Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1908699.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Blaise_Zambini/Harry_Potter/Ron_Weasley, Harry_Potter/Ron_Weasley, Harry
      Potter/Ginny_Weasley_[crush]
  Character:
      Blaise_Zabini, Harry_Potter, Ron_Weasley
  Additional Tags:
      Extremely_Dubious_Consent, Light_BDSM, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Vengeful_Ron,
      Sub!Blaise
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-01-02 Words: 4966
****** All’s Fair ******
by puckity
Summary
     Harry doesn’t want to tell Ron what he heard Malfoy and Snape talking
     about at Slughorn’s Christmas party, so he makes up a lie.
     Unfortunately for Blaise Zabini.
Notes
     Written in 2006 for LJ user alexander who complained about there
     being no sub!Blaises out there.
     Beta'd by the brilliant Rachel.
     You can also follow me on Tumblr.
“What do you have to look so upset about?” Ron crossed his arms petulantly as
he leaned against Harry’s bedpost. “Had a flock of canaries maul you lately,
too?”
Harry didn’t look at him. The dormitory was empty; Dean must have been off
somewhere snogging Ginny. Harry grit his teeth at the thought. That wasn’t what
was bothering him currently, but it was a constant irritant nonetheless.
“Come on, mate.” The mattress sunk low as Ron sat down beside him. “Did Malfoy
find you out or something? Did you catch him at it?” Harry sucked in his breath
sharply even as he shook his head.
“No, I still don’t—he was there at…um, Filch found him and—” Ron snorted
contemptuously.
“Yeah, Ginny told me all about that. Thought he could gate-crash, that prat.”
Ron seemed just as amused by Malfoy having been caught sneaking into Slughorn’s
Christmas party as Harry was; that wasn’t the issue at hand. It was what had
come after that had Harry so edgy. He couldn’t tell Ron about the conversation
he’d overheard. Snape and Malfoy whispering in ominous tones that echoed in his
head; he couldn’t risk someone hearing him talk about it here. Hogwarts wasn’t
safe anymore, and Dumbledore couldn’t watch out for every little problem that
Harry stumbled across. He probably should have told Dumbledore last night, he
probably should be sending an owl out right now. Only the mail wasn’t safe
either. Harry’s options had rapidly dwindled.
“You know what I heard?” Harry was grasping at nothing and hoping it would be
enough distraction to change the subject. His mind looped as he tried to think
of something that would rile his best mate.
Ron looked skeptical. “What? Something else about the glorious Cormac
McLaggen?” Harry noticed Ron flinched when he said the name. “Or maybe you
found out what this Half-Blood Pr—” Harry cut him off before he had a chance to
announce Harry’s Potions secret to the supposedly empty room.
“Zabini!” He said it before he’d gotten an idea of how to elaborate.
“Zabini? You mean that guy in Slughorn’s club? What was his name?
Blain…Bryce…Blake…”
“Blaise.” Harry attempted to recall anything and everything he knew about the
boy. He was a sixth year Slytherin, friends with Malfoy. He’d been in that
train compartment the day Malfoy had broken Harry’s nose. What had he been
talking about?
“Is your nose all right, Harry?” Ron pointed to Harry’s fingers unconsciously
rubbing over the reminder of Malfoy’s shoe on his face. What had Zabini said
that day?
“Oh, no. It’s fine.” Harry quickly brought his hand down to his lap. He
remembered Malfoy’s head in Pansy Parkinson’s lap. And he suddenly remembered
something else, too. “Ginny!”
“Ginny?” Ron looked a bit panicked. “What about her? Did something happen to
her? If Dean did something to her, I’ll kill him. We can kill him together. No
one would ever blame us.” Ron began describing the details of Dean’s murder,
and that little voice in Harry’s mind goaded him to keep letting Ron think Dean
did something. With Dean out of the picture, there would be no one between him
and Ginny. Except her brother and his best mate. And the fact that he’d
provoked Ron into bludgeoning her last boyfriend to death. No, it would never
work.
“Relax, Dean didn’t do anything. It was Zabini.” At the flash of cold rage in
Ron’s eyes, Harry started to explain faster. “He hasn’t done anything to her,
but I heard him saying some stuff—awful stuff—about Ginny.” Harry watched Ron
swallow his story without question.
“What sort of stuff?”
“About, well, the sort of girl she seems to be. Dating these guys who are older
than her, getting attention from most of the male population in the school.”
Harry could feel the guilt creep into his voice; he was right there alongside
every other pervert who leered at her. “I mean, he’s probably just jealous
because she could outplay him in Quidditch any day. But he was also talking
about…about how he’d like to date her.” Ron’s eyes widened.
Harry leaned over and lowered his voice. “Dating is putting it politely.”
Ron nearly punched Harry in blind fury; his fist came down on the bed with a
dense thud. His face reminded Harry of the Hungarian Horntail he’d fought
during the Triwizard Tournament. If Ron could’ve breathed fire, the tower would
be smoldering. Harry watched him trying to find a worse enough phrase to use
against Zabini. After a few minutes of terrifying silence, he decided it was
time to calm Ron down. But before Harry could think of a way to defuse the
situation, Ron glanced over at him with the strangest eyes Harry had ever seen.
They looked black in the dim light, and Ron’s pale face had drained of color
completely. Harry thought of that alleged vampire at Slughorn’s party. Right
now, Ron would have scared him within an inch of his life.
“Harry, there is something I need to do.”
                                      ---
Normally, Harry would be three steps ahead of Ron in plotting against the
Slytherins. Normally, it would be Ron, not Harry, who would be trying to reason
with the other. Normally, it would be Harry who’d ignore everything else but
his own plan. In any other case, there wouldn’t have been a problem.
“Ron. Ron! Listen to me! I really don’t think this is a good idea. I mean,
first of all there is no guarantee that he’ll even come this way. Second of
all, I don’t understand how this is going to help with anything.” Ron was
leading him by the hand in the direction of the dungeons. Part of Harry
wondered if he’d catch Malfoy doing anything down there.
“Look Harry.” Ron didn’t turn around as he spoke, and Harry strained to hear
him. “Most everything you ask me to do is a much worse idea than this one.”
Harry felt a sting and tried not to be offended. “Besides, I can’t do this
alone. It’s physically impossible. I always help you out, and I would think
that you of all people would want to stop Zabini from insulting Ginny.” Harry
wasn’t quite sure what Ron meant by that, but he let it go because he didn’t
particularly feel like considering the options.
“Ron, I’m sure there are better ways to deal with him than this.” Harry’s
conscience hit him there; he wasn’t exactly known for level-headed decisions
when it came to revenge.
“Relax. I just want to talk to him.” Harry rolled his eyes, and even though he
was lagging behind Ron he still felt as though his mate had seen it.
“There.” Ron pointed to a storage closet next to the Potions classroom. He
dropped Harry’s hand and padded nervously to the door. “Alohomora!” They both
held their breath, hoping that Snape hadn’t charmed the door against that
spell. When the lock clicked and the door creaked open, Ron turned to Harry
with a relieved smile. He walked in, then motioned for Harry to do the same.
Harry desperately searched for an excuse not to, but nothing came to mind.
Frustrated, he followed Ron and shut the door behind him.
                                      ---
“A real vampire? What did he look like? Did you see his teeth? Did he attack
anyone?” Ron’s voice radiated awe, and it almost made Harry forget that they
had been waiting in this closet long enough to miss supper.
“No, but he kind of started going toward this group of girls before the man he
was with stopped him. It was pretty creepy.”
“Wow. I wish I’d seen him. Bill talked about a few vampires that gave his
scouting team a bit of trouble in Egypt. They sounded so—” A faint stream of
voices drifted through the cracked-open door. Ron was immediately up from the
crates they were sitting on and peering out, just as he had the other six times
a group of students had passed. Harry rested his head against an empty shelf in
exasperation.
“Is it him?” Harry knew the answer.
“Not that I see. A bunch of younger Slytherins, mostly girls.” Ron’s whispering
was muffled, his face pressed against the door.
Big surprise, Harry mouthed to the darkness.
“Wait! I see him!” Harry spun around on his crate and nearly fell off.
“You’re joking.”
“No, no. He’s coming this way, and the girls are almost to the portrait.”
“Who’s he with?”
“Ha! No one. He’s alone. It’s brilliant!” Ron turned back to Harry and pulled
him up. The noise from the chattering girls had essentially vanished, and the
only thing left was a single set of footsteps.
“You ready?” Ron looked drunk with malevolent glee.
Harry bit his lip hard. “Fine,” he hissed. He couldn’t believe that Blaise
Zabini had actually played into Ron’s scheme. That git.
“Harry, come on.” Ron spoke in exaggerated tones. It took Harry a second to
realize that he had started already.
“No. No, please. I don’t want to.” He hadn’t meant for it to come out
monotonously, but it ended up sounded as though Harry was horribly bored,
rather than horribly frightened. Ron stamped on his foot and he let out a
genuine yelp.
“Ow! Bloody hell, Ron! What do you think you’re doing?!” Harry tried to glare
at Ron, but the other boy was nodding his head eagerly for Harry to keep going.
“Look, I’m flattered mate. I really am. But I just don’t think of you like
that.” Harry’s cheeks were burning. He’d never considered saying these things
to Ron, even if it was just a prank.
“I can change that. I know you like me, Harry. You just haven’t realized it
yet.” Ron glanced at the space beneath the door. The footsteps had stopped, and
the light had darkened.
“Ron, Ron you don’t understand. I—I like someone else. I like…” Harry
considered that this may be the only time he could tell the truth and not get
beaten within an inch of his life. Ron mouthed for him to go on.
“Ginny. I like Ginny.” Harry watched as something akin to sudden paralysis took
over Ron’s features. But then it was gone, and Ron was grinning madly. Clearly
he thought Harry had come up with a clever ruse.
“Really, Harry? My little sister? Don’t you think it’s weird that the only girl
you seem to find attractive is my little sister?” Ron inched forward, and Harry
blinked. He was fairly certain that this was still the plan, but it was
starting to feel a bit too real for him.
“Maybe you think you like my sister because you can’t admit to yourself who you
really like.” Ron was so close to Harry that he could feel the pulse of his
friend—accelerated with adrenaline—beating between them.
“No…” It was a feeble reply, and Harry decided that later he would blame it on
his superb acting skills. The door creaked, and Harry looked over just long
enough to miss Ron lunging forward to kiss him. He was in shock, then in fear.
He tried to squirm away, but Ron had him pinned against the wall. Odd
noises—squeaks and whimpers—seemed to come out of him of their own volition. He
was just starting to be in denial about his body and feelings and reactions
when a bright light hit the side of his face and he winched. Ron let go of him
immediately, wand already drawn, and shouted “Incarcerous!” Zabini dropped his
books in alarm just as the ropes wound around him. Not wanting to be caught in
the hallway with a tied-up Zabini, Harry and Ron scrambled to pull him into the
closet. Ron propped him up on a crate while Harry closed and spell-locked the
door behind them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Zabini spat the words venomously,
his dark eyes flashing with violence.
“Just a bit of payback, is all.” Ron leaned casually against the wall. Harry
had never seen him so…in control.
“Payback for what, Weasley? Did I waste my time bothering you and not remember
it?” Ron shrugged nonchalantly, then walked towards Zabini and clouted him in
the jaw. Zabini reeled back stunned, a trickle of blood dripping from his nose.
“How dare you talk about my sister! You filthy, despicable excuse for a human
being! I should hex you until I’m sure you’ll never make good on your
disgusting threats!” Ron’s wand hand was shaking with anger, his screaming so
loud that Harry kept glancing towards the light under the door, hoping that it
wouldn’t vanish. But at least this Ron he could handle; this Ron he knew.
Zabini, not looking too pleased with the blood already spotting his robes,
arched an eyebrow at the wand pointed in his face. “What, the Weasley bitch?
She told you I threatened her? What a lying little—”
“Scourgify!” Zabini’s eyes widened. He tried to talk, but nothing came out.
Suddenly, a froth of pink bubbles began pouring from his mouth. Harry watched
in fascination and a bit of horror as Blaise choked and sputtered, frantically
trying to expel all the suds from his mouth. Then he was turning from red to
blue with the effort, and Harry reached for his wand.
“Finite!” The soap stopped flowing, and Zabini coughed and spit the rest of the
bubbles onto the floor.
“That will teach you to keep your mouth clean when you talk about Ginny!” Harry
looked between Ron and Zabini. The latter looked furious, but far too terrified
at the moment to offer a retort. The former looked positively mad, and Harry
thought that he should probably step in before his best mate did something
really bad.
“Ron, I think you proved your point.” The smirk Ron flashed him indicated that
he thought otherwise.
“Well Zabini, if you are going to use that mouth of yours to spread nasty lies
about my sister, you obviously need to find a better use for it. On your
knees.” Harry suddenly understood what Ron had actually meant by ‘I just want
to talk to him.’ The thought of watching what was about to happen excited Harry
far more than it should have, which ought to have been not at all.
“Suck off Harry.”
“What?” Harry and Blaise blanched in unison.
“I said suck off Harry. It isn’t that difficult to understand.” For the first
time since being magically bound with ropes, Zabini looked truly alarmed. Ron
gave a momentary glance at Harry. “You don’t mind, do you?” There were a lot of
things Harry wanted to say to that, but Ron walked over to him and leaned into
his ear.
“Do it for Ginny, Harry. Please?” The Ron whispering to him told Harry that his
best friend hadn’t lost his mind. He sounded nervous and frenetic, like he
thought Harry was going to leave him alone to deal with this. What the hell?
Harry thought halfhearted. At least it will shut Zabini up about Ginny. And if
he tells Malfoy, it may just put enough fear in him to stop whatever it is that
he’s up to. He strode over to Zabini, looking wary on his knees, and unzipped
his trousers.
He was surprised to see just how this whole situation had affected him. He was
already fairly hard, and Blaise looked up at him, seeming to mock him for
getting turned on by it. Something like power surged through Harry at seeing
Zabini tied-up on his knees in front of him, and something like shame followed
from his cock getting harder by the second. He wasn’t going to be humiliated in
front of Ron, not by this bastard.
Blaise’s head snapped to the side when Harry smacked him. “Well Zabini, you
heard Ron. Suck me off.” Harry didn’t want to consider what this boy might
think of by way of revenge for this. He concentrated on his own anticipation
instead.
Hot breath puffed over his cockhead. Harry could sense Zabini resisting and his
fingers wound in close-cropped hair, nails digging into Blaise’s flesh. He
pushed Zabini’s mouth towards his open trouser front. When he finally started
licking around the tip, Harry loosened his grip on Blaise’s hair.
For a little while it was just licking; Zabini was still taunting him. Harry
tried pushing forward again and this time there was much less resistance. He
felt the head of his cock slide into Blaise’s mouth and keened at the
sensation. He tried to replace Zabini’s mouth with Ginny’s, but couldn’t get
over the sickening guilt. He’d fantasized about her, sure, but it was never
more tangible than snogging and pressing against each other in the dark. Beyond
that it was ambiguous feelings that could be materialized with anyone, only he
had been focusing them on her lately. Considering her actually on her knees and
sucking him off was strangely repulsive to him, too real by half.
“Fucking—!” A sudden pain sliced through his groin. He recoiled and his dick
slipped out of Blaise’s mouth.
“What? Harry, what was it?” Ron—whom Harry had almost completely forgotten was
there—looked worried and a little out of breath, staring at him with concern.
“That fucker tried to bite my cock off!” Harry was examining himself to make
sure that Zabini hadn’t taken anything with him. “You twat! You could have
seriously damaged me here!” Zabini leered at him, and Harry was done with being
laughed at. He kicked Zabini in the stomach as hard as he could, and kicked him
again as he curled up on the floor in pain.
“Harry, move.” Ron edged between him and Zabini, pushing two crates next to
each other. Then he reached down and hoisted Blaise up to his knees again by
the collar of his robes and bent him over one of the crates. He pulled out a
bottle of pale yellow liquid and unfastened his trousers. Harry watched in
stunned amazement; Ron clearly had a lot more planned than he had let Harry
know about.
“Harry, you can sit down.” Ron glanced at the other crate, which sat right in
front of Blaise’s head. Harry let his trousers and pants fall to his ankles and
straddled the crate. He was going to make Blaise regret trying to castrate him.
Ron wrenched Zabini’s trousers down, his arse forced into the perfect position
for what Harry knew Ron had decided to do to Zabini when he first mentioned
Ginny. Harry looked down at Blaise’s face—contorted with lingering pain and
indignation, and more than a bit of fear now—and almost felt sorry for him.
Then his eyes flicked to Ron, who was working that liquid up and down his cock.
It wasn’t as though he had never seen another boy touch himself; that was the
only way to do things in a dormitory. And it wasn’t as though he’d never seen
Ron touch himself, only it was usually after a fair warning and Harry turning
away, pretending not to be there. Harry could vividly recall trying to focus on
The Daily Prophet as Ron wanked off in their shared room when he stayed at the
Burrow. It had just never been so unconcealed before.
“You don’t need to do that.” Zabini bit off the words like Harry was sure he
tried to bite off his cock earlier. Harry saw Ron’s hand—which had moved lower
between Blaise’s legs—still.
“I don’t want to have to take you to Madam Pomfrey.” Ron looked unsure of
himself, but luckily Zabini couldn’t see his face.
“Oh, don’t worry.” Harry watched Zabini sneer. “I’m not as pathetically
inexperienced as you two. Draco saw to that.” Blaise twisted his neck slightly,
and stared at Harry as he spoke. A ripple of heat cut through Harry’s chest. He
reminded himself that Malfoy was the cause of all this, and it was merely
loathing that incited his involuntary reaction. “Granted, he never did take me
here. I don’t see why not, it’s close to the common room and if you two can
manage to get in here I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to.” Harry didn’t
understand how, but he felt sickly certain that Zabini knew full well what sort
of effect his little revelation was having. Of course, it could have been
because Harry’s cock was inches away from his face and he could feel it
twitch—like a nervous tic—every time Blaise referenced Malfoy. Suddenly Zabini
hissed and Harry saw Ron’s hand moving behind Blaise.
“I told you, you don’t need to treat me like some petrified virgin!” Zabini
twisted his neck again, trying unsuccessfully to glare at Ron. Ron
shrugged—more for Harry than Blaise—and pulled his hand back.
“Better safe than answering questions from Snape and McGonagall.” Ron leaned up
on his knees and readied himself behind Zabini. Harry looked at him and
wondered where he’d learned all this stuff. The thought of someone else, one of
their mutual friends, teaching him made Harry bizarrely upset. Not that he
would have volunteered for the position, but if anyone was going to teach Ron
about…this sort of thing…it really should have been his best mate.
Ron pushed forward and Zabini made a peculiar noise in the back of his throat.
Harry couldn’t tell if he was hurt or enjoying it, and judging by the look on
Ron’s face neither could he. Ron was studiously avoiding Harry’s eyes, and
Harry wondered what he was afraid of seeing.
“Well, are you just going to stand there?” Zabini’s nonchalance jarred Ron. He
moved forward again, harder.
“If you don’t want to be choking up pink bubbles for the next month, you’d
better start occupying your mouth with something other than insults and
complaints.” Harry knew this was his cue. He aligned the crate and his cock
with Blaise’s face, and dug his fingers into that hair again. This time there
was no taunting, and Harry shut his eyes to dispel the drifting thoughts of
Ginny on her knees and Zabini and Malfoy fucking on the Potions tables. This
time it seemed to work better because the wiry hair he held vanished almost
immediately, and the red hair that replaced it wasn’t Ginny’s. Harry swallowed
hard as he imagined his best mate there, the mouth that usually held a lopsided
grin running up and down the length of him.
Whatever that noise was—the one that Zabini made when Ron did his first push—it
came again, and Harry groaned at the vibrations that resonated around his cock.
He opened his eyes, mildly curious as to what Ron had done to inspire that
response. Staring across the body between them, Harry blinked. Ron’s hands were
plastered on Zabini’s hips, his body was pistoning forward and back. His head
hung down—as though he couldn’t waste the energy to hold it up—and his ginger
hair fell forward shielding him from Harry’s view. Harry could hear him
breathing, panting and wheezing. The brief glimpse he got of Ron’s thigh showed
flushed skin, wet with sweat and sticky with that liquid. They were all still
wearing their sweaters and the room was beginning to boil; Harry felt dizzy
from the atmosphere.
Staring at Ron, not particularly caring about being caught, Harry began to fuck
Blaise’s mouth faster. He felt the suction, like being dragged into an abyss.
If Zabini did this to Malfoy, Harry could understand why he allowed it. He felt
the tongue swipes and the light nips, and felt his body racing to keep up with
his mind. Because his mind wasn’t on Zabini or anything he was doing to Harry’s
cock. He was wondering what Ron’s chest would look like, whether it would be
blushed and freckled like his thigh. He was wondering what Ron’s mouth would
feel like, wondering how it would be if Ron was fucking him right now instead
of Blaise. He was transfixed.
Then Ron made a sound—somewhere between a moan and a murmur—and Harry came. He
felt Zabini’s throat move as he swallowed, and Harry must have screamed or
shouted or said something because Ron glanced up in time to catch the peak of
his orgasm. His eyes rolled back and he moved erratically on the crate, not
really concerned about Blaise but not wanting him to bite again. When he
finally finished, Harry started to focus his eyes and saw Ron fucking Zabini
like Snape was going to mark him on it. The crate scraped back and forth with
the force and Blaise’s eyes squeezed shut. Ron’s head, hanging loose again,
jerked back and he shook his over-long hair out of his face. Strands still
stuck to his moist forehead and Harry could see that his cheeks were crimson
with exertion. His eyes were almost too bright, and Harry caught them
unexpectedly. Ron bit his lower lip and his eyes darted; he obviously felt
awkward being watched and probably a bit guilty for liking it. Harry tried to
smile warmly, reassuring Ron that he shouldn’t be embarrassed. That goofy,
lopsided grin flashed and then his thin body arched, slamming hard against
Zabini who whimpered quietly in return.
Harry had—on occasion—listened to the sounds Ron made when he wanked at the
Burrow. It was purely informational; he just wanted to know if the noises he
made himself were normal. But the sounds Ron made now weren’t like anything
Harry had heard before. At the Burrow it was mostly heavy breathing and the
occasional groan. Harry assumed that Ron had to learn to be especially quiet
growing up with four older brothers. But now Ron sounded like he might be
crying; his voice cracked and broke, fragmented sobs of pleasure tore across
the room and ripped past Harry’s ears. Then he calmed into hyperventilation and
fell to his calves, pushing his hair back again. Ron began pulling his trousers
on and—as he refused to look up—Harry decided he should probably get his
trousers on as well. They dressed and tidied up in silence until Zabini spoke
up, albeit far more subdued than before.
“Are you going to let me up, or do you plan on letting Filch find me like this?
I’m sure Dumbledore would love to hear about his pet students’ extracurricular
activities. I could probably get you expelled for this.” Ron froze, still out
of Zabini’s view. It was time Harry ended this.
“Reducto!” The ropes shriveled and dropped to the floor. Blaise visibly exhaled
and rolled off his crate. Harry contemplated everything for a moment. “Put your
trousers back on.”
Zabini laughed incredulously. “Is that all you have to say to me?” He zipped up
his trousers. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t turn you both into Snape
for misconduct, not to mention rape.”
Ron turned white as a snow owl. “Rape?! We didn’t rape you! You—you told me I
didn’t even need to…to…oh God, Harry…” Ron looked on the verge of tears, and
Harry considered punching Blaise for that.
“Go to Snape if you want, Zabini.” Ron’s jaw fell and Blaise narrowed his eyes.
“But then we would have to go to McGonagall and tell her all about how you
threatened Ginny, and how when Ron tried to confront you about it you attacked
him. He probably would be at St. Mungo’s, or worse, if I didn’t go looking for
him when he didn’t meet me for supper.”
“You wouldn’t do it.” Zabini blinked rapidly and they both knew Harry would do
it. “You don’t have any proof.”
“Neither do you. We didn’t do anything that Malfoy didn’t do to you first, and
probably a lot rougher too.”
Blaise looked mutinous, but didn’t dispute the facts. Harry smiled coldly.
“Good, then we have a deal. You stay away from Ginny—that means talking about
her as well—and we won’t bother you again.” Ron had gathered Zabini’s books
while Harry bargained him down, and as Blaise looked from one boy to the other
Ron offered him his belongings. Blaise grabbed them indignantly and shoved past
Ron towards the door. He pointed his wand at the lock and muttered,
“Alohomora!” Harry held his breath and waited for the Slytherin to leave.
“You know, Draco’s right.” Blaise turned to Harry, sneering like Malfoy did and
inexplicably irking Harry in the process. “You Gryffindors are a repressed lot.
At least in Slytherin we accept our deviance.” Then he left, slamming the door
behind him. Harry stared at it, willing Zabini’s words to be untrue.
“Harry?” Ron sounded shaky, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just done.
“Harry, let’s not tell Hermione about this, okay?”
Harry laughed out of sheer relief. “No, I don’t think she needs to know. Or
Ginny, for that matter.”
“Or Lavender.” Harry looked at Ron, hands stuffed in his pockets and staring at
Harry’s tie. Harry walked over to him, knowing he was about to do something
without actually knowing what it was going to be. When he kissed Ron, something
he’d been unsure of before—warm and tight, spreading out from his chest—was
confirmed. Harry wished he knew what that was.
After Harry pulled back slightly, Ron looked him in the eye for the first time
since they left the tower. That lopsided grin settled on his lips and Harry
realized that he loved that smile.
“I don’t think there’s anything to tell her that she would want to know.”
Winking, Harry elbowed his best mate in the ribs. Ron let out a surprised yelp
and cuffed Harry on the shoulder.
What Hermione and Ginny and Lavender didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
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