Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Your Bittersweet Fears ❯ One-Shot ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Nefus
Draco makes a more than friendly move on the enemy. His best friend doesn't take it too well, but can Blaise see past his own feelings to what's really there?
(Slightly PWP)

Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Psychological / Romance / Angst / Shounen / | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 06.20.2006 | Updated On: 06.25.2006 | Pages: 9 | Words: 9.3K | Visits: 991 | Status: Completed

AN: This was written before HBP came out, so it's more AU now regarding the appearance of Blaise. Of course, even before HBP everyone but me seemed to think he was a black-haired Italian boy. Sorry! Not in my pre-HBP head. And did I ever have a good laugh when reading JKR's description. Woman is always keeping us on our toes!
 
 
He didn't miss that little slide of hand. Blue eyes narrowed; his quill almost snapped in two. How dare that…HA! There!
 
Usually Blaise wasn't one for the wandering around the classroom technique some of the professors used, but today he praised their pitiable attempt at intimidation.
 
Really, how on earth did Draco expect to hide that from them?? He should know better, Blaise thought, swiping the room with a carefully structured look of boredom. Half of the class was Slytherin. If any of them had seen it, they were hiding their indignation just as well as he was. Blaise had to smile inwardly. Let's see the other houses pull off that sort of universal control.
 
But that only brought the disappointment back. What the hell was Draco thinking? He'd listened to his childhood friend's bitter rants about his father (truly, Blaise felt the same about his own) and the snips about how foolish this rivalry was (even if it was their main source of entertainment), for years. To spit on it so openly however…that could kill Draco's power within Slytherin quicker than Potter's ten minute-in catch of the snitch last match, blowing their chance for the cup.
 
Blaise held in a hiss, grinding his teeth. Potter…
 
A quick look: that was a fucking blush fading from the Gryffindor's cheeks!
 
Maybe it was Draco's way of catching the snitch before Potter, so to speak. God had graced the pale blonde with every appealing endowment imaginable. A walking, hard-talking, smooth piece of sex. He was known for using it as an advantage, but would he do that to one-up Potter? There was something so…naively innocent about the kid that had his impressions of Draco's integrity and deviousness warring with each other.
 
They hadn't stopped by the time dinner rolled around. Blaise was beyond irritated with these thoughts and their interruption of his study time. The image of tapered fingers sliding around and over Potter's shoulder to flick a note at Granger (hopefully a nasty one insulting her mother or something; Blaise really hated that snooty, know-it-all prude) would not be wiped from its burned altar behind his eyelids.
 
He didn't taste the food passing over his taste buds. The knots on the wooden table were decidedly boring, but Blaise could not tear his eyes away. He was sure someone asked if he was feeling all right. How expectfully kind of them; Slytherin's always took care of their own…too bad he was in a pissy mood. Insinuating their choice of meat cut was a shameful display of a gorgeful diet probably wasn't the best idea…shit. That was definitely going to come back and haunt him.
 
That was it. Time to leave before he brought a torrent of “unfortunate” events upon himself for the future. He was a danger to himself. Well…nothing new there.
 
Draco noticed. Of course he would. Who could miss that flash of silver-blue following him out of the Hall? Blaise did, in a way. He didn't see, but felt the curious burn on the back of his neck, pictured that odd iris coloring expand and contract with the pupil as a wisp of hair changed the immediate lighting. And then the memory of hand on shoulder ruined it, sending a jealous fit of hurt and anger into the lines of his body.
 
Throwing back the door to his dorm, he found the better half of the cause of those feelings' presence at ease on his bed.
 
Blaise's eyes flickered to the column of stones sliding back into their proper places to perfectly disguise the passageway they hid beyond the wall. He sighed, long and slow through o-pursed lips. It calmed him, somewhat.
 
“What do you want?”
 
The taller Slytherin wanted to slug Draco upside the head for that knowing grin. Knowing as in annoyingly knowing everything before Blaise even opened his mouth, but going for the roundabout approach anyway.
 
“That's a cold greeting for your best friend.”
 
Blaise regretted foregoing his initial idea of aimless castle roaming for the remainder of dinner. Come to think of it, he barely remembered running through the common room, let alone the dash through the corridors and skids on wet dungeon flagstones.
 
“Forgive me, but I'm not in this mood for this,” Blaise busied himself with gathering toiletries and a towel.
 
“I noticed.”
 
I know you did.
 
“You're pissy and irritated.”
 
How does he do that?!
 
“More so than usual.”
 
“Mind staying out of my head?” He muttered. You've been in it too much for my comfort level already.
 
A pale hand stopped the scramble for a pair of pajama bottoms. Oh God… he winced as the image slapped him again. Blaise jerked away.
 
“Knock it off, all right? I'll have to murder someone for a first wave slot in the showers if you keep holding me up.”
 
“Why? Looks like you could use a cold shower.” When his friend didn't grab onto the innuendo and run with it, as was custom, Draco really became worried. “What's wrong with you?”
 
“The usual.” Blaise lied, managing to look at Draco with a straight eye.
 
Gripping onto his anti-water-spelled bag the way he did told the Malfoy heir differently. “Liar,” he told Blaise flatly. “Magdalena owled you four days ago, and unless you've kept something from me, which you don't, she's in perfect health and everything is as fine as it can be.”
 
Draco was the only one who could get away with calling his mother by her full first name. Not even Lucius or his own father could get past the second syllable without a pointed look. The full weight of their friendship dangled above Blaise's head then. They were so entwined in each other's lives it was hard to tell where Draco began and Blaise ended. Their looks were even similar: blonde, slender, and beautifully dangerous. Like twins, people often said.
 
Abandoning the bag with a toss to the floor, Blaise sighed, looking sheepishly away. Doing that in a dignified way was tricky. “I want to tell you…” That was true, but could he speak of his jealousy without taking on the role of the fool himself? Draco would laugh.
 
“What is it? Blaise,” Was that Draco Malfoy pleading?? “Tell me.”
 
The earnestness was killing him, the words stuck in his throat. Only Draco spoke to him like that. Blaise grimaced again. Maybe he didn't? Who knew what that public display had been an after effect of? Damn his weakness! I'm acting like a fucking whiny-assed twat!
 
Draco grabbed him roughly by his loose house tie, making it tighten uncomfortably.
 
“Damn it, I hate it when you do that!!”
 
“That's why I did it, idiot,” he ignored the dangerous growl and pulled Blaise down the two inch difference to better accommodate their fierce standoff. Who's cold stone mask would break first? This was an area where Blaise had always bested his counterpart. Draco, however, had found a way to exploit his opponent's weakness. Just like the proper Slytherin should do.
 
The slow upward twist of Draco's thin lips should have been his first warning, his body language abruptly changing from offensive to predatory the second. He could have twisted away; Blaise was bigger than Draco, despite their finer builds. Truth was that he wanted to feel that pointed tongue softly lick his chin and force it's way into his mouth. Merlin, how long had he wanted that?? Ever since Draco proved that he wouldn't remain to Blaise and to Blaise only.
 
…All right, so the lick was odd, and not really in the fantasy he'd built up, but—oh. Potatoes. WHAT?
 
Blaise broke away, disgusted. “You let me leave the table with food on my face?!”
 
Draco rolled his eyes in that uniquely Draco way, with that slight raise and turn of the head. “Of course not. Why else would I have snuck into your dorm?”
 
“You do anyway,” Blaise countered.
 
“When I knew you weren't there?” A platinum eyebrow rose. “You were gone before I could head you off by the dungeon entrance. I was going to tip you off before the others came back from dinner, but my concern temporarily blinded me.”
 
“Let's hope that temporary loss of sight is contagious.” He hated throwing Draco's worry in his face, but Mother Dear's habit of speaking without thought was jumping over the distance to pay a visit.
 
The eyebrow went higher, a little colder. “Explain.”
 
A one-worded demand. This could end up bad. Well, he was too far in now…
 
“Herbology.”
 
“Could you kindly elaborate?”
 
“Harry Potter.”
 
Blaise knew that false blank look—hell he'd perfected it! “Fuck, Draco…do you think me daft??” He took his tie back more forcefully than he should have. Screw it, not forceful enough.
 
“Depends on what you're speculating,” Draco leaned his backside against the dormitory desk, casually supporting the weight of his arms by the heels of either hand on the timeworn wood. “You are very imaginative when you want to be.”
 
Blaise did not like what that implied, his voice telling Draco to tread carefully. “I'll bend to fit into your idea of who you think I am tonight, that being one of a decidedly dumber IQ, and ask what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
 
“Come off it,” the platinum blonde ignored the warnings, tilting his pointed chin up and switching to his Dragon on the Prowl persona. “Tell me how times you dreamt of me kissing you.”
 
Well that was unexpected.
 
“You are such a slut!” Blaise reeled back, unable to decide which mask to use to cover the wound. He settled for crossing the room and fiddling with the broken ring on his bed hangings. “I think you've killed me. Did you know that too, or have I managed a surprise?”
 
“Oh don't be such a martyr.” Draco rolled of in an accusing drawl. Funny, it would have had the same effect if the other Slytherin had spat the words. Trust a housemate to point the blame elsewhere. By the end of this, that just might be only what they would be to each other.
 
“Like I haven't seen you ogling Terry Boot,” he'd moved to stand with arms crossed, opposite the side of the bed Blaise was on. “Though he isn't bad for a Ravenclaw, I'll give you that.”
 
Scowling, Blaise concentrated harder on making his knuckles white around the metal ring and the fabric of the hangings. “You can hardly compare me checking out Terry Boot to groping Potter.”
 
“I was not—”
 
“You were nearly licking. His. EAR!” Blaise was losing control of his anger. If Draco didn't stop being an ass… “During class!”
 
“You're jealous.” The soft, shocked exclamation pried a shy glance from Blaise. If he had been hoping for empathy, that hope was dashed upon rocks to keep his heart company. The feral, victorious look on Draco's face served him right, he supposed, for expecting anything else. Had he really judged Draco so wrongly all these years?
 
“You know…I can't blame you. That `Hero of the Wizarding World' thing is a lot to compete with.” From his peripheral vision, Blaise could see Draco's shadow slowly sauntering around the bed, the silky voice betraying his ears. “And those eyes. How he looks like he's just rolled out of bed, that casual sexiness he doesn't even know he has—”
 
“Stop it.”
 
“Like you could ever hope to outshine him.”
 
Stifling trembles was a difficult feat. “Try harder,” Blaise said acidly, clenching his eyes shut. His neck was starting to hurt from the sheer tension in his body. “You've almost got the knife all the way through.”
 
Draco was only happy to step up to the challenge. “You're riddled with weaknesses, they're glaring so much it hurts. You pale in comparison to his light,” he could feel breath on his ear, stirring his carefully pampered hair. “I taste redemption in his kiss. Yes, the very thing we both want more than anything. But you're nothing more than a demon.”
 
The hand that came up to lightly rest on his hip burned him, but Blaise was too trapped in his own damning mind to pull away.
 
“So, demon, what can you offer me?”
 
Blaise's eyes snapped open at that. He snarled and shoved the smirking bastard away. “I can't believe I never saw that before.”
 
“Saw what, my darling?” Draco had the audacity to act innocent.
 
“That my friendship was never enough for you! Just like everything else!”
 
“Was it ever enough for you?”
 
Draco was serious now, back to the face Blaise knew better than his own. Which one could he trust?
 
“You haven't asked me yet how long I had been dreaming of kissing you.”
 
“Between dreams about the rest of the male population in the school? I'd wager not long.”
 
“I hope that doesn't include teachers.”
 
“Should it?” Blaise sneered. “You forget I know you, Draco. I refuse to be tried and dropped faster than Divination.”
 
“Blaise—”
 
“Shut up.” The irate boy pointed to the still open door. “Get out.”
 
Draco's mouth dropped. Blaise gloated with a nasty smile. “What? Shocked that you're being kicked out of a room instead of in? I doubt it would be presumptuous of me to say that you'd be doing the kicking otherwise. Sorry, mate, I'm done with you.”
 
Neutrally, Draco shrugged a shoulder and raised his head in the Malfoy manner of indifference. “Fine. But you're coming with me.”
 
Before Blaise had the chance to retort, or even think about maneuvering further away, Draco had a firmly locked fist on the front of his uniform and was dragging him towards the door, no doubt to his own dorm.
 
The hell with that!
 
Stopping their movement by the doorjambs didn't have the desired effect the tall boy had in mind. What he'd imagined was Draco backing off at his adamancy and pouting away in his Malfoy way to wank off in bed. What really happened was that momentum worked against him, much like Draco's hips against his own at the moment after. Somehow, with Draco's seeker reflexes Blaise suspected, he was now pinned against the back of his own closed door. Yeah, and he was pretty sure that click was the lock turning.
 
Why did the world hate him so much?
 
“I'm not going to be your fuck toy!” Blaise shouted, successfully gaining at least a millimeter of space between them. But Draco was not to be denied, it seemed.
 
“He's poisoned your mind,” the whispers and arm gently insistent of its pull around his waist puzzled Blaise. “You so easily believed me. I didn't know it was so bad, Blaise.”
 
“What the hell are you on about?” At least his voice was still angry and firm. His resolve was crumbling under those bittersweet fingertips grazing over his cheek.
 
Draco was somberly serious, keeping up the quiet countenance although his eyes were loud…about something. “Your father's neglect; you act like it doesn't bother you, but I know it hurts. You want to believe that Magdalena's attentions are enough, but they aren't. Blaise,” Draco's eyes were silver, sad and hurting for his friend around the edge of the irises. “You will always be good enough for me.”
 
“I don't even know who you are!”
 
“Don't be an asshat.” A blink and the sensual Dragon was pushed aside, replaced with the friend he was familiar with. This one tapped his cheek a hair shy of a gentle slap and pecked their lips together. Non-demanding even. Well.
 
“So what is this?” Blaise freed an arm and waved it about.
 
“This is you,” Draco slid both arms around his hopeful partner snugly. “And me.”
 
“Just us?”
 
The true smile in accompaniment to the answer damned him. “Just us. Primarily anyway.” Draco kissed the inevitable protest away, mischievous silver-blue teasing annoyed deep-sea-azure.
 
“Like I would dream of ruining your fun with your Ravenclaw,” he quipped with a smirk, and quite bluntly bit Blaise's chin in a chiding reprimand. “And I always come back to you, Blaise, or haven't you noticed?”
 
“Uh, actually I think I was distracted by the fact it wasn't me who you were fucking on your prefect rounds,” Blaise rubbed his chin lightly and raised a brow.
 
“Guess we'll just have to fix—” Finding new ways to cut Draco's speech off and shock him was beginning to become a favored habit, particularly since the reactions were so interesting. Kissing, he decided, was his favorite.
 
Now it was Blaise pinning Draco to the door, both ignoring the loud thud in light of the new heat between them. By the sounds of it, Draco liked it better this way, and Blaise was only too happy to oblige him with more.
 
“Oh my God, that's you knee…” Draco hissed as they both chose then to make that friction hotter.
 
Blaise laughed, and again at the shiver he felt in the muscles of Draco's neck under his lips. “I'm not a virgin, Malfoy.”
 
“Mmm, but really, you had to give it to that Hufflepuff girl? That can't have been good for you.”
 
“Less talking, more grinding,” Blaise almost decapitated his flushed prey in the hurry to rid him of the damned tie blocking the path to shirt buttons. Those also promised to be more of a pain than they were worth. “These clothes need to go.”
 
“She was a prude!”
 
“And you're still a slut.” He clawed the school vest off and took advantage of Draco's raised arms, pinning them with one hand against the door, sliding the other under the oxford shirt and scraping his nails over the smooth abdomen.
 
“You're a…” Draco's eyes clammed shut, the words temporarily blown away at the steady rubbing of Blaise's fingers against a nipple. Smirking at the treasure found,the taller Slytherin did it harder and slower, watching with fascination as Draco's mouth fell in a silent gasp and arched as far as he could manage. Blaise tightened his grip on Draco's wrists as a reminder of who was taking charge.
 
“Fucking…TEASE!”
 
“What are you going to do about it?” Blaise took on Draco's earlier predatory mien, ignoring the other half hard peak in favor of something more…southern. “What do you want Draco? Is it this?” The plastic buttons made far off plunks as they fell to the floor. Blaise dipped his head, tasting the pink skin around the stimulated nub, and plunged his hand down the front of Draco's trousers.
 
“Fuck, Blaise!” Draco panted, biting his lip, and pressed his head against the door as he moved hungrily against that slender hand. “'M dying…!”
 
“Just returning the favor.” Blaise's breath made Draco shudder deeply.
 
“Shit…AH ah!”
 
The way the other boy's spine went stiff for a full three seconds as he assaulted the neglected flesh on the other side sent rush of satisfying heat into his own groin.
 
“You have a very dirty mouth,” Blaise said between laps, strokes, and bites. Draco was a writhing piece of meat under him, and that's exactly how he wanted it, to put that feeling over his newfound lover.
 
Draco, for his part, was loving it. Being a Malfoy had more of a daunting effect on his sex life than one would assume. No one realized how much work it took seducing and playing the lead! And there wasn't any other person he'd wanted to take advantage of him like this more than Blaise. His patience and taunts had certainly had the desired effect.
 
“S-stop!” Draco couldn't take much more of this playing around. He wanted Blaise and he wanted him now.
 
Blaise went for the spot just behind the ear, not relenting on his hand's activities either. “Beg me.”
 
Truth be told, he wasn't having much luck fighting the carnal urge to pick the boy up and throwing him on the bed, but hell if he'd do it before hearing Draco Malfoy beg him to.
 
To his credit, Blaise let Draco seize and take control of his mouth, milking the benefits of sexual frustration combined with evident skill in the art of kissing. It was fantastic, and he told him so, drowning Draco's growl of loss as he removed his hand to focus on eliminating space between them.
 
“Blaise, please…!” the Malfoy relented, moaning as he bit him in his enthusiasm and tasted blood. Eagerly, he licked the small wound clean, having to fight Blaise's tongue to get to it.
 
“Please what?” All Draco had to say was `Fuck me!' but the pale blonde continued to be wonderfully surprising.
 
“Make love to me,” Draco was a picture of unbridled want with his husky whisper, ragged breathing, and sweet smelling sweat. “Like only a Slytherin can.”
 
There was no blood left in his hands, but the silky feel of Blaise's longer hair was not lost to his screaming nerves as he was set free to engulf the other boy in a lung-crushing kiss. Without breaking it, Blaise hooked his arms under Draco's legs and transported them both to fall onto his bed.
 
“No,” he panted, mouth finally let go while his clothes were attacked and much nail dragging and skin touching ensued. “I'm going to make love to you how only I can!”
 
“Oh yeah?” Draco heard ripping fabric, and was vaguely aware it was his doing. Oh well, Blaise had plenty of shirts. He thanked Merlin for Blaise's habit of foregoing underwear and pushed him back onto the bed, open for Draco to devour. Blaise shivered under that hungry gaze, fueling both their arousals.
 
“God, you have no idea how beautiful you are like this,” the Malfoy breathed, adding more flush to the other's cheeks.
 
“Come here.” Draco was happy to obey, sliding his body along Blaise's. The sight of the golden expanse of neck and shoulder made available from the bottom Slytherin's head falling back was a tantalizing prospect; the skin there was salty from the light perspiration. Draco's lips burned their marks into him as much as his bites.
 
They could feel each other through the soft material of Draco's tailored pants, eliciting mutual groans and thoughts of still being overdressed. Blaise skated his hot hands down Draco's sides and pushed at the offending garment. Wriggling free with the help, both nearly came at the explosive shock of flesh on flesh. Blaise's hips thrust up of their own accord as Draco ground his own down with bruising force, over and over again.
 
“Nnngh!!” Even the scant brush of Draco's still present shirt against his sides was amplified into the building pressure. “Shit! Draco, stop!”
 
The Dragon was back, sporting the sexiest evil grin that, if possible, made Blaise even harder. A wet kiss and a split second later, Draco was tearing loud moans from the taller boy, playing a rough tongue over the leaking prick and down the length. Blaise's hands fisted themselves in Draco's soft hair and forced himself into that hot and wet mouth. Draco sucked him eagerly, coaxing Blaise towards completion with the vibrations of his own sounds of pleasure. He let the other boy claim his mouth, working a rhythmic motion between rocking hips, his stroking hand, and bobbing head.
 
Draco raised his eyes to meet Blaise's half-lidded ones, and slipped the other hand between his own legs. It was slick between his fingers; Blaise fucked his mouth harder until he came with a high yell between those sweet and bruised lips.
 
At the first taste of Blaise spilling down his throat, Draco had to brace himself on the darker blonde's stomach as his own climax took the strength from his knees. He closed his eyes, riding the post coital buzz, and lapped traces of the bitter liquid away.
 
Blaise's eyes were still clouded with want. The silver gleam in Draco's spoke that he wasn't done either.
 
“How's your recovery time?” Draco asked, curiously with a smirk.
 
“After that?” Blaise licked his lips, still trying to catch his breath, and wondered what that devious chuckle was for.
 
Draco looked from the white fluid still on his hand back to Blaise. “I think I can help you with that.” He crawled forward, hovering over Blaise and purred into his ear, “You like to watch, don't you?”
 
He leaned his weight on one arm above Blaise's head and leaned down to start up another rousing snog fest. His hand wandered around back to penetrate himself with two spunk-slicked fingers. The audible hitch in his breath and growing intensity drew Blaise to open his eyes and look over the boy's shoulder. Blaise stared, hopelessly fascinated; it was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen.
 
Draco smiled, moving his fingers in and out slowly at first, and then picking up speed, rocking back. “Mmmm,” he locked eyes with Blaise, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “Hold up your hand.”
 
Blaise did, and drew in a sharp breath as Draco drew two fingers into his mouth, sucking. He let go, and moved on to drawing his lips over Blaise's neck. Blaise in return, didn't hesitate in covering Draco's hand with his own, and inserted a slender finger between Draco's.
 
The Malfoy gasped, mouth falling open slightly. “That's feels so good…just like that…nnngh…ahh!” His head fell to the crook of Blaise's neck, fucking himself on their intertwined fingers. “Ahh! Ahhhhh!! Want…you…!”
 
More than ready, Blaise nudged him. “Over!”
 
Trembling, Draco moved to let him get up, and poised on hands and knees. “Trouser pocket!”
 
“Oh hell,” Blaise looked frantically for Draco's pants, finding them thankfully only over the side of the bed. “Should I be surprised to find this there?” He asked, uncapping the little tube and slicking himself up.
 
“Don't hear you compl—AHHOHGodyes!” Draco fell onto his elbows, gripping the sheets as Blaise entered him fully with another swift surge forward. He was still tight, but the pain pleased his masochistic taste.
 
Blaise pulled out and thrust in again, grasping Draco's hips, needing to take them both deeper. Taking it over and over again, Draco bit into his forearm to muffle crying out and pushed back. Settling into a rhythm, Blaise's drives became sharper. He kept one hand steady on Draco's hip and licked a straight trail up his spine to end in a bite, their bodies moving against sweat and skin. Blaise's knuckles were devoid of blood, so hard was he gripping the headboard and snapping his pelvis into Draco.
 
Like that, they moved, connected, listening to each other pant and moan, and purely felt. Truly, nothing was as wonderful as Blaise's heart pounding against Draco's back, or Draco turning his head to fix eyes with Blaise, or sharing their breath over Draco's shoulder as they slowed the pace almost painfully to make it last forever.
 
“Make me yours,” Draco, the one he knew and loved, whispered, the words mingling on both their lips only a breath away.
 
Blaise took intense possession of his mouth, changed angles, and crashed into that most sensitive point within. The violent wave of pleasure swept Draco up, and further as the titillation was repeated, and again. Blaise swallowed Draco's yells, happily taking the exclamations into himself.
 
Stroking Draco in time with their bed-rocking love, Blaise kissed and suckled the beautifully drowning boy's arched neck and pounded his prostate again. Draco couldn't keep in the scream of Blaise's name any longer, and finally let go of the edge.
 
“Draco,” was a breathless sigh from the depths of the darker Slytherin's own completion, riding the tighter muscles surrounding him as he claimed the ivory blonde. At once they collapsed, clinging to one another, one shiver triggering the others and starting the cycle over again. In the quiet of their storm, Blaise shifted off and drew Draco to him in a curling spoon, smoothing sun-touched wisps away from damp skin.
 
He saw the edge of Draco's sleepy and satisfied smile as he nuzzled his neck and committed their mingled scents to memory. Draco intertwined his fingers with the hand resting against his chest; tangled ivory and gold.
 
Too quickly the dream was broken. A loud, incessant banging on the door drowned out the sound of the fragile glass surrounding their woven spell, and time began to move again.
 
“Draco!!”
 
Blaise growled, pulling his sleepy dragon closer and burrowed farther into the bed. The interruption refused to be ignored, however.
 
“Draco, I know you're in there! A house elf could recognize your screaming!”
 
Blaise's eyes shot open. Draco giggled and tried tugging his lover back to bed by the bed sheet wrapped around his waist. Unsuccessful, he watched Adrian Pucey fall on the receiving end of a Zabini death glare. The Slytherin chaser's reaction was an interesting one.
 
Looking from the be-sheeted, incensed Blaise to a disheveled, yawning Malfoy, Adrian sensed his demise was already being plotted. “Shit…”
 
“You are done, Pucey,” Blaise rumbled, leaving the threat open for interpretation.
 
“Something you needed, Adrian?” Draco sauntered to the door wearing nothing but the `just been fucked and loved it' look. His happily sated eyes raked the sight of Blaise's beautifully veiled body; delicious; and skimmed over the stunned housemate, smirking.
 
“Or did you find it all right?”
 
“Um…I'll just…” Adrian choked a little as Draco came up behind Blaise, sliding his arms around the other boy's waist and ran contrasting, grace-molded hands up his chest. Blaise leaned back into him with a poshly victorious grin.
 
“…go.”
 
“Grand idea.” Draco licked a circle on Blaise's shoulder leisurely, sending a hot flush up Adrian's neck. His wink was the last thing seen before the door closed with a creak that sounded suspiciously like a high whining groan.