Pairing[s]: Blaise/Draco, Harry/Draco
Disclaimer: JKR owns. I only play. You do not sue.
Length: 1700 words
Summary: Blaise has a surprise for Draco on his 16th birthday. Set during OotP.
Dedication: Draco Malfoy. Happy birthday, you great pointy git.
Concrit: Always welcome and appreciated.
Blaise poked his head out from behind his bed's curtain and glared in the direction of Goyle's four-poster. The boy was snoring so loudly, Blaise was surprised the entire Slytherin house wasn't at their doorstep, demanding for him to shut the hell up. Blaise grabbed his wand from the bedside table and muttered, "Silencio," jabbing the wand in the general direction of Goyle's bed. The snores abated, but it was too late, Blaise was wide awake. He sighed. He needed something to help him sleep. Tomorrow was a big day, after all.
Muttering, he crawled out from under his warm blanket and stood on the cold floor, shivering. He lowered himself to his haunches and popped his trunk open. After about a minute of digging around, he found a pair of socks and pulled them on gratefully. He shrugged into his school robe, not bothering with smoothing it down -- he was only going to take a trip to the kitchen, not attend a wine tasting. Blaise glanced around helplessly, looking for his trainers, then noticed something black poking out from under the bed. Sighing, he kneeled down and fished the trainers out with a grumble. He checked his reflection in the wall-mounted mirror as he passed through the dormitory: he looked quite presentable. He ran an impatient hand through his hair, at which the mirror made a remark: "Just get on with it already." Blaise arched an eyebrow at it, but it fell silent again.
Smirking, Blaise tiptoed past Draco's bed -- no snoring there, thank God. He quietly shut the dormitory door and crept cautiously through the corridor to the common room. There was no one there, just as he'd expected -- the fire was dying out, and a house-elf was scurrying across the room, balancing an armload of rubbish. Blaise thought about scaring the elf, just to see how comical it'd look, but stopped himself. Can't risk it making a scene and waking the prefects, he thought. Blaise lurked in the shadows for a while until the house-elf disappeared towards the girls' dormitories, then quickly shuffled across the common room and slipped out the door. Easy-peasy.
After getting some hot cocoa from the kitchen, Blaise got back to the Slytherin dormitories without incident and had little trouble falling asleep. He dreamt of dark corridors where an army of house elves was marching armed with mugs of hot cocoa, and Draco was waiting for him down in the kitchens, except he had a giant marshmallow for a head. He kept telepathically asking Blaise if he had a pink scarf Draco could borrow, because he didn't have anything to wear with his purple dress robes. Blaise awoke with a start, mumbling incoherently about not having any garments that were pink. He was greeted by the sight of Goyle sitting up in his bed, looking dazed, and opening his mouth soundlessly with a pitiful expression on his face.
"Oh, for crying out loud," Blaise muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table. "Finite Incantatem," he said, and Goyle promptly began speaking in a whiny tone.
"...don't understand, why can't I hear anything I... Oh. Thanks, Blaise."
"No problem. Don't snore, and it'll never happen to you again," Blaise replied.
"How am I supposed to--" Goyle started saying, but Blaise cut him off, holding up a hand.
"That's none of my business. I only know one way of stopping your snores, and that's a Silencing Charm."
"Sorry," Goyle mumbled under his nose.
Blaise sat up in bed, unwilling to come out from beneath the covers just yet. "Where's Draco?" he asked.
"Gone. Pansy dragged him to breakfast early. I think she had a present to give him," said Goyle with a suggestive smirk, if that was what it was.
Blaise cursed under his breath. Crabbe shuffled in from the bathroom, his cheeks red and the front of his pyjama top wet. "Get that sorted, Gregory? Morning, Blaise."
"Hey, Vincent," Blaise said, hopping out of bed. "Sodding dungeon," he added, hopping from foot to foot on the cold floor. He ran into the bathroom and got washed quickly, examining his chin in the mirror. It wasn't too bad, he decided, and skipped shaving. "Tut, tut," said the mirror. Blaise ignored it. He got dressed quickly, picked up his schoolbag and left, muttering, "see you," to Crabbe and Goyle.
Blaise made his way to breakfast, passing other bleary-eyed and hunched-over students in the hallways. He pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and found it abuzz with nervous energy. By the sounds of it, people had really had enough of revision and teachers' reviews for their OWLs, which were starting on Monday. Blaise slowed as he passed the Gryffindor table.
"...and Professor McGonagall told me that we should definitely go over first year's Transfiguration material, because it's bound to show up on the OWL," Granger was saying to a slack-jawed Weasley, who was staring absently at nothing in particular. Beside them, Potter was eating porridge, yesterday's copy of the Prophet propped up against flagons of pumpkin juice in front of him. Granger noticed Blaise staring and broke off abruptly, fixing him with a beady glare. Blaise scowled at her and kept walking to the Slytherin table. Just as he slid into his seat across from Pansy and Draco, who were unsurprisingly bickering about something, there was a great clatter and a rush of wings as the owls delivered the morning post.
"Happy birthday, Draco," muttered Blaise, handing over the coffee pot.
"Is this my present, then?" asked Draco with a raised eyebrow, indicating the pot of coffee.
Blaise rolled his eyes. "I told you yesterday, you'll get your present tonight."
"Why won't you tell me what it is?" demanded Draco with a petulant glare. "Pansy had given me her present this morning, I don't see why I have to--"
He was interrupted by an owl landing in front of him and nearly knocking the pot of coffee out of his hands. "You know," Draco remarked to Goyle, who had just sat down beside him, "you and Vincent really need to stop it with the joint birthday presents. Some people might take it the wrong way."
"What do you mean?" asked Crabbe, frowning.
"Never mind," said Draco, ripping the packaging off what looked like a thicker version of the Daily Prophet. Blaise got up out of his seat and leant slightly forward to see what it was -- Crabbe and Goyle had told no one what they were getting Draco. Of course, neither had Blaise, but he had a very good reason not to reveal it.
The package contained a magazine. On the cover, beside a large yellow sticker thanking Mr Draco L Malfoy for his subscription, two men were engaged in decidedly unplatonic snogging. Blaise sat back down and chewed on his bottom lip furiously, trying to keep himself from laughing out loud. Draco quickly lowered the magazine into his lap so only the empty back cover was visible. "You bought me a subscription to WizardSize? Which one of you thought it would be funny to present me with a subscription to a gay pornography magazine on my birthday?" he hissed at Goyle, who was suddenly looking very pale.
Crabbe looked furious. "You were supposed to order Bad Witches!" he whispered to Goyle. "I swear, it wasn't my fault, Draco!" he added.
"What's this about witches?" asked Pansy, trying to peek over Draco's shoulder.
"Nothing," said Draco quickly, shifting about and looking guilty. "Nothing at all."
Blaise looked around for a plate of toast, partly to avoid Pansy's inquisitive glare.
Later that evening, Blaise and Draco snuck away from the party in the common room and headed towards the secret alcove they'd discovered back in third year. It was nearly impossible to find unless one knew exactly how many turns to take and which tapestry to go through at the end of the final passageway. They'd used it for everything from brewing illegal potions to storing their more potentially embarrassing possessions. It was the only place where Crabbe and Goyle weren't allowed, the only place they couldn't follow Draco.
It was here that Blaise found out about Draco's unhealthy obsession with Potter. He'd had no idea that the antagonism Draco always displayed was a cover for something more than bruised pride -- Draco wanted Potter, in the worst way. He maintained he wasn't gay, which was partly why Blaise had found Crabbe and Goyle's earlier birthday present so amusing. No, Draco wasn't gay at all; he just dreamt about Potter's hands up his robes and wanked off to memories of those dreams.
Blaise loved Draco; he'd loved Draco even before he figured out that he preferred boys; it was impossible not to love him. Draco was so alive and vibrant and colourful despite his earnest, unending attempts at being just like his father. Blaise knew that the only way Draco would ever have Potter was also the only way he, Blaise, could ever have Draco.
He'd been very careful. Potter had stood there slack-jawed, staring at the production put on by the Weasley twins just over a month ago; no one had noticed Blaise sneak up behind him and snip off a lock of hair from his messy head. The Polyjuice potion had been ready yesterday, all it needed now was the final ingredient. He picked up one of Potter's hairs from the smooth block of wood where he'd put them yesterday and dropped it straight into the cauldron.
"You hid my present here? That wasn't very smart. I bet you I can find it," said Draco, who had flopped down onto the settee. They'd bullied the house-elves into dragging it there two years ago and its age was showing -- the covering was worn and shiny in places, because Draco always liked to sit in the same spot. Blaise scooped a ladleful of the potion into an empty cup and downed it quickly, fighting the bout of nausea Polyjuice always caused him.
Blaise turned around and saw Draco's eyes widen. "Yeah, you've found it, Draco," he said, trying to imitate Potter's voice as best he could.
Draco got up from the settee and walked over to him, slowly. "Just as I thought," he mumbled, grabbing handfuls of Blaise's robes which were too big for Potter's body. "Far more agreeable without those wretched glasses."
Blaise tried to laugh, but only managed a sort of gasp-choke because Draco chose that moment to kiss him.
Blaise was glad there was still a cauldron full of Polyjuice Potion. It was going to be a fun summer.