A/N: I did this as a request. Yes, I do accept requests. However, I do not like 3-person fics (99.9999 percent of the time). I'll do this one, but that's all I'm up for. I realize the style changes a bit throughout the piece (okay, so drastically). If you don't like it, don't read it. This is Harry/Draco/Blaise. (via: animeangel088, who is going to delete her account tomorrow) Also, I wrote 99% of it in the past hour or two. It has not been beta'ed or anything, so I'm sorry for any mistakes. RATE AND REVIEW (obnoxious caps = importance)!
This was the set-up: halloween fluff oneshot; angel for Draco, vampire for Blaise, and whatever you want for Harry
NOTE: I am going to do a Draco/Harry and Draco/Blaise most likely where I use the same descriptions for costumes but set up different senarios.
Draco's shakily finished with the last button on his shirt - at least, the last one he planned to button. The shirt firmly sat from his hips half-way up his torso, outlining every muscle on his toned body. From there up, it parted slightly, the unsteady edge wobbling back and forth, revealing pale, unmarred skin. The sleeves dragged on the edge of his wrist with the cuffs folded back, yet white melted with white as unmarked, blindingly white gloves were slipped onto his hands.
Low, faded jeans clung to his hips and arse, and fell loosely down his legs, the frayed threads at the bottom dragging lightly on the floor in a sweet caress. Compared to the luminous white of absolutely everything else, though they were worn as if with time, the jeans contrasted a brilliant blue, only rivaled by his eyes.
The ghostly shade of his skin and Roman-like features only lead to his ethereal look. He looked too perfect – his delicately pointing chin and defined cheek bones could have made him carved out of marble. Contrasting his snowflake skin were his lips, luscious and surprisingly rosy, even in the room's dim, dancing lights.
Hair as white as the color of his heavenly clothes fell in soft, perfectly cascading waves down to his chin, curving with his face. Several strands draped down over his right eye and he had to brush it gently back with trembling hands.
Yet what would make Blaise and Harry's mouth drop was his pride and joy; on his back were two wings. They spread out grandly, feathers ruffling as air carelessly brushed against them. It had taken weeks of meticulous, painstaking reading and obsessive practice to get them like this. The spell was much beyond the reach of anyone in their years, and it had taken every ounce of his patience to learn to make every detail perfect.
He made his way down the stairs and met Blaise with those piercing eyes, wings fluttering happily as his heart leapt. The gape on his lover's face was worth every moment of gritting his teeth in frustration and constant profanities. 'And to think,' his mind purred, 'Harry always reacted more than Blaise.'
Contrasting the blonde's costume – an angel purer than a heart of gold – Blaise's eyes bore into his skull, yellow and glowing like a candle in a dim room. A wicked grin revealed a set of teeth reaching to fine points. What he wore was extravagant, yet in way a different than Draco's.
An elaborate cape swirled at his feet, the outside a rich black velvet and the inside a rich, blood-red. It reached to his neck, the high collar folding out like a half-cone. Beneath Blaise wore a white shirt, thin and clinging to him, though the muscles Draco knew all-too well were there lay hidden beneath a V-shaped, red vest. The pants were black and reached down low enough to barely leave the tips of his black shoes uncovered. A cane was in his hand and he casually leaned against it, waiting for his angel to approach him.
"You look fantastic," Blaise drawled, attempting his usual air of nonchalance, but betraying a slight note of awe.
"As do you." Draco placed a light kiss on the other Slytherin's cheek and smirked. "Pompous bastard." And it was true in a way. Blaise refused to hold himself but in the proper Pureblood manner, back straight and gait graceful as if walking on thin air. The way he brandished his cane reminded Draco all too much of his father's aristocratic behavior.
"You know you love it." Another kiss was placed, now on his lips, and Draco further leaned in until his body was as close as possible. His wings rippled in delight. A hand cupped around Draco's chin and another tangled itself into his hair, not disturbing the silkiness despite its desperate grip.
With timid reluctance each pulled back, though eyes were still locked and burned with mischievous flames. "We can't keep Harry waiting," Draco reasoned as a hand went to pull him back. Blaise sighed impatiently, but agreed, taking solace in the hand wrapped in his, fingers entwining.
They made their way down, ignoring all the stares they got and having eyes only for each other. Although, had anyone taken a picture, they wouldn't have been able to deny, it was an odd sight. Draco's surpassingly beautiful splendor and uncanny purity was clashed brilliantly by a dim, dark face, creamy like chocolate and chillingly wicked. They did make quite an unusual pair.
The sight that met their eyes was unlike any other. While the Great Hall hadn't been decorated much, the assortment of costumes was amusing. Muggle depictions of wizards and witches flitted around the crowd as well as other vampires, though none matching up to Blaise's aristocracy.
Still, the candles held an eerie light and hung barely over everyone's heads, each releasing enough light to barely engulf more than a person or two beneath them. From the bewitched ceiling, shafts from the moon beamed down upon them, and the empty armored suits made their way around with unnerving creaks.
Among the crowd, it should have been difficult to spot Harry out. Yet within minutes, Draco and Blaise were sauntering over, Draco's face impassive and Blaise's ever-so unsurprisingly holding that defined smirk.
Harry was standing with punch in his hand, staring around him and shifting from foot to foot, obviously lost in his own world. He didn't even seem to notice when a girl and a boy, dancing to the Weird Witches song now playing, bumped into him. Instead he continued absentmindedly fingering the cup and tilting his head. His body swayed to the beat of another melody, one slower and more trance-like.
"He looks so –" Blaise began, his voice dripping with a fond taunt.
"So much like a Gryffindor?" the other Slytherin suggested. Blaise gave a light jerk of the head, and Draco pulled him into a brief kiss. Yet true to his personality, Harry was dressed in a knight's costume. He wore silver armor which sparkled spookily with the dim candle lights. Small, warped figures bent in it, dancing with every twitch of his muscles. A mask curved around his eyes, the black velvet contrasting the emeralds which lay beneath it.
Suddenly, his head turned around as if some unknown instinct told him that Draco and Blaise were standing behind him, admiring him from a distance. If Blaise had gaped, Harry's jaw had dropped to the floor. He ran awkwardly to Draco and wrapped his arms around the blonde as best as he could. "You look amazing," he breathed in Draco's ear. Pulling back, admiring eyes ran down Draco's body, eyes twinkling greedily.
"Like what you see?" Draco proudly purred. "I knew you would."
"Full of ourselves, are we?" Harry teased.
"Not more than usual." Each smiled, lost in thought before a third voice interrupted.
"Planning on sharing the love?" Blaise, as always, drawled.
"Maybe…" A peck met Blaise's lips, yet as he went to pull back, a hand pulled the Gryffindor closer and went through his messy, raven tresses. Several strands were pushed into his eyes, and the hand gently pulled back to wipe them away with as light a touch as one would tears.
"I see you began the party without us?" Draco interjected.
"Draco, darling, in case you didn't notice, the entire school started without you."
"Since when did I give you permission to call me darling?" He said the last word in disgust.
"Well, Pansy calls you it and I don't see why I can't."
"The only reason Pansy calls me it is because the only way to stop her from calling me it is to hex her, and I think that'd get a bit dull after a while, don't you?"
"I'd love to see you try and even hex her," Blaise chuckled. Upon receiving glares from both of the two others, he quickly switched topic. "So, how'd you pick your costume, O' Chosen One?" The Slytherin-eyed boy merely scowled.
"It was Hermione's idea."
"Ah, and where would she be now?" Blaise and Draco craned their heads to see where Harry was pointing.
"I can't see. The stripper's blocking the way," the blonde whined.
"If I weren't so occupied with guys, I would totally hit that." Blaise was smirking. A loud smack hit his head. "Oy, what was that for?" His hand reached up to rub the sore spot.
"It's because you just said you'd hit on Hermione, you prat. Plus, I happen to be one of those guys you're 'occupied with'."
"No, I didn't. I only said I'd hit –" Blaise's head swiveled over to the dancer, who was avidly grinding up and down Ron. Whether he looked more frightened or pleased, none of the three could tell.
"You have got to be kidding me." Draco was the first to speak. "That can't be Granger."
"Well, I may or may not have spiked her drink." The wink was accompanied by a smirk.
"Harry, when did you start breaking the rules?" There was a thick note of mock surprise in the vampire's voice.
"Well, he does learn from the best." For a heavenly angel, Draco was rather devilish.
"True, true." Harry rolled his eyes at the both of them.
"Let's just go dance." With a tug on his angel's arm, he pulled the blonde toward him, the chocolately hand of the other boy grasped firmly his right. Eyes would follow them, entranced by the winged beauty, his knight in shining armor, and the horrifying count, with his gleaming yellow eyes. Occasionally, those same eyes would move down as arms wrapped around waists and up again as they tugged at each other locks, playing a friendly game of Ping Pong. Yet the boys were oblivious; they only had eyes for one another.