𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

chapter 2

Chapter Two -

Harry shuffled back to his dorm in a daze. After their little talk, he and Blaise ate breakfast together before parting ways. If he were honest, Harry would admit that he rather enjoyed spending time with the tall Slytherin, but instead he was considering the merit of becoming a pathological liar. It sounded like an interesting hobby. It was like denial without the guilt.

The little voice inside him that always told him who to trust was silent when it came to Blaise. Had it been another Slytherin, he was sure that it would have been screaming 'danger, danger, Will Robinson!' as opposed to melting into a pile of hormonal goo when confronted with those compelling, dark eyes and deep voice.

The fact that he had fallen asleep in Blaise's presence was telling, much less answering his question about just why Harry enjoyed soppy romances. He was perceptive, that much was obvious, and Harry wondered if he had gathered something from the conversation that even Harry himself was unaware of.

And the way that Blaise touched him! Merlin, it was intoxicating. It was strange, the way his gentle caresses had calmed the raging tornado of emotion inside of him. Harry felt utterly relaxed around the other; he felt free to be himself, almost like he knew that he wasn't going to be held up against some pre-conceived notion and expected to measure up to it. He was Harry, just Harry, a title that had never been more important to him.

He shook himself from his thoughts as he rounded the corner and stepped onto the landing that led to Gryffindor Tower. He'd moon over Blaise later; he had best friends to dodge.

---------------------

Blaise stalked the abandoned corridors of the dungeon in silent contemplation. The last thing he had expected when he'd gone down to the kitchens for a late night snack was to run into Harry Potter. Before today, he'd thought about the teen as little as he could, barring the occasions when his name and face was plastered on the front of the Daily Prophet because of some scandal or another. He simply wasn't concerned with Potter or his dealings.

He'd walked into the kitchens only to be herded into a secluded corner by a stubborn house-elf in a pink dress. The first thought on his mind had been a question about why he was being led away from the small table for visiting students until his eyes landed on a small figure, curled into a ball on one of the wooden dining chairs.

Their back had been pressed against the far stone wall, and they perched on the seat precariously, knees bent and delicate-looking bare feet hanging halfway off the edge. Their face was buried in a paperback book with a luridly purple cover and bright yellow lettering that read "Darkest Embrace." Oddly enough, a man and a woman were entwined on the front, gazing into each others' eyes with nauseating affection.

He had been just about to turn around and leave when the person shifted and reached one hand up to pull a lock of hair behind their ear. Blaise had frozen mid-step when the motion exposed a livid red scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on their forehead.

Potter, he had realized. Harry bloody Potter is reading a romance novel. Oh, this is rich.

But, instead of sauntering over and teasing the boy like he'd meant to, the moment those brilliantly green eyes, so often hidden behind Potter's hideous glasses, peeked up at him shyly, his cruel intentions had crumbled into dust and he'd struck up a conversation with the Gryffindor.

And how intriguing it had been! Harry had been nothing like he'd expected. Blaise had known the teen wasn't arrogant, Merlin no, but he'd never put any real thought into just who the person behind the shiny facade of The Chosen One might be.