At Night

A/N This is a Blaise fic, because the psyche of Blaise is so often neglected. My interpretation, flame if you like. It includes a short lemon, so avoid if you don’t like explicit Boy on Boy action. Otherwise, Enjoy! And thanks for reading.

Summary: Everything is different at night, even the things you fight desperately to avoid. BZ/DM and Implied BZ/SF. M/M. Lemon.
Spoilers: None, I think?
Pairings: Implied BZ/SF and BZ/DM
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Harry Potter Bisho’s, nor do I claim to. I just like to borrow them and tie their hearts up in each other.

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The corridor was dark at night, and eerie except to those that knew it well. To his left, the stonewall slid soundlessly closed, causing the shadows on the opposite wall to fade, and then disappear altogether. He moved like the very night that wrapped around him, disregarding the flaming torches that threatened to expose his lithe figure to watchful eyes. He was lean, but well toned, and garbed in all black-- an effect that, while cloaking him, only served to brighten the blue glow of matching orbs.

The stairs were empty in the dark of night; void of all life but his and the occasional caretaker, who, teamed with his feline, roamed the halls looking for unlucky students on the quest for a midnight snack.

A midnight snack. You could call it that, though he was more insatiable in this hunger than the kind that called for bread and water. Because of it, he knew the path well. True, the Hufflepuffs were taintable, the Ravenclaws skilled, and the Slytherins just plain horny, but when it came to his favorite house to romp, it was the Gryffindor tower he frequented most often. He thrived on the uncertainty between its housemates when it came to him, the way the white and black of friendships grayed into anger when two girls realized their nightly visitors were one and the same. The house rivalry heightened the pleasure with deceit, lies…trickery. Adrenaline was in overdrive the minute he’d charmed the Fat Lady with hushed words, and the Password she desired. He always knew the password.

Tonight, though, it was the boys’ staircase he climbed. There was no true mastery required to mounting these steps; it was the girls’ staircase that was charmed against intruders, and exponentially easier to conquer every time he mounted the task. Not that he’d be giving away his secret anytime soon. There was something to be said for being the only male able to enter the Girls dormitory. Something he didn’t intend to jeopardize.

The door to the Sixth year’s dormitory opened with a squeak. Luckily, all who slept here were sound sleepers, many hiding behind the hanging curtains to their beds, but a few, (Like Ron, for instance...) looking as if they had barely fallen into the bed before they were sound asleep.

“He -would- be too lazy to close them.” He said to himself, already making his way past the bed of the redhead, towards the one in which he’d be spending the night. …Or, Most of it.

As he neared its side, a head popped out from within, startling him to jump softly and inhale.

“You’re late, Zabini...” The way the speaker rolled his R’s brought the casual smirk to his face, the closest he would get to smiling at his Irish lover.

“And you always come early, Finnegan.” Said he, emphasizing the word with a devilish waggle of his right eyebrow. The crimson hue that came to the others cheeks was enough to make him pull his wand from his cloak and cast the silencing charm he knew and loved so well.

And then he leaned forwards, and lips found the hollow of the neck. Nipping, sucking, marking.

“I love you…” said the other boy, shattering their agreement with three softly whispered words, and a meaningful look that burned into the back of his head. Three little words that set the silence between them more effectively than any silencing charm, and caused the door to the tower to close behind him.

He left, when they broke the rules.

This was what he did. He came, he saw, he conquered. He fucked, without love, and without regret, and he never kissed. And he was always on top, and never in his own bed. You wouldn’t find him on his back (or front...) for anyone.

Well, almost anyone.

His bed was lonely at night. Shadows crept up the walls like vampires caught in bloodlust. The sheets were cold and companionless, and the hole in his heart gauged itself larger and larger with every passing moment.

And sometimes, when others broke the rules, -he- would come. He didn’t fuck for love, he fucked without it, and without regret, and he never kissed him. They had only a mutual agreement. To relieve stress, they found each other. Without love; always without love. And it had been all right, for a while, except that it was -his- bed; -his- sheets stained with the evidence of their joining. Until it was -he- who was being intruded upon. Until it was -he- who was gasping.

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“Agh…! ….Draco…”

The blonde didn’t seem to hear his cry, burying his head in the dark haired boys shoulder and grasping his cock tighter in his right hand. Teeth took hold of the skin at the hollow of Blaise’s neck. Biting, sucking, marking…but never for real; never claiming with anything more than lust.

The hand dragged upwards, tight about his shaft, burning the memory into his mind with the intensity of the pleasure. Thumb dragged over the tip. Gently, almost, with the pad of a thumb never marred with physical labor-- perfectly manicured nails shimmering in the moonlight that peeked in through the slit in the curtains.

Distantly, Blaise could feel his legs being parted. He could feel the intrusion, singular at first, stretching, probing him. Calling him to gasp the name again that he wanted to hate, but couldn’t…causing him to arch off the bed with a cry that was almost a sob.

When he pressed the head of his cock into him, Blaise hissed slightly, and watched with eyes that were holding true to his name. The hand on his desperately aroused cock had stalled momentarily, though he would’ve liked the pleasure to interrupt the pain. Soon enough, he was fully inside, pausing in a sort of false affection that rendered a heartstring snapped, but the act continued. Pulling out till he was nearly withdrawn, and then slamming back in, leaning forwards so that lips could find his neck, his chest, his nipple. Teeth nipped, reveling in the gasp withdrawn from his partner, swiping over the injured tissue and then blowing cool air over the nub until it had hardened fiercely. His hips shifted, tilting to drive into Blaise with a force that brought stars to his eyes, to stroke that bundle of nerves that caused nails to rake their patterns on his lover’s ivory skin.

“...’m…Going to...” Again, the hand tightened on his shaft, thrusts continued and forcefully in time with the strokes of his hand. Blaise dropped one as well, wrapped it around the delicate, aristocratic fingers that had already taken hold. “Nnghh…Draco!” He came, come spilling over their joined hand and between their stomachs. His lover had yet to, but lasted but a few strokes more, milked into heavy orgasm by the clenching of Blaise’s muscles, to flood the deepest recesses of Blaise with himself.

The blonde withdrew almost immediately. Blaise, heavy lidded and exhausted, tried to stall him in his departure. “…Draco…” The blonde turned cool, ice blue eyes upon his friend and sometime lover. They met, glacier to sapphire, as Blaise opened his mouth to speak the words that broke all the rules. “I…”

But the weight on the bed shifted, and Draco slipped off through the curtains, into the night; into the arms of his forbidden Green-Eyed love, before Blaise could finish.
His bed was warm, but lonely.

And he broke the rules, to wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

\"...I love you.\"

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I\'d love to hear what you think...
\\\\-PS-//