The Closing Gambit pt.1
Blaise will be entirely honest, he was upset Draco couldn’t attend Fleur’s wedding. He and Fleur had discussed any of them coming at all, but in the end, the event was supposed to be safe, and Fleur shouldn’t be getting married without at least one familiar face. She was already going to be surrounded on all sides by Weasleys, she needed someone on her side.
He and Fleur had discussed all possible solutions when she’d visited, after Draco had rushed out. She would need at least one other pureblood there who understood the old ways, and could help her with her own family traditions.
But Draco couldn’t go, that much was undeniable. No one wanted to risk it, even with polyjuice, least of all Blaise.
Oh, he knew Potter was attending, but anyone with half a brain could see he couldn’t be kept away if you chained him to the floor. Draco, however, was a good bit more sensible than Potter, even if that didn’t say much.
Still, that didn’t mean Blaise couldn’t regret the chance to dance with his fiancé.
Tugging on his robes, picked out by Draco, of course, his fiancé adjusted the lapels, smoothing them gently until they lay exactly right.
He watched Draco squint, entirely focused on the fit of Blaise’s suit. His eyebrows creased lightly, in a way Blaise knew would become permanent, because Lucius and Narcissa both had the same wrinkle in the same place.
“I love you.” Draco said suddenly.
Blaise felt his heart drop, “What’s going on?”
Draco didn’t respond, trailing his hands over Blaise’s tie.
“Draco.” He repeated.
“What? I can’t say anything without suspicion anymore?” The words were said with a smile, but it was hollow, “You’re spending too much time with the Gryffindors.”
“Well, someone stuck me with the good guy role,” he caught one of Draco’s hands, simply holding it to his chest, “They’re leaving tomorrow, we won’t have to deal with them much longer.”
Draco sighed, “About that-” here it came, the reason for Draco’s odd mood, “I think it’s best you go back to Hogwarts tonight.”
Blaise frowned, “You’re sure?”
“I am.” Draco replied, “It’s almost time, you need to get them out.”
Blaise closed his eyes, dragging a deep sigh, “It could be worse.”
He opened them again, “I’ll see you there, eventually?”
Draco smiled, more genuine this time, though it held more sadness than Blaise would have liked, “Of course, I’ll finish things here, and we’ll be done.”
“And we’ll be done.” Blaise echoed, holding the promise close to her heart. How soon ‘done’ was going to be was vague at best, but Draco wouldn’t lie to him about this.
Eventually, they would be done.
—-------
The wedding was plain, by pureblood standards at least, and very obviously a Weasley affair. Draco had left Blaise right before he apperated to Fleur, standing in for Draco as part of her court; his fiancé’s job being to spend the day at The Manor, keeping the Death Eaters busy and hopefully, unaware of the wedding.
Which meant Blaise had to spend the evening awkwardly rubbing elbows with one Ginerva Weasley. Gabrielle was there as well, and much more pleasant company, but the young witch was also overly-fond of Draco, and thus had a slight chip on her shoulder about Blaise.
“Well,” Her adorably squeaky, very french voice drifted, “I wish Draco could have come instead.”
“You and no one else.” Weasley snarked, looking incredibly uncomfortable in the delicate gold dress Fleur had chosen for her.
Blaise repressed a sneer, leaning close to whisper to the younger DeLacoeur, “Gabrielle, it might be best to keep talk of Draco away from the blood traitors?”
Her nose wrinkled, “Ils n'ont pas de goût.”
“I agree,” Blaise nodded, casting a quick tempus, “It’s almost time, come on.”
“Hold on!” Weasley shouted, suddenly very suspicious, “Time for what?”
“Nothing,” Blaise replied casually, sharing a glance with Gabrielle, “We’ve got a secret handshake, see-”
Weasley scoffed, “No, you don’t. Where are you going?”
Blaise studied her for a moment, weighing his chances.
If it had to be any Weasley, she was the best bet.
“Old family tradition,” He smiled, "the wedding’s not real without it.”
She didn’t like this answer, but seemed to accept it nonetheless, “Alright then. Take me with you.”
“Are you sure?” Blaise asked, dropping his voice comically low, “It's quite dark magic.”
Gabrielle giggled wildly, and Blaise couldn’t resist a small smile of his own, “Hush, you cretin, you’re ruining my mystery.”
Weasley’s face twitched, her face going red, “I don’t care. Let’s go.” She huffed, walking off through the crowd, despite the fact she had no idea where Blaise and Gabrielle were going.
Luckily, she seemed to be heading towards where Fleur and Older Weasley were talking to a few relatives.
Catching her eye, Blaise saw Fleur smile in relief, so he slid smoothly into the conversation, “Pardon me ma’am, but I must steal the bride and groom for a few minutes, official business, you see,” He winked, watching the old witch flush and wave them off.
“Blaise! Is it time already?” She asked, smiling brightly.
It changed her face, usually, being part veela, and a high ranking member of the order, it was easy to forget Fleur wasn’t very old at all. She looked younger, hanging off of the older Weasley’s arm in her wedding dress.
“It is,” Blaise smiled back, patting his pocket for the box Draco had given him. Being much closer to Fleur, Draco knew best what to use for the spell.
“Time for what?” William asked, looking to Ginerva for answers.
“A family tradition,” Fleur answered, “Come on!”
Blaise could see the original Weasley and Granger out of the corner of his eyes, keenly watching them leave, but the Gryffindors made no move to stop them, too busy talking to Lupin and Sirius. Perhaps decorum could be taught.
Exiting the reception tent, standing under the glowing gold sky, just as the sun began to set, Blaise removed the box from his jacket.
Opening it revealed several glass vials filled with various substances, a bowl, and four potions that glowed brightly.
Blaise took out the first few bottles, reading the labels as he poured them into the bowl, “Bloodied earth, Fire beetle wings, Dragon tears, and Dragon ash,”
“Earth, air, water, fire,” Gabrielle dutifully repeated, solemnly taking the bowl and holding it between her small hands.
“Woah hold on-” The older Weasly tried, only to be shushed harshly by Fleur.
“Your hands, please,” Blaise asked, pulling a thin, decorative knife from the box.
Fleur held hers out without hesitation, while Weasley hesitated visibly. He looked unsubtly to his new wife, and back to Blaise, before seeming to come to a decision.
Taking a deep breath, he held his hand out, right next to Fleurs.
Good choice, Blaise though, if he’d refused this, the marriage would not last long at all.
Unsheathing the knife, it was hard for Blaise not to think of Draco again. One day, he’d be doing the same thing: standing under the setting sun, binding themselves in the old ways.
He cut a simple line across both palms, gently guiding their hands together, so that they were entwined over the bowl, their blood dripping slowly in a rhythm only they would be able to understand.
The older Weasley seemed enraptured, staring at the way their blood mixed with fascination, the same way Blaise used to watch his mother do blood magic when he was small.
When the blood hit the mix in the bowl, it seemed to spread outwards until a mirror-like liquid was left, reflecting the bright purples and reds in the sky. Blaise took the bowl from Gabrielle gently, pouring some of the liquid into a small vial, and leaving the rest.
Fleur kneeled on the ground, shifting her skirts to keep them clean, and Weasley scrambled to follow, probably getting grass stains all over his nice robes.
Blaise took the remainder of the liquid and lifted it to Fleurs lips, “Tuo sanguine unus es,” He whispered, feeling the magic of the words rush through his veins.
He so desperately missed Draco at this moment, it almost crushed him. Even if he’d seen his fiancé only that morning, it wasn’t enough. He missed the Draco unconcerned with safety, so arrogant and headstrong he would have never dreamed of danger.
Draco should be here. He should be doing this ritual.
“In Aeternum.” Fleur responded, completing the spell.
“In Aeternum.” Weasley echoed, looking surprised at the words coming out of his mouth, like he hadn’t known them until this moment.
Fleur drank from the bowl, exactly half, before handing it gently to her husband, who drank with only a small amount of hesitation.
When the bowl was drained, Weasley gasped, his hand shooting to his throat. Ginerva immediately shot to his side, but Gabrielle held her arm out, stopping her.
“Bill?” She cried.
“I’m fine, Ginny,” He gasped, coming back to himself, hand still over his heart, “That was . . .”
“Incredible?” Fleur finished, “Oui, now you might think twice before condemning others.”
Weasley looked ready to respond, but a piercing shriek cut through his words.
Fleur was immediately on her feet again, running back to the tent, Blaise, both Weasleys, and Gabrielle on her heels.
Getting there revealed the source, a bright, silvery patronus.
Blaise’s heart stopped, this could mean only one thing.
The cat opened its mouth, a hoarse voice speaking quickly.
“The Ministry has fallen.
Scrimgeour is dead.
They are coming.”