hackthis_archive | Twentysomething

Twentysomething
A Harry Potter story in five parts about getting older, getting over it, getting over yourself, and moving the fuck on.
Rated from General to Adult m/m, m/f

Previous parts here

Chapter V (part II)

Ninety percent of anticipation was the self-inflicted agony of suspense, Blaise knew this. He knew that, typically, things were never quite as bad as you'd suspected they were going to be -– with the exception of bodies falling out the sky and being kicked out of the house because you'd tried to drug someone.

The other ten percent of anticipation must've been frustration, because all three of Blaise's owls to Harry were returned still tied to Archimedes' leg. In fact, the third time Archimedes returned with his unopened missive, his feathers were distinctly ruffled, and he held a white feather in his beak that looked as though it came from Harry's ragtag bird.

Blaise was never going to win Harry back if Archimedes had assaulted his inbred owl, which was how Blaise found himself stalking up and down Harry's street, passing where Harry's house should have been, but wasn't visible to plain sight.

Aggravation began to wrap itself around Blaise's mind, and he wondered if this was how his grandpere felt every time his grandmother kicked him out of the house.

It wasn't enough that Harry had a warded, Unplottable house; now Harry had a warded, Unplottable house that was colluding to keep Blaise away, and that was uncalled for.

So, he'd thought Harry was responsible for Draco's death, and had attempted to poison Harry. What was a little poison between lovers?

It wasn't even as though Blaise had been trying to kill him –- he was just trying to get some information.

It crossed Blaise's mind as he made a fourth pass at where Harry's house should've been, that perhaps not everyone had the sort of family where poisoning someone could be considered a sign of affection. But other people were pointless and stupid, and Blaise wasn't going to put up with this sort of nonsense forever.

He stopped in front of the kerb he knew so well, leaned against a parked car, lit a cigarette and waited. And waited some more. He was this close to being seriously displeased, and no one wanted to deal with a Zabini who was displeased. As though sensing this danger Harry's house swam into view, and Blaise cleared his throat and tossed his cigarette away.

That was more like it.

He had one foot on the step when the door opened, and Ginny Weasley emerged looking far more well-kept than any Weasley had a right to be. Her ginger hair was just as appalling as it had been on her brother, but she had a presumption to her stride that was quite fetching; it was almost enough to make Blaise overlook the hideous violet-striped jumper she wore. For a moment Blaise recalled thinking her fit in school; being gay didn't mean he couldn't appreciate a good-looking woman when he saw one.

"He doesn't want to see you," she said coolly. "Something about you drugging him and being really bad in bed."

Blaise's eyes narrowed. He could just make out the tip of a wand sticking out of her sleeve. "Insulting my sexual prowess is feeble, Weasley. Try again. Did he send you to tell me this like a good little owl?"

Ginny smirked and crossed her arms. "I'm no one's messenger owl; I just wanted to see for myself if you were worth all the grief." She was a fair sight taller than Blaise remembered, but just as cheeky.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her appraising look and took a step forward. If it came to a duel Blaise felt sure he could take her, but you could never count out a Gryffindor -- they were rather devious. It was almost endearing.

"People seem to be tremendously hung up on worth these days," he said. "I thought your lot were supposed to be above such trivialities."

Ginny snorted and shut the door behind her. "Come off it, Zabini, we both know that the only differences between Slytherins and Gryffindors have to do with what face you show the public."

Blaise snickered. "I'd heard you were the smart one," he said taking two steps up. "Of course my reports are slightly outdated."

Ginny scoffed. "I'm smart enough to know that you've lost whatever chance you had with Harry when you decided to poison him –- so what are you doing here?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes. Everyone was being histrionic. It was so Slytherin. "I didn't poison him, stop being dramatic. Furthermore, if he doesn't want to see me then he can tell me that himself."

Ginny laughed at Blaise's brazenness. "I thought getting kicked out of the house was a pretty telling statement. What more did you want? A shoeprint on the backside? An Unforgivable Curse in a love letter?"

Blaise made a dismissive wave. "Par for the course."

Ginny rolled her eyes as reached into her back pocket and pulled out a red packet of cigarettes. "Marlboros. Muggle. You want?"

Blaise wrinkled his nose. "Those things will kill you."

"Please, spare me the lectures." She sat down the porch and lit her cigarette before looking at Blaise curiously. "I'm not letting you in this house, you know that, right? All things considered, you're lucky I don't hex you where you stand."

Blaise set his jaw. "I want to see him."

"Yes, well, like I said before, he doesn't want to see you."

"I feel as though we've had this conversation already."

Ginny puffed thoughtfully as Blaise stood there. "I used to fancy you, you know," she said exhaling a cloud of white smoke.

"Yes, well, you're not exactly hard on the eyes yourself," Blaise said graciously.

"You're quite the sweet talker, aren't you?"

"I don't believe in excessive pandering if that's what you mean."

"And blunt too –- is this what you're like in bed?"

Blaise closed his eyes briefly and pretended he hadn't cleaned himself up and put on his favourite jumper for this nonsense. When he opened his eyes, Ginny was still sitting there, elbows resting on her knees and giving him a moderately amused look. Clearly she was another one who'd been mis-sorted by the hat. "Spare me, I can only take so much Gryffindor inquisitiveness at any given time."

"We're just getting started." Ginny offered him another cigarette. "You should have one; you look as though you need it."

Blaise waved her off and pulled his own stash from his back pocket. "He really fancied you," Ginny said as Blaise lit his cigarette. "It's a shame you fucked it up, because Merlin knows he needed a good seeing to."

Blaise did not cough. "Who died and made you a Seer?" he asked, sitting down next to Ginny when she patted the space beside her. He could feel the wards from the house brushing against his runes; it was like being rubbed down with a warm towel. It was almost a bit dirty.

"Being a Seer is a lot better than being Tom Riddle's bit on the side," Ginny said dryly.

Blaise choked on his inhalation, and out the corner of his eye, he caught Ginny giving him a penetrating look. "You make jokes about it now?"

"Shit happens," she said with a shrug. "You move on."

Blaise sighed and looked around. Birds were singing, there was a woman across the street pushing a pram and cars passed by on their way to wherever – life was indeed moving on.

If he was sitting on Harry's porch, making jokes about Ginny Weasley working as a vessel for the Dark Lord, with Ginny Weasley, times had changed.

Ginny bumped her knee against Blaise's; it reminded him of Theodore, and for a moment he had the strangest vision of Ginny and Theodore together, but that was really too much for one day.

"I want him back," Blaise said to the filter of his cigarette. "'No' is not an acceptable answer."

Ginny snorted softly beside him. "I've yet to meet a Slytherin who knew how to accept defeat gracefully."

"Defeat is boring."

"Is this your way of saying you're terribly sympathetic about my horrific childhood, and this Slytherin/Gryffindor tête-à-tête is your way of fostering better understanding?" Blaise gave Ginny a look. "I speak Slytherin too," she said matter of factly. "Possession by Voldemort: it's the gift that keeps on giving."

Blaise couldn't contain his snicker. "You are exceptionally droll for a Gryffindor –- I thought Harry was an anomaly."

"He is unique," Ginny said ruefully. "I used to date Harry, too."

Blaise made a hmming noise.

Ginny made a hmming noise of her own. She reminded Blaise of Pansy. "You can figure out for yourself why it didn't work out, but I'll give you a hint, it has to do with him liking boys."

"I hadn't noticed," Blaise mocked.

They sat in almost-companionable silence. "He's not that easy to get on with, but he's honest, and he's loyal, and he can't be with someone who won't be loyal to him." Ginny tossed the butt of her cigarette down the stairs and onto the pavement.

"I don't think loyalty was the problem," Blaise flicked ash on the steps. "I think it was a question of who I was being loyal to that caused the problem."

"You think it was the loyalty and not the poisoning." The hilarity was evident in Ginny's voice.

"It's not as though I did him any damage," Blaise said irritably. "Hurting him would only have messed up my sex life; I can't have that."

Part of being an adult was growing up and getting over yourself. It was knowing that you were going to fuck up, so that when you did fuck up, you could admit it.

Ginny craned her head to look at Blaise. He resolutely did not meet her eye, because the woman pushing the pram was wearing the most hideous mauve dress. Muggles had no fashion sense; it was really quite sad. "I feel as though you're telling me something important, but for the life of me I don't know what it is."

Blaise rolled his eyes. Harry had the most trying group of associates Blaise had ever had the misfortune to come across. "I didn't do it to hurt him. I wouldn't do that."

Ginny exhaled softly. "Merlin's goolies, you actually do fancy him, don't you?"

Blaise flicked his cigarette in a high arc. It bounced off the side of a parked car. "I didn’t realise this was a 'state the obvious' sort of conversation."

"Be careful there, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself by admitting you had feelings."

Blaise snorted derisively.

"Do you love him?"

Blaise stood up; he wasn't interested in submitting himself to this sort of abuse at the hands of any Gryffindor that wasn't giving him orgasms. "I can see this was a waste of time," he said crisply.

Ginny stood up next to him. "Stop blowing hot air; I'll let you see him."

Blaise eyed her curiously. "I though you said—"

"What I say and what I mean have nothing to do with each other. Didn't they teach you anything at school? Tsk tsk, Zabini."

Blaise scowled at Ginny's enormous grin. "It's women like you that make me thankful that I'm gay."

Ginny's laugh was entirely too loud as she opened the door and motioned for Blaise to follow. "I bet Harry's thankful, too. C'mon on, Slytherin menace, don't make me regret letting you in the house."

Blaise stepped forward -- and was promptly repelled back. He blinked and pushed at the empty entryway where his hand pressed against an invisible barrier. "You cannot be serious," Blaise snapped.

Ginny stood on the other side of the entryway with raised eyebrows. "It's not my house," she said.

Blaise scowled at her. "A little help would -- never mind I'll do it myself." He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the doorway.

Ginny pressed herself flat against the door and well out of Blaise's line of fire. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Blaise blinked and recollected himself. "The wards."

"I mean if you want to be blown to griffin fodder then that's your business, but if you get bits of your brain all over the pavement and I have to clean them up -- that's my business."

Blaise could feel something horrible and unnatural coiling in his stomach. He hated despair. "So, what do I do?"

Ginny shrugged. "Come back tomorrow and try again."

"Try again?" Blaise parroted.

Ginny smirked. "If you want him back, looks like you're going to have to work for it."

Blaise channelled every fibre of his being into the glare he shot at Ginny. "I hate you people."

"Aw," Ginny mocked, "Isn't love grand?"

Blaise turned around sharply and stalked off.

When he got home, Theodore was sprawled on the sofa, eating cake that Blaise presumed was from brunch with his grandparents. Theodore took one look at the expression on Blaise's face and arched an eyebrow. "I believe now would be an excellent time to point out that you don't actually have to put yourself through this nonsense, you know."

Blaise felt his scowl on every inch of his face. "Capitulate to a Gryffindor? Over my dead body."

Theodore smirked; he had blue icing on his upper lip. "Did you have an epitaph preference?"

The next day Blaise arrived sharply after breakfast. He'd left the house to go to work and instead found himself Apparating to Clapham in broad daylight. He'd arrived right outside Harry's house and scared a Muggle with a yapping dog, but at least the house was now showing itself to him without a fight.

He stalked up the steps, drew the equation to open the door and actually cracked a smile when the door dissolved for him. "That's better," Blaise said, only to stumble when the entryway physically propelled him backwards.

"By all that's precious to Salazar," Blaise hissed, "I am getting in this house."

Ginny chose this time to materialise in the hall. "Bright and early today. Don't you have work?"

Blaise glared hard.

Ginny smirked and sipped from the glass in her hand. "Careful, Zabini, or your face'll freeze like that."

"I want in," said Blaise.

"Yes, well, I want to stop babysitting Harry and go home and have sex with Neville, but we can't always get what we want, can we?"

Blaise twitched. "Please never speak of copulating with Longbottom again, Weasley."

Ginny scowled. "I'm not the one who drugged the owner of this house."

"It's not like it worked," Blaise retorted.

"I don't think that that's the point," said Ginny.

Blaise sighed. "So, what do I do now?"

"Try again tomorrow."

Blaise looked down at his shoes. He'd worn his favourite loafers and a jumper Harry had left at his flat. "I can't keep doing this forever," he said simply.

"Hey," Ginny's voice lost a little of its edge. "Don't give up on him now."

Blaise turned around and left again.

That afternoon at 181 Glebe Place Blaise completely ignored his Descartes and Euclid in favour of summoning some of the books his grandmere had given him when he'd moved into his own flat. So, when Queenie returned from her lunch with Luna and Theodore she found him ensconced on the sofa reading from The Witch Doctor's Guide to Vodun, Shrunken Heads and Blood Magick.

"Do I want to know why you're researching blood magick or am I supposed to pretend that that's an unpublished tome from Pythagoras?" she inquired.

"Harry's warded me out of the house," Blaise spoke to the yellowing pages.

The sofa shifted as Queenie sat down next to him. "So, you finally can admit that you're seeing Potter -- it only took you two months to get out of denial. I'm impressed."

"I wasn't in --"

Blaise flinched when Queenie dug her nails into his forearm. "Don't tell me lies, Blaise, it's insulting to both of us."

Blaise sighed and closed the tome. There was no way he was going to sacrifice a goat on Harry's front steps and salt the door. All that fur and blood was too messy for his tastes. "Fine, I was -- am -- I put Veritaserum in his tea and he took it badly."

Queenie arched a pale eyebrow. "Did it injure him at all?"

"No."

"Did you find out what you needed to know?"

"Yes."

"So you've done nothing wrong."

"Harry disagrees."

Queenie scoffed derisively. "He's a Gryffindor -- of course he disagrees."

"I feel I'm supposed to take great offence at that," Blaise said placidly.

Queenie just laughed. "Stop acting like you have no sense. You're a Slytherin; if you want something you go and take it. Have you been emasculated by his sexual prowess?"

"Now, I really am offended," Blaise snapped.

Queenie just smiled. "Good."

Blaise looked around from the porch of Harry's house and tried to figure out how he'd ended up there for the third time in two days. This was intolerable. He didn't have to put up with this nonsense. He was a Zabini -- he could get any man he wanted. He was going to win the Paracelsus if he could manage to focus for longer than an hour on anything not related to Harry bloody Potter.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Ginny asked.

Blaise's head snapped up when he realised she was standing in the open doorway. "I'm coming in," he announced.

Ginny looked him up and down and then cocked her head to the side. "Okay -- Alohomora."

The entranceway glowed golden for a moment and Blaise narrowed his eyes. When he reached out his hand met no resistance. "You put a lock on the door," he enunciated sharply. "You put a fucking lock on the door?!"

Ginny grinned. "It doesn't have to be complicated to do the job."

"I hate you," Blaise spat.

"Aw, Zabini, if you keep flirting with me I'm going to tell Harry."

When Ginny had announced that Harry was in the back garden, Blaise had foolishly taken that to mean that Harry was visible to the naked eye. Instead, however, Ginny had led him through the house, to the garden, and then pointed to the bastardised version of the Forbidden Forest and given Blaise the sort of toothy grin that made Blaise realise how hard he was going to have to work to get Harry back.

"If you're not back by tomorrow, I'll send out a search party," she said with a wink.

"Tomorrow," Blaise said flatly. "If you're not taking the piss, we're going to have a problem."

"I'm sure nothing that bad will happen to you." Ginny's sunny tone was somewhere past worrisome and well into creepy. "I'm sure Harry cleared away the giants and the manticores. I don't know about the griffins. He's become rather partial to them."

Blaise glared. "Very fucking funny."

Ginny gestured for Blaise to step into the foliage. "I try."

Blaise swallowed. He hated the outdoors. He still had nightmares of hiding out in the countryside with Theodore and sleeping in ditches. "He's really in there, is he?"

Ginny gave raised a eyebrow. "Think of it like a Muggle fairytale where the dashing prince has to defeat the evil dragon and get through the thorns to rescue his princess in the castle."

Blaise's left eye twitched. "That's no fairytale," he snapped. "Everyone knows that story about Great Salazar bewitching Rowena Ravenclaw with a Sleeping Draught and locking her away when Gryffindor announced that he was leaving Salazar for that harridan."

Ginny shrugged. "Some people don't take being dumped so well, what can you do? Anyway, off you go. If you get in trouble –- real trouble –- send up blue sparks."

"Did I mention that I hate you?"

"Watch out for the dragons," Ginny called.

Blaise exhaled a shaky breath, threw a haughty glare over his shoulder, and stepped through the hedge. The sunlight died away when Blaise was hardly a dozen steps into the forest, and he would've gone back but without proper light he couldn't even make out the backdoor anymore.

Shaking his head, Blaise moved forward, stumbling over tree roots and ducking when he heard the flapping of what could've been bats or owls or hippogriffs. He was not going to die the way his father had. Pulling his wand out of his pocket, Blaise took a deep breath and soldiered on.

He resolutely did not think of dragons. Harry was crazy, but no one was that crazy.

Blaise walked for some time, ignoring the eyes he could feel watching him. His runes would keep him safe –- he had an implicit trust in his grandparents' handiwork -– and eventually the thick bushes and trees started to thin out.

Sunlight began to trickle through the canopy of trees, and a giant rustling above him distracted Blaise enough that he stepped in a hole and almost twisted his ankle. Three steps later he slipped on some leaves and fell in the mud.

"You're not worth this, Harry, really you're not," Blaise muttered, yanking off his ruined jumper and carrying on. "No one is worth this ignominy, no matter how well they suck cock or look half-dressed."

Something rustled the bushes nearby, and Blaise turned sharply. His wand did not quiver in his hand. "If this is your idea of a joke, I'm missing the humour," he said, refusing to feel relieved when two small rabbits emerged.

They eyed him curiously, and Blaise let loose a snort of derision. "Are you going to take me to your leader?" The larger rabbit of the two winked, and Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was joking, you do understand this, right?"

"Hey, if you don’t want our help, just say so," the smaller rabbit snapped.

Blaise closed his eyes. He was hallucinating. That was it. He'd fallen and hit his head in Harry's backyard, which was only slightly smaller than all of Scotland. He was going to have to be rescued by flipping Ginny Weasley -– the shame would kill him first.

"Any day now, mate."

Blaise opened his eyes, and the rabbits were still there, with their arms crossed. "This is not happening."

The larger rabbit turned to the smaller rabbit and shook its head. "Didn't the swallows say he was supposed to be the smart one?"

Blaise waved the muddy jumper in surrender. "Fine! I give up! Take me to your leader!" He knew it was a bad sign when rabbits were rolling their eyes at him; nevertheless, he followed them across the forest floor. They hopped and Blaise walked, keeping his eyes on the ground and trying not to smush them. Somehow that seemed like a bad idea. He stopped when they got the edge of a stream.

"This would be lovely if I were a centaur desperately dying of thirst, however-–" Blaise's words died off when he looked up and found the edge of the forest, and beyond it, a large, green, sunlit meadow.

"I dunno how humans are running business when they're this thick," one rabbit told the other. "Do you want a diagram, mate?"

Blaise sighed. It was all too saccharine for words -- if there was a dragon in the meadow, Ginny Weasley was in so much trouble. "Right, of course, so now I'm supposed to walk into the innocent looking clearing and get eaten by a dragon. Fabulous."

Blaise heard the rabbits whispering as he walked into the clearing. "He's off his rocker."

The sun was bright and the grass was perfectly green. It was too perfect to be real. And then Blaise saw the Quidditch hoops.

And then he was buzzed by a flying Harry.

The tailwind from Harry's broom made Blaise's eyes sting, and he dropped the muddy jumper as Harry made another pass. "I can see that you're enjoying this, but now that I've tainted your inner sanctum, you might as well talk to me," he called.

"Go home, Zabini!" Harry hollered hovering twenty feet above Blaise.

"So, how does it feel to be the dictator of your own country?" Blaise replied.

Harry hovered in the air and glared; Blaise ignored the ground trembling underneath his feet.

"Surely you can do better than that, Harry," Blaise tapped his throat with his wand so his voice would project. "Surnames are so passé after you've had sex in someone's kitchen." Blaise craned his neck to look up; Harry was backlit by the sun like an enormous eclipse.

"It took you a whole fucking month to even call me by my name!" Harry spat.

"Yes, and I can't go back I'm afraid. I signed an accord of fraternisation and have been properly disinherited by everyone I know; you're stuck with me now."

"I can't believe Ginny let you in!" Harry snapped. "Which part of Hex on Sight did she miss?"

"Probably the part where you love me," Blaise retorted, stumbling back when Harry dropped suddenly, hovering low enough so they were almost eye to eye. Harry wasn't wearing his glasses; his face seemed naked.

"I don’t love you," Harry said coolly. "I love some idea of you that doesn't exist. I'm still hung up on Malfoy; I thought that was your tack."

"That nonsense?" Blaise wrinkled his nose. "Don't believe everything you hear—"

"No, I just believe what I taste in my tea," Harry's voice was low and scathing.

Blaise's gut churned; this shame business was going to give him an ulcer. "I would never let anything happen to you," Blaise said calmly.

"Nothing that you wouldn't do yourself, you mean." Harry narrowed his eyes. "I mean look at Malfoy –- he's dead -– that's not confidence inspiring."

Every muscle in Blaise's body quivered, and he dropped his wand on the ground. "Touché," he said icily. "It turns out that I can bleed, though perhaps not so messily as others. Would you like a point for your direct hit?"

Harry starred at him piercingly; Blaise resolutely didn't blink. Harry's hair was everywhere, and for the first time Blaise properly looked at the faded scar on Harry's forehead.

"All you had to do was ask me," the pleading note in Harry's voice made Blaise's teeth hurt. "I would've told you anything. Why couldn't you just believe in me?"

"Because belief implies faith, and faith is for other people." Blaise did nothing to conceal his bitterness. "When you believe in people they have nasty habit of getting themselves killed."

Harry's scowl seemed more pained and less menacing. "I'm not trying to get myself killed anymore, you know."

Blaise scoffed. "Anymore? Really? I feel so much better now."

"I still don't understand why you didn't just ask."

"Because people like you don't end up with people like me!" Blaise snapped. He'd been through mud and leaves and rabbits and Weasleys for Harry; what more did he want?

"What the hell is your problem?" Harry exploded off his broom, and Blaise saw stars as they hit the ground, rolling in the grass and dirt and twigs. "I have done nothing but try with you!" Harry hollered. "I trusted you! I told my friends about us! I fell in love with you, you fucking ass! Why the hell did you think poisoning me was a good idea?"

They came to a stop with Blaise on his back and Harry kneeling over him. Harry's hands were fisted in Blaise's undershirt, and Blaise could taste the dirt in his mouth. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"But why?" Harry had a fresh scratch on his cheek and leaves in his hair.

"Because people don't tell the truth where I come from! That's what got Draco killed in the first place. He didn't want to tell the truth about the Dark Lord's hold over his mother, or that he didn't kill Dumbledore, or that he was afraid!" Blaise shot back. "Fear gets you killed! The truth is an expensive commodity!"

Harry stared at Blaise for sometime until Blaise began to grow uncomfortable. "You're afraid," Harry's seemed intrigued as though he were trying the concept out for size. "You're afraid of me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Blaise said evenly.

"You're afraid of moving on -- with me," Harry corrected.

Blaise shoved at Harry to push him away and instead found himself pinned to the ground by the wrists, his fingers brushing against the grass fruitlessly. Harry loomed over him, eyes large and his cheeks full of colour. This was insufferable.

"Is it really so bad to be in love with me?" Harry asked simply. "I know people keep dying because of it -–"

Blaise cut him off. "You really are full of yourself, Potter. Shut up and kiss me, before you say something even more idiotic—"

Blaise was moderately surprised when Harry actually did kiss him. Thankfully it wasn't sweet and poignant or Blaise might've gone into cardiac arrest.

Harry bit and licked and tangled his fingers with Blaise's, stretching along Blaise's body like an oversized cat. Harry kissed like –- well, like Harry, as though he couldn't decide between aggression and lassitude and would just keep going until someone came along to rescue him from himself.

They rubbed against each other on the ground, back and forth and side to side, legs twisting and sliding and mouths wet and slick. Blaise could feel Harry's erection bumping against his own as Harry ground his hips against Blaise's own.

The grass tickled the back of Blaise neck, and he pushed with his feet until they rolled over and Harry was on his back. Considering it was November in London, Blaise felt rather sure that Harry pushing at his shirt and urging him to take it off was a bad idea, but it seemed warm enough in the clearing.

Every time Blaise pulled away to look at Harry, Harry would follow him blindly until Blaise kissed him again. It was stupidly endearing and Blaise's breath caught in his throat; eventually he stopped pulling away, because he didn't need to look anymore.

Harry wasn't Draco; he was never going to be Draco. To compare the two did a disservice to both.

Blaise sighed when Harry kissed his cheek and his jaw and the side of his neck. Harry's hands were everywhere at once, and the sun was warm on his back. It was too much like happiness, and Blaise pushed himself upright to get his bearings.

Harry's eyes were bright, and he licked Blaise's fingers when Blaise touched his mouth inquisitively.

"Tell me about your runes." Harry's fingers mapped Blaise's forearms and biceps, coming to a stop on his shoulders as his fingers traced the thin line of runes that wrapped around Blaise's shoulder like a strap.

"They were a gift from my grandparents, before the –- ah --" Blaise twitched as Harry's fingers slid over his collarbone, and he rode out Harry's reflexive upward thrust. "War. They're protective."

Harry splayed his fingers over Blaise's heart for a moment. "I figured as much –- what are they supposed to protect you from?"

"Harm. Gryffindors. Insipid nonsense like falling in love -– I suspect they're not working properly at the moment."

Harry raised an eyebrow and pushed himself upright until they were chest-to-chest. His eyes were bright green and he showed too many teeth when he smiled. Blaise pulled a leaf out of his hair as Harry's fingers mapped his lower back. "Insipid nonsense?"

"They're very interested in you -– my grandparents." Blaise continued on as though Harry hadn't interrupted. "Or should I say they're interested in the fact that I'm interested in you."

"Just interested," Harry teased. Blaise rolled his eyes at the size of Harry's grin.

"I'm not supposed to be in love with you," Blaise said pointedly. "It's all very exasperating and challenging; I suspect all my friends have disowned me by now for succumbing to something so trivial as emotion."

"That's all right. You still have me; I'll share my friends with you."

Blaise dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder theatrically. "Great Salazar save us all."

When Harry kissed the top of his head, Blaise pulled back and glared. "Such demonstrations of affection are intolerable you know—"

Harry snorted. "Shut up, you know you love it."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Insufferable, unkempt Gryffindor tosser."

"Drugging Slytherin inbreed."

Blaise paused. "You say the nicest things."

"I try."

Blaise nodded. "Yes, I know."

"And you try, too," Harry said with a smirk.

Blaise sighed. "Yes, but don't tell anyone, some of us have standards to uphold."

Harry kissed him on the shoulder this time and Blaise couldn't even be bothered to stiffen slightly. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Blaise smirked as his fingers slipped inside the neck of Harry's shirt and rubbed his neck. "Yes, that's what I'm afraid of."

Harry gave him another toothy grin, his hand sliding under the waistband of Blaise's trousers. His fingers were warm and damp, and Blaise shuddered when Harry thrust his hips against Blaise's own suggestively. "You do realise I don't know where the Mythical Last Death Eater is, don't you? Sucking my brain out through my cock isn't going to change that."

Harry groaned. "Blaise, your paranoia is truly a credit to you. Now are you going to get me off or not?"

Blaise pretended to think the matter over. "That depends, what do I get for it?"

Harry's fingers slid further down the back of Blaise's trousers slipping into the damp crease and Blaise twitched. "Ah, now you're speaking my language."

Harry laughed. "And you thought we couldn't make it work –- you were so wrong."

Blaise scoffed derisively. "I am never wrong –- I was just mistaken."

"Whatever you say."

"And they said Gryffindors couldn't be taught."

Harry narrowed his eyes, and it was Blaise's turn to chuckle. It had been a long time since he'd laughed, and it felt a bit strange, as though the muscles had atrophied. Maybe he would work on that. He was alive, content, and sitting in sunlit meadow with Harry Potter; anything was possible now.

--end—

+ First of all, I would like to thank

literaryll for her relentless enthusiasm and wheedling for a Harry/Blaise story. It only took a year and a half for me to capitulate, but this story is proof that even I can be worn down eventually. This story is for you, Ash, I hope you've enjoyed it.

+ Second, I would like to thank the absolutely brilliant artists who made art for a series they hadn't even read just to inspire me. My most profound thanks and gratitude go out to

dopplegl, who was patient when I didn't know what the hell I was putting on the soundtrack;

antheia, who inspired so much porn; and

mellafe, who touched me with her giving nature.

+ Third, as always the soundtrack is available here (Soundtrack Extras Here (mirror here)) and casting here, because music makes everything possible.

+ Last, but never ever least in my heart, are my betas, because you are only as good as the people you have telling you that you're fucking up.

serialkarma, who always supports me, even when she had a thousand other things to do;

ethrosdemon who has betaed part of every series I've ever written; and the truly appreciated and adored

oxoniensis, who cheered and supported and rocked hardcore. Thank you, ladies.

Also, thank you to everyone who has read and commented and supported this story, I have appreciated it immensely. Don't let the happy ending go to your heads.

Current Mood: cathartic
Current Music: Supergrass 'St Petersburg'

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

mikhale.livejournal.com

There are times when you want to hold on to your pride and never divulge, even on pain of death, that you twirled like a loon when you see Zahra updated her series.

Haha, this is not one of those times.

Read it. Loved it. Killed by it.

Favorite quotes:

"Defeat is boring."

Because your Blaise is so like that. And he's my favorite character out of all your characters. Because he is snark and wit and brilliance and hotness all rolled into one Slytherin.

And before I abuse conjunctions further, I shall end my comment.

PS. Please stop rocking my world. It's making me nauseous.

From:

Educated Black Person, Esq., A.A., B.A., MBA, Ph.D., RN, NAACP, AAA

Twentysomething – Chapter V (Part II)

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