Ophiomancy part 2

Pairings: Harry/Blaise, Draco/?, Ron/Hermione, and other het and slash pairings

Summery: Dumbledore tries to help unite Hogwarts by showing them that there's a thin line between Houses. He asks those that have been almost sorted into a different House to stand up.

NOTES: Definition of Ophiomancy I found was: (n) Divination by serpents, as by their manner of eating, or by their coils. I'm using it for the title, as in the divination between Slytherins by their mannerisms.

Warnings: Slash. I'm sure you all know this by now. This is your only warning. There might be bits of Het in here too. This fic disregards certain things from books 6 and 7, so it's AU.

Rating: R

Disclaimer: don't own, and won't make money off of this – characters belong to J.K. Rowling.


Blaise, usually so very collected and mature, flopped down sideways on his bed in the Slytherin dormitory and stretched out lankily. The goofy grin on his face didn't falter as he placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the canopy of his four-poster.

"I don't want to know," Draco said shortly. When they entered the room together, Draco had slammed the door in annoyance, mainly from the look on his best friend's face when he saw him again after the talk with Potter.

"Hmm?" Blaise said nonchalantly.

"You heard," Draco said. "I know what that stupid grin on your face means—that is, I'm pretty damn sure I know what it means—so I don't want to hear it."

"Hark, the jealous git of a friend sings!"

"I am not jealous!" Draco bellowed, kicking the trunk at the foot of his bed. "I just don't like the fact that you're cozying up to Potter now! Just because he asked to talk to you and because he was almost sorted into Slytherin—"

"And because I was almost sorted into Gryffindor."

"Don't remind me!" Draco snarled.

"You just don't like the fact that Harry and I may have just as much in common that you and I have. We're still best friends, Draco. Being with Potter won't change that."

"When you say 'being with Potter' you don't mean…?"

Blaise turned his head to look at Draco, who was standing rigid and white-faced with what was probably shock. Blaise looked up, smiling again.

"Maybe," he said.

That had done it. Draco was beyond rage now. He picked up the nearest heavy object he could find and threw it at Blaise. Blaise rolled out of the way, off the bed entirely, so not to get hit. He should be angry at Draco for even attempting to do bodily harm to him, but for some reason he found it amusing. He actually laughed.

Just as Malfoy began to hurl insults instead of objects at Blaise, Zacharias Smith entered the dormitory with his wand raised and a panicky look on his face.

"What's going on?" he said, half terrified.

Malfoy rounded on him, growling. Smith drew back.

"It's okay," Blaise said from the floor on the other side of his bed. "Malfoy's just having another temper tantrum."

"I'LL GIVE YOU TEMPER TANTRUM!" Draco screamed. Somehow, not realizing he was doing it, Draco snatched Smith's wand out of his hand and threw it at Blaise.

"Hey!" Smith bellowed upon realizing that Draco had just tossed his wand across the room. He stared at his empty hand as if he couldn't believe it.

"Come on, Draco, be reasonable!" Blaise said, not leaving the floor. "I'm not technically going out with Harry right now. I'm just wooing him."

"WOOING?" Draco huffed. "I don't care if you're giving him tips on how to manage his scruffy head—YOU WILL NOT GO NEAR HIM AGAIN!"

"Why?" Blaise asked. "What's so bleeding important that I stay clear of Harry? There really is nothing wrong with him, aside from him being a Gryffindor and nearsighted—"

"That's right! He's a Gryffindor! He's also the bloody Boy Who Lived and the Chosen One! He's trouble with a capital T! He's also the Dark Lord's number one adversary! Do you have any idea how the Dark Lord will react if he discovers that you're dating Potter?"

"You mean when I start to date him," Blaise said. He slowly poked his head over the edge of his bed when he noticed that Draco's voice was getting calmer and calmer by the second. He hoped it was safe to stand now, but didn't press the matter.

"Yes," Draco said, still looking put out. "When you start to date him… which will be never if I have anything to say about it."

"Oh, give it a rest, will you?" Blaise sighed. "You can't tell me who I can and cannot date. I will not stop going after Potter just because you're jealous and afraid you'll lose me as a best friend."

Draco huffed loudly out of his nose. Zacharias continued to stand there looking a little lost, empty wand-hand flexing as if on automatic.

"You fancy Potter?" Smith finally said. Draco and Blaise whipped their heads around, almost forgetting that he was there.

"Unfortunately, he does," Draco sighed. "And he won't listen to reason."

"Draco's jealous," Blaise said.

Draco counted backwards from ten so that he wouldn't start throwing stuff again.

Blaise finally stood and waved his wand at everything. The objects that Draco had thrown at him went back to their specific places, and then Blaise picked up Smith's wand and handed it to him.

"You don't have a very tight grip, do you?" he said, earning a sneering look from Smith.

"I'm not jealous, Blaise. Why would I be jealous that you're about to date that arrogant little berk? Not to mention he's such a goodie-goodie?"

"First of all, Draco, Harry was anything but arrogant in that broom cupboard. Second, it's hardly a bad thing to want to do the right thing, if that's what you mean by Harry being a goodie-goodie."

"I see you're already calling him by his first name," Draco sneered.

"Get used to it, Draco," Blaise said. "You'll be hearing that a lot—especially at night. If you're lucky, you may even hear Harry saying—sorry, screaming my name."

"If you think I'm allowing that git into Slytherin, you're mad! And I do not want to even think of you two doing… doing that, so kindly keep your perverted mind to yourself."

Blaise shook his head and sighed. "You don't understand, but that's fine. That just means there's more Harry Potter for me."

Draco threw his hands up into the air. "Fine! I don't care anymore! Go ahead and date him; wine and dine him; shag him, even! Just don't do it here, and don't talk about what you two get up to around me."

"Whatever, Draco," Blaise said.

"Wait," Smith said, slowly. "Zabini, you're GAY?"

"That's what it means when one fancies the same sex, Smith," Malfoy drawled.

"Yes," Blaise said plainly to Smith. "But I prefer the term pansexual. I like to keep my options open."

"It's a little too open, I think," Draco said. "Besides, whatever happened to wanting to get into Terry Boot's pants?"

"That was before I realized how delicious Harry Potter was."

Draco scrunched up his nose. "Don't mention the words 'Potter' and 'delicious' in the same sentence."

"How about 'Harry' and 'cute'?" Blaise smirked.

"No," growled Draco.

"…'Harry' and 'sweet'?"


"Harry and… 'sexy'?"

"God, no!" Draco covered his ears. "Shut up, Blaise!"

"You just don't want to admit Harry's attractiveness."

"No, I just want to keep my food in my stomach."

Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Me too, thanks," Smith said.

"Oh, stuff it, Smith. You don't hate Potter nearly as much as you pretend."

"No, but we're not friends either," Smith said.

"Oh, yes," Draco smirked. "Tell me, just how good of a teacher is Potter?"

"Huh?" Smith said, confused.

"Weren't you in his little defense gang?"

Smith scowled. "So what if I was? That bitch Umbridge wasn't teaching us a single, fucking thing."

"She was against Potter, so that was a plus in my book," Draco said.

"But she was wrong," Blaise said. "Harry and the others had the right to rebel against her—and so did the other teachers."

"Blah, blah, blah… who cares about that now?"

Draco sat back down heavily on his bed and huffed, crossing his arms and legs tightly. Blaise sighed and gave up trying to reason with him. Draco can be really irksome whenever things weren't going his way. But he wasn't about to let Draco's moodiness get in his way of wooing Harry. One way or another, he was going to have Harry, whether Draco liked it or not.


Harry was lying on his own bed, staring up at the canopy, trying to decide whether he should tell his friends what happened. Ron and Hermione, as well as Seamus, Dean, and Justin, were looking at him expectantly, hoping that he'd tell them everything that transpired between him and Blaise, but Harry had kept his mouth shut and his head down as he walked to Gryffindor Tower. The trip into the common room and to his bed had seemed long and he couldn't wait to get under the covers.

As Harry felt his eyelids getting heavy, and felt the soft pull of sleep, he was startled when he heard a low voice near his ear.

"Are you friends with the Slytherin git now, Harry?"

Harry's eyes shot open and he looked over to see Justin staring straight at him, eyes curious and oddly full of concern. He wasn't used to anyone being this close to him while he was lying in his bed—especially after he'd just got done snogging another boy—and he backed up against the headboard and sat up a little more, hand grasping on the nightstand for his glasses.

"I—er, friends?" Harry said, placing his glasses on his face. "Well, um, I suppose…"

"Why're you blushing?" Justin asked, gazing at him.

Realizing that he was blushing made Harry blush even harder. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, not sure what to say, before shaking his head.

"Does it really matter?"

"Does what matter?" Justin asked. "That you're blushing or that you're friends with Zabini?"

"Er—the friend thing," Harry said.

"Well, to some I guess it would matter, but I think it would be okay, as long as you're just friends with him." When Harry didn't answer, Justin's gaze became more piercing. "You're more than friends, aren't you? I knew it."

"No!" Harry said a bit too loudly. "No, it's not that… I mean, Zabini does fancy me, but I'm not so sure what I think of him."

Justin's eyebrows rose. "Did you turn him down or something?"

Harry looked away, cheeks growing hotter. "Er, well, in a way… but, unfortunately, he's going to try to woo me—"

"Woo you?" Justin said, exasperated. Harry looked at him and saw that Justin was looking angry, face red and brows furrowed. "He can't do that!"

"Why not?" Harry asked, dazed.

"Why—" Justin sputtered. "Because I…" He stopped himself from saying anymore and moved away from the bed.

"Because you what?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Justin grumbled.

Before Harry could say anything more, Ron and Seamus were there, in their pajamas, looking confused.

"Did I just hear you right, Harry?" Ron said. "Did you say that Zabini is trying to woo you?"

Harry didn't think now was the right time to be explaining things, but the way they were staring at him made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, and he wanted the case to be closed. Should he tell them just so they could stop pestering him, or should he not say anything, just in case? His silence, however, seemed to do the trick, and Ron wasn't looking very happy.

"He is, isn't he?" Ron said, fists balled. "That arse chatted you up, didn't he?"

"Ron, it's all right—" Harry tried, but Ron didn't seem to want to listen.

"He's a Slytherin, Harry!"

"Yeah, but as Dumbledore proved, the line between houses can be thin," Seamus said. "Zabini was almost sorted into Gryffindor, so that must mean that he has some bravery in him, and a bit of nerve."

"So?" Ron huffed. "Should we just suddenly become friends with him?"

"I never said that," Seamus said. "But Harry did almost go into Slytherin, so why haven't you stopped being his friend?"

"That's ridiculous!" Ron said. "I wouldn't stop being Harry's friend because of that."

"Would you still have been his friend," Justin said, "if Harry actually was in Slytherin?"

The room suddenly went quiet. Everyone was now staring at Ron, waiting for his answer.

"Good question," said Harry suddenly, Gryffindor nerve shining through. "Would you have still been my friend, Ron?"

Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times before saying, "Well, er, yeah… I guess… I mean, I wouldn't be happy if you were sorted into Slytherin, but I suppose I would still be your friend…"

"Honestly, Ron?" said Harry. When Ron nodded, Harry said, "So, if I decided to tell the Sorting Hat to go ahead and re-sort me into Slytherin, you'd still be my best friend?"

Ron looked scandalized. "You wouldn't—there's no way you'd—Harry, are you serious? Would you really get re-sorted?"

"At the moment, no," said Harry honestly. "But what if I changed my mind, huh? Then what? Would you never speak to me again?"

The others in the room stared at Harry and Ron, not daring to speak. Ron finally looked away from Harry's gaze, defeated.

"I don't know what I'd do," he admitted.

"Hey, here's a thought," Seamus said, eyes glittering. "Why don't you try it for a while?"

Harry looked up at Seamus in surprise. "Try what?"

"Being re-sorted into Slytherin," Seamus said, grinning. "I mean, we all know that you're actually Gryffindor, but maybe being in Slytherin for a while might be good. I mean, not that being a Slytherin is really THAT good, but what if it's some kind of… uh… learning experience? You don't have to stay in Slytherin, mind. You could always come back to Gryffindor if you like."

"Yeah, that's an idea," said Justin. "Why don't you go into Slytherin for a while, and you could report back to us about it?"

"I don't know," Harry said. He looked at Ron to see what Ron thought about it all, but Ron still looked defeated. "What do you think, Ron?"

Ron merely shrugged. "I dunno. I dunno anymore. Do what you want."

He walked away from Harry's bed and slowly slipped into his own. Harry watched him with a frown.

"Ron, I didn't mean to… I'm sorry if I upset you—"

"It's all right, Harry," Ron said, his back to Harry. "Do what you want. If you want to be a serpent for a while, go ahead."

"But you'd still be my friend, right? If I did, that is…"

Ron waved a hand at him, back still to Harry. "Yeah, sure. If that's what you want."

Harry frowned, not sure what to make of his friend's reactions. "If it bothers you, though…"

"It's your choice," said Ron curtly. "Do whatever you want."


The next day, Ron's flippancy about Harry being re-sorted wasn't sitting well with Harry, and he ended up moping for a while as he made his way to the library. He had a fifteen-inch essay that was due in Charms and he wasn't looking forward to starting it, especially with thoughts of losing Ron as his best friend. If being re-sorted meant that he had to lose Ron, then he wouldn't do it; only if Ron told him for sure that he wouldn't stop being his best friend would Harry do it.

Before he made it to the library doors, someone grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into an unused classroom. Startled, Harry gripped the handle of his wand, about to pull it out and hex the person, when he was suddenly slammed against the wall and was being snogged hard and deep, hands roaming all over his body. Harry gasped into the person's mouth, about to struggle, when he realized just whom it was that was pressed so tightly against him, kissing the very breath out of him.

Just when Harry shut his eyes and started to enjoy the kiss, the person backed off.

"Still delectable," whispered Blaise.

Harry's cheeks blazed hotly. He gripped at Blaise's front clumsily, bunching up the Slytherin insignia on Blaise's robe, and stared in a daze at him.

"What, why…" Harry tried, but his mouth didn't seem to want to work properly. Blaise gave a low chuckle, and then moved forward to kiss him again, but this time it was gentler.

After a few soft swipes, Harry broke contact, panting harshly. Blaise tried to go in for another kiss, but Harry turned his head away. Blaise laughed at this.

"Still trying to be defiant? That's just fine with me," Blaise said in a deep, promising tone. "I like a challenge…"

Harry pushed him away. "Stop it—I'm not in the mood for your… for this."

"Looks to me like you are," Blaise purred, sneaking a hand over the bulge in Harry's jeans.

Harry gasped and tried to twist away from his grabby hands. Blaise laughed softly, chasing after Harry; although he couldn't grab hold of Harry's crotch again, he did get both hands onto Harry's arse cheeks. Harry let out an embarrassed squeak, and hurried out of the room. He had to get to where there were more people so that Blaise would stop pawing at him…

"What's wrong, Harry?" Blaise called out to him as Harry ran for the library. "I thought you liked it."

A few other students that were in the hall stared and gaped when they witnessed this, and Harry thought he was going to die of humiliation. He could still feel the ghost of Blaise's hands on his arse, his arms, his thighs, his waist, his groin….

Harry moaned out of annoyance and frustration; he was still hard! Face flame-red, Harry quickly marched into the library and tried to find a secluded area. Once he deemed that he was safe, Harry leaned back against a bookshelf, closed his eyes, and let out a long sigh. His heart was pounding a mile a minute—Blaise could have been right on his heels.

He wasn't running because he was a coward, and he wasn't running because he didn't like what Blaise was doing; he was running because the thought of what Blaise was doing to his body, how much control the Slytherin had over him, frightened him. He was so used to being the one in control, having others follow his lead, that the moment his control was taken out of his hands it was suddenly harrowing.

He didn't know how long he stood there against the books, panting. When all he could hear was the sound of his breathing and the loud thumping of his heart, he finally opened his eyes and turned to make his way over to a table so that he could start on his essay. He picked a spot that Hermione often frequented, sat down gingerly—as if he was sore from working out—set his bag off to the side, and started to pull out parchment, a quill, and some ink.

Slowly, he started to write, but he didn't even get one sentence finished when he felt arms around his shoulders and a hot breath in his ear.

"You look lovely when you sweat."

Harry gasped and his hand jerked and knocked over his bottle of ink. Just as he was about to clean the mess himself, Blaise waved his own wand at it and the ink vanished. Harry turned abruptly around in his seat, glaring at Blaise, his chest suddenly heaving and constricting once more.

"Don't do that!" Harry said in a harsh whisper. "We're in a public place."

"No one's around, though," Blaise said matter-of-factly. He lowered himself to Harry's face again, as if he was going to kiss him, and Harry bowed his head so that he couldn't. Blaise chuckled. "You move pretty fast when you want to, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm fast," Harry said, trying to sound defiant, but it ended up weak.

Blaise grinned and sat down beside Harry at the table. Harry grit his teeth and glared at him, hoping he'd take the hint and just go away.

"I was going to let you go, but something kept telling me to come after you."

"Oh, brilliant," Harry said sardonically. "So you're a stalking snake."

Blaise leaned in close, and Harry couldn't help backing away slightly.

"Why do you run away from me?" Blaise asked. "What did I do that scared you?"

"I'm not scared," Harry said brusquely.

"Then why'd you run away?"

Harry chewed on his bottom lip as he stared down at his parchment. He could feel the heat radiating off Blaise. He shifted slightly, trying to get away from it, but only managed to nudge his knee against Blaise's and it made him jump a bit, and then Blaise suddenly had both knees against his, rubbing them together in such an intimate way that it made Harry's face burn.

"I—I wasn't in the mood to—will you stop that?"

"No," Blaise said flatly. He moved a hand onto Harry's thigh. It shivered under his touch.

"This isn't wooing, you know," Harry panted, eyes unfocusing.

"It's not?"

"No," Harry said, trying not to look into Blaise's eyes.

"Then what is?" Blaise said. "Do you want me to buy you sweets and flowers, and send you little love notes? Is that what you want?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but the thought struck him funny. What would happen if Blaise did buy him flowers and candy and send him love notes? Would he like it or would he be even more humiliated? He wasn't a girl, for Pete's sake!

"You like sweets, don't you?" Blaise asked. "I could get you sweets."

"Er, no, that's all right—"

"I'm sure you wouldn't want flowers," Blaise said with a small grin.

Harry shook his head, on the verge of laughing. "No, I don't think flowers is a good idea."

Blaise took Harry's hand into his, and Harry felt his entire body heat up.

"What kind of wooing would you like, then?" Blaise asked, and then he brought Harry's hand up and kissed the back of it gently. Harry opened his mouth to answer, but then left it hanging when Blaise turned his hand around and planted a soft kiss onto his palm.

Harry felt as if he were going to melt and slide right off the chair.


"I don't mind doing our chase," Blaise admitted in a breathy voice. His eyes sparkled as he looked up into Harry's, and for some reason Harry couldn't look away.

"C-chase?" Harry stuttered softly. His heart was now pounding roughly in his ears.

"Yes—you do like it when I chase you, don't you? You're the snitch in the game now. You like running away from my needy hands. You like it when I chase after you."

Harry wanted to deny this, but the words were stuck in his throat. Was what Blaise saying true? Did he really like it when he was being pursued in this manner? Well, he did like it when Blaise finally caught him… did he also like it when Blaise was pawing at him? Did he like the look in Blaise's eyes whenever he stared at him? Thinking back to when he was running from Blaise, he remembered a fleeting glee as he ran, the thought of Blaise being right behind him was a thrill—it excited him!

Oh, shit—he was hard again.

"I—I gotta go," he said hurriedly. He started to put his things away.

"You just got here," Blaise said.

"I—I think it would be best if I finished my homework in the Gryffindor common room…"

Blaise stood and watched as Harry shakingly stuffed his things back into his bag, hoisted it over his shoulder, and turned to leave. Blaise blocked his way. Harry blushed brightly.

"Um," Harry said. "Could you move, please?"

"Pay the toll first," came the amused answer.

Harry felt his entire body flush and he tried not to look at Blaise. "Please, could you just—I don't want you to—"

Blaise's lips grazed Harry's as Harry tried to move around Blaise's body. Blaise followed him, lips still kissing, and as Harry finally got himself around Blaise so that he could make a run for it, Blaise's light touch on his arms stopped him and he was suddenly kissing back, mouths hungry and greedy.

But when Blaise tried to back Harry up against a bookshelf, Harry let out a small gasp and darted out of his arms and hurried for the exit. Blaise wanted to chase him again, just to give what Harry wanted, but he knew it to be fruitless. Harry was headed for the Gryffindor Tower.

He'd never wanted anyone more at that moment.