Title: Selfish
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I just realized this entire thing was a pain to write. Sorry for any mistakes. I was in a hurry.
Warnings: Slash. Unbetaed.
Disclaim: Don't own.
The Denouement
Blaise walked up the seemingly endless stairs of the school. They were empty and quiet aside from him. It had been a good day, and he was feeling relatively happy. Every step brought him closer to the corner where the stairs would change directions and from that corner, he could see a cloak billowing. It was tied to the staircase. Blaise clucked his tongue. It probably belonged to some second year.
He turned the corner without much thought. Yep, it was definitely a second year. Then a discontenting sound reached his ears. With every echo of his footstep, there was an ominous drip. Suspiciously, Blaise looked back down. Thump. Drip. Thump. Drip. Then he spotted it. It was the cloak. All of sudden he could see a thick rope coiling around the railing and a pair of feet dangling out.
Blaise hurried down the steps, body trembling in fear. He was hesitant about touching the cloak, but he inched forward and threw back the hood. He recoiled and screamed. The rope was wrapped around the body's neck, hugging it with purple and blue bruises. The body dangled off the railing, hands hanging limply as blood steadily dripped from the fingers like water from a leaky faucet. Familiar brown hair framed an angelic, innocent face. It was Theodore.
Blaise jolted up in bed, covered in sweat. He flung the curtains open and was greeted with a rush of cold air. The sun was barely above the horizon, the sky tinted the slightest maroon. He ran a hand down one side of his face, feeling the clammy skin. Instinctively, just like he did every morning, he looked over to Theodore's bed.
There was a lump under the thick bed covers, rising and falling slightly. Blaise slipped off his bed, bare feet hitting the cold stone floor softly, and crawled onto the other bed. With a careful hand, he pulled down the cover to reveal Theodore's pale face. Blaise took the rare moment to observe the other boy. It wasn't very often he saw Theodore this calm.
His gaze wandered over to where Theodore's hands were curled up on the pillow. Theodore was still wearing the school's uniform. Immediately Blaise thought the worst. He pushed Theodore's left sleeve down and over his elbow. Theodore shivered as cold air hit his skin.
"Oh, Theo," Blaise murmured sadly, kissing his apologies gently onto the mark.
Tired blue eyes snapped open to meet his intense brown ones. Theodore stopped breathing for a moment. For a long moment, only their breaths were heard. Slowly, Blaise sat back, looking away. Theodore, though, sat up abruptly and swung his legs over the side of the bed along side of Blaise's. Blaise could almost touch the awkwardness between them.
The sun peeked over the monochromatic horizon line when Theodore spoke, voice shaky. "I-I did it. I did it. You can't do anything n-now." He stared adamantly straight ahead. "It's n-not like you care. You never cared."
Blaise could only focus on Theodore's shaking hands. Did the Dark Lord hold his frail hand, white on white, and did he stroke the palm comfortingly throughout the pain? They were so thin and slender, every joint defined, and perfect for dancing on piano keys.
"I've always cared," he replied quietly. He heard a choking sob.
"Stop lying and I'll stop lying!" Theodore's voice cracked. Blaise saw the water gather along the rims of the eyelashes framing Theodore's blue eyes. Theodore sniffed and looked up, blinking furiously to keep his tears at bay.
"Theo, Theo. Whatever I've done, put it behind you. Come on, let me help you," Blaise said. Theodore shook his head. "Help me with what?"
Blaise shrugged a shoulder. "Your arm. It hurts, doesn't it? Like it's being burned apart."
Theodore looked at him in surprise as his hand went up to rest protectively on his left arm. "How did you know?"
The other Slytherin offered him a weak smile. "That's how Draco described it."
"You helped him?" Now his expression was one of incredibility. Blaise nodded. It was until then did Theodore even consider Blaise and Draco as friends. He frowned as his thoughts ran deeper.
"If you helped him, then you knew," he said slowly, eyes flickering. "Why didn't you try to stop him?"
"Who says I didn't?" Blaise said defensively.
"Then you're just using me for a chance to get rid of your guilt? A second chance of some sort."
Blaise groaned, "What is it? Just tell me. What do I have to do to get you to just—"
"Trust you?"
"Yes, that!"
Theodore snorted softly. "If we keep at this, we'll never get anywhere."
Blaise glared. "Then you first."
The brunette sighed and shook his head. "There you go again."
"I can't do this anymore." As Blaise slid off the bed, Theodore remarked, "See? Running away again."
Blaise swiveled around and snapped, "What do you mean by that?"
Theodore frowned crossed his arms across his chest, wincing as his left arm brushed roughly against his shirt. "Admit it."
"Admit what?"
"You know what I'm talking about." Theodore sneered.
"No, I don't," Blaise hissed. How could Theodore know?
"See, that's the problem," Theodore said testily. "If you won't even say it to me. . .then I don't know what. You hate me, don't you? That's why you're always avoiding me and never telling me anything. Just nod and we can be done with this entire issue."
Blaise froze. He saw Theodore's blue eyes become wet again and the tell-tale twitch of his mouth. His fingers were clenched tightly in the folds of his robes.
"It's fine. I get it." Theodore's soft voice broke Blaise out of his daze. How could Theodore ever think that? Without thinking, he stepped in front of the other boy, a hand under his chin, and kissed him tenderly. All he saw was the kaleidoscope of blue in his eyes. When he pulled away, he stared, waiting for the reaction. The silence was long, but Theodore finally whispered, "It hurts."
He bit down on his lip, but Blaise caught the slight movement of the corners. Theodore was trying not to smile. Blaise didn't care for the smile spreading across his own face. Instead, he leaned forward and claimed the other's lips again, enjoying the warmth that spread through him. He pushed Theodore onto his back and climbed readily onto him. Sprawled on top of the other boy, they kissed until they ran out of air.
"What hurts?" Blaise asked good-humoredly.
"My arm," Theodore replied with a cheeky smile.
The other raised an eyebrow. "Not your heart?"
Theodore laughed lightly. "Don't be stupid, Zabini. Now get off—"
"Maybe later."
"Blaise! I'm being serious. My arm is killing me." Blaise mouthed at his neck, causing Theodore to smack his shoulder playfully. He rolled his eyes and crawled off the boy, drawing out his wand from his pocket. With a twist of his wrist, he transfigured one of the numerous pillows into a wet cloth. Theodore slowly sat up and inched toward him until they were pressed thigh to thigh. He rolled up his sleeve carefully and was tempted to say, "It's beautiful," but he swallowed it down as the wet cloth was pressed to the mark like a hammer to iron. He hissed and instinctively tried to jerk his arm away, but Blaise held firm.
"It'll go away after a while," he said after a while as if he was commenting about the weather.
Theodore took the chance to confess, "I don't know what to do." Blaise kept silent. "I feel lost in the war."
"What are you fighting for?" Blaise asked quietly. Theodore's eyes mirrored the fear in his voice. "Everything. Him. To purge the world."
"Wrong," Blaise scoffed. "You're fighting for nothing."
"Whatever," he muttered, abruptly tugging the sleeve down. The cloth dropped onto the bed, soaking the sheets.
"Sorry," Blaise quickly said, the word slipping out of his mouth. Theodore didn't show any surprise. "We'll talk about it later."
"No," Theodore objected insistently, "It's over."
Blaise looked out to where the sun graced the sky, erasing any trace of the nightmares he had. It made him wonder what tomorrow would bring. He pressed a kiss to the top of Theodore's head before resting his chin on it reassuringly.
"Where do we stand?" Theodore asked sleepily.
"I don't know," was the hollow reply.
"I know it'll work out. I'm still trying to figure things out, so don't get in the way." There was no threat, just a request.
It was then Blaise decided that this would be the last lie he would ever tell. "Fine."
Years later, Blaise found himself out of Hogwarts and strolling through the halls of the cells in Azkaban. He paused every now and then to curiously examine the person inside a cell, smirked as he passed Bellatrix Lestrange, and finally stopped in front of an empty cell. Grasping the bars in his hands and leaning forward, Blaise tentatively said, "Theodore?"
The cell became occupied. The former Death Eater emerged from the shadows that covered at least half of the tiny room. The blue eyes that Blaise knew since he was three were now haunted and angry. The lanky frame was thin, and the bags underneath the dull eyes hung like cocoons from a branch.
"Blaise Zabini?" The weak man threw himself at the bars, eyes wide as if they were unable to believe what they were seeing.
"Yes." Blaise forced a small smile onto his face.
Theodore's mouth opened and closed until he finally found words. "Why are you here?"
"To pay you a visit obviously."
"Then you're wasting your time. I want nothing to do with traitors," Theodore spat.
Blaise sighed wearily. "Theodore—"
"Don't call me that!"
"Theodore," Blaise continued, "He's dead. Why do you insist on being like this?"
"I have my reasons."
"Bullshit! If you even had reasons, they wouldn't make any sense, Nott! Have you gone completely insane?"
Theodore down-right laughed. "Listen to yourself, Zabini! Have I gone insane? Look where I am! And it's all your fault."
Blaise glared and muttered, "This wasn't what I came for."
"There's nothing for you here. I don't know why you bothered coming any way. I'm perfectly fine." Theodore added heavy sarcasm on the last word. "If you don't have a book for me, then leave, Zabini."
"Still the bookworm?" Blaise said. "I see old habits die hard."
Theodore rolled his eyes. "Why are you here, Zabini?"
"Just to see if you're happy."
"Happy? Of course I'm not happy! I lost that chance years ago. I hate you! If it wasn't for you and your damn meddling, I wouldn't have ended up like this. My life!" The crazed shine of hysteria Blaise feared to see danced in Theodore's eyes.
"I'm disappointed in you, Theodore," Blaise murmured.
The other man didn't say anything. Blaise sighed and pushed himself away, turning around to leave.
"I'll see you tomorrow then."
He took about two steps before he heard Theodore's tired voice drift over to him. "Did you win?"
Blaise turned back around and didn't have to think about his answer.
"No."
The End.
Review?