|By : Massanie|
Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes
Views: 75212 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 27
|Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me and I'm not making any money with this story|
CHAPTER 17: Contrition, Confession, Confusion
I had to rewrite some parts of this chapter. I'm really sorry. The truth is that during the end I was reading some original fiction that mainly influenced my writing and had Harry be so ooc that, once a reader brought my attention to it, I couldn't continue writing without changing those parts. Major changes (everything beyond some minor corrections to guarantee a nice word flow) is written in bold.
I didn't change much of the conversation going on, only the thought processes, the feelings and the level of influence the magic has on both Harry and Blaise. That influence was also meant to appear in the original chapter, but there it was so subtle and just hinted on between the lines that I'm afraid most of you missed it. I knew that Harry was behaving somewhat ooc, but it was meant as a result of the control his magic had on him, nothing more and nothing less.
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Out of the corner of his eyes, Blaise could still see Harry staring after Draco, even while the two of them started to walk towards the stairs that would lead them off the rooftop garden, and he saw him knead the knuckle of his left forefinger in bewilderment. Blaise was pretty sure that this feeling was once again caused by the continuous, sudden changes in Draco's behaviour. The blond was often keen to experiment and sometimes openly kept switching between behaviour patterns, testing what would benefit him the most. For the most part, Blaise himself liked that rather volatile streak, it certainly made interactions with his gyre falcon that much more interesting, but he could understand why it would leave others reeling.
As it obviously did Harry. From the look of it, the brunet was still trying to process all that had been said and slowly, Blaise's own conscience was starting to make itself felt. He knew of Harry's past with the press, of course, who didn't? And he also knew that despite being the damned Saviour of the Wizarding World (multiple times at that), the Gryffindor Golden Boy was rather self-conscious. God, he still remembered his discomfort and clumsiness in those horrible meetings of the Slug Club… the few times Harry had been there at all.
"Harry?" He tried to get the other's attention and from the way startled forest-green eyes jumped to his own, he had been deeply in thought, indeed. "Don't let Draco's enthusiasm pressure you into anything. Or my opinion for that matter. I know that you do not like publicity much, everyone knows that. It's just: I think one should only complain about things that can and should be changed and only when willing to invest oneself to achieve those changes."
Next to him, the Gryffindor rolled his eyes, his lips curled into a self-ironic smirk. "You forget that I fought a Dark Lord. I do know the difference between wallowing in self-pity and calling attention to things that need changing and really undertaking those changes."
Then suddenly the grin diminished as Harry turned serious again. "And you really needn't worry about me: My whole childhood and a good portion of my youth was sacrificed for 'the greater good'. This is my life now and I won't let myself be pressured into doing something I really don't want."
Unsmilingly, Blaise nodded in acknowledgement of the other's statement, that seemed so tenuous in the light of Harry's status as a submissive. He just hoped they could keep this promise that Harry had made to himself. Sometimes he still wasn't sure if the younger teenager really grasped what was happening to him. Well, that was a topic for another time.
"Will you think about it, though?" he asked just as he waved Harry to precede him down the circular stairs.
The brunet did, but not before shrugging his indecisiveness – an action he seemed to regret immediately as his unwilling muscles tensed painfully from the small movement, and he winced slightly either at the image of becoming a ministry employee or at the pain (the latter Blaise somehow doubted, Harry sadly was too experienced with pain for something like aching muscles to affect him much).
"Maybe." Harry said, not quite successfully hiding his grimace. "I think you are right about the thing with changing something and complaining about it and knowing the difference and it is time someone started to do something about all those problems. But me? I really can't see myself working as a ministry official."
Secretly, Blaise had to agree, he didn't think that Harry would be able to find his way through the intrigues and games played within the ministry with enough grace to be truly successful and climb the career ladder far enough to be able to change things from the inside. But still … "You don't have to become a highly ranked ministry employee or the minster himself, to influence politics. There are other ways…"
And that was, at least for Harry, a fact: as a war hero he could influence quite a lot from outside of the ministry, simply by using the weight of his name and his public influence to put pressure onto the right places and persons.
But Harry interrupted him before he could elaborate further, his expression still twisted into that curious grimace. "In any case, it doesn't matter right now, does it? We're far away from England."
"We won't always be." Blaise said, and of course he had wanted to prod a little further but when, following that statement, Harry smiled at him with one of those small, quiet smiles that tugged at his lips seemingly against his will, he just couldn't. But damn, Blaise was growing rather fond of those accursed smiles and if getting the chance to collect more of them meant stopping to harass Harry about possibly choosing a political career, well, then he'd have to do just that. Honestly, it was just like Draco's amused eyes, laughing at him for trying to romance someone as level-headed as the Slytherin Ice Prince, even though he knew Draco loved the attention and he appreciated the thought of whatever it was Blaise did for him and so he did it nonetheless. Just for the laughter in those eyes.
"Probably not." Harry admitted, then he ducked his head and turned and together they walked down the stairs in comfortable silence and along the corridors to Harry's rooms, both pursuing their own thoughts.
Blaise's slowly turned to his fiancé. He was quite aware of Draco's difficulty with the emotional aspects of the temporary bond they had shared and he was pretty sure that his steely eyed lover was at that moment – or would be very soon – searching out Adler and the outcome of that conversation might determine whether Draco wanted to stop their pursuit of the young submissive before it had even really begun … but Blaise himself wasn't so sure anymore if he could really give up Harry. When they had taken him to Lanai Manor he had expected the Gryffindor to make their life hell, to obstinately refuse to learn from them and instead oppose them at every upcoming opportunity, fight them tooth and nail and try to flee at least once a day. But he hadn't. Okay, it was true, he had tried to flee once, but honestly, he and Draco had no one but themselves to blame for that. Blaise knew he should have explained instead of ordering the young submissive around, Harry was rational enough that he would have understood, Blaise had realised that now; and together with what Snape had told them… Draco and he really had it coming, Harry's attempted escape.
But the Golden Gryffindor had forgiven them, had forgiven Draco, and now he accepted their teaching, and was even trying himself to make his stay pleasant for all of them. And pleasant it was, very much so. After today, Blaise rather thought he would enjoy teaching the boy, he was a quick learner and his amazement at every discovery he made was infectious.
Aside from that Harry was easy to be around and – Blaise had never thought he might admit as much willingly … ever – quick-witted and bright enough to hold his own in a discussion against two well-bred purebloods like Draco and himself. Indeed, what he lacked in eloquence, he more than made up for with pure logic and zeal, so that despite his own opinions, Blaise found Harry's political views refreshing. The Saviour probably didn't know it, wouldn't even understand it if Blaise mentioned it, but there was no denying it nonetheless: he was inspiring. The war had left him with the flair of a leader and how he had spoken earlier … just like a damned brilliant political speaker. If he could learn to talk like this in front of hundreds of people, he could sway the emotions of the masses and make his tool of them. Not that he would ever tell Harry so. The Gryffindor would probably take it the wrong way and see it as a dark gift like his Parseltongue. Apropos … if Harry might be persuaded to speak for them?
Blaise didn't get to ask that question out loud as a low murmur from his companion tore him from his musings.
"What did you say?" He asked, watching with a raised eye-brow as Harry bit his lips and, in an almost regretful tone of voice, said "I said that he didn't like it."
Bewildered at the seemingly disjointed statement, Blaise raised a questioning eyebrow at the younger submissive. "Pardon?"
"Draco." Harry clarified. "He didn't like the temporary connection. He was angry when you proposed it."
With a sigh, Blaise brought a hand up to massage his neck. He had hoped that the other teen would not mention that little observation quite yet and he struggled for an answer that would explain Draco's reaction without giving things away that Blaise was sure his fiancé would rather keep hidden for the moment.
"He is … Draco is a very private person, Harry." He said finally, knowing it wouldn't be enough to divert or placate the brunet when he gave him a rather sceptical look.
"Adler told us just this very morning how to establish temporary connections and Draco … he thought it too early for you and for himself and maybe it was. But I proposed it nonetheless. That's why he was angry. And it … it was just … " wonderful? Addictive? Frighteningly intense? All of that and still no description would suffice. Words often weren't accurate enough in Blaise's opinion. And really, there was no perfectly fitting adjective or paraphrase for the warmth and dizzying contentment that the three of them had experienced together. And the familiarity it had build. How should he feel about knowing Harry's emotions so intimately, more intimately probably than his two best friends and that Weasley girl? Dazzled? Not quite, but even so, he had been swept along in the tide of Harry's very private emotions and had felt the same happen to Draco. And that loss of control that had only been recognized as such in retrospect, was disconcerting. So it had been uncomfortably comfortable, wonderfully frightening, addictively familiar and dazzlingly intense.
"… it was unexpected, Harry, " Well, that was also true, at least, "for Draco more so than for me, but neither of us knew really what it would be like and … Harry, we are Snakes, not Badgers and it was a rather … intense experience to be so in the open, something that will take some getting used to."
He looked over to Harry, but the brunet kept staring ahead stubbornly and there was a curious expression on his face that Blaise didn't like much, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that bothered him. He was unaware of the spark of irritation growing inside Harry: Finally, finally he had found something worthwhile in this whole mating-business, and it was the one thing that the two dominants were uncomfortable with. How fucked up was that?
"I … you know, it's alright, really …" Harry started hesitantly, if a little bit strained, "just, if maybe I could stay here until the school term starts, that'd be great…"
That stopped Blaise dead in his tracks and he actually needed a moment to recover his bearings. Was that Gryffindor really saying what he thought he was? In his surprise the question fell from his lips before he managed to at least formulate it in a manner that might have, even faintly, resembled politeness. "Just what the hell are you talking about?"
Defiantly Harry cocked his head and shrugged to fake nonchalance, an act that was belied by the small, barely perceptible movement of his right hand at his side, where it had reflexively wanted to reach for his wand before remembering that it wasn't there. Now instead he folded his arms and glared up at him. "Well, obviously Draco doesn't care much for the bond, and you'll of course follow him in his decision, so if you changed your mind, I'm fine with that…"
It was all Blaise could do to not let his jaw drop at that.
Fine with them losing interest in him. Harry was fine with leaving them.
Blaise didn't listen further and while he himself was maybe too stunned to react, his magic was not: When he would later contemplate his reaction, Blaise wouldn't be able to define what exactly he was feeling at that very moment. He only knew that his stomach contracted uncomfortably and that his heart beat faster for some reason or the other. It wasn't anger and it wasn't nervousness or fear, or any other emotion in its pure form; no, it was a complex mixture that he couldn't decipher. But it was intense enough that his magic acted of its own accord and suddenly Blaise felt his wings strain against his skin and then, before he had the chance to do anything about it, they pressed against the thin fabric of his shirt, sending spikes of white-hot pain through his backside. It was all he could do to bring his magic into action and quickly cut the necessary slits into the fabric to relieve the throbbing, because he knew he wouldn't be able to force back his wings.
A moment later he had cocooned Harry and himself in a mass of bronze- and copper-coloured feathers, drawing them close and closer around their bodies as a barrier against light, noises and smells. A downy curtain, that veiled them in half-darkness, illuminated only by Blaise's magic, which flickered over the silky texture like light reflections from the moving surface of red-golden water.
The effect was stunning, and Harry seemed to think so, too. He had flinched back at first, his head turning away from Blaise and his shoulders scrunching up. But as the young submissive caught sight of the wings around him, his expression and stance eased up and he leaned forward, entranced by the net of light wavering over the copper feathers. He reached out, his fingers threading through the insubstantial magic and stirring its patterns, making it curl and dance.
'It welcomes you,' Blaise thought and wondered if Harry knew. He couldn't be sure: the brunet shivered for a moment and gasped slightly, but he didn't pull back again. At that moment, Blaise wasn't aware that Harry couldn't have, even if he had wanted to. The submissive's very own magic had entrapped him in a dreamlike state, purring and whispering sweetly to him to keep silent, to watch the display of power that was given just for him. It was pleasing to watch, wasn't it? Beautiful even, amazing. And god, it imbued him with an almost other-worldly feeling of elation, as if he stood above everything and everyone else in the world, if only he could stay with the Vykélari in front of him. He was desirous, strong and handsome, wasn't he, and together their magic would be unsurpassed throughout the wizarding world. That was something worth striving for, wasn't it? Wasn't it? He should allow his magic to reach out for him with a hand of pure energy and entice the dark skinned bronze angel to let Harry forge the link between them that no one would ever be able to break.
In that way, so much like an imperius, Harry's magic cradled his thoughts, guided them and his body and though Harry was starting to realise that something was off, that he should fight the sluggishness that had overtaken his consciousness, he was not yet able to bring himself to really shake off the effects; because this was not another wizard with unfamiliar magic trying to control him with an imperius, no, this treachery originated in his own core. Everything in him demurred at the thought of fighting his own magic, something that had always been a trusted ally, that had never betrayed him, but saved him countless times; from bullies in his childhood, up to mortal enemies in recent years. How could a wizard be expected to fight his own magic?
And all the while, Blaise was unaware of Harry's inner struggle. He only saw the submissive's palpable dazed and stunned amazement, an amazement that he shared, even if not as strongly.
This had never happened before. Never. Blaise hadn't even known that his magic could take on a lasting visible shape like this at all. Of course he had caused it to leave his body before, as an invisible layer hovering just above his skin or as tendrils or barely visible sparks that he sent into objects or into the skin of … well, of Draco or Harry, to be honest. He hadn't done that with anyone else yet aside from the magical exchange during his own very first transformation, and he didn't want to. It was too intimate a feeling, those exchanges of magic, to share them with just anyone.
That aside, usually when he had trained, the magical embodiments were rather fickle, they couldn't persist, and instead kept dissolving if they weren't directed fast enough to where they were meant to go. These light reflections were very much stable and, dare he say it – beautiful.
But even more beautiful he found the way it illuminated the golden skin of the younger submissive, dancing in the green eyes, so much like emeralds but so much more valuable, so that they looked like gems lying in a riverbed. Forest-green feathers had appeared in his hair, and they looked softer than ever before – a little bit like the feathers of an ostrich, only green and more iridescent – as they fluffed up in obvious contentment, ruffling the soft, thick strands of raven hair. Would Harry allow him to rake his hands through the down like feathers?
He didn't want to ask though, didn't want to break the silence and destroy the vision of Harry standing there like a wanderer watching the Northern Lights, transfixed and bewitched by the sight of such a spectacle.
A moment later though, Blaise felt a memory wash away his heady, magic-drunken elation like a tide of ice water. Bewitched. It was something he had heard before from a portray or maybe he had read about it in some tome of his own father, whom he had never known. Something the Malfoy portraits had even hinted at the first time they had spoken with them about Harry and about possible methods to make him stay at the manor: because submissives were magically stronger, because for a dominant to approach one who was well-rested with the intention of mating him was indeed very dangerous in and on itself, nature had gone out of its way to give a trump card to the magically weaker. While all Vykélari were naturally fascinated by magic - there was no denying that - an inexperienced submissive could literally be caught in a trance like state merely by being exposed to well-controlled, powerful magic. Of course he could overcome that addiction if he encountered it often enough in his life, just like a drug that one developed a resistance against. But Harry had never gotten in touch with anything remotely related to Vykélari before and so he was open and vulnerable to the not so subtle influence, more so than any other submissive who was raised amongst other Vykélari. And Blaise's magic had reacted by itself, enfolding Harry so that he would not leave, so that Blaise could reach out, close the submissive's core off, block his magic and thus make him helpless until they mated. And all that before Harry had the chance to react, too entranced with the display of magic.
Almost, Blaise would have stepped back and retracted his wings, appalled at the vision his own magic painted in front of his mind's eye, but he didn't want Harry to leave and he was sure he would if he retracted his wings. Harry would wake and would be angry and once again he would run before Blaise could explain.
But neither did he want the brunet mindless, a slave to his magic, so instead he hastily pulled it back into his body with a conscious effort, letting it seep away into his wings like water into sand, but the feathery appendages he left where they were folded around Harry's body.
Immediately Harry swayed ever so slightly forwards, as if following the retreating magic, but then he pulled back, his expression becoming more alert but still a little bit dazed as if he had just woken from a daydream and he blinked for some moments with a forlorn expression, still staring at Blaise's wings as if he wanted to ask where the hell his private light show had gone to.
But the realisation of what had happened came too soon, and accusing green daggers bore into Blaise's eyes. The fluffy downs between Harry's black strands sharpened and hardened into shimmering, thin and long feathers, and no longer did they point in all possible directions, but neatly backwards instead, forming a crest that raised itself high above his head, similar to that of some Hawk Eagles.
"What the hell … happened?" Harry pressed out and for a moment it seemed as if he wanted to step back from the Italian, but he didn't and only a barely noticeable shiver betrayed his disquiet at being so close and obviously entrapped by the wings of someone who had just controlled him like that.
"Sorry." Blaise sighed and reached out for the other teen's hands, only to have his arm viciously slapped away.
"Don't!" Harry growled and now he did step back until his back was pressed tightly against the copper-coloured wings behind him and he glared at the Italian somewhat fiercely as if he could force him to let him go with his eyes alone.
He was the image of distrust and righteous anger, Blaise thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach; his stance had widened, and his hands were tightly balled into fists; they were still at his sides, but ready to come up and embed themselves into Blaise's nose or stomach if he attempted to approach or touch Harry again.
Blaise sighed once more and held up his hands in a placating gesture that didn't seem to have any effect at all. "I reacted on instinct, Harry. I'm sorry."
"What the hell did you do to me?" It was barely above a whisper, half furious and half afraid and somehow, Blaise felt it was even worse than the growling accusation from before. He lowered his head deeply and turned it to the side so that Harry would be able to see and reach his neck.
It was a deeply submissive gesture, one that Harry should be able to instinctively recognize and of course as such nothing that normally would be tolerated in a pureblood society. Instincts were meant to be controlled, not flaunted. As a matter of fact it was only because Vykélari traits were usually so subtle and inconspicuous, their instincts normally easy to contain and not noticeable at all, and because all transformations were purely magical and not physical and lasting like those of Veela, Vampires, Werewolves and other halfbloods, that made Vykélari so accepted in the wizarding world. That and the level of magical power and the fact that most pureblood families had at least a few Vykélari in their lineage.
But even if it caused a huge scandal if it was seen – which it wouldn't – the gesture might calm Harry enough to listen to him, at least Blaise hoped it would.
"When you spoke about leaving, my magic… I couldn't keep my wings away. I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't know you would react that way."
His efforts were in vain, though, as Harry was in no way ready to see the sincerity behind it, anger and more importantly fear clouding his judgement. Even the first time when the Moody imposter had imperiused him, Harry had been able to somewhat fight against the mind-control. But this... this would leave him helpless and meek and pliable, fresh modelling clay for the dominant to form himself the perfect, obedient submissive; he might be unable to defend himself or refuse any of his controller's orders an instead cheer him on in utter bliss all the way into absolute mind slavery.
He couldn't bear the thought of being put under a spell that could destroy him like that and he snarled and shoved against Blaise's left wing but it wouldn't budge. "You hexed me! Let me go!"
Immediately, Blaise drew his wings closer around the both of them, his head whipping around. "I did not hex you! It was your own magic, Harry! I swear…"
But the Gryffindor was having none of it, he just wanted to get a safe distance away from the mind control he had just experienced. And god, all that after he had honestly tried giving them a chance at Ives' request as best as he could; and now they threw his trust into the dirt and stomped right over it. He felt betrayed. God, but he should have known that something like this would happen. Conniving, lying, scheming Slytherin bastards.
He threw a punch at Blaise's left wing but he didn't want to really hurt the other young man and therefore he didn't put as much force behind it as he could have. Still it was enough to make the Italian yelp and quickly he drew his wings closer, effectively immobilizing Harry so that he found his arms pressed tightly against his sides and a wall of feathers uncomfortably close to his face. "Damn it, let me go already, Blaise! Leave me the hell alone!" He growled and snarled and spat, trying to turn towards his captor, but he couldn't: the devil had wormed his arms around Harry's chest and held onto him like a screw clamp.
"Not until you let me explain!" Blaise growled back. It hadn't been his fault, both Harry and he had reacted on instinct. Mordred, he himself was almost as ignorant as Harry was when it came to mating; it wasn't as if he had thought he or any other dominant Vykélari would ever need that knowledge again, after all. No, they were all stumbling through this whole mess like bumbling fools and they needed to be a little bit more accommodating towards each other if they wanted to survive the following weeks with their sanity intact. And he needed to make Harry understand. Now.
"Let me explain!" He repeated urgently, but Harry only growled at him.
"So you have another chance at controlling me? No, thanks, asshole!" And the Gryffindor continued to struggle and squirm within Blaise's tight embrace.
"I don't want to control you."
"Sure!" Harry mocked and finally managed to stomp on one of his captor's feet with all his not inconsiderable strength. Blaise jumped away, gasping from the sudden pain in his bruised limb and Harry used his chance to slip through the small gap that had opened between the wings with a cry of triumph. He sped away towards his rooms, intent on barricading himself in there and forcing Ives to bloody well tell him how to get away. But he didn't get far. After only a few steps Blaise was on him, whirling him around and all but slamming him against the wall, pinning him down on the hard surface.
"I do not want to control you!" He snarled, his breath coming in hard pants, ruffling the silken strands falling into Harry's flushed face. The brunet didn't look at him, kept struggling weakly as if only out of stubbornness and anger.
Oddly, his voice didn't match the enraged expression on his handsome face and the feathers in his hair had flattened against his skull, for the first time taming the chaotic black strands into an almost orderly something that one could call a decent hairstyle.
It didn't suit Harry at all.
"As if I'd believe you." He pressed out and slumped down into Blaise's grip in resignation, sounding so … depressed and frustrated, and Blaise couldn't help but wonder if the Gryffindor was truly coping as well as he had seemed to. How unbearable it must be to be the celebrated Saviour of the wizarding world, someone to whom people were looking to for guidance; to finally have reached a mediocre level of peace and safety after years of being chased by lunatics and self-proclaimed dark lords, just to have that all taken away in one fear-ridden, pain-filled night and then be told that he would be chased again, expected to bow and mate to whomever got to him first. And now he was not even able to defend himself, if the dominants had the ability to control him like this.
"I don't want to" Blaise murmured with a gentler voice, leaning forward to place a kiss on Harry's forehead, causing the feather-crowned head to whip up so quickly that it missed his nose by millimetres only.
"Stop that!" Harry growled and Blaise was oddly glad that there was some real offence in that exclamation. Better than that frustrated, hopeless resignation, and it made complying to Harry's wish so much easier, he thought as he gave an acknowledging nod.
At the same time he reached out with his magic, let it tingle from his skin to Harry's where their arms touched. Wary green eyes closed in on Blaise, half expecting more magic to show and try to control him again.
"Feel if I'm lying, Harry." He said and waited. He had enough of Harry doubting them and this was the only way he could think of, to make the gryphon believe and trust them.
Harry was still unsettled, and he felt disturbingly trapped in the tight hold the other Vykélari had on him. And he was wary … and the way his skin still tingled from the magic that had been all around him didn't make it any better. Now that it was gone, the impact it had had on him left him shaken to the core. It had played and rippled over the Italian's skin like the reflections of water, as if it wanted him to believe that its source, Blaise's inner core, was just as deep and wide and resourceful as an ocean. And he hadn't been able to think. Indeed when Blaise had taken away the distracting swirls of gold and copper and red, it was like awaking from a wonderful dream that he was desperately trying to hold on to. He would have gone with whatever had happened around him, he knew, just like a dreamer never questioning his dreamscape. And that was more than just troubling, it was frightening.
Warily he looked down to the pale sparks vanishing into his skin, unable to keep himself from wondering whether they were somehow moulding his emotions again. He didn't think so, but still... Harry just didn't know if he wanted to come into close contact with that magic again.
And yet, if it was true and Blaise hadn't done it deliberately, Harry had no right to resent him for it; just as people had had no right to hate or mistrust Harry for speaking Parsel, when he hadn't even known that he was doing it most of the time. He had wished again and again that people would give him the chance to explain instead of just assuming his guilt and now, now he was doing the same thing. The worst was that Harry knew he had had no proof of Blaise's guilt before accusing him. Now Blaise was offering him to establish a bond and that even though Harry knew he had found it somewhat disconcerting, less so than Draco, true, but still the Italian had been uncomfortable. And despite his doubts about Blaise's claim to not have known what had been happening, Harry didn't question that discomfort. During their connection, he had felt Draco's and Blaise's emotions so clearly, so keenly and those should be well-nigh impossible to fake.
Nonetheless establishing the connection once again would mean another mingling of magic, another close contact with those tempting streams of pure energy that had the power to control him like no wizard had managed to do before. All of Harry's usually less than reliable instincts of self-preservation were for once vetoing in determined unity. Only his thrice damned sense of justice insisted on throwing caution to the wind. Again.
"You want me to establish … a connection … like before?" Harry asked hesitantly, just to make sure he hadn't misunderstood and he half expected the Italian to recoil at the idea, or maybe he hoped he would, but Blaise didn't. That black mamba only smiled at him, nodded again and finally relinquished his hold on Harry's arms to grasp his hands instead.
Involuntarily Harry's gaze flickered to their linked hands; Blaise's skin felt warm and smooth against his own, not calloused by brooms and months in the wild like his own were and the magic flowing into Harry's body where they touched tingled a little bit but also soothed his frazzled nerves and tense muscles. He remembered those touches from St. Mungo's, how nice they had felt, how he had calmed and instinctively known that he was safe. Had that been a natural reaction, just the way you would calm if a friend squeezed your shoulder comfortingly, or had it been his own magic or Blaise's tampering with his mind? He didn't know, but if it was the latter ... Harry couldn't accept it. Even if it didn't cause him to lose himself in feelings that were not his own, it would be a weakness he couldn't afford, might cause him to overlook important details in a potentially precarious situation or react too late to a threat.
Forcefully Harry pushed that line of thinking to the background of his mind. It was unfair on Blaise and on top of that it was unproductive and futile, not in the least because anything he might do in order to tackle those problems depended mainly on whether the dominants in whose charge he currently was, were playing with him or not. In any case he had no right to derive Blaise of the chance to prove his sincerity. But he would keep a close eye on his emotion at all times, just to be sure that the Italian he had barely ever spoken to aside from the last three days, didn't just want to establish a subtle control over his mind.
At least with Blaise grasping his hands instead of his upper arms, Harry didn't feel that trapped any longer, even though he didn't like both of his hands being incapacitated. Not that he would have been in a better position even with both of his hands free, having no wand. Harry shook his head and sighed before he muttered an "Okay" and focused on the little sparks of magic that were entering his body. Then he loosened the grip on his own magic. It was easier than the last time, for sure, and as soon as the swirls and streams were allowed to run free, they followed the gentle gradient of energy like a starved bloodhound following a fresh track.
Just like before, the awareness of Blaise's presence slammed into him like sudden sunlight after hours spent in darkness, but it wasn't as intense, as all-encompassing as it had been together with Draco. Harry was aware of the physical presence of the other young man, of his magic, but it didn't overwhelm him, the sensations didn't quite merge and didn't synchronize with his own. Blaise's heartbeat, his breath, the feelings were a mere echo, not irritating or disturbing at all; and Harry could sense the boundaries between them, could strictly separate their emotions and their very beings and that helped to ground him again, made him feel - maybe deceptively - as if he was in control of the bond and its machinations. Still the question remained why it was different than before, when Draco had been with them. Silently he posed the question, looking up into Blaise's dark, dark eyes, but he could feel him pondering over the very same thing without being able to come up with a plausible answer. He didn't need the murmured "No idea" to know that both of them were equally clueless.
"But you can feel my emotions just fine, yes?" Blaise leaned forward, his eyes intense and piercing, holding Harry's own. Slowly, Harry nodded.
"Good, then listen:" Blaise said as clearly as possible and brought up a hand to cup younger man's face. "I don't want to control you!"
Harry allowed the touch while he watched the other man with narrowed eyes, listened for a lie in that deep baritone, watching for a flicker in those almost black, almond orbs. But there was none and with the sincerity echoing through Harry's body, he had to admit that in all likelihood the Italian was speaking the truth.
A thumb caressed his cheek softly; just another level of closeness during their temporary connection, and Blaise himself tilted his head ever so slightly as if leaning into an invisible touch, feeling the echo of his own hand against Harry's skin. "I really don't." He said again and raised his fingers higher to smooth away the frown on Harry's forehead.
All the while Harry didn't know what to feel, what to think; the caress and the subtle sensations were oddly distracting, making his stomach feel as if a snitch fluttered wildly inside of it; but this was exactly the problem, some part of him that wasn't feeling drunken on the other's heady presence in his mind, tried to remind him: even if Blaise really didn't want to take away Harry's will and had done it by accident only, it could happen again. How could Blaise learn to suppress something that he wasn't even aware of doing?
Suddenly he felt himself being cradled in soothing warmth and Blaise pulled him close into a loose hug, almost gently as if he was afraid the feeling might be too much if he tightened his grip any more, might make Harry feel trapped within his embrace. "Shhh. Both of us reacted on instinct and now that we know it can happen, we can learn to fight against it. We'll consult Adler and Ives and find a way for you to overcome that reaction, okay?"
Swallowing heavily, Harry leaned his head against Blaise's shoulder, slightly leaning into the embrace. He didn't answer, there was no need to; he knew his agreement was felt over the bond. It was at least a halfway decent plan, a way to attack the problems piling in front of them instead of hiding from them. He had learned to fight off the imperius curse when he had been only 14, he could learn to throw off this reaction if Blaise said it was possible at all.
"But why did it happen?"
The arms around him tightened, a movement curiously mirrored by the presence of Blaise in his mind and body. "I was trying to keep you from leaving, colibrí, my magic was, and your magic reacted by telling you to stay close to me as a potential mate."
Merlin, his own magic! His own magic was betraying him now. God, he just wanted to go back to being a normal wizard, back to the exhaustion and emotional void after finally, finally killing Riddle...
A moment later, more of the relaxing warmth seeped from Blaise into Harry's body like a downy blanket, following the tiny sparks that freely flowed between them; slowly, gradually taking effect, prodding, soothing and comforting oh so gently that Harry was none the wiser and he found himself tilting his head, so that his forehead pressed tightly against Blaise's neck and he closed his eyes, his unease and hesitation gradually disintegrating like mist under the warming sun. And his thoughts turned into another direction: if he thought closer about that day, it hadn't felt like a victory at all; rather, he had been so burned out afterwards. Admittedly the last few days had been wonderful in that regard, bringing him back to life in a way he hadn't thought possible. He wanted to stay here, he loved the flying, he loved those connections. God, he even loved having the chance to fight with Draco again. It was just so normal to compete and fight with him, so wonderfully normal as if there hadn't been a war… but it was even better now that it was in a friendly, teasing manner.
Gentle fingers began stroking his nape up and down, ruffling the feathers that had softened slightly and gone back to wreaking havoc in his mop of hair. He could feel how strangely glad the Italian seemed at that minor detail and the wave of protectiveness and possessiveness washing over him was surprising and unsettling because Harry was sure that none of those he knew and cared for felt like that about him, not even Ginny, brave and pragmatic Gin. But the faint surprise was sluggish and went to sleep as soon as it had started to awake, helped along by the soothing, very distracting flow of magic, Harry's and Blaise's.
"I don't want you to leave either." The words were breathed against Harry's ear, tickling and almost succeeding in making him squirm. "I want you to stay here and let us help you."
'But everything's just too much,' Harry thought, and before he knew it, words were falling from his lips, coaxed out by the closeness and intimacy of the connection, his general exhaustion and the sluggish warmth bathing his mind and body. Here was someone who felt honest and sincere and willing to listen; Harry didn't need to go through this mess alone. And it was a strong dominant whose guidance he should accept anyway... "It's just so damn much, you know? You are legally allowed to kidnap me and force me to mate…"
"We won't do that. I won't allow anyone to do that to you!"
"I know." Harry whispered, convinced of the truth of the fiercely spoken words from the feelings projected at him through the connection.
"But now you can control me, too, and it's just … I'm literally at the mercy of you guys and it just … Merlin, Blaise, it sucks."
The Italian's fingers froze against Harry's nape and the brunet felt him tense, a nervous spike in his emotions. But before he could ponder it more closely or ask Blaise about it, he spoke again, hesitatingly. "You know that you are magically stronger than every dominant you'll ever come across, don't you?"
Thoughtfully Harry rubbed his cheek against a muscular shoulder and a sinewy throat, taking in both the heady smell and the rhythmic beating of a steady pulse. It was always difficult for him to think of himself as extraordinary. He hadn't been much above average in school, Hermione was cleverer, Ron the better strategist, Neville was in his opinion at least as capable as he had been. If not for Riddle choosing him, Neville would have had to bear the burden and with how he had turned out in the end, he would have borne it just as well or bad as Harry had. Even though everyone assumed that Harry must be magically powerful, the idea hadn't gained a foothold in his own mind. Because, everyone expected him to have some hidden power; it wouldn't do to have a normal wizard with no unusual talents defeat his evilness, the lord Voldemort in person. But that was just what had happened, nothing more and nothing less. Well, of course one could argue that he hadn't killed Riddle, since he had pretty much killed himself when he had tried to murder the owner of the Elder Wand with the Elder Wand itself and died from the backlash.
Still. To have Blaise as a Slytherin admit so openly to being weaker than him was quite a surprise.
And it raised a few questions that his currently phlegmatic mind didn't seem to find important enough to really concentrate on. "So, why then would I be in danger outside of the … oh, of course." Because the dominants could control his mind to some extend at least. But if he could learn to suppress that instinctual reaction, he should be fine; Then he didn't need to depend on Draco and Blaise anymore and could actually live … maybe with the two Slytherins who had helped him during and after his transformation, maybe not. The important thing was that he'd have the choice.
Until then, it wasn't exactly bad to be where he was, cradled by magic and strong arms that shouldn't feel as good as they actually did.
Cradled by magic.
Something stirred inside him, knew that he should find that wrong, but the thought was too unsteady, Harry couldn't keep a hold on it and it was as soon forgotten as it had appeared, chased away by Blaise's soothing murmur.
"Harry, just let us keep you safe. At least until you've learned more and can control your magic better. I want you here with me and Draco and together we'll figure everything out. Just give us a little room for mistakes, too. We don't know that much about submissives." He chuckled, the sound and sensations a nice distraction in Harry's own body. "I never thought I would actually meet one."
Harry nodded, a little bit ashamed at his tantrum earlier, especially now that it had proven unjustified; Blaise had posed no threat to him after all, the idea alone was laughable. Merlin, the very scent of him exuded safety. No, he shouldn't have accused him, he should have trusted him and he should have reigned in his temper; just as he shouldn't have accused Dumbledore and demolished his office following Sirius' death, should have trusted him to know best instead. Harry really should learn to keep his temper in check.
A sudden flash of concern permeated through their still active connection as Blaise caught up on his darkening mood and tried to guess what had caused it. Was Harry still nervous about his safety after knowing what a dominant could do to him if he wasn't careful? Blaise couldn't fault him for that, if it was the case. With firm movements he rubbed over Harry's back, trying to ease away the tenseness in his sore muscles and the gloominess he was sending off in rippling waves. "Don't worry, no one knows that you are here, you're absolutely safe."
And here went Harry's conscience again, his mind clearing somewhat, throwing itself into ifs and buts with vigour. They couldn't be sure about no one knowing of him being at Zabini Manor, now could they? And all because of Harry. The owl might have been intercepted and someone besides Ron and Hermione might have learnt of his whereabouts. And the worst was: he might not only have endangered himself, but Blaise and Draco as well. Would they be able to really defend the manor when someone tried to get in by all means necessary?
For a moment unaware just how open his feelings were at the moment, Harry yelped in surprise as Blaise pushed him away enough to catch his wrists in a tight grip, staring intently at him. Dangerous, he seemed now, like a predator. It was even more intimidating as Harry could feel a foreboding iciness overcoming the Italian's emotions and he could no longer really say what went on in that doubtlessly cunning mind, clouded with the rising occlumency shields as it was. But the urgency in Blaise's voice at least let Harry's magic draw back from its effort to mediate between the dominant and its owner, as slowly and gently and unobtrusively as it had appeared, but not before sparking a last thought; and the ominous aura surrounding the dark-skinned young man was enough to distract Harry from the way his mind cleared, leaving him only with the sureness that he should be telling his host of something that might prove to be a danger to them all. And privately, every conscious part of him, too, knew that it was high time to let the two dominants know of his hopefully little transgression so that they could prepare. Therefore he didn't hesitate to answer, when Blaise demanded to know what was wrong, rather than requiring it, his voice ringing with a steely wintriness, that didn't sit well with harry at all.
"Yesterday," he started, trying to encounter the heavy stare as calmly as he could, "I wrote a letter to my friends and told them where I am…"
"You did what?! How?"
At the threatening growl, Harry hurried to explain and justify himself. He didn't want to fight again, especially not with the connection still in place that had soothed and comforted him so much. "I ordered one of the elves to send it. You yourself made it possible by telling them to treat me like a Zabini, so don't you punish them for it." He said, defensive of his actions and that little female elf that he had tricked. It wasn't the House Elf's fault.
"You were such a bastard…" He started in a way of explanation.
"Do you ever stop to think?!" Blaise grabbed and shook his shoulders once and as he lost his calm, a flood of emotions splashed over Harry, hushing him with their overwhelming intensity. Anger, concern, protectiveness. Above all protectiveness.
All the while it was only the subtle influence of Harry's magic answering to Blaise's closeness that held the submissive still, even though some parts of Harry's consciousness started to strain against that, the instincts he had developed during the war too strong to be completely overruled by his wayward magic.
"Don't you care at all about what happens to you? God, that gryffindorish stupidity, always courting danger!"
"I don't…" Harry started to protest, taken aback a little bit that the Italian's face was just so cold and freaking emotionless while obviously, he was everything but. It reminded him of how he had lain on the ground, tied up and honestly nervous as hell while the dark skinned dominant had loomed over him, telling him off for trying to escape via the floo connection. It made him uncomfortably aware of the three or four inches that Blaise had on him and of how he could control him by just showing off his magic surging over the surface of his wings. He felt threatened and it caused the magical control to snap.
"Did you ever think about what might happen if someone were to intercept the owl?"
"If you hadn't been such an asshole I wouldn't have done it!" Harry argued back, still trying to make sense of the very contradictory indications on Blaise's mood that the Italian's expression and body language and the sensations from the connection gave him and determine whether or not he should try to disarm him now that he still had the chance. The dark skinned man looked like a prowling panther, ready to pounce but ... there was still only the anger and fear and protectiveness and concern to be felt over the bond and Harry didn't think Blaise would attack him. Ever. It reassured him enough to not hold himself back after the unfortunate comment the Italian made next.
"First that completely insane thing with the floo and now this!"
It was the wrong thing to say. Harry still thought that his flight attempt was the one justified action he had undertaken after all Draco and Blaise had said and done that afternoon and it had him seething instantly.
"All your fault for taking me prisoner…" he snarled, his voice rising.
"… and humiliating me, telling me to lie back and think of England!"
"We told you from the start that we'd never…"
"And your stupid rules! Making me a prisoner while pretending to be oh so generous and lenient!"
"WE ONLY TRIED TO PROTECT YOU!"
Silence reigned, so oppressively that Harry thought he could hear his own heartbeat. Over the connection he could feel Blaise being just as surprised as he was with the loss of control the usually so solemn Slytherin had shown. And the tenseness.
And was he nervous?
"You could have been seriously hurt, Harry. And I was just so angry that you seemed so nonchalant about it, that you had done it without even thinking of the consequences … I won't allow you to endanger yourself like that!" He pressed out with all the determination of someone used to getting his will.
At that, Harry found himself speechless and he had to bite his lower lip and turn away. In his life there had been only a handful of people so protective of him, and all of them had been or still were very dear to him. Molly, for example, or Sirius. Most had always known that Harry was literally fated (or should he say prophesized) to get into precarious situations, to have to fight and kill and they hadn't stood in his way, and some like Hermione and Ron had helped him wherever they could. But only few had been actually trying to spare him all that, as laughable as it seemed to challenge fate.
Well, at least it explained why Blaise had seemed so afraid in his bout of protectiveness, if he feared for Harry...
"But that doesn't give you the right to treat me like you have." He said finally, calmer now but irritated and insistent nonetheless. "You could have simply explained; we are no longer 15, for God's sake! And I'm not sorry for writing the letter, though I regret if it'll put you or Draco in jeopardy."
"But not you." Blaise said and Harry felt a sharp pang of regret pulsing through the temporary bond before Blaise broke away, his wings shrinking back into his shoulders. Harry watched him warily, unsure if he should feel relieved or not that they were two strictly separate beings once more. It had been a confusing experience and intense, even if not as intense as it had been the first time; but it had also been … rather illuminating.
But god! Had he really snuggled up to Blaise? Damn it… this was so … so … not right! Definitely not right! It was a sign that Blaise's and his own magic had again meddled with his thoughts and emotions, had made him more pliable and amenable than he normally would have been. Merlin, this was worse than he had initially thought... this time he hadn't even noticed when exactly he had woken up, and he had spoken and acted during it all, had said things that were in his thoughts, somewhere deeply buried in his mind but which he would never have voiced out loud. And Blaise ... Blaise hadn't been aware that something was wrong or Harry would have felt it.
Oh god... he desperately needed to find out how to recognize the influence of magic. Fervently he started replaying the last few minutes in his mind, flushing at the humiliating things he had done and said. Damn, he should postpone doing this once he was alone... or should he?
Quickly he glanced towards the other young man, but Blaise seemed to be blissfully unaware of Harry's renewed distress, fiddling with something on his right wrist with nimble fingers and Harry decided that he'd rather find out more on his own and order his thoughts before he addressed the matter with Blaise and Draco. After all it was mainly his problem, the two dominants seemed to be blissfully unaffected by Harry's magic. Except ...
Whenever they were close to Harry they seemed to need to touch him in some way or the other, fleeting little gestures that he would never have expected from Blaise or Draco. It almost didn't seem in character for the two Slytherins who didn't feel comfortable sharing their emotions with Harry, who had learned Occlumency, who had seemed so regal and haughty at first when he had come to the manor, aloof almost, certainly arrogant. Two days since then and their behaviour had changed drastically.
If their thoughts were subtly guided by their own magic like Harry's were... then their current behaviour was ... still not false since the magic only seemed to only work with ideas and thoughts that were already there in some way or the other, only causing certain lines of thought to be suppressed while others stood out more clearly.
It was guiding them together, steering their attention away from sensitive topics or behaviour patterns that might endanger a mating between them.
"Oh my god." Harry whispered. He looked to Blaise again, caught the traitorous shimmering of a disillusionment charm right above Blaise's hand, but felt unable to tear his thoughts away from his realisation. Not even when after a moment and quiet click a delicate, thin bracelet dangled from the Italian's finger, no longer invisible. They were screwed, equally and all of them.
He only forced himself to pay attention when Blaise began to speak, in an urgent, hurried manner. "This, Harry, is an emergency portkey." He said and took one of Harry's hands. Harry shook his head. "I hate portkeys..." but the Italian ignored him.
"It is unregistered, so don't tell anyone you have it." He continued instead as he fastened the silver chain around the maybe somewhat scrawny wrist with sure, quick movements, where it immediately became transparent and almost invisible against the tanned skin. It still felt warm, but it was nothing against the burning feeling of Blaise's fingertips.Did Blaise feel the same? Was magic a universal language that affected them all in the very same manner? Was the lust and the desire he had seen in both Draco's and Blaise's eyes real or was it only their magic telling them they should find a supposedly submissive Vykélari desirous? Did he desire them in turn or only their magic or was that all his magic? So many questions and he couldn't even find an answer to one of them.
"It will stay invisible for as long as you wear it. I don't want you to ever take it off until this whole matter is resolved and you may keep it afterwards if you wish to. If anything happens, it will take you to a secret safe house in England. As soon as you get there, my mother, I and Draco will know and one of us will come. Promise me, you'll use it if something happens!"
"I … but …" Startled and a little bit worried, Harry frowned up at the Italian. Did Blaise really think that the letter posed such a threat?
"Promise me!" He urged and Harry startled a bit before he turned his gaze downwards again, letting his fingers wander over the smooth rings of the invisible chain hesitatingly, a shiver running down his spine. But this was Blaise's emergency portkey, what if something did happen, how would the Slytherin get away? Harry would never run from danger and leave anyone behind, anyone. Even obnoxious, oddly protective and totally confusing Slytherins that Harry's magic found utterly gorgeous. "What about you?"
The question earned him a smile that bordered on tenderness and another brush against his cheek with adept fingers. "I can take care of myself, don't worry."
"And I can't?" Harry exclaimed indignantly, but he rolled his eyes and fell silent at Blaise's piercing look. It was oddly sweet that an I'm-all-for-self-preservation-Slytherin was forsaking his own safety for his, even if he had been the one fighting a war and not the one watching from the sidelines. Or it would be if Harry didn't have the suspicion that it was Blaise's magic urging him to protect his potential mate. But no, that wasn't true, not if it worked like Harry's own, only enforcing notions and impulses that were already there. Blaise really seemed to want to protect him. What an odd - and oddly warming - thought.
"Now swear you'll use it and stay within the safe house until either Draco, I, or my mother come and get you."
"Fine" Harry finally nodded with a resigned sigh. "How do I activate it?"
"By voice. It's 3-0-5, my birthday: the 30th of May. It will only work if the bearer says the numbers separately and without any word in between. But if you are ever attacked, it will activate automatically the moment you are in a live-threatening condition and then put you under a stasis spell until help arrives."
"Wow." Harry wasn't really sure if he should be impressed or appalled. "And you've been wearing it constantly? That's … paranoid, isn't it?"
Blaise didn't answer for a long moment, avoiding Harry's gaze as he touched the invisible bracelet with one finger, stroking over the chain. "I ordered them during the last months of the war … after I learned that Draco had failed his task. I wanted to give him one so he could flee if things got even worse, but I couldn't get the bracelets into the school unnoticed and I couldn't contact him outside of it, with … everyone who was in Malfoy manor."
Awkwardly, Harry looked down to where Blaise played with the invisible bracelet around his wrist, fervently wishing he'd know what to say. Hell, if he knew what to feel, that would be a start. It was as if these bracelets were something intimate, something between Draco and Blaise; a promise of some sort, of safety and loyalty and trust. And ... and love. And now he'd been given one of them, not as a loan but actually as a gift to keep. Even if Blaise's magic might have initiated it, the Italian wouldn't have given up something he obviously treasured if Harry meant nothing to him.
"I … thank you."
And just as if he'd not been rattled enough, Blaise suddenly leaned forward and, taking Harry's bent head between his hands, he pressed his lips against the Gryffindor's brow, warm, soft and absolutely shocking. Harry froze as an aura of magical power accompanied the dominant like the soft perfume of flowers. Heavy and sweet like lilies, beautiful, white lilies. This time Harry felt the dizzying warmth that seemed to seep into his very soul but he hesitated a moment too long to break the contact with the handsome Italian because of the gift he had just received, that demanded he give something back, yield something in turn; Harry just didn't know if this was the kind of yielding that was required. Indecisive for a moment, he brought up his hands, probably to gently press the other Vykélari away, but once his fingers folded around the dark skinned wrists, all he could do was hold tightly onto them, the very notion of moving away alien and incomprehensible. God, if he had just a moment more to think.
But then his head was tilted upwards and Blaise's face was so close that Harry had to lick over his suddenly dry lips. The magic around him changed, sizzling in the air full of potency and electrifying excitement and diving back into him like daggers, bringing with it the taste of power. A hand glided from the side of his face, stroking through his hair and finally cupping the back of his head, while Harry felt his heart beat louder and louder, though he honestly wasn't sure if the blood rushed out of his head or in. All Harry knew was that Blaise was going to kiss him. He was actually going to use those soft, full lips and kiss him! The first man to ever do that to Harry and should he be disturbed? Harry was sure he should at least be something…
Doing something. Moving away probably; but there were insistent fingers rubbing against his neck and the back of his head, running through his hair sensuously and black, blown eyes stared at him so damn intently until Harry couldn't look any longer and closed his own.
But not before there were lips on his, hot and sweet and soft. Those lips! Sliding against his own, nipping, teasing and oh … fuck! Harry almost jerked as a tongue licked over his lips and a thumb stroke over his cheek and he just had to open his mouth, didn't he? With that insistent tongue gently forcing its way in, tasting sweet and a little bit sour like the balsamic sauce they had had with their lunch. But underneath that was something else that Harry had no name for, especially not when that agile muscle invaded his mouth like it did now, flicking against his own. A flutter in his chest and stomach transformed into impossible heat that travelled down to his groin, tingled through his whole body.
And his magic, happy that it was being indulged and that someone else with the ability to let the magical currents dance around them was so close, shot out, twirling around the two of them, interweaving with Blaise's own. And just like that, every feeling seemed to intensify even further and Blaise's touch felt like fire, but so good as it seared his skin! And he had made the Italian moan! The sound reverberated through every cell of his body.
The hand caressing his cheek wandered down over Harry's shoulder, along his side so softly it made Harry shiver from the contrast to the insistent lips moving so passionately against his own, and then they sneaked around his hip to grab his … wait a minute!
Immediately Harry opened his eyes wide in shock to look at the closed lids of Blaise's and when he found his hands curiously pressed against firm pectorals, stroking and kneading... well, doing something he really shouldn't have been doing, Harry used the position to shove the Slytherin off of him with all his might, hard enough to make him stumble backwards against the far wall of the corridor.
Surprised black eyes met his own.
"Don't you do that!" Harry snarled, his voice trembling faintly from the lingering, intense pleasure, and a little bit higher than it should be. God, Merlin and whoever else, that had been … just … so … rather … and then … god, oh god. He shouldn't have been doing that, he shouldn't have been enjoying it! Not when it brought forth their magic and made them behave like starving vampires intent on sucking on each other's skin and lips and magic! And now he felt so shamefully uncomfortable in his too tight trousers, possibly harder than he had ever been before, and oh, please, don't let him see it… god, why the hell did Blaise have to kiss him? And after he knew that he could control Harry... he almost groaned as an idea struck him: what if that had been Blaise's magic urging him to act on his desire - if those were his feelings at all. The Italian was probably as helpless as he was.
"No buts! Kiss me again and I'll castrate you!" Harry muttered darkly but without much conviction, trying to calm his still pounding heartbeat and ignore the tingling residue of overwhelming pleasure echoing through him.
"God, Blaise! You're not even thinking clearly!"
With a sigh, the Italian raised one hand in a placating gesture, his eyes still dark and his lips bruised and damn it, he really was gorgeous. "Listen Harry, I'm sorry ... I didn't mean to..."
Frustrated with himself, Harry wiped heavy strands of unruly, black hair out of his eyes. "Just stay away until we have our fucking magic under control, Blaise, I mean it!"
For a moment Harry thought he had successfully made his point but then a mischievous glint entered those black onyx eyes and a tiny smirk tucked at Blaise's lips and Harry immediately knew that all the damned Slytherin had heard was Harry giving him free reign once they had their magic under control.
"Asshole!" Harry muttered beneath his breath, turned and strode away, afraid of what he might be doing if he stayed for a moment longer. Or what Blaise might be doing...
CHAPTER END NOTES:
Birdlike behaviour in this chapter: Turning away the head is for some birds like the parrot a placating gesture. The bird literally turns away its weapon, the beak, and shows the unprotected neck to sooth the attacker. For most kinds the instinctive response is an attack inhibition, so the conflict is averted before it becomes violent. A pair of birds would afterwards cement their relationship by feeding each other or indulging in pair preening.
PS: kudos to everyone who manages to say "contrition, confession, confusion" ten times without it becoming jabbering!
PPS: I probably won't answer every review. I'm sorry, I'm just so busy right now, exams coming up soon and everything…
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