Here I am trying to stop you from cheating on your girlfriend who you're clearly deeply attached to, and you're calling me a martyr?"
With a shrug, Harry leaned against the wall with nonchalance. "It's either that or a coward."
Blaise jerked as if slapped, and he rushed Harry, grabbing at his shoulders. Harry put up a token struggle, but like in the hollow, Blaise was stronger than he let on and his grip was firm.
"Don't you ever call me a coward," Blaise whispered to him, anguish clear in his eyes. "You… you know nothing."
"If the shoe fits."
Blaise took a deep inhale, and with the sudden clench of his jaw, Harry honestly thought for a moment he'd punch him. After a few tense seconds, Blaise released him with a rough shove and spat a violent stream of Italian at him.
"Nice things, I hope?" Harry asked snidely.
"I can't believe this," Blaise said, ignoring him entirely. "I'm trying to be the principled one because Merlin knows one of us has to be, but here you are acting like a greedy virgin, like Smith, because you can't decide what you want."
Harry was tempted to dispel that assertion, but he knew that any reference to Ginny would only make the situation worse.
Blaise stared at Harry with undisguised disgust. "Maybe a week or two ago, I'd have done far more than almost kiss you, girlfriend or no girlfriend. Now?"
Harry watched transfixed as Blaise slowly regained control of himself with slow inhales. "I'm not going to let myself be some side attraction, Harry… not to her anyway."
"I wasn't asking you to," Harry said.
"I had some important things to tell you," Blaise said, continuing without acknowledging Harry, "but here you are calling me a coward when I almost got Obliviated for you."
Blaise frowned at his own admission, but Harry latched onto that statement. "What!"
"Don't do anything stupid," Blaise warned. "The last thing Snape would want is for both of us to be even bigger impulsive idiots."
Harry was very curious as to what he meant by that, but he wasn't going to push his luck. Yet.
Blaise explained to Harry what had happened with Draco, and with every detail pride and anger warred within him. Pride at Blaise for taking a stand, for believing in something. It was akin to how Dumbledore had described his pride at Harry when he'd defended him in the Chamber. The anger was profound though: if he saw Draco, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do. Going by the trembling of Blaise's hands when he finished his tale, audible grief in his voice when recounting the fate of his father's wand, Harry decided that Blaise had been wise to hold his silence. Just the sight of his anguish was enough to make Harry remember the Half-Blood Prince's scrawled incantation for enemies, sectumsempra. Harry could feel an indescribable amount of kinship with Blaise's mourning of his father's wand – if his Invisibility Cloak or the photo album he got from Hagrid were destroyed, he'd be apoplectic with rage.
"I've never thought highly of Malfoy, but the Cruciatus and a Memory Charm," Harry muttered, teeth gritted together.
Blaise's eyes closed in remembrance. "Yeah. Still, I am quite curious about those enchantments he'd been casting. More suitable for restoring an armoire than anything. Can't imagine pursuing artefact preservation to be a Death-Eater activity."
It hit Harry like a brick. "Vanishing Cabinets! There's one at Hogwarts Malfoy is repairing and one at Borgin and Burkes."
Blaise stared at him, eyes alight with ravenous greed. "You're planning something. If it hurts Malfoy, I want in."
Remembering Blaise's aptitude with the Disillusionment Charm, counter-curses and familiarity with the repair spells in question, Harry considered it. He could be useful, but he was hesitant. He didn't want anyone else to get involved in his dangerous life, as much as Blaise seemed eager to do so. The Slytherin harrumphed, likely seeing the hesitation in his face, and he walked off at breakneck pace.
"Blaise, wait," Harry called, running after the Slytherin. Blaise stopped and there was a tightness to his expression that made it incredibly difficult to meet his eyes. "It's hard… you know. I care about you. I've never really cared… with a guy, and I didn't expect to, you know, want to… uh."
With Harry's every halting word, the cringe on Blaise's face seemed to deepen and deepen.
"Blaise, I'm a mess," Harry finally stated.
"No shit," he muttered, sounding as if Harry's every word had pained him. "Look, I'm not going to be mad for long. Never seems to last long with you, anyway."
He muttered something under his breath that Harry didn't catch.
He smiled hollowly at Harry. "Stay with Weasley or break up with her. I don't care," and it was clear to even Harry that he cared immensely. "What I care about right now is getting even."
"I'm really bad at this," Harry ground out, ignoring Blaise's immediate agreement, "but I really do care about you Blaise, and we both know you're full of shit."
"Thanks for the consolation prize, Harry," Blaise snapped. "It means the world to have your care."
"– and I'm going to talk to Ginny," he said, continuing unabated.
Blaise jerked. "Huh? Really?" The Slytherin in his shock didn't even bother to mask the hope in his voice.
With Voldemort and death looming on the horizon, Harry didn't find it anywhere near as hard as he'd expected to allow himself to be selfish, to be impulsive. It was a relief to finally acknowledge what he really wanted. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to be an impulsive idiot."
"Are you sure?" Blaise asked hesitantly.
Thinking of the implications hidden in that heavy question, the reactions of his friends, the school and the wider world, Harry shrugged impatiently. "Sounds like coward talk to me." He ignored Blaise's sudden snarl with ease. "I know what I want. I think I always have."
He turned his back on the Slytherin, knowing what he needed to do. "See you tomorrow, Blaise. We'll talk about Vanishing Cabinets and other things."
Harry was glad Blaise didn't stop him; he might have lost his nerve. It was with the clear-headed focus that had carried him through various attempts on his life that he made his way to the Gryffindor Common Room.
He found her sat with Hermione, chatting.
"Hi, Ginny," he said in a cheerful tone, despite knowing his accompanying smile was hollow. "Can we talk?"
"Of course," she said. "Hope your detention was alright."
Hermione gave him a strange look and opened her mouth to say something, but she seemed to think better of it. "I hope so too."
Her cheeky smile was enough for his resolve to waver, but it didn't last long as in typical fashion, she stole a kiss as she closed the gap between them. It was damning how mechanical the act felt, not unlike a particularly wet handshake performed with the lips. He'd been operating under the impression that the lack of passion was normal, but all it had taken was Blaise almost kissing him to now know otherwise. His resolve hardened.
Even with her hand in his own, leading them out of the Common Room, Harry could only think of how her grip was too soft.