Chapter 6
Blaise Zabini stood at the edge of the Slytherin Quidditch pitch, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the Gryffindor team celebrate their victory. It was the second match of Sixth year that Slytherin had lost, a bitter pill to swallow for Draco Malfoy, whose ambition for Quidditch success was matched only by his disdain for defeat.
Draco stormed off the pitch, his expression dark and brooding. Blaise fell into step beside him, knowing that Draco's anger simmered just beneath the surface—a dangerous undercurrent that few dared to challenge.
"Let's go," Draco muttered through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched with frustration.
Blaise followed Draco silently, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors of Hogwarts. He knew where they were headed—back to the Slytherin dungeons, where Hermione Granger waited for Draco's return. Blaise had seen the dynamic between them enough times to recognize the patterns of dominance and submission that defined their relationship.
Draco's obsession with Hermione was both a fascination and a frustration for Blaise. He had witnessed how Hermione could command Draco's attention with a single glance, how she could manipulate him effortlessly to her will. It was a sight that both intrigued and aroused Blaise—a voyeuristic pleasure tinged with envy.
Entering the dimly lit dormitory, Blaise watched as Draco's demeanor shifted. His shoulders relaxed imperceptibly, his mask of composure slipping away as he closed the door behind them. Hermione looked up from her book, her expression unreadable as she took in Draco's stormy countenance.
"Draco," she acknowledged calmly, setting her book aside.
Draco moved towards her with purposeful strides, his hands reaching for her with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Blaise leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving the scene unfolding before him. There was a raw intensity in Draco's actions, a primal need to possess and be possessed that fascinated Blaise to no end.
Hermione met Draco's gaze with a cool detachment that belied the fire within her. She tilted her head slightly, a silent invitation that Draco eagerly accepted. Their interactions were a dance of power and desire, a fragile balance of dominance and submission that both exhilarated and unnerved Blaise.
As Draco and Hermione became lost in their own world, Blaise felt a familiar surge of desire and longing. He had often wondered what it would be like to join them, to be a part of their intimate games of control and surrender. But Draco had never invited him, and Blaise knew better than to push his luck.
Instead, he contented himself with watching—watching the way Hermione's hands tangled in Draco's hair, the way Draco's restraint unraveled under her touch. It was a spectacle that played out in silence, a secret world hidden behind closed doors where rules and consequences were defined by their own desires.
As Draco's movements grew more urgent and Hermione's breath quickened, Blaise tore his gaze away. He retreated quietly from the dormitory, leaving Draco and Hermione to their private sanctuary. In the darkness of the corridor, Blaise allowed himself a fleeting moment of envy—for the power they wielded, for the passion they shared, and for the elusive invitation he had yet to receive.