Loyal and Brave

By: RavenHeart101 and Tathwem Essenuejal

Disclaimer: To disclaim something mean to denounce ownership. This disclaimer is here to denounce ownership. Enough said?

Summary: Being a gay teenager is hard enough. Being a gay teenager whose twin is the Boy Who Lived just makes things more complicated. Throw in the Triwizard Tournament and a lack of good communication and what do you get? Chaos.

A: N – This story has been in the works for ages. It's a little something my friend and I dreamed up while in Trig together this year instead of paying attention. We're going to be doing an every other chapter thing. The odd numbered chapters are mine. The even his. I write for Blaine, he writes for Harry. So this chapter is mine. Got it? Be nice! We're trying to make this a bit more original than most.


Blaine's pencil halted against the paper when Harry sprung up from his bed with a loud gasp. Yet another bad dream, it looked like. A sigh passed through his lips, his hazel eyes looking down at his letter to Wes forlornly. Looked as though he wouldn't get to finish it until after breakfast.

Harry's hand was covering his scar, his face scruntched in a pain filled curiosity and confusion. Blaine wondered what it was about this time. Death or distruction? As much as Harry acted as though this connection to Voldemort didn't scare him, Blaine knew otherwise. And even if he couldn't see through his brother, Blaine was sure he was scared enough for the two of them.

Blaine carefully folded the letter in half, pushing the lead back into the pencil with his finger and hiding them under his mattress. As much as the Dursley's favored him over Harry, Blaine knew it would become the opposite the moment they found out about his... attraction to other men. At the moment, Wes and David were the only ones who knew, and Blaine was planning on keeping it that way for at least a while longer.

Blaine sighed once more when Harry didn't so much as look at him, his brother leaning down to pick up a book before slamming it shut angrily. Blaine couldn't begin to understand what Harry was going through and, to be completely honest, Blaine didn't really want to. But he swallowed his pride and asked anyway. "Bad dream?"

Harry grunted, his head falling into his hands, the limbs pressing against his scar, as though to alieviate some pain. Blaine swallowed, shifting his eyes uneasily, his hands playing with his blanket. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Maybe it was that scar that made things between the two of them so awkward. Or maybe they were just too different to really be a like, but all Blaine really knew was that things between them had started diminishing the moment they were placed in different houses at Hogwarts and Harry grew close to Ronald Weasley. He flushed in something a kin to guilt and embarrassment when he realized that Harry would most definitely tell Ron all about his dreams while poor Hufflepuff Blaine Potter was kept in the dark. Perhaps this whole thing was his own fault for not being as brave as Harry.

But Blaine quickly shook those thoughts from his head. He was plenty as brave as Harry, he just wasn't as brash and spontaneous. Remus had made a point, last year, of telling him how much he was like Lily, their mother, while Harry was more like James, their father. "Maybe you should write Sirius." He suggested meekly, happy, for a moment, when Harry's eyes snapped to him in confusion. "Tell him about your scar." And the dream, Blaine added silently as Harry tore his gaze away from his with a nod.

Really, Sirius Blaine was probably the best person Harry could write to. The man was his godfather, just like Remus was Blaine's. And really, out of what Blaine had heard, he was a nice guy, if a little messed up. But that was what Azkaban was famous for doing to people.

Harry stopped for a moment, slowly turning around to face Blaine, his green eyes holding a question. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No." Blaine sent him a reassuring smile, relieved when Harry sent one back, even if it was a bit shaky. "Harry?" The older of the two turned back to look at him, eyebrows raised in question.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" It seemed like a valid enough question, considering what had just happened. Yet Harry simply looked at him in confusion. "I mean... that's not normal is it?"

Harry shrugged in response, falling into the desk chair and pulling a piece of parchment towards himself and beginning to write. Blaine figured that was the end of the conversation, falling backwards onto his bed with a heavy sigh. His eyes drifted closed and he reminded himself: three weeks. Three more weeks and then he'd be back at Hogwarts. Then they'd both be back home and free from the Dursley's and questions with no way of finding the answers. In all senses of the word, they'd be as close to free as they were going to get.

"Hey Blaine?" His eyes snapped open, his head turning towards Harry's general direction. "Do you think Voldemort could come back?" Harry's voice was tinted in fear and Blaine didn't know what he was supposed to do. Was he supposed to comfort Harry or tell him about his growing fear that Voldemort may be coming back? He had tried twice so far, what was stopping him from trying once more? His silence was enough of an answer to his brother, his pen scratching over the parchment and his voice grim. "Yeah... me too."

Three more weeks. Three more weeks and they were free.


Breakfast at the Dursley's was always a tense affair. When they were younger, and not allowed to sit at the table with the rest of them, Harry and him would play a game. They had to be silent, of course, bt they played their game. They would imitate each member of the family as they ate. It was all good fun, but now, with things as awkward and different as things had become, any meal with the Dursley's was full of tension. Blaine thought it was so thick sometimes that it could be used as a brick to break anything.

Harry and him sat at one end of the table, the Dursley's all sat squished on the other. Uncle Vernon's bulldog face was hidden behind the newspaper. Aunt Petunia was going through some letters from her informants on the gossip mill. Dudley was seated strategically to see the television and was shoveling food into his mouth with vigor. Harry thought it was kind of funny. Blaine thought it was disgusting as hell. He heaved a deep sigh and pushed his food around his plate. He wasn't very hungry, at least not when he magic was pounding in his veins and warning him about something. Definitely not when his aunt had seemed to purposely make foods involving dairy products. He was still feeling sick from dinner the night before. The doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon lowered the paper to give him a pointed look but Harry's hand on his leg told him not to move. Blaine glanced over at him briefly, watching as Harry pushed his remaining grapefruit over onto his plate (because if Dudley was on a diet they all were). Blaine ate what he could gratefully as Uncle Vernon glared at the two of them before pushing himself up to answer the door.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked him gently – kindly – and quietly. Blaine sent him a small half smile.

"I'm fine." At least Blaine knew that no matter how awkward things got between them that Harry cared.

The sound of laughter and some quiet talking floated into the kitchen before Uncle Vernon waddled back in, glaring at Harry with what was obvious annoyance. Blaine shifted in his seat, his eyes falling onto the envelope covered in stamps before Uncle Vernon shoved it into his pocket, and unfurled the letter that had been inside of it. He felt curiosity mix with dread; there was surly only one reason why Uncle Vernon's face would be so purple and his glare so insistent upon Harry. The incessant need to protect his brother filled his veins, filled his senses and Blaine's muscles tensed up, ready to jump into action. But he didn't. Goodness he really was a bit of a coward wasn't he? His fists clenched against his sides, the fork beginning to clang softly against his plate. "This just arrived." Harry glanced athim from the corner of his eye, and Blaine forced his magic back down, meeting his gaze for a short moment, the two of them looking back at Uncle Vernon at the same time.

"So?" Harry had an endless amount of bravery it seemed, opening his mouth and saying what both of them had on their mind.

"So..." Uncle Vernon's eyes snapped towards him and Blaine almost slinked farther into his chair at his gaze. "It's about you." And, by you, it was obvious that Uncle Vernon meant the two of them. But who would send a letter about them to the Dursley's? Hogwarts, perhaps? Though that was absurd since they had never sent a letter to the Dursley's before (well besides that one time when Harry and Ron had stolen that car and crashed it into the Whomping Willow).

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth, an annoyed look on his rapidly purpling face, and began to read:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley (1),

We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry and Blaine about my son Ron.

As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World Cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband, Arthur, has just managed to get prime tickets through his connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

I do hope you will allow us to take Harry and Blaine to the match, as really this is a once-in-a-life-time opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the Cup in thirty years, and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have the twins stay for the remainder of the summer holidays, and to see them safely onto the train back to school.

It would be best for the boys to send us your answer as quickly as possible in the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house, and I'm not sure he even knows where it is.

Hoping to see the boys soon,

Yours sincerely,

Molly Weasley

PS. I do hope we've put enough stamps on.

Uncle Vernon shoved the envelope towards them after a moment of deliberation. "Look at this!" His face was contorted like a bad tempered bull dog, yet he wasn't very scary. And yet, still, Blaine couldn't bring himself to say a thing. "The postman thought it was funny. He just had to know who sent it."

Harry barely stifled a laugh, Blaine, however, couldn't hold one back. His hand clamped over his mouth when Uncle Vernon's eyes turned directly onto him. "Who is this woman anyway?"

"You've seen her. Picking up her kids at the end of the school year last year." Harry replied evenly, and, either Blaine was seeing things, or Harry shuffled a bit closer to him, nearly sitting directly in front of him. Blaine had no idea why he would do such a thing, unless, of course, Harry's ever present hero complex was showing up again.

"That dumpy woman with all those children?" A flare of annoyance crept up Blaine's spine.

Blaine felt Harry stiffen in annoyance. "Yes, Uncle Vernon." He rushed to say instead. Harry shot him a look – one that clearly said 'shut it' – and looked at Uncle Vernon with frustration before his expression cooled.

"So can we go?" Harry asked. Uncle Vernon surveyed them for a long moment.

"What exactly is this... Quidditch?" He spat out.

"Well it's a sport-"

"Played on brooms." Harry sent Uncle Vernon a sickly sweet smile. Blaine tensed. Why his brother insisted on baiting their uncle, Blaine would never know.

Their uncle sputtered for a moment and Blaine knew they were at a standstill. Uncle Vernon hated doing anything that would doing anything that would make them happy. And he hated having them around. So... either he would let them go just to get rid of them, or keep them there to make them more miserable than before. But, considering his fear of Sirius Black, Blaine didn't find it too surprising when he gave them the okay.


"Hey Blaine." Harry's voice called out voice called out hesitantly from where he was kneeling before his trunk. Blaine's head snapped up from his book, his knees pulled up to his chest so that the hard cover rested on them. A gift from Hermione for his birthday. Blaine was pretty sure the frizzy haired girl was the only one of Harry's close friends he really liked. Ron was, to put it lightly, an idiot and Seamus was simply too... teenage boy. He would say things that would make Blaine's face match the Gryffindor colors spectacularly. Neville was okay, if a bit daft, Blaine just didn't know him all that well. Finn seemed to have something against him and he really was less bright than Neville, but Blaine had the feeling that if he bothered think about anything other than Quidditch he would be fairly normal. But Hermione... she was definitely the one friend of Harry's that Blaine liked. Harry, on the other hand, didn't seem to like any of Blaine's friends... or try to.

"Yeah?" He spoke quietly, per usual most of the time, placing his finger in his book to hold his place.

Harry rolled his shirt into a ball before shoving it into his trunk. "Do you really want to go? I mean... Quidditch isn't really your thing."

Blaine rolled his eyes at his brother. "Just because I don't like heights doesn't mean I don't like the sport." Harry flashed a smile at him, rolling another set of clothing into a ball and shoving it back into his trunk.

"You okay with staying at the Weasley's?"

"I'm sure I'll survive." Blaine let his eyes fall back onto the page in front of him. You are a wonderful creation. You know more than you think you know, just as you know less than you want to know (2).

Harry laughed softly. "I'm sure you will." The trunk fell closed with a loud sigh. "Fred and George love you. I have yet to figure out why."

"It's my charm."

"Ah." Harry hummed. "The non-existent Potter charm."

"Non-existent for you. Plenty existent in me." Blaine winked at his brother, a small smirk pulling at his lips as he flipped a page in his book.

"Why aren't we-?" A crash from downstairs alerted them to their visitors. Trading looks Blaine watched as a beaming smile crossed onto Harry's face – one that Blaine was pretty sure he ever inspired – and the elder of the two jumped off of his trunk and nearly sprinted out the door. Blaine followed at a much more leisurely pace, choosing to take his time to glance around the room once more.

It wasn't as though he hated the Weasley's, he just didn't particularly get along with the one Harry was closest to. He never would understand why Ron resented him so much, Wes seemed to think it was some sort of messed up jealousy, David seemed to think Ron was simply an ass. Blaine was more inclined to believe David's side of things, but that could have something to do with the fact that when they met on the train Ron dismissed him the moment he realized he wasn't the Boy Who Lived.

Fred and George were wonderful, truly they were. They were simply hazardous to one's health. They reminded him of a less subdued Jeff and Nick, which really wasn't that pleasant of a thought. A small smile passed over his face at the thought of his own friend's. Wes and David were a year ahead of him, and yet they were the best friend's Blaine could ever hope for. They were a bit like the brother's he never wanted. He was happy enough with the one had had since birth. Jeff and Nick were the Gryffindors out of their group – the comic relief one could say, even when they did have their more serious moments. Actually, now that Blaine thought about it, the two were horrendously clever. And then there was Santana. Blaine wasn't exactly sure how his relationship with her had been born, and he wasn't exactly sure that there was a relationship. She was nice enough, when given the chance, and she was fiercely loyal. Yet she seemed to have this deep seated resentment towards Harry, which only managed to make things a tad awkward between them. Santana and Blaine were really friends out of necessity, not through actual liking.

So maybe Blaine had a bit of a bigger social circle than Harry, but his brother had this habit of closing off to anyone that tried to get close to him. Not as though Blaine wasn't the same way, but he was a tad bit easier to read. Or at least that was what he had heard from his potion's partner, Kurt Hummel, last year.

Now Kurt Hummel was another story all together.

"Come on little badger!" Fred – and really Blaine was pretty sure it was Fred because of the birth mark that was placed next to his nose, small but definitely there – grabbed his wrist, smiling widely at him and hauling him and his trunk out the door, George greeting them at the bottom as Ron and Harry went up to their room to collect Harry's things.

"Hello, Blaine." Arthur Weasley positively beamed at him and, oh yes, Mister Weasley seemed to think Blaine was some sort of Muggle genius ever since he had taught him how to add gas to his flying car back in their first year. "Excited for the Cup?"

"Yes sir." And, really, he was. Blaine honestly did like the sport, he just hated heights with a burning passion. No way in hell was anyone getting him up onto a broom stick – he had enough trouble getting onto the stands to watch the games. "Your projects going well?"

"Positively! I'll have to borrow you from the boys a bit and have you help me out, eh?"

"Of course, sir." Blaine smiled politely. He really did like Mister Weasley – his bubbly personality was a bit too contagious.

Just then Harry pounded down the stairs, Ron following not long after with his school stuff, his brother falling into place beside him, that happy smile still on his face as he watched the Weasley's interact with the Dursley's. And was... Dudley eating something off the floor? Blaine wrinkled his nose in disgust. He would never live to understand his oaf of a cousin. Honestly, how he managed to make it that far in life was beyond him.

And then Dudley let out a loud scream. Blaine jumped back into Harry, nearly causing the two of them to fall over, but George caught them and shoved the two of them into the fire place, Ron joining not a moment later. Then Blaine saw them: dozens of brightly colored candies littering the Dursley's living room floor and a small wink that Fred sent in his direction. His wide, hazel eyes searched out Dudley once more, watching as he tongue seemed to expand, growing longer and longer. Blaine thought for a moment that he looked a bit like a snake who had eaten an elephant for lunch and had yet to digest it.

"Ron get them to the Burrow!" Mister Weasley ordered, and Ron obeyed. Blaine wondered if there was anything that Ron didn't follow orders on. Oh yes, he remembered now: de-gnoming the garden.


Blaine trudged behind the rest of the Weasley's on the way to find the portkey, shoving a piece of Molly Weasley's biscuits into his mouth as he searched through his bag for his glasses and wand. Of course he was running late – Blaine blamed it on Harry, of course – and of course he was stuck trailing behind hi brother blindly. Per usual.

In case anyone was unaware, Blaine was not a morning person in the least.

"Come on, Blaine!" Hermione's voice called out to him from somewhere ahead. With a triumphant sort of sound Blaine pulled out his glasses and wand, shoving the black rimmed plastic and glass over his eyes and his wand into the pocket of his jeans, tugging the biscuit out of his mouth and running a bit to catch up. Hermione's head of frizzy hair turned to face him, revealing her beautiful brown eyes and a sparkling smile. "How was your summer?" She linked her arm through his, Ginny following suit on the other side of him. He had a feeling that they were simply spending time with him so that he didn't feel so lonely, but he wasn't about to push them away. Their efforts were working.

"As wonderful as it could get with the Dursley's." He replied, smiling easily at the two girls as they pushed passed his brother and Ron, moving to walk behind Fred and George, which Blaine wasn't sure was entirely safe considering just who the twins were. "Thank you for the book by the way. I love Oscar Wilde."

Hermione positively beamed at him, yet, before she could so much as utter a "you're welcome" Mister Weasley was yelling out a kind hello to someone up ahead of them.

Never had Blaine cursed his height deficiency as he did at that moment. "Amos!"

"Arthur! Took you all long enough!" The jovial man slapped Mister Weasley on the back with a loud smile. Blaine wasn't particularly sure how a smile could be loud but he was pretty sure this Amos was smiling as loud as he could get. "Cedric!"

"Boys – and girls – this is Mister Diggory." Ah, that made more sense than. Cedric's father, Blaine guessed.

And how right he was, Cedric almost literally falling from the sky, his feet bouncing off the ground and his body landing directly in front of Blaine and the girls. He jumped back, Ginny letting out a tiny shriek before laughing at herself. "Hello Blaine." Cedric had a brilliant smile. Blaine forced himself to swallow and look away, a blush spilling over his cheeks at the thought that he had a crush on Cedric Diggory, quite possibly the straightest boy at Hogwarts.

"Hell-Hello." He stuttered out, cursing his inability to really speak. But Cedric seemed to pay his discomfort no attention, turning around to greet everyone else. Really, Blaine was beginning to really despise being gay. If he was straight he could have a crush on someone like Hermione or Ginny. That would have been perfectly lovely and easy.

"What exactly is a portkey?" Blaine asked Hermione under his breath once Cedric had fallen ahead to talk to Fred and George.

"It's a device that was created to bring magical people from one place to another. Sort of like the floo only not. And since none of us can apparate it's a nice substitute."

"How will we know what it looks like?"

"They're usually inconspicuous objects so that muggles don't find them and accidentally travel to places they shouldn't be." Hermione winked at him, nudging his side. He didn't really know what he had done to cause the wink but he blushed once more when she nodded in Cedric's direction, to where the other Hufflepuff was smiling in his direction at something Fred had said.


The Quidditch game was marvelous. The portkey ride most definitely wasn't. It had felt as though the world was closing in on him at all sides and he literally had left his stomach back where they had grabbed onto the boot. He was pretty sure he would have thrown up his breakfast if he had had more than half a biscuit when they landed. On their backs. With the world swimming before his eyes.

But, anyway, the game was fantastic, and, at the moment, Blaine was happy to lay back against his bed in the enchanted tent and rest a bit. He let the noises of the celebration outside the tent wash over him. He heard Harry teasing Ron about his love for Viktor Krum, singing a bit to himself as he did. He wasn't really sure what he was singing, only that it came from somewhere that had him feeling safe.

His eyes snapped open at the bang from outside the tent. He sat up in his bed when Mister Weasley pushed Fred and George off of Ron and told them to quit fooling around. Harry's eyes sought out his own, the fear he so purely felt reflected in their depths. "Come on!" Ginny grabbed his shirt and pulled him out of the tent and into the night air.

It was chaos. Pure chaos. People were screaming and running, some firing curses and spells and pushing them all into a tiny group. Blaine ran when he was pushed to go, reaching out for Harry's hand only to have it pulled away from his shortly after. Panic seized his chest when he saw the men and women in black capes and white masks. "Harry!" He called out blindly, turning around on the spot.

"Blaine!" His brother's voice came from somewhere to his right and he turned to face it. Only to be hit with a bright flash of white and he was tumbling backwards into a warm body and a tiny squeal, darkness clouding all edges of his vision until it faded. He could have sworn the last thing he saw was an angel with blue eyes and a Slytherin crest.


(1) Taken word for word from GOF on page 30. Not mine.

(2) From The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. Once again, not mine.

A:N - So... what do you think? Want more?