Un-Mate

Blaise stood angrily at the door to the Eighth-year common room, Pansy fussing the side of the his collar that was partially torn and coloured a bright red from the blood that had gushed out of his nose after his small altercation.

“Stop fiddling Pansy, I will just pull him aside myself and then we can go,” said Blaise with a scowl, yanking the collar from Pansy’s grip.

“I was just trying to help,” chided Pansy, rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath about good for nothing men before stalking off.

Blaise wrestled with the collar, eventually just opting to tuck it into the shirt itself so it at least wasn’t in the way or drawing any unwanted attention.

“Blaise,” said Neville, appearing next to him from the doorway, “Do you want to come inside?” he questioned, looking Blaise up and down with mild curiosity.

Blaise stiffened and straightened, seeing the door wedge still slightly open with a few faces turned their way through the gap.

“I’m just waiting to speak to Draco when he returns,” stated Blaise, his voice tight and clipped.

Blaise bristled at Neville’s attention; they were not enemies or rivals by any means, but Blaise was all too aware of where their places had been during the war. Blaise had never been an active participant, not like Draco, but his mother hadn’t been without her alliances either, and Blaise wasn’t unsure how much would be held against him by all those on the other side of the door.

“You could wait in the common room, is what I was offering,” confirmed Neville, as if the reason he was waiting hadn't already been obvious. “Anyway, I believe Draco is with Harry at the moment so I’m not sure how long they will be.”

Blaise scoffed, “With Potter, of course.” Shifting uncomfortably and all too aware of the bruising blossoming under his eyes from the broken nose he’d refused to see Madame Pomfrey about, Blaise cleared his throat, eyes skating over Neville’s face again. “I hope Potter is keeping Boot and Macmillan in line,” he stated stoutly, tugging once again on the mishappen collar.

“They’re keeping their distance considering the ah, considering the reactions that have been occurring,” confirmed Neville, his lips quirking in amusement, “Why aren’t you helping him as well though? I thought you were friends.”

Blaise cursed himself for ever having engaged in the conversation, running a hand through his hair as he looked briefly past the other man’s shoulder and into the room that was beginning to include a few judging stares. “Draco, he has to find his place in our society too, it’s not that we’re not friends, it’s just that to get too close might give the wrong idea to some people.”

“You’d be offended at being assumed his mate?” questioned Neville, the sheer directness of his words slicing the edges of the decision he and Pansy had come to that summer.

“It’s complicated in our section of society right now. Not only is he… what he is, but the affiliation of his family adds another layer of affliction to any connection or affection he might receive. His mother is doing an admirable job at working against it but,” Blaise paused, breathing out tightly, “He was marked, and that’s ink that won’t scrub out, not now.”

Neville assessed him quietly, “Ink doesn’t always need to be scrubbed out I think, sometimes ink is there to make sure history doesn’t get washed away so easily. Doesn’t mean that those who bear it should become history with the rest though.”

Blaise almost felt himself startle at the words; his mouth opened slightly as if in an attempt to make some sort of rebuke but he found himself slightly lost in it all.

“No mind though, here they come now,” nodded Neville, Blaise turning quickly on his heel to find the two forms several metres behind him.

Draco had stopped, his hands held in tight fists as Harry stood awkwardly to the side, almost as if he wished to step in front of the shorter man but was unwilling to warrant their earlier argument with merit.

“Draco, I wanted to see you, and talk to you,” said Blaise simply, “Pansy’s returned to the Slytherin common room.”

Draco nodded, and at first Blaise took it as his consent, but he quickly realised that the communication was to Harry, who carried himself forward, brushing past Blaise without even a glance and clapping Neville on the shoulder. “I hope there’s something interesting happening at least,” remarked Harry jovially as he entered the room and closed the door.

“Draco,” started Blaise, but found he was met with a snarky sneer that warped the well-known features of his friend into the 13-year-old version whom he had had so many arguments with.

“Zabini, well it is nice to be graced with your acquaintance again, if only I knew it took a bruised Potter and contemptuous Pansy to make it occur,” remarked Draco.

“I want to talk to you,” stated Blaise stepping forward carefully.

“What on earth could you have to say to me Blaise? The same thing you said to Potter, though no one seems willing to tell me what on earth occurred between you two to amount to this,” the single hand raised in gesture shook slightly, and he quickly crossed his hands, hiding the trembling against his chest.

“You need to keep away from Potter. Do you know how many people will have your head if he claims you as his mate? Speak to your mother. I know she’s been writing to you, and you haven’t been answering. There are options that are less… less dramatic than what you’re allowing to occur,” said Blaise hastily as he came forward and rested his palms on the sides of Draco’s arms, the bones feeling course and close to the surface.

Draco snorted, eyes rolling in derision before falling again on Blaise’s face. “I doubt I’ve ever heard anything as ridiculous as what you’ve just said.”

“People have been talking,” contested Blaise, his words sharp in warning.

“And I suppose I should take on the idle gossip of fools. Potter is just doing what he always does; what he always has done. He’s a stickler for anyone he considers an under dog, I just happen to be the double check of a low and begotten, and an Omega,” shot back Draco, eyebrows drawn in tight.

“You don’t believe that. You’re not a fool,” said Blaise simply, “And you forget that I spent six years in that dorm room with you Draco. I remember how you talked about him. I remember how you looked at him.”

Draco’s lips thinned and shrugged out of Blaise's limp grasp. “You’re right Blaise, I’m not a fool, and for what it’s worth I don’t count Potter as one either despite some protests to the contrary. Whatever exists in all other circumstances I don’t doubt that he’d do the most heroic thing of all and sacrifice himself for the good of his family and their opinions.”

“You think that if you are his mate that he won’t do anything about it? You think he’d let someone else dictate something that important to him?” Blaise’s features dropped at the flicker of sadness shifted through Draco’s features.

“I think we all do things for the sake of love, most of all for the love that we think comes with conditions,” replied Draco, “I should know after all. Blood will out, ink will not.”

Draco brushed past Blaise, opened the entry door just enough to slip through and closed it quietly behind himself.

Blaise waited a moment more, eyes boring holes into his hands as a huge, gulping breath escaped his throat. Clearing the debris of his thoughts Blaise righted his shoulders and stalked off back to the Slytherin common room.