Harry Potter Stay

Title: Stay

Pairing: Blaise Zabini/Terry Boot, unrequited Blaise/Hermione

Rating: PG-13

Warning: MAJOR DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS

Summary: During the final battle, some Slytherins decide to stay.

_From page 610 of the US Hardback edition of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: "Thank you, Miss Parkinson," said Professor McGonagall in a clipped voice. "You will leave the Hall first with Mr. Filch. If the rest of your House could follow." _

"And what if we want to stay?"

The voice rang out, loud, clear and slightly haughty, among the cacophony of sound in the Great Hall. No one seemed to hear him.

"What if we want to stay?" the voice asked again, louder and harsher than before.

His Housemates looked at him oddly, most avoiding eye contact and following Filch from the Great Hall. Only three stayed behind with him.

The Great Hall fell silent, shock written upon the faces of those who stood staring at the four Slytherins. Most wondering if this was some sort of trap.

Only McGonagall, with a slight smile upon her face and suspiciously bright eyes, seemed to take the situation in stride. "Then you stay, Mr. Zabini. Join the others." She motioned to were the rest of the seventh years and several sixth years were clustered, the rest of their houses having followed after the majority of the Slytherins.

"I just want it known, Zabini, that if I get killed acting like an idiotic Gryffindor, I'm haunting your ass," Theo Nott hissed in Blaise's ear as they walked toward the remains of Dumbledore's Army. "My father's going to kill me."

"If he doesn't, someone else will," Tracey said cheerfully, winding her arm around Theo's waist. "My father has wanted to get his hands on you since last summer. I told you shagging in the gazebo wasn't a good idea."

"At least you two have a fighting chance," Daphne said, gripping her wand nervously. "I failed Defense OWLs, remember?"

Tracey turned and laced her fingers with Daphne's, and said kindly, "I'm sure they'll need help in the Infirmary. No one magics up stitches like you, Daph."

The three continued talking, but Blaise wasn't paying attention. He had eyes only for a curly haired Ravenclaw, currently sporting barely faded bruises.

"Zabini," a voice called out, filled with authority.

Blaise turned and saw Neville Longbottom, beaten, tired, but with a new air of confidence staring at him intently. "Yes?" Blaise drawled, hand on his wand in case he had to defend himself.

Longbottom didn't answer right away, and Blaise felt as if the other wizard was staring into his soul. He didn't like it. He'd never allowed anyone that close, and to have Longbottom staring at him so familiarly wasn't pleasant.

"Thank you," Longbottom said simply. "We can use all the help we can get."

Blaise nodded once, glad he hadn't been asked to explain his motives, as he wasn't certain he, or the others, could have articulated any. None of them had any great love for Potter and his friends, but this wasn't about that. It was larger than Potter, larger even than Voldemort. Blaise was under no illusions what his world would be like should Voldemort succeed in taking over. Voldemort's regime would have no more love for a wizard who was more sexually gray than straight, than it did for Mudbloods. So, no. He wasn't doing this for altruistic reasons. He was doing this for himself and whomever he decided to fuck nightly.

Longbottom had apparently heard Tracey's comment about Daphne, and pulled the young witch aside, speaking too low for Blaise to hear. Theo and Tracey glared at the Gryffindors who'd moved away from them as if they'd contract leprosy if the sleeves of their robes touched, and settled down close together on a bench.

Blaise decided against sitting, preferring to stand. It gave him just that much of an extra edge, allowed him that small bit of control he needed over his situation. He leaned against the wall, hands loose at his side, inches away from his wand. He could hear the others making plans, ostensibly deciding who would go where to die.

"You stayed."

Blaise glanced quickly over at Terry Boot, noting that the bruises from the Carrow's beating hadn't faded completely yet. "You need a potion."

"I'm alright." Boot moved so he was blocking Blaise's view of the Great Hall, head tilted up slightly to meet Blaise's eyes. "You stayed," he said again, a half smile on his face.

Blaise glanced back at him for a long moment, his face softening slightly. "You say that as if you're surprised."

"I'm not." Boot gave him a small smile, and turned, heading back to his friends.

Blaise watched him go, caught Corner glaring at him as he moved over so Boot could sit between him and Brocklehurst. Blaise looked back impassively, and Corner finally looked away, attention turning to something Boot was saying, something that involved a lot of hand waving and grand gestures.

He didn't remember when his fascination with Boot had begun, not before the start of seventh year certainly. Before that he'd only ever seen Granger, but she'd never looked back. It wasn't until Granger, Potter and Weasley hadn't returned to Hogwarts that Blaise had been able to see beyond her. And once she was gone…he was there, with his smile and curls and tendency to babble on incessantly about nothing and everything and he had this inability to see the bad in anyone. It was infuriating. And yet…Blaise hadn't been able to look away since October.

He didn't have time to think anymore then, as the time limit was up and Death Eaters began storming the castle. Blaise lost track of Tracey and Theo, and caught only brief glimpses of Daphne working side by side with Pomfrey on the wounded. He lost track of time, of the body count, but every time he saw dark hair he tensed unconsciously, only breath again when he saw it wasn't Boot.

Afterwards, he was surprised to see that it wasn't even dawn yet. The battle had seemed to last into eternity. He saw Theo and Tracey, relatively unharmed, helping the Gryffindors tend the wounded, cover bodies. Corner and his mates were conjuring blankets, and random Hufflepuffs were helping the House Elves bring up cold sandwiches and pumpkin juice. But Blaise didn't see Terry anywhere.

He forced himself to catch Corner's eye, and they stared at one another for a long, long moment, before Corner nodded his head in the general direction of the library. Blaise nodded his thanks, and spun on his heel, stalking from the Great Hall.

He found Boot in the Charms section, fingers trailing lightly over the spines. The battle hadn't reached the library, so the place looked the same as it ever did. Except for the bloody, bruised Ravenclaw standing by the bookshelves.

"You look like shit," Boot said, not moving.

Blaise glanced down at his robes, which were bloodstained and torn, a far cry from his usual impeccable look. Instead of answering, he frowned. "Have you seen a Healer Boot? You look as if you'll fall over at any moment."

Boot shrugged. "The Healers have more important things to do right now than patch up a few bruises. I'm fine." His eyes ran over Blaise's body. "You look worse. Have you been to a Healer?"

Blaise ignored the question much as Boot had, and moved closer, until all that was between them was the book Boot was holding. "You never asked why."

"I didn't have to." Boot placed the book on the shelf, leaving no barrier between them.

"Think you know me so well, Boot?" Blaise drawled.

"I know you've been watching me," he replied. "At first I wasn't sure what to make of it, but then I started watching back. It didn't take long to figure out that you were looking at me the same as you used to look at Granger. You're not as subtle as you'd like to think, Zabini." Boot moved closer, and placed his palm on the center of Blaise's chest, looking up at Blaise expectantly. "So the question is, are you ever going to stop watching, and act?"

"Haven't I just done?" Blaise asked, hands loose at his sides, though they itched to card through those curls. Before Boot could answer, Blaise acted like a Gryffindor for the second time that day, and leaned down, capturing Boot's lips with his own. He pulled Boot closer with a hand in the small of his back, and the other hair buried itself in Boot's hair, tangling in the curls at Boot's nape.

Boot's lips were pliant under his, and yielded immediately when Blaise sought entrance with his tongue. He ran his tongue over Terry's teeth, stroked it over Boot's tongue, before pulling back. Boot was flushed, eyes closed and leaning against him. "Fuck, Boot," he groaned, tightening his hold on the other wizard.

"Terry," the wizard in question said, eyes opening. "If you're going to fuck me, you should call me Terry."

Blaise smirked, and placed nipping little kisses along Boot's jaw. "That right?" he murmured, causing Boot to shiver. "Right then, Terry, shall I fuck you here, or in the Tower?"

Boot whimpered, his hips pressing against Blaise's. "Later," he managed to say. "Have to get this book to Pomfrey." He waved weakly in the direction of the book he'd been holding when Blaise first came in. "They need it for Healing Charms."

Blaise moved back, reluctantly, but knew Boot was right. This was not the time. "Later, when this is all cleaned up, you won't be getting away so easily."

"Later, I won't want to." Boot shot him a gaze that went straight to Blaise's cock, before grabbing the book and heading back to the Great Hall.


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama