Strange Allies
1.
Blaise sighed and batted at his hair with a gloved hand. His fingers were damp and uncomfortable inside the dragon-hide gloves, and he could feel dirt smearing across his brow.
He frowned, considering the Polka-Dotted Petulant Petunia in front of him. Every time he tried to prune it; it pulled away, and he was beginning to grow tired of the entire exercise.
He made another pass at the flower and almost beheaded it when it moved away again. He growled low in his throat and grabbed the flower around the stem. "Stay still," he snapped and then yanked his hand away when someone slapped his forearm where his glove didn't quite meet his rolled-up sleeve.
"Stop abusing the flower," Longbottom said. "It's done nothing to you."
Blaise scowled. He considered sulking, but that never seemed to work with Gryffindors. He'd discovered it worked quite well with Ravenclaws and Hufflestuffs though.
Unlike some of his housemates, Blaise wasn't quite so prejudiced against the other houses. Of course Slytherins were superior, everyone knew that, but Blaise could be quite pragmatic when forced to be. Or when he wanted his dick sucked, but that wasn't quite what he was after today.
Maybe tomorrow.
"It's not letting me prune it," he pointed out, forcibly keeping the petulance out of his tone.
"You have to talk to it," Longbottom said, stroking the petals of the flower. "I've told you that before. Be nice to it. Surely even you're capable of that."
Blaise watched between narrowed eyes as the flower began leaning into Longbottom's touch. Clearly this was a Gryffindor flower, if such a thing existed.
Blaise pursed his lips. "I'm not Draco; even I can be nice on occasion."
Longbottom said nothing.
"What's my motivation, again?" Blaise asked.
"Not to fail Herbology."
"Ah, yes." Blaise paused for a moment. "And this is important how, Longbottom?" he asked, brushing his fringe out his eyes with his forearm.
Longbottom sighed, and strangely enough, Blaise knew exactly how he felt. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he attempted to look interested as Longbottom bit his bottom lip thoughtfully. It was quite a full bottom lip, all things told. Perhaps Blaise was interested in a blowjob today.
At seventeen, he could be interested at a moment's notice.
"Look, Professor Sprout asked me to help you," Longbottom began, yanking off one glove and rubbing it over short hair. "But if you're going to be so -- so Slytherin about it, you can get someone else to help you."
Blaise's laugh was low and it rumbled in his chest, quite like the laugh his father adopted when he found Blaise or one of his sisters amusing. "Fine, don't get your trousers all in a twist," he said, wetting his top lip with his tongue. He could still taste the salt from the prawn crisps he'd had during lunch.
He nodded toward the flower and stepped away from the workbench. "Show me how you want it done one more time," he said.
When Longbottom stepped forward, Blaise crowded behind him. Longbottom smelled of earth and sweat and blueberry Fizzing Whizbees, and when he turned to look at Blaise over his shoulder, Blaise smirked. "How do you expect me to learn it if I don't follow you closely?"
Longbottom just shook his head.
2.
Neville sighed and traced circles around his eyes with the tips of his fingers. The dirt on his fingers left little smears as though he had spectacles tattooed around his eyes, and his eyes crossed as he studied the whorls on the tabletop. He had no idea how old the table underneath his elbows was, but the fact that it remained unmarred by the countless generations of students before him was quite impressive. When he felt fingers rubbing against his scalp, he lifted his head and offered a wan smile to his companion. The fingers fells away and across the table, Harry's eyes brightened considerably.
"What's my motivation for doing this again?" Neville asked, the exhaustion in his bones finding release in his voice.
Harry's eyes darted around the empty room before settling on Neville. "We need someone to find out what they're planning," he said. "We need someone to get close to a Slytherin and -
Neville sighed again. "And you really think I'm the man for the job?"
"I always think you're the man for the job," Harry teased.
Neville mustered a real smile this time, which slipped into confusion when Harry suddenly slumped in his chair. A second later Neville felt a shoe rubbing along the side of his leg and he laughed. "You sure you don't want do this one yourself?" he asked as Harry attempted to seduce him with his feet.
Harry nodded. "Absolutely. It's not as though they won't see me coming at a hundred paces anyway, and who could I seduce? Malfoy?"
Neville made a snorting noise. "Don't be daft."
3.
Neville shifted around on the floor next to his bed and peered over the edge again. The green velvet pouch continued to jump around on his duvet cover, and Neville could feel his forehead wrinkling in consternation.
Resting back on his haunches, he considered his options carefully. He could wait for Harry to come back and sort it out, or he could just throw it out the window now, or he could flush it down the toilet.
Or he could act as though he had a pair.
He absently ran his fingers over the envelope the pouch had come in; the envelope opened and closed itself every time his fingers touched the dark blue seal, and the cursive 'Z' glowed brightly when Neville traced it with his fingernail. His gran had Mrs Higgles Heat-Sensitive Charming Wax like this, but she rarely used it and never when she was writing to Neville; he generally warranted a short note on parchment before she went off to her card parties or to have tea with Mrs Oglethorpe, who owned seventeen nifflers and three kneazles.
Neville re-read the note again and glanced again at the green pouch that was jumping around on his duvet. He couldn't recall any spell that could be contained in such a flimsy case, which meant whatever it was was probably alive. It wasn't a terribly comforting thought. He re-read the note once more:
Neville:
My mother grows these in her garden and I thought you might care to have a set of your own.
Regards,
Blaise
He took a deep breath. He was a Gryffindor; he could do this.
Grabbing the candlestick next to his bed, he launched himself onto the bed and grabbed the tiny pouch. He took a deep breath as it wriggled in the flat of his hand and tried to hold the candlestick and untie the golden cord at the same time. Eventually, he set the candlestick on the bed beside him and shook the bag until six little green beans rolled onto his hand.
Neville jumped when one of the beans took a dive off his hand and onto the bed, and then spent the next ten minutes trying to chase the others as they made a break for it as well. He almost lost one to Trevor and had to threaten him with his wand to get it back.
Harry had never brought him flowers, but here was Blaise sending him seeds.
4.
Draco watched Potter watch Blaise watching Longbottom during Double Potions and found the whole thing very trying. After lunch, he skived off Runes in favour of fucking Blaise through his mattress, which was always a guaranteed mood-lifter.
Afterwards, Draco kicked the bedclothes to the foot of the bed and leaned back against the headboard and lit a Northridge Non-Toxic Fag. He stared at the purple smoke as it formed animals and buildings and ships and other objects. Smoking was almost more entertaining than shagging, but not quite, and Draco closed his eyes and thought of gold and Quidditch and boys who thought nothing of tossing over their mates just for a chance to get in his trousers.
He cracked open one eye when Blaise came back from the lavatory and flopped down on the mattress on his stomach. Red scratches criss-crossed Blaise's back and his hair was damp from the bath. "Feel better now?" he asked wryly.
Draco blew a long stream of smoke, which transformed into a Pegasus. "I wasn't out of sorts to begin with," he said.
Blaise just raised an eyebrow.
"Don't start with me again," Draco said, ashing over the side the bed.
"Have I said anything?"
Blaise pushed himself to his hands and knees and crawled towards the headboard. Reaching Draco's side, he reached out to remove the cigarettes from Draco's stomach and smirked when Draco instead grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward.
The kiss was harsh and sharp and smoky, and Draco bit Blaise's lip savagely to mark what belonged to him. When Blaise pulled away he exhaled a small puff of purple smoke, and Draco's mouth curled in satisfaction.
Blaise just shook his head and licked his bottom lip.
"What's my motivation in all this again?" he asked lighting a cigarette and exhaling a plume of smoke that turned into a small owl.
"To help our side, you prat," Draco said.
"And I'm doing this why?"
"Because if you don't I'll hex your pubic hair green and tell your father that you were blowing Hufflepuffs when you should've been doing things for the Dark Lord."
Blaise just made a 'mmm'ing noise.
"And I'll tell your mum about you shagging boys."
"You do recall that she's the one who put us in the same room on your last stay at the house, correct?"
"I'll withhold sex," Draco said.
Blaise just laughed. "I could get that anywhere."
Draco's bottom lip jutted out of its own accord. "You wouldn't really toss me over for a Gryffindor," he said. "And certainly not one like Longbottom.
Blaise took a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. "You never know, Draco. Stranger things have happened."
5.
When Blaise was five and Antonia eight and Isabella nine, their father sat them down and explained to them what it meant to be a Zabini.
He magicked great pictures of their ancestors down from the walls and created elaborate pink and orange and blue visuals to go with his stories. He told them tales of their great-great-great-great-great-great (Blaise lost count how far back it went) grandfather Niccolo who apparently wrote a book called The Prince and was very smart and cunning.
Blaise's father twirled his mustache between his fingers as he spoke and told them that while loyalty was important it was always good to have a back-up plan. He said at the end of the day they should only be loyal to the family, and that everyone else was disposable; he then gave them all gelato and sent them on their way.
An hour later, their mother sat them down again to 'clarify' what their father had gone on about; she was much more concise about it. She stressed what she called 'diplomacy' and warned them that tact was an excellent thing and being obvious was not befitting Zabini at all.
At seventeen, Blaise had yet to have either of his parents proven wrong, so it was quite out of character for him to corner Neville Longbottom in Greenhouse Three and snog him until Blaise couldn't breathe and Longbottom's fingers were in knotted in Blaise's robe.
Blaise pulled away and licked his top lip thoughtfully.
"What what was that all about?" Longbottom asked, gasping for breath and rubbing his mouth with the tips of his fingers.
Blaise frowned more to himself than Longbottom, and tapped his bottom lip with his forefinger. "You taste like pumpkin juice and strawberries," he said decisively.
"Yes, well."
"I'd been quite curious."
"And and you felt that snogging me senseless would make it all go away?" Longbottom made 'incredulous' rather attractice.
"No, but I'm finding all this pretending quite tedious, aren't you?"
"I what wait who " Longbottom sputtered on for several seconds, and Blaise waited until he seemed to have run out of steam.
"I thought you wanted help in Herbology," Longbottom said.
"Yes, well, I'm certain I could use it, but that's not why we're here, is it, Neville?"
When Neville opened his mouth, Blaise covered it with his hand. "Let's not insult each other anymore, shall we? You're an intelligent bloke when you want to be, and we both know that this is not about studying at all. You know, you're actually much easier on the eyes than I'd thought before; I can see why Potter's shagging you."
Neville's eyes bulged for a moment and Blaise smirked as he removed his hand. "You're attempting to spy on me; I'm spying on you. We both know neither one is going to confess anything, no matter how good the shagging turns out to be or how much it would wind up Potter and Draco. All the same, it would be a shame if we didn't get something for all our trouble, wouldn't it?"
During Blaise's speech Neville had alternated between pale and flushed, but when Blaise finished speaking Neville smiled. "Yes, quite," was all he said after some time. "What do you propose?"
Blaise leaned forward and ran his hand from the collar of Neville's robe down to his groin. "It thought it was quite obvious," he said. "Sex."