Greenhouse Category: Stargazer
Quidditch Team: Appleby Arrows
Position: Beater #2
Pairing: Blaise/Hannah (Romance)
The first time he saw Hannah Abbot - really, truly saw Hannah Abbot - was when she was running away from the Inquisitorial Squad and he chased after her.
He had never been keen to become a member of the Industrial Squad, in the first place. He had been coerced into it by Parkinson and Malfoy, and he hadn't been in the mood to argue with them then.
So when he caught her little wrist in his hand and turned it around and she started crying and begged him to let her go, he didn't argue with her and instead, he released her hand.
He wasn't good at dealing with crying girls, anyway.
The next time he saw her, she was, again, crying. He had never been much good with words, so all he could manage was a snarl. "Have a habit of crying, Abbot?"
Malfoy later told him, with glee, that her mother had been killed by Death Eaters and it served her right for being a Mudblood.
Tracey described the ache in his heart as guilt; he knew she was right.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, as soon as he saw her again, this time on Professor Dumbledore's funeral.
The guilt had been eating him for days (months) and he was glad to be done with it.
She didn't reply, however, preferring to ignore him, which suited him well.
He was sitting by the lake, staring at the rowdy, dark green waters of Hogwarts when she came and sat next to him.
"You must be happy, all of you Slytherins, with the new regime - this was what you always wanted, wasn't it?" she asked him, looking up at him, almost shyly, yet boldly.
"Maybe," he replied back ambiguously, not really in the mood to talk.
"What do you mean, maybe? People around you are getting tortured, killed and that's all you have to say?"
"Would my saying anything stop them from getting tortured?" he asked, almost sarcastically.
"No, but you doing something might, Blaise."
He had decided, long back, that he may detest Mudbloods and blood traitors but he didn't want to be a Death Eater, either. To be honest, he wanted nothing to do with the war because it didn't make any difference to his life, irrespective of who won or lost.
Yet, it did end up changing his life significantly. It took away his only friend at Hogwarts, Tracey Davis, who was often caught on the wrong side of the Carrows for being a half-blood and ran away within a few days.
She had never been exceptionally brave and he couldn't blame her - not really.
However, he did blame the Carrows, for hurting her, for nearly killing her, and for leaving him alone in the castle to rot away like the old Nott senior.
That's why he took Hannah Abbot's words to heart and decided to retaliate.
There was an uproar, a rebellion, and nobody knew who caused it. There, written on the grey, smeared wall of Great Hall was a message - Dumbledore's Army, still going strong.
But the panic, the uproar, the rebellion was not caused by the message. It was caused by the colours the message was written in.
Green and silver, for the first time ever.
"Why did you do that?"
He looked up and saw her walking towards him, dressed thinly, clad in basic Hogwarts robes, in the middle of the snowy winter.
"Do what, Abbot?" he asked, though he knew very well what she was talking about.
"The message - you wrote it, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did." He didn't bother denying - he knew she wouldn't turn him in.
"Because they took away the only girl I could ever trust, the only friend I had," Blaise told her, his voice still devoid of any emotions.
Yet, she felt something in his honest blunt words and from that day onwards, decided to become his friend.
After all, Hannah Abbot had always been known to see the good in people.
"Why are you following me around, Abbot?" he almost snarled at her, and she looked up at him bravely.
"Because I feel like talking," she said simply, sitting down next to him. He said nothing. He was almost - almost - growing used to her constant presence.
"You know, I don't think McGonagall is that bad any more. I used to be really scared of her -"
"No wonder you weren't a Gryffindor," the joke escaped his mouth before he realized it and she laughed and really, that was the start of it.
"How come you don't have many friends?" she asked him, one day, ever so casually.
"Because I can't be bothered with them?" He shrugged and she refused to believe him.
"No, tell me honestly," she pleaded him.
"Honestly, I don't know, Abbot. How many questions do you ask in a day, anyway?" he replied, irritated.
"Well, you hardly ever say anything on your own, so the only way to get a response out of you is to ask questions."
He kissed her, harshly, passionately, erotically, biting on her lower lip and than upper and she moaned against him.
He nipped at her neck, his teeth pressing into her collarbone and soon she was tearing his clothes, begging him, pleading him to take her over the edge.
The war was raging on and the whole point was to feel something - anything.
At least for him.
(Certainly not for her.)
She didn't know how and when she started falling for him, really.
They were friends, somewhat, and that's all it had started as.
But slowly, almost cunningly, he had made his way into her heart - he spoke little, gave almost non-cohesive replies, yet his words always surprised her.
There was so much more to him than he let on, and Hannah felt like she wanted to spend more time with him - more time than she shouldhave wanted to, anyway.
Yet, she had kept her gradually-building feelings in her heart, not wanting to encourage them, not willing to acknowledge them - until he kissed her.
And that's when Hannah knew he felt something, too. Nothing, after that, he said or did, could stop her heart from soaring high. He liked her too and her heart had accepted that, leaped in that, and there was no looking back now.
"When will this war end, Blaise? I don't think I can take it any more. I'm just so tired - tired of fighting, tired of the killings, tired of the crying," she told him, upset and tired.
"I don't know," he answered, not knowing the answers himself. "I'm sick of it, too. I just wish, life could get back to normal, the way it always way." He was speaking more to himself now than her, voicing, for the first time ever, the effects the war had on him.
She leaned into him and he started kissing her, again, and the whole point was to get lost, in another world and forget what was going on around them, for a few moments (hours, days, months).
"I have decided that I'm not going to participate in the war," he told her and she wasn't surprised - not really. She was angry, though; some part of her was angry at him for being a coward and running away like this.
"Why?" she asked, almost yelled. "I thought you hated this war as much as I did, Blaise. I thought you wanted this to end. I thought you hated the Carrows - why aren't you fighting against them?"
"I don't want to die, Hannah," he said, using her given name for the first time and that, for some reason, made his words all the more impactful for her. "I never cared for this war. I hate the Carrows, yes, and I'm not in favour of the Dark Lord, either, but I never wanted to participate in this war and I can't. Goodbye, Hannah."
He kissed her, and she, unwillingly kissed him back.
She didn't want him to go. But it didn't seem like she had any choice in the matter.
You might find Blaise a little confusing in some bits but that was intentional. I tried to make him mysterious, moody and real. Real people don't always respond the same way, they can be confusing, they make mistakes and they do the right things too and that's how everyone is, really. I hope that comes across :)
A special mention to colorful swirls who always does an amazing beta for all my stories - check hers out too, they're amazing!
Please do leave a review, it would mean a lot to me :)