The Dark Arts
Blaise Zabini/Harry Potter
Blaise Zabini Harry Potter
Drama Romance
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Order of the Phoenix
Published: 06/13/2005
Updated: 06/13/2005
Words: 2,214
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,538

Our Twisted Game


Story Summary:
"Now it's his turn to look condescending, and surprise, she's made him angry. 'But you don't HAVE friends, Blaise, so that really isn't an issue,' he breathes." Harry/Blaise. Het.

Chapter Summary:
"Now it’s his turn to look condescending, and surprise, she’s made him angry. 'But you don’t have friends, Blaise, so that really isn’t an issue,' he breathes. " Harry/Blaise.

our twisted game


The students pay attention when Millicent talks, because she has nothing but clever words and her aggressive attitude to get by in the world.

They even listen to Pansy, with her upturned nose and tilted, pale eyes and the perpetual sneer she mirrors off Draco, because Pansy is sly and entertaining and not pretty enough for it to be distracting.

But Blaise? No one gives a shit what she has to say; they're too busy being drawn to her olive skin and chestnut hair, too busy drowning in her light brown eyes to even notice that she can string two words together.

Draco stares at her boobs when she tries to talk to him; Nott stares at her arse as she walks away repulsed from a failed attempt at conversation with him.

Even the forgettable, nothing Slytherins, both in her year and below, merely gape at her in awe as she passes them, eyes wide open when she says something clever, or funny, or interesting to them.

They don't hear the words. No one does.

She is the only female Zabini in a long line of males. She is a Pureblood, of course, but what she doesn't tell people is that her father's first wife was a Squib. Not her mother, of course, that would have been unacceptable. But her brothers, two of them from her stepmother, are passable wizards. They all are her father's self-proclaimed reason for living, the proverbial apples of his eye.

Yet Blaise is more intelligent than they are, she is more magically powerful, and she understands the subtle world of shifting alliances and twisted words as her brothers never have. Her father doesn't care for her.

Why should he? He has three hearty sons to claim his inheritance, to marry into wealthy Pureblood families and continue his line. Blaise is nothing.

She is a girl, and she is beautiful, after all.


Harry Potter seems to have recently discovered girls, has stumbled upon, in his naturally clumsy way, that there are females other than waif-like Cho Chang who can pique his curiosity.

He stares at Blaise as she flounces past him, walking alone as always, on the way to Snape's lecture. He watches her openly in their NEWT-level Potions class; he has never been discreet about anything. He only tilts his head when she tosses her hair and glares at him while Snape has his back turned.

She supposes if she had suffered through Draco's taunts and Voldemort's attacks like Harry has, it would be a bit harder to deter her from a course, too.

Harry sits alone, as does Blaise. She because she sits alone in every class, and he because Weasley certainly did not make the grades for this advanced Potions class, and Granger because another NEWT class coincides with this one, so she sits in on the Seventh Year Potions class.

Snape spins back around to face the class. "Truth Detection potions today. You will have to work out a complex mathematical formula before you can begin, as it involves several unique variables of the two people who produce this potion." He scans the classroom, and sees the empty chairs next to both Harry and Blaise. "Potter. Zabini. Together. Partners are required for this assignment."

Blaise sighs, and makes no move to collect her things. She has no doubt Potter expects her to come to him, but that assuredly will not be happening. She raises one eyebrow at him when he looks perplexedly in her direction. He seems to finally comprehend that she isn't going anywhere, and picks up his things to sit next to her.

"You just had to tell me, you know," he whispers as he sits, and Snape waves his wand and conjures materials for every group. "I don't mind moving. You didn't have to play mind games on me."

It's the most anyone's said to her in a while, apart from a professor. She is surprised to find herself responding as she sorts the ingredients.

"Hardly mind games, Harry Potter. It's very simple: I didn't want to move, and so you came to me. I win."

He surprises her again by chuckling under his breath, setting the cauldron upright. "Well, you're the girl. I probably would have come to you anyway, if you hadn't been giving me weird looks."

"I'm not the one who's been staring all period, Potter."

"Yeah? Well, I think you're interesting. And it's hardly a crime."

She snorts. "More like I'm distractingly pretty and you want to fuck me."

He appears startled by her choice of words. "I don't! I mean, I do, I guess; anyone would, but I wouldn't. I mean, unless I knew you better. And... you wanted me to?"

"Oh, that was good, Potter. You should write speeches."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm just saying that I'm not overcome with uncontrollable lust when I look at you or anything. But I do think you're interesting. I mean, you're talking to me, right? Unlike every other Slytherin."

She honestly can't help but being a little impressed with the truth in his words. "Surely you've noticed I'm not like every other Slytherin."

"Yeah, actually."

Snape's voice floats over them suddenly. "Potter, Zabini, I had no idea I was breeding a lifelong friendship. Do shut up and work more quickly. We haven't all day."

Blaise glances at Harry and realizes he isn't furious and red-faced at Snape for being singled out, and she wonders if he's finally grown up. Maybe he's gotten used to his isolated little world, just as she has.


When Blaise slides into the DA room behind Padma Patil, Harry has to work very hard to conceal his shock at seeing her. The lights are very dim in the room, and today the students are working on how to extinguish the very mundane but nevertheless debilitating attack of being inundated with a barrage of distracting lights and flashes.

Blaise slips to a corner of the room, making sure her hair falls into her eyes, and nobody else seems to recognize her. She still isn't quite sure why she is at Harry Potter's DADA tutoring, but it isn't exactly like she has anything better to do. Every time she passes Pansy's bed, where a horde of Slytherin girls are sprawled giggling and leafing through PlayWitch, they fall silent and stare at her until she has left the room.

She snorts and feels a flash of déja vu as she waits for Harry to come over to her. She hasn't the faintest idea how to begin the spell, as a colorless pair of Hufflepuffs nearest her had been whispering loudly to each other as Harry was describing the spell to be used.

It doesn't take long for Harry to wander casually over to her. "Hey," he says quietly to her, "I don't want to be rude or upsetting or anything, but you haven't come here to spy for the Slytherins, have you?"

She rolls her eyes, even though he probably can't see the action in the weak light. "My, Potter, was that an attempt at tact? And if I was spying, why the hell would I tell you, the leader of the group I'm supposedly spying on?"

"Alright, I'm sorry."

The words floor her. Harry Potter apologizes to people? Who would have believed? She brushes away these thoughts and asks cynically, "So are you going to teach me this spell or anything? Those idiots there were too loud for me to hear you detail the incantation."

He shakes his head and pulls out his wand and mutters a whispered spell. Lights flash in front of her eyes and almost make her panic, though she does notice they're quite a bit dimmer than the sparkling illumination of other clusters of students practicing, and she has a feeling that Harry has done it on purpose to not draw undue attention to their corner.

"You don't need a spell. You're strong enough...Just imagine you were extinguishing every light at once, and then put all that energy together into one push of magic."

She does it correctly on the second try. "That's perfect," he says, smiling crookedly at her. "I don't guess there's any reason to keep you here any longer. This must be really boring for you..."

She shrugs. "Nothing better in the dungeons to do. I'll stay."

"You could help me, if you want? Go around and teach the others?" He actually looks as if he would be hurt if she refused him. Stubbornly attempting to tell herself that she agrees absolutely on her own free will, Blaise nods and follows him as he makes his way toward groups without lights hovering amidst them.

She keeps her eyes downcast as she helps Harry instruct the students how to hold their wands, and the much more taxing and complicated wand movement and incantation than Harry taught her.

They are all fairly quick learners, but they make stupid mistakes and give up too easily, she notices. She has never exactly taken the time to compare herself magically with her classmates, but it seems, as Harry apparently noted, she is quite a bit more gifted and powerful than the majority of the students.

The meeting ends short of two hours. The students slowly trickle out, some waving to Harry, some stopping for a few words with him, and some ignoring him altogether. She realizes only as the last group of Ravenclaws leave that she probably should have left with the masses.

Now it is just her and Harry, and Blaise ignores the sudden constriction of her stomach. She tosses her hair out of her eyes, finally looking Harry in the face. His hair falls in long locks on his head, and she can still make out the emerald of his eyes through the dull glow of the room. "Where're your friends, Potter?" she asks finally.

"Ron and Hermione? They're... I don't know, actually. I haven't exactly been the greatest friend to them, as of late."

"So much so that they can't even be bothered to come to these meetings?"

He shrugs uncomfortably. "I've been pushing them away rather hard, doing the royal bastard act and all that. I'm sure they don't want to see me any more than necessary by this point."

"Or it's because they don't want to upset you anymore. Try not to be so stupid, Harry."

He grins at her. "Basically, I'm fucked, and I likely won't be around much longer to bother them anyway. So...I suppose I can make the split easier."

She shakes her head in exasperation. "Because that's utterly the best decision for all three of you. Gods, Potter, I'm glad I don't have friends like you, making decisions like that for me."

Now it's his turn to look condescending, and surprise, she's made him angry. "But you don't have friends, Blaise, so that really isn't an issue," he breathes.

Blaise suddenly feels cold inside, and she wonders if that feeling is anger. She has felt irritation, resentment, and pain in the past, but never this icy throb she can feel down to her bones.

Harry Potter isn't worth getting angry over. Isn't that basically what Granger has told Potter and Weasley about Draco over the past years?

Now, though, she thinks she finally understands Draco's obsession with Harry.

Harry is worth it.

"Fuck off, Potter," she snaps, and she is as close to losing it as she ever has been in her life. Nobody has ever questioned her choice of solitude, her indefinable difference to her Housemates. "You wouldn't comprehend the half of it."

He takes a step closer to her. "Better than you think I would, I'll bet. Loneliness? I get it. Being different? Check. The only...the one thing I don't understand is how you're made all the more beautiful for your suffering."

She almost laughs. "I told you when I first talked to you, Potter, that the only reason you would want me would be to fuck me."

Harry looks disgusted with her. "God, Blaise, many people would have sex with me, no strings attached. I'm the fucking Savior of the Wizarding World, remember? I want you because you don't give a damn that I'm famous, and because you could care less that your Housemates shun you. "

"And you don't care that I'm a female, that most people find me very attractive?"

Harry steps earnestly forward, and takes her face in his hands. "Well, I do, of course, but it's... periphery. You're stunning, but you're also brilliant and you don't defer to me, and you're condescending."

She hasn't the slightest idea what to do in a situation like this. She's 16, for Christ's sake, and she has never in her life let anyone get this close to her, come to understand her as well as Harry does.

"Well, thanks, Potter. Those were lovely adjectives to describe me."


"Right, well, Harry, time's wasting and I have a fucked up life to continue to screw up."

He smiles. "My life's fucked up, too. Join the club." He kisses her, and she lets him.

It's a pleasant thought, and Blaise doesn't usually allow herself pleasant thoughts, that someone else in the world might understand.