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christmasspirit01 - 02 January, 1999. Lavender and Blaise begin to settle into what might hopefully become a new routine.
Written with oodles of love formywitch.
Originally Published: 2021-05-12 on LJ / DW. It's been pre-dated in this journal for ease of use.
Words: 10.2 k
Rating: Mature
Characters: Lavender Brown (8G, no longer Ron's bit on the side or anywhere else), Blaise Zabini (8S), Theo Nott (8S, completely exhausted friend), Parvati "'Vati" Patil (8G, Lavender's best friend and roommate), Pansy Parkinson (8S, observant friend)
Mentioned: Professor McGonagall (Headmistress), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Gregory Goyle (8S, gentle giant), Tracey Davis (8S, gifted Potions student), Harper Hutchinson (7S, gifted Potions student seriously in need of Knuts), Draco Malfoy (8S, Potter's), Harry Potter (8G, Draco's)
Greyback attacks Lavender during the battle of Hogwarts. While she thankfully isn't killed or, worse, turned into a werewolf by the assault, she's left with a number of scars, an expensive craving for barely cooked meat and a noted lack of control over her impulses come the full moon. The next one is only a day off.
01 September. "his (eighth) first day of school". (LJ / DW / AO3) The Headmistress removes the customary House tables from the Great Hall and assigns students seats at much smaller, mixed House tables. It's greeted with as much enthusiasm as one might expect.
31 December. "out with the old" (a couple of castle encounters part 2). (LJ / DW / AO3) Lavender comes to Blaise's rescue Thursday night and winds up hexing a few Ravenclaws in the process. Worthless shites. As that makes her plan to celebrate Hogamany in the Eagle's tower substantially less appealing, she welcomes in the New Year with Blaise instead. After nearly decimating Lavender's bottle of Ogden's, one thing eventually leads to another, and, well, both have plenty of steam that could do with a little blowing off...
Somewhere around stupid o'clock, Blaise wakes, incredibly sore, and with the way he's wired, the things he'd dreamt and above all the night he'd had - Merlin, Lavender... - it's hardly surprising that he has an erection that will make relieving his bladder all but an impossibility. Fortunately there are charms for the latter and potions and salves for the former. Having sorted the most pressing issue, he's left considering how best to deal with the erection. Hmm. He's an eighteen year old male with a wand, or technically two; it doesn't take him long to come up with a solution, although he does spare a fleeting thought for the energy required to see a certain Moggie satisfied later today. On the other hand, thoughts of her are primarily what fuel his... solution, so it's essentially a fait accompli. C'est l'amour.
After, he lies there panting in his bed, trying to put together a list of potions he'll need - for himself and for Lavender; he can be considerate like that - and realises that he doesn't have close to everything he wants, which means he'll need to trouble Theo for the rest. The only snag is Theo hasn't made it back yet. Hestia and a nearly full moon? It's little wonder. Where Blaise had only understood that in theory before, after last night, he's come to better appreciate the ramifications of... having a partner who'd been infected by a lycanthrope. Heavens.
And he's very much looking forward to having her again.
To make sure that happens, he needs to see to it they're both in... fighting shape tonight. Blaise sits up and runs a hand over his scalp as he tries to focus - potions and such - and then has a good rummage through his trunk to check his supplies, lest he'd forgotten something... No, it's as he thought, he'll need Theo. Since Vince's... Since Vince is no longer with them, Harper and Tracey had begun brewing for the House, supplying the others with potions, but Theo is the one who keeps the stores for their room. Blaise figures he'll need a couple of things. The only useful thing he has is Muscle Mender, which she'll definitely need - mercy, her thighs - but at the very least, some Hangover Helper and Pain Reliever shouldn't go amiss... He tries not to think about where she'd need what in too much detail, or he'll be right back where he was a quarter of an hour ago, taking matters in hand.
Fortunately Theo comes figuratively crawling into the room about then, looking very much like he'd been ridden hard and put up wet, a fact Blaise can't seem to let pass unremarked. Smirking, he asks, "Did she throw you out?" There's no bite to it, though. After last year, there's virtually no jockeying for position amongst them anymore. And with things the way they are in the castle, they need every wand at their disposal.
"More like wrung me out," Theo sighs happily as he flops onto his bed. "And then threw me out," he grins like a mad fool. It suits him. "I certainly wasn't going to argue with her, not at this time of month." Personally Blaise thinks Hestia wields the wand in the relationship at any time of month, but there's little point in saying so. Plus it probably isn't sensible to antagonise his roommate when he still needs to get the potions off him.
"Mate, before you drift off..." He checks the parchment Lavender had given him and applies the Glamour - he has a fair few bites, bruises and scratches he doesn't really want to explain - and then he crosses over to Theo's bed in an effort not to disturb Gregory with their conversation. With the way Gregory sleeps, he needn't have worried. It doesn't take long for Theo to get the things his friend needs, and soon Blaise has an armful of jars and phials, some for him, some for her, some for both - just in case.
"I don't suppose you'd also have a bottle of Blishen's I could buy off you? Premium?" With the year they'd just completed, Theo doesn't even comment on the request with respect to the hour, which is a little sad. Sure, Blaise has his reasons, but one might hope enquires after Firewhisky before matins would still earn him some raised brows.
"Sorry, no. Draco might," Theo suggests, indicating the remaining empty bed. There's no sign of their roommate; unquestionably off canoodling with Potter. Good for him. Literally. As the only one - remaining - amongst them to have taken the Dark Mark, eighth year was proving incredibly difficult for the Prefect. It was good that he had an outlet. It was good he'd found some happiness, negative repercussions be damned, no matter what Blaise had said to Lavender about the inherent drawbacks of relationships with Slytherins in the present political climate. But that would have been too personal, sharing his insights into Draco's private life, too much like a betrayal of their friendship. And of course he and Brown were hardly the same sort of thing...
He withdraws to the lavatory to take his potions and shower, and then sets about putting a care package together for the witch and applying his salves. The thought is he might disturb his roommates less by doing so here. Or maybe there's a hope it will keep them from noticing and asking inopportune questions, whichever. A prudent wizard takes measures to create his own good fortune.
He thinks long and hard about sending her the Bruise Salve, there's something dead sexy about the idea of her walking around the castle thoroughly marked by him... Unhn. Yes. And he has a sneaking suspicion she'd enjoyed being marked. (The howling did rather give it away...) As he has the room to himself, he drops the Glamour and examines his reflection and decides, at least in this case (his vanity is a force to be reckoned with), he does too. Yes, he very much does.
He stands there admiring a clear impression of her teeth on his shoulder... A weak Healing Salve will see to it it doesn't become infected and lingers for him to enjoy for a while yet; her Glamour will ensure it remains their secret. But if he's going to allow something like that to stay, Glamour or not, getting the blemishes had to have been worth it. As he's still smiling at the memory of how he'd received them, it's a pretty good indication these most certainly had been.
By contrast, he doesn't hesitate to apply Dittany to his lip and is pleased to see the cut close, although he can't help noting the wound is indeed smaller now than it had been after his Healing Charm the evening before. Brown was clearly on to something with that Glamour of hers, and he reevaluates its priority on his mental list of things to learn more about.
However tempting the thought of a marked witch may be - fine, very - he's not an idiot and he's also come to understand something about the after-effects of the werewolf attack she'd survived. It's entirely possible by the light of day, she isn't as enamoured of the marks he'd given her as she'd been last night. It's best to let her decide for herself. Either way, as long as she has options, he thinks the end result will be better. Which isn't to say he doesn't feel a twinge of regret as he includes the Salve in the little hamper he Conjures.
Hurrying slightly to finish his errand, he summons an elf and is able to prevail upon it to deliver the package to the Gryffindor tower. Curfew, while not rigidly observed for the eighth years - and certainly not during the hols - is technically still in effect, there's nowhere much for her to have gone at this hour. Blaise smiles as he considers that she was also fairly exhausted by the time she'd headed bedwards, thoughts as to why only set him to smirking. Yes, he imagines chances are very good he won't have missed her.
He smiles some more as he pictures her reaction to his little gift.
Lav is just stretching herself awake when a small woven bowl of potions and salves appears on her nightstand. As the stretch revealed just how sore she is - goodness - it isn't unwelcome, far from it, and she descends upon it rather eagerly. She's reasonably sure who it's from, a small square of paper with nothing but a '- B.' on it confirms it as far as she's concerned, and she smiles, thinking both about the little token of Blaise's esteem and the wizard who had sent it. That lasts until she determines that was the whole sum of the writing involved. Not a one of the phials or jars is labelled, the idiot. She doesn't happen to be in N.E.W.T.s Potions, thank you kindly, and she hasn't a clue what half of them are. Brilliant.
She's reasonably sure she's identified the topical Pain Relief, and assumes the other is Muscle Mender, Ron had used that often enough. They're similar enough to confuse on a good day, something she can't help thinking is a bit of stupidity right there, but she's fairly convinced they're both going more or less to the same general vicinity and doesn't give it much further thought. The Bruise Salve she identifies easily, that at least was distinct, except looking at the handprints visible on her hips - mercy - she doesn't think she'll be needing that particular Salve. She does blush some at the thought but generally feels quite pleased with herself as she puts the little hamper on her bed and continues to sort through her haul.
It appears Blaise's gesture will have to remain largely one of those 'it's the thought that counts' things, because aside from the Hangover Helper, soon gratefully quaffed, she isn't able to identify anything else. It probably doesn't matter. Had she felt the need for something specific, one might think she'd be better able to identify it. Yes, that seems probable. Or at least she'd have had a list to work from, more likely that. So as she sees it, she isn't really missing out on anything, and begins to entertain notions of leaving the Salves lying about amongst her things as a sort of super secret reminder of the previous night. No one would know what they represent, and it might help to take her mind off the abysmal situation with Ron, who she absolutely positively did not just think about... Well, not more than briefly.
And then it comes as a bit of a shock to realise how many hours she'd gone without doing so.
Blaise had been such a lovely way to take her mind off of... well... things. That seems a much better way to regard... yes, things. Consciously she steers her thoughts away from such problematic areas and very naturally they alight on the oh so pleasant night before, and soon she's pressing her thighs together at the recollection... which is about the point their tenderness begins clamouring for attention, but then that was presumably why the Slytherin had sent her the salves in the first place. She smirks at the thought he might be in similar shape, and then begins to grin a touch wickedly at the realisation she'd have done that to him, and with a nod to propriety draws the bed-curtains closed to see to her own aching muscles, and, um, equally tender... bits. Decidedly those.
And it might have remained at that, a bit of strictly medicinal application of salves and nothing more, had she not confused the Muscle Mending Salve with the Pain Reliever. The latter on her thighs, while not as helpful as it would have been had she gotten things right, doesn't cause any issues. It isn't until she applies the Muscle Mender - there - and her skin turns bright red (with the Salve's characteristic audible 'Oooo!') that she realises she'd got them wrong. Too, too stupid really, she should have remembered that from when Ron used the stuff... Er, he-who-shall-not-be-named. Him. When he used it, there was always the 'Oooo!' followed by... She doesn't even have time to worry if her... well if that was going to stay red, that would be embarrassing, when the colour fades into some truly unflattering, thoroughly garish stripes (complete with the attendant 'Aaaah!'). The least they could do is run vertically; although on consideration that might have something to do with the direction of application. Hmm. And right about there she discovers the stuff tickles. Rather a lot. She's flushed and warm and, sure, there had been some very nice dreams about a proverbially tall, dark and handsome Slytherin... And somewhat overcome in the moment, she allows her hands to roam.
It isn't long before her own 'Oooo!'s and 'Aaaah!'s rival the Salve's, and this too wouldn't have had much significance, it's hardly the first time, except it very much is since she and... well since she'd stopped seeing her ex, she's rubbish at Privacy Charms, she hadn't even remembered to try to put one in place to begin with, and as the hour is sufficiently advanced, 'Vati is now very much awake.
Lav emerges from behind her bed's curtains looking thoroughly tousled to find her roommate grinning at her.
"I forgot the bloody Privacy Charm," Lavender groans.
"You go, girl!" 'Vati greets her with a chuckle as Lav hastens to straighten her hair. Fortunately she knows a fair few charms for that sort of thing. "No worries, I'm just glad to see you're in better spirits. Happy New Year, by the way."
Latching onto that, Lav has no idea why people always act like she were so slow, she replies, "I resolved to put that chapter firmly behind me. Fresh starts and all that."
"And last night's... plans of yours had nothing to do with that?" Her hand gestures vaguely in the direction of Lav's bed, and the blonde pinks violently in reply. Barely noticeable - if one were in an entirely different room that is. Luckily it's just the two of them here for the holidays. "Where'd you get off to anyway?"
Which is about the point when Lav recalls dispatching a Patronus saying she'd tell her everything in the morning, and then immediately remembers how she and Blaise had agreed to keep everything on the down-low. Damn. So she explains instead about how she'd hexed the Ravenclaws and thought it best she not appear at their party, and the suggestive message? Said purely for other people's benefit. One never knew who was listening. She'd spent the evening watching the fireworks in Hogsmeade from the roof, enjoying the bottle of Ogden's that Seamus had sent her. As it's now standing very nearly empty on her nightstand, 'Vati looks more than a little alarmed. "I'm fine," Lav assures her, but there'd been too much lying last term for her friend to feel certain she can take her at her word.
That worry persists until breakfast, when it's supplanted by another as 'Vati begins to notice Lav's unsubtle looks in a completely unexpected direction...
They haven't got the tables they usually do in the Great Hall during the holidays, and without their assigned seats, it hadn't taken long for the students to resume grouping by House. That was probably to be expected, but it frustrates the Headmistress nevertheless that that's the result of her social experiment after an entire semester. It would be wiser to focus on the number of students still mingling amongst the Houses, but sometimes overly ambitious goals - to say nothing of unrealistic ones - make it difficult to frame things properly.
After the rather spectacular fallout with Ron, well, the two witches had quite naturally taken to sitting further away from him. That almost by default had put them deeper in Slytherin territory given the number of them who'd remained at school over the hols. A handful had parents in Azkaban, a few had families who appeared to have permanently relocated to the continent, a couple had lost the family homes to the Ministry in reparations, too many were now effectively orphans, and presumably some others had stayed in solidarity with the rest... It didn't really bear thinking about or it left one altogether less than festive, hardly ideal conditions for maintaining the holiday spirit. But whatever their individual reasons for it, there were certainly a lot of them here, and today Lav can't seem to stop staring at Zabini of all people.
Zabini, the Slythiern manwhore, at least if the stories in the Ravenclaw tower are to be believed, and 'Vati suspects they are, at least to an extent. It's definitely worth asking Padma about them, because she isn't sure what to think.
Worse, watching the Snake as she is now, he doesn't seem to acknowledge the blonde's presence once, which is infuriating. She can only hope this is one of Lav's infatuations, in which case that would be perfectly fair really. The Slytherin couldn't help that...
Lunch passes much the same; it isn't until dinner that she catches Zabini winking at Lav - just the once, and only because she was watching him like a hawk - and begins to suspect that either something had transpired between them, Circe's left tit, or the Slytherin isn't beneath leading her roommate on having noticed her interest. (But then how could he not? The blonde has never been subtle.)
When she has Lav's attention once more, in something of a whisper she asks her friend, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She can't help thinking there'd been a fair bit of transference involved in Lav's relationship with Gaston, and while he'd indisputably been good for her, 'Vati would hate to see that happen all over again, at least with such a himbo. She can't imagine Zabini wouldn't take fullest advantage of the opportunities a rebounding Lavender presented.
Lav blanches, realising that 'Vati has twigged to her nascent... whatever it was with Blaise, and then even more so when it occurs to her it means her roommate knows she'd lied. Again. She trips over herself apologising - it isn't as though she likes lying to her best friend - and fortunately 'Vati is more concerned than upset. When Lav finally swears her to secrecy, she agrees with no reservations.
Thus reassured, as if 'Vati's silence were the only concern, Lavender begins throwing regular glances in Blaise's direction, smiling at him shyly from time to time. 'Vati keeps looking back and forth between the two. The Slytherin is far more subtle. If she had to judge based just on his actions, she'd couldn't tell there was anything between the two of them at all; if she didn't trust her roommate on these things implicitly - Lav's a romantic, not a fantasist - 'Vati would find it hard to believe there were anything to it at all.
But there Lav sits, looking his way again and sighing contentedly.
Say what one might about the Snake, 'Vati hasn't seen Lav this happy in a long while, and the boy certainly is pretty.
A few hours later, Lavender meets Blaise on the Astronomy Tower as arranged. She's flattered to see he'd evidently arrived early, and has already Transfigured them a couch - much longer tonight as its intended purpose clearly isn't for viewing pyrotechnics anymore, but for creating some of their own. Beside it stands a small table, complete with a couple of glasses and a bottle of some wine or another. Knowing Blaise, it's probably good, and she makes a mental note to compliment his taste, even if she can't pick out those berry and chocolatey notes people always went on about. (His robust and in part redundant Privacy Charms - for which the Baron would be grateful - understandably go unremarked.) Anyway, his arrangements are sweet enough that she doesn't think twice, she sort of falls into his arms and snogs him most thoroughly.
Her inhibition in greeting surprises him, he'd expected more reticence. In as much as she then takes a seat on the couch and quite apparently doesn't appear to mean to proceed in that fashion, however, it puts the whole salutation very firmly in unaccustomed territory. Kisses that don't lead anywhere are still decidedly odd. Pleasant, he'll allow that without hesitation, but nevertheless odd. Instead she sits there smiling and begins thanking him effusively for his present this morning and the preparations now. Considering both had seemed imperatives - anything less would have been uncouth - he initially waves the thanks off, but she simply redoubles her efforts and it finally dawns on him that she definitely means it, and it's rather nice being appreciated. In consequence he soon finds himself giving her thoroughly pointless but pleasant kisses of his own. There's something to them.
Eventually things become heated enough that those kisses become more... directed. Less than twenty-four hours from the full moon, Lav couldn't have held back at this point had she wanted, and the wanting involved - there's plenty - is aimed in a very different direction. She fumbles with his belt buckle briefly before Blaise comes to her rescue. He has every intention of leaving his trousers on for the moment, but he's determined to take his lead from her, and the belt obviously needs to go. For one thing the buckle was too large and ornamental - a Christmas gift from Pansy - and at the rate they were going, someone was likely to get hurt. For another the belt limited her access, and he is anything but an idiot, cheers. (Well, sometimes.) He suspects, however, that removing his trousers could prove daunting at this point; he knows now she's a good deal more shy at the outset. He has little doubt how things will end - at least in broad strokes - but he plans to give her as much time as she needs to actually get there.
He likes that about himself. He loves knowing things about his partners, and he delights in learning them. He prides himself - perhaps too much so, but then everyone is flawed - on being a good lover. A very good lover. That requires self control, situational awareness and excellent attention to detail.
Given that attention, he quite naturally doesn't miss the half worried, half aroused look she gives the length of black leather as he pulls it through the loops on his trousers. It has him immediately rethinking just chucking it to the side, and in "full flight" as it were - the woman is too cute - he puts it to use.
The witch, or maybe more accurately her inner wolf, doesn't hesitate for a moment to return the favour.
The aftermath of their first coupling is less comfortable tonight than it had been this morning, and Blaise doesn't fail to notice that too. The lashing had been enthusiastically received at the time, but afterwards... She's quieter, and withdrawn, and back to pulling her cloak tightly around her. This time it's accompanied by repeated glances in the direction of her bum, the deeply red stripes between creamy wales on that glorious heart-shaped arse of hers quite evidently not the least to her liking.
He'd allowed the fact she'd left the bruises his hands had made on her hips last night to mislead him as to how comfortable she was being marked. The other issue of course, is that this obviously needn't be the final result. He's a wizard, after all, and she's a witch. Still naked, he takes his now customary seat behind her, straddling her and gently pulling her back against his chest. He's relieved when she soon yields and leans into him, not that that seems to solve the problem, but it shifts the issues he needs to address to less troublesome ones if she clearly still trusts him and finds comfort in his arms. He chastises himself when that thought sets him to nibbling softly at her neck, and with a soft moan she sags into him even further, his hand half automatically slipping between her legs and beginning to tease her.
First things first. Focus, man.
He tries to remove his hand, but she catches his arm and attempts to hold him there, whimpering as she arcs into his touch. It's blazingly tempting, Merlin, and he feels the world's greatest fool, but experience shows the sooner he addresses her problems the better their sex will be as a whole. It would seem he wants more than just another tumble, not that that had been in any doubt, really, but this is a very deliberate decision towards that end. Sorting misunderstandings too much after the fact had led to some exceedingly mediocre sex in the past. As the last year had amply demonstrated, life is much too short for mediocre sex, and besides, the two of them together can do much better than that, he's sure. He also may be banking on her wolf working with him to resolve the witch's issues; in a few days time, that presumably wouldn't be the case anymore, and he suspects now they're more likely to come the desired result. Either way, he means to have a stab at it.
His arm fixed in place by her vice-like grip, his fingers still, eliciting a whimper of another kind - her wolf may even have growled - but he remains firm in his resolve. At least for the moment. "Soon, Lavender. We can get to that soon. Tell me what's wrong first." Growl, that was definitely a growl. He adjusts his approach. There's a fleeting touch, a more pleased and pleasing whimper, he nips at her ear and whispers lowly, "I promise to fuck you thoroughly, witch, but only if you're a good girl and tell me what's wrong." When she answers with another of those appealing whimpers without him needing to touch her again first, he decides he's found the happy medium. He rewards them - both - with another brief caress that leaves witch and wizard wanting more. She's dropped her cloak again, a sure sign the wolf is back in play.
It's an interesting constellation, and bears some resemblance to a threesome, he decides. It reminds him of the early days with his Ravenclaws when they were still becoming acquainted with one another, learning each other's likes and dislikes... It was necessary to please each respectively for their coupling... thripling to work, but their preferences weren't always compatible... Having mastered that in the past, he's confident he can manage the situation now, he simply needs to apply himself.
Her inner wolf, he thinks, takes no issue with anything they've done, on the contrary, he's reasonably certain she was the one chiefly dictating their behaviour. He feels sure the witch is the individual he needs to address and to do so sensibly, without the wolf's interference, he resolves not to keep nibbling on her delectable neck, to say nothing of allowing his hand to pleasure her further... Without his sexual advances, the wolf soon retreats, the witch grows more taciturn, until her gaze lowers, studiously attempting to ignore his hand between her thighs and stare at their bare feet on the flagstones.
"Lavender, speak to me," he commands her gently.
But without the wolf, so much easier to please, instead she begins to sniffle, her sniffles soon giving way to tears.
Hmm.
He'd done a little reading about this this afternoon, so he isn't unprepared. The fact it had been only a little reading was entirely due to the absolute dearth of information available on the subject, shockingly enough, particularly considering the number of affected at the castle that he knows of alone. By dinner he'd been nearly desperate enough to ask Theo for some insights, but he hadn't wanted to explain why he needed the information, certainly not after having agreed to keep the affair to themselves. But casually fishing for how things were going with his roommate and Hestia unfortunately had only got him so far.
Lav's tears quickly reach the point where she's sobbing uncontrollably. This. This is easily half the reason she'd never tried this with Ron before. The wolf makes such an incredible mess of things. This was a horrible idea. She has very little control over her emotions when the moon is full. A day more or less seems to make little difference, even less so when she's naturally agitated. She's about to tell Blaise that, and that it's all his fault because they decided to meet again tonight - which may be misremembering a few things, but then that, too, is part of the problem; her wolf isn't a stickler for accuracy - when, after a couple of hastily applied Cushioning Charms, he scoops her into his lap and cradles her.
"Lavender, shh, easy witch. Tell me what's wrong." He gently wipes away her tears. "Shh. Take it easy..." In the face of such tenderness, it isn't long before her sobs abate, leaving her sat there hiccoughing, but still she offers no explanation for the waterworks, in part because she doesn't understand them herself. "Don't make me use Legilimency," he mock scolds and, shocked, her hiccoughs stop.
"I thought you couldn't?" She asks, a little worried.
He laughs, "Quite right, but it got you talking, didn't it?" He smiles gently, and she finds herself trying to muster one in return. Hmm. Well. That will take a little work. But it's good enough for the moment. "Now why don't you tell me what's wrong?" He asks as he rocks her gently. It's subtle enough she doesn't even consciously notice what he's doing, but she enjoys the feeling it gives her.
"I liked it," she finally admits quietly.
"Ah yes, I can see where that's a problem." That was a misstep as she starts to shut down almost immediately; he can feel her muscles tensing as he holds her. "I wasn't teasing you, Lavender," he nuzzles her gently. "Not at all, I wasn't being the least bit facetious. I really do understand how that can be a problem." His thumbs gently remove the tear tracks from her cheeks and he kisses them softly when he's done. He thinks the easiest approach will be to treat the witch and her wolf like distinct individuals - it's certainly simplifying how he looks at the issue, perhaps it can do the same for her - and so he asks, "Are you uncomfortable that the wolf liked it, or is the problem that you liked it too?"
She stares at him, a little surprised that he's willing to distinguish her from those impulses she can't control. She isn't even sure it makes sense to do so as there apparently will never be one without the other again. This is the new 'her' now, a composite being. As far as she'd been concerned, the only thing to be done for it was to take herself out of circulation a few days a month. So far 'Vati had been good enough to see to Privacy Charms, and any excesses had gone largely unnoted by anyone else. Letting her wolf run wild was something new, and Lav can't say she's sure she likes the creature's tastes. Except, unfortunately she sort of did, and now is sitting here - a mite uncomfortably on her thoroughly striped rear - fervently wishing she hadn't.
And so her thoughts come out in a jumble.
She doesn't like this whole S&M thing. Well... except for the bits she did. (The former is certainly not a deal breaker for him, and he's perfectly happy to explore the latter at her leisure.) She isn't comfortable with having liked it. (He's very nearly expert at working through that.) She isn't a doormat, thank you kindly. (The furthest thing from it, the thought had never crossed his mind. And the one had nothing to do with the other by the way.) And she isn't happy with still more blemishes to her hide, she was mangled enough, cheers. That's more complicated. He'll need to work on her self-image another day, but the immediate problem is easy enough to solve. Blaise Summons his robes, gropes around in his pockets until he pulls forth a small satchel of salves.
"You don't need to keep the marks, Lavender. You can enjoy one aspect of a thing without having to enjoy them all. Think of it as an à la carte selection..." He hadn't planned on doing this tonight or he'd have brought a different salve, but he can improvise, and between the Dittany and Pain Relieving Salve he explains he can have her arse as good as new in moments.
Or could do if he didn't first have to manoeuvre her around what appears to be vestigial catholic guilt.
That one was new.
He hasn't encountered that before. Repression was one thing, but thinking she must now keep the welts as some form of punishment because she'd enjoyed receiving them, all the more unhappy as she didn't like actually having them in the least... He thinks somewhat ungenerous thoughts of her family for that result. It takes him some effort to convince her she's entitled to her pleasure, and the logical consequences should - quite logically - be no better or worse than those she chose and they were capable of producing. "If there's a Salve for it, if there's a Charm for it, unless you want those marks, there's no earthly reason for a witch to wear them." He kisses her repeatedly as he massages first one cream and then the other into her cheeks, and soon they are milky as ever, if perhaps a bit rosy from the increased circulation and attention. He greets their return with a gentle goosing that makes her giggle.
Somewhat academically at this point, she questions if removing the results wouldn't diminish the pleasure in receiving them, apparently planning ahead. He refrains from asking if she isn't better equipped to know the answer, pleased that she at least seems to be willing to acknowledge the enjoyment she hadn't wished to before. "I think you'll be fine. For you, this approach addresses your wants and needs as they arise in turn. And I don't imagine your wolf will like it any less either. She didn't seem to object now. Bear in mind, as far as wolves are concerned, they usually heal very quickly." Or at least that's true for the lycanthropes, but he delicately avoids mentioning the creature that had done this to her.
In illustration he drops his Glamour to show her her teeth marks on his shoulder. "Sometimes it's nice to keep a reminder, as a sort of a souvenir..." Lav's pupils widen at the sight, and her wolf seems back in force.
Mine.
Want.
It doesn't last.
"But some things just aren't practical, or the repercussions aren't pleasant, and that's when it makes sense to do something about it. It doesn't mean I liked the process any less as it was occurring..." He lies down on the couch, turning slightly as he speaks to show her what she'd done to him with the belt, and she's appalled. Where he'd left a series of tidy red stripes - which she still hadn't liked - she seems to have made hamburger of his flesh. The sight is sickening, the thought she could do that to someone else...
It's a hopeless exaggeration, nothing at all like an accurate reflection of the sight before her, but this is all very new to her, the wolf and the moon have left her fragile and she's seeing less than clearly.
Sadly unaware of that fact, she sits there staring at him in horror. She has no idea how he could be sat there calmly talking to her all this time like that. (Cushioning Charms are truly wonders.) She had no experience with the belt, and her wolf had been overeager and now he's cut and in places still bleeding, for fuck's sake, and she feels an utter monster for having mutilated something so incredibly pretty...
"Blaise, why didn't you say anything???" She snatches up the Pain Reliever, anxious to undo the damage, and for all her focus on marring such a perfect canvas, it's telling she thinks of his comfort first. He rolls over onto his stomach to grant her better access, and she's incredibly thorough in her care. He likes that. It's almost as if he can feel her concern in her fingers. Of course, if he couldn't, her words would have probably conveyed it more than adequately. She apologises profusely as she works, but he brushes it off. If he'd wanted her to stop, he would have said so. If he had needed to stop her, he could have seen to it.
A little uncertainly, feeling like she's in over her head, she asks, "Do you like that sort of thing?"
"I liked your letting go. Correction, I really liked your letting go. You're incredibly beautiful in the throes of passion, do you know that?" He turns his head so he can smile up at her from the couch. Uncomfortable, she renews her efforts with the Dittany now, relieved when his wounds begin to knit together. "And this was nothing we couldn't rectify."
"I could have really hurt you," she says quietly, not entirely sure she hadn't, to be honest.
"I trust you," he tells her simply, positive she wouldn't go too far. Not with the way she ticks.
"I don't" she replies quite truthfully. She hadn't even noticed the damage she'd done, apparently neither while she was inflicting it on him nor after.
"Lavender, the wolf is still you. If you wouldn't hurt me, then she won't either." He sounds so sure. It would be much more convincing if she weren't becoming steadily more certain the longer she works on his abused flesh that she already had.
What makes it even worse is she'd enjoyed doing that to him - well not the results obviously, but the flogging... definitely - and she just doesn't understand why. She's visibly uncomfortable again, but this isn't really something he can reason through with her. She'll need to learn to trust her wolf. That's not the work of a night, that will take time. It would help, though, if she got to know that side of her better, and he knows just how to reach the creature. Smirking he pulls the witch back into his lap - so much more comfortable now - pushing his legs between hers so he can hold them spread for easier access - not that she wouldn't have granted it to him anyway, but she does seem to like when he takes charge - and slowly, unrelentingly begins to lavish attention in a three pronged assault, his right hand disappearing again between her legs, his left addressing her breast and his mouth feasting on a spot at the base of her neck and shoulder than seems to make her squirm most. He doesn't have to wait long before she does. The wolf weighs in with a growl and she grabs his arm once more to forcibly increase the pressure.
Perversely, so very, he stops, hoping her response will help prove his point. The incredibly needy whimper in reply may be his favourite whimper yet.
"Combined with the wolf, you're effectively a switch, Lavender. You're relatively submissive..." She wants to object, but irritatingly is failing - completely - to find any valid arguments. Then again, this close to him in their present states of undress, with his hand there... Thinking isn't precisely easy. "But your wolf most definitely is not," he concludes. As if to emphasise that, his fingers resume their work and stop once more, and mortifyingly she snarls in response.
She's quite sure she didn't used to do that.
Not that it any way changes the fact she evidently does so now.
Bugger.
He stops long enough for her to gather her thoughts. Or resume thinking. Probably that. "But if the wolf is dominant and I'm... submissive," she doesn't like that sound of the word at all, however true she's begun to fear it might be, "then it makes no sense that I liked that, doing that to you, because I don't. I really don't. And I'm far from that submissive either." Or at least, she'd never been before...
He's waits to gauge which of the two of them she's more eager to convince, only replying when he's sure of her uncertainty. "I suspect that's the intersection between you and the wolf. How she affects you. A bit of bleed-through on the one hand and some amplification on the other. I think for you primarily it's less about liking the thing itself than it is about liking being so aroused, that you're pushing your limits. I believe with sufficient experimentation," his hands lazily resume their efforts, and she likes the sound of this 'experimentation' very much, "you'll discover the boundaries themselves often matter less than the fact they were there."
His todger makes its presence known and seems eager to push a few of those boundaries itself, and Lav's back to whimpering and trying to get more. But the bastard merely stops again.
Prick.
"In fact, half the point tends to be that under normal circumstances you wouldn't want whatever it is in the first place." He turns her a little so she's looking at him, and she's still quite heated, but he seems intent on having a serious conversation with her - now - of all times. This is definitely something she doesn't want under any circumstances, normal or otherwise, damn his eyes. She's about to complain, vociferously - how dare he stop - when he snares her arms in his left hand, pulling them behind her back. It's not exactly rough, but it isn't gentle either; it definitely puts her tits to best advantage, and although she wouldn't have expected to like it, she feels herself responding. It's confusing how he seems to know her better than she does herself.
"Given those conditions, it means occasionally you might feel uncomfortable with something we've done afterwards. Or not," he shrugs. "It varies, obviously, from person to person, but also for any given person from act to act. It's perfectly possible you could be proud of yourself." That earns him a sharp look, because she can wrap her head around feeling uncomfortable after the fact - she had, after all - but pride... She isn't ready to admit to that. But he's relentless, "Or do you mean to say you weren't pleased, exceedingly, to see what you do to me?" He's right (and his cock seems to nod, as though manifesting her unvoiced agreement), which unfortunately means she's back to feeling uncomfortable again. He pulls her arms a little tighter, which is when she realises he's applied a Charm as both of his hands are soon running up and down her body. She likes the feel of them, but she'd like them elsewhere even more. He stops and Summons his wand, and she's embarrassed by the wave of anticipation that greets it. At this point, she's fairly sure he knows it, too, but he surprises her instead.
Blaise looks her in the eyes and solemnly tells her, "Perhaps it will help," he twitches his wand, "if I promise not to shame you for your preferences?" His wand flares gold, she has his Oath on the matter then. "With the caveat that teasing must be allowed, of course. Where would we be without it?" The fingers of his left hand are able to tickle her enthusiastic agreement out of her. "But I shan't tell anyone," another golden flare, "and you should feel safe to experiment," and there's a third. "If I find myself incapable of joining you in... such an experiment, I'll simply let you know, but never hesitate to ask." That seems remarkably decent of him really, which is about the last decent thing he proceeds to do for the next quarter of an hour. Goodness.
Apparently he means to have sex in this position, and while it sort of makes sense it could work, certainly after her reverse cowgirl of the night before, she hasn't tried it quite like this yet, and she'd have thought the angles are all wrong...
They most definitely are not.
No, they work quite nicely. Not that she doesn't prefer facing him, but the increased access the present arrangement offers has much to recommend it.
Mercy.
She's too exhausted when he's done with her to be embarrassed anymore, which probably helps. It had certainly been his goal anyway. He's got a better read on the wolf and how to meet her needs, and the witch is increasingly happy to go along for the ride; who is he to deny her? But he imagines if they were to make this work for the longer term, he can spend the next couple of weeks seeing to the witch's wants and desires. The thought of that balancing act excites him more than he'd like to admit. Satisfying her, both sides of her, will be something of an accomplishment, and it promises to be complicated. He likes being kept on his toes.
Except that isn't precisely true.
Laurel Greengrass, Daphne and Tori's cousin who had graduated three years ago, had been exceedingly complicated, but with her it had been theatre practically from start to finish. None of it, absolutely none of it had to have played out as it had. The problems, and they were manifold, were always entirely of her own devising. He should have known something was afoot when she'd condescended to their arrangement of sorts to begin with, back when he was just a mere substitute Chaser and two years her junior at that. He certainly hadn't the reputation he presently enjoys within the House at the time to help justify her interest. Slytherin presented what was often a highly competitive dating environment, matters unduly complicated by a tendency on the part of the traditional skewing witches (not that the wizards were much better naturally) to only enter into relationships with wizards at least their age or older. Not that Blaise doesn't appreciate tradition, of course not, but some simply aren't sensible, as the maths there bore out. So yes, Laurel's attention had struck him as odd at the time, but in the face of her largely uninhibited nature, he hadn't given it all too much thought.
He should have.
Well he'd learnt his lesson, hadn't he?
First and foremost that he hasn't anywhere near the patience for that sort of artificial drama.
A legitimate challenge, on the other hand... Yes that quite piques his interest. Lavender is a very different story indeed. He's already begun composing a list of things he thinks the witch in hand might enjoy.
He doesn't wait long to try some of them out.
Zabini definitely has a way of saying things that leave Lavender wrong-footed. Just as well she's lying down then, she supposes... Not that she can argue with his success, heavens forfend, because he definitely seems to know what he's doing... Yes, he certainly does. Quips aside, especially now after the Ron debacle, she knows she's a good deal more sensitive than usual, and reluctantly she finds herself questioning how Blaise means some of the things he says. 'Bitch' resonated with her wolf all too well, and yes, he'd gone there again, more than once, and had her practically purring, too, or whatever the wolf-y equivalent was. Whimpering? That. She was definitely doing that. She doesn't think she likes 'bitch', or well, maybe she does, but she isn't sure she likes him calling her that, or fine, yes, she likes that, but doesn't think she should. That's probably the most accurate analysis.
That analysis is simultaneously more difficult after sex - concentrate, woman - and less confronting, so she finds herself trying to puzzle things through in between goes. This feels all part and parcel of what he'd said about the limits she imposes. As uncertain as some of his words leave her, she keeps remembering how he held her earlier when her feelings got the better of her, far kinder of him than she'd have ever expected, and just as regularly arrives at the conclusion that the confusing things he says shouldn't be taken at face value. He seems to do that strictly for the results - mercy, those results - and not because he actually means it. That distinction matters.
Greatly.
And if she had more self-assurance, that conclusion would be enough, but then she'd thought she understood Ron, too, and she'd clearly spent much more time with him than she has with Blaise, so really, she should have known him better, shouldn't she? And she'd been so very wrong there... The thought leaves her uncertain if she can trust her judgment. Talking to 'Vati hasn't boosted her confidence in that regard either. Not that her friend wasn't right, but then that's the problem, isn't it? Lav is clearly pants at the whole 'boy thing'... So she tries to focus more on Blaise's actions and interrogate his motives, and she's back to thinking about how he held her.
She likes the thought nearly as much as she'd liked being held.
And he hadn't done it just to get in her knickers. For one, she hadn't been wearing any at the time... Goodness. Fine, he hadn't done it just to get in her cunt, either - so there - because Merlin knows, he could have, had he wanted, because she'd very much wanted, and he'd talked to her instead. She may be rubbish at boys, but even she's sure that's unusual. Sort of special.
Yes, she decides she is right, it really isn't so much that he believes the things he says - it can't be - as it is that he uses what works, which considering some of those things clearly means she's a mess, a hot mess, but they're okay.
They're okay.
That's a huge relief really. She hadn't realised how much of one it would be until she formulates it.
She can keep a relationship secret again, but she doesn't want to end up feeling like she isn't respected, that people can just walk all over her...
But he'd been patient and dried her tears when she was overwrought. He hadn't belittled her for it, not once. In fact he'd basically given her his Oath not to, at least in the ways that probably count... Instead of pressing his advantage, he'd simply sat there and held her tight while she got some of the uncertainty out of her system...
Having reached the conclusions she needed, this time the thought of his arms has her burrowing into his side seeking them again, and when overcome by a fit of gratitude he can't begin to fathom she starts kissing him with abandon, it leads where their interactions now inevitably seem to, and Blaise is able to try another thing from his list.
It's every bit as successful as the rest.
At some point, overcome by the moment and acting on an accidental discovery, an ebullient Lavender casts an Incarcerous to hold his legs in place - she really must get him to teach her the Charm he'd used, it was clearly superior - and begins to tickle Blaise's feet. In no time at all he's begging and pleading - this is so much better than the belt by far - and the two of them finally dissolve into fits of laughter as she frees him before she claims his lips for a ridiculously thorough snog.
Heavens.
She makes a mental note to try it again in the near future with Muscle Mender, but it will take some time yet before she asks him to show her his Charm.
"Witches first," he insists stubbornly, which is one of the stupidest things she thinks she's ever heard - it certainly runs counter to her experience - and seems exceedingly sexist to boot. That last objection is probably yet another bit of Hermione's influence, although it's entirely possible Lav would have gotten there on her own, not that she's nearly the bluestocking her ex-roommate is, but witches should receive the same consideration as wizards, she'd think, no more, no less? Or in this case, presumably that means it's the other way around? Doesn't it?
Blaise defends his position by arguing in favour of 'biology', and briefly they debate respective refractory times - she thinks her line of reasoning is strong - before he finally wins with the argument that a witch could theoretically climax almost endlessly.
Or rather, with his attempted proof of the same.
Mercy.
By the time he's done with his endeavours to prove the assertion, she's willing to concede the point. And anything else he asks for that matter. Kidneys, first born, it's all the same to her.
Conveniently it's an argument they ultimately both seem to win.
Before he escorts her back to the Gryffindor tower that night, she insists on practising the Patronus Charm with him again. The lack of success could have been frustrating - although her assurances she'd needed for-ev-er to master it help - but the ready way she hands him her wand to use makes up for much of it, and the fact the whole thing obviously hadn't just been some gambit to impress him last night, that she actually means to try to see this through... Well that does the rest. He's not precisely optimistic, but he definitely appreciates her dedication.
Every now and again, though, as she puts him through his paces, he can almost picture her succeeding in teaching him, too.
Almost.
Closely observing her roommate Saturday, 'Vati decides that there's more than just an infatuation going on here. She wouldn't read any meaning into the nature of the attachment to Zabini, that's not it, but she's certain now that whatever it is has been acted upon and that in a non-trivial fashion. Lavender has returned in the wee hours two nights in a row, and that's in a very marked contrast to the way usually she barricades herself in their dorms this close to a full moon. No, there's clearly something in the wind.
That and she keeps grinning like an absolute dafty.
And she may just be glowing.
'Vati becomes increasingly thankful the only available seats at their dining table had been with their backs to most of the rest of the room, because Lav is looking at Zabini sort of like she were starving and he's all steak. Raw steak, hit with little more than a Warming Charm, and just the way Lav likes it of late.
Merlin.
No, it's hard to miss the way she keeps staring at the Slytherin.
'Vati naturally doesn't hesitate long before asking all sorts of thoroughly inappropriate questions, many of which Lav actually answers, Blaise's suggestion they keep this to themselves notwithstanding. She has her friend's word on the matter after all.
It's just as well he's ignorant of their conversation. For all his relative lack of inhibitions, 'Vati probably would have succeeded in embarrassing him anyway.
Pansy can't help noticing the way a certain Gryffindor keeps looking their way. How could she miss it? The angle is a little unfortunate from where she's sitting, and no one in their group seems to be acknowledging it - although she can rule out several with little effort - but she soon thinks she's narrowed the reason for the blonde's interest down to one of two of her Housemates, and Blaise is the far more likely of those two to draw this sort of interest. Gregory tended to be too sweet to generate an attraction of that nature. Fuck, snog, marry? (Killing, for all too obvious reasons, was clearly out.) Of the two, Blaise was the fuck and Gregory the marry. No question. And Brown doesn't seem to have little hearts in her eyes...
Fishing, Pansy remarks upon it. Nodding towards the witch, she says "It seems all Moggies now want their very own Slytherin," and with the exception of Daphne, who is frankly in a class of her own and just outright smiles at the witch in question - honestly, if the rest of her family hadn't been Slytherins going back centuries, there would be no explanation whatsoever for how she ended up in their House - the Snakes begin surreptitiously stealing glances the Gryffindor's way. Pansy's kept a close eye on Blaise as she made her comment. She doesn't spot any telltale signs, but then with Blaise, that doesn't reveal much one way or the other. She resolves to watch him more closely, just in case.
Theo smiles, reaching for Hestia's hand, "Not sure how much luck she'll have there. I think she'll find many of us are quite happy sticking with Slytherins." Hestia's look in return is far less warm than her lover's and far more hungry, and it strikes Pansy that it bears a definite resemblance to the Gryffindor's.
Hmm.
"'Unleash the python'?" Blaise repeats, still barely able to believe she'd said it and hardly containing his laughter. Under no circumstances does she intend to tell him that had been 'Vati's term for his, erm, endowment, or anything else about her talk with her roommate for that matter. "And 'come, my snake boy'?" That really was beyond the pale.
"You came didn't you?" With nary a trace of embarrassment, Lav grins quite smugly instead.
Blaise doesn't tell her it might have been the possessive pronoun 'my' that had done it. It's been a very long time since he's been anyone's.
If ever.
In the midst of what is unquestionably the most aggressive shagfest he's ever enjoyed - he'll never look at a full moon the same way again - just shy of her third orgasm of the night, Blaise is able to get Lavender to drop her Glamour. Finally able to see what's left of the damage the werewolf had done, he understands why she uses the Charm, but doesn't think she needs it. Obviously that's a great deal easier to say when one isn't the individual bearing the scars.
He rewards her trust by covering those scars in kisses, devoting even more attention to what she considers her 'mangled' right side. He lavishes affection on it and her and with one thing or another, she neglects to put the Glamour on again until much later when he walks her home once more.
It's the best she's felt about herself in months.
Possibly longer.
And that concludes "a couple of castle encounters" (or: how Blaisender began).
The next story in the christmas spirit AU series features Severus and Hermione. "happy christmas, severus 1 / 2" (LJ / DW)
The adventures of Blaise and Lavender (and many other familiar characters from this AU) continue in the story after that. "interconnected part 1" (LJ / DW)
The story is mirrored on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
Other works by gingerbred can be found on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
ADDITIONAL STAND ALONE ONE SHOTS PLANNED FOR THIS UNIVERSE.
Written with oodles of love for
mywitch.Originally Published: 2021-05-12 on LJ / DW. It's been pre-dated in this journal for ease of use.
Words: 10.2 k
Rating: Mature
Characters: Lavender Brown (8G, no longer Ron's bit on the side or anywhere else), Blaise Zabini (8S), Theo Nott (8S, completely exhausted friend), Parvati "'Vati" Patil (8G, Lavender's best friend and roommate), Pansy Parkinson (8S, observant friend)
Mentioned: Professor McGonagall (Headmistress), Hestia Carrow (7S, Chaser, Lycanthrope attack survivor, Theo's somewhat rabid other half), Gregory Goyle (8S, gentle giant), Tracey Davis (8S, gifted Potions student), Harper Hutchinson (7S, gifted Potions student seriously in need of Knuts), Draco Malfoy (8S, Potter's), Harry Potter (8G, Draco's)
Previously:
Greyback attacks Lavender during the battle of Hogwarts. While she thankfully isn't killed or, worse, turned into a werewolf by the assault, she's left with a number of scars, an expensive craving for barely cooked meat and a noted lack of control over her impulses come the full moon. The next one is only a day off.
01 September. "his (eighth) first day of school". (LJ / DW / AO3) The Headmistress removes the customary House tables from the Great Hall and assigns students seats at much smaller, mixed House tables. It's greeted with as much enthusiasm as one might expect.
31 December. "out with the old" (a couple of castle encounters part 2). (LJ / DW / AO3) Lavender comes to Blaise's rescue Thursday night and winds up hexing a few Ravenclaws in the process. Worthless shites. As that makes her plan to celebrate Hogamany in the Eagle's tower substantially less appealing, she welcomes in the New Year with Blaise instead. After nearly decimating Lavender's bottle of Ogden's, one thing eventually leads to another, and, well, both have plenty of steam that could do with a little blowing off...
Friday, 01 January, 1999
Somewhere around stupid o'clock, Blaise wakes, incredibly sore, and with the way he's wired, the things he'd dreamt and above all the night he'd had - Merlin, Lavender... - it's hardly surprising that he has an erection that will make relieving his bladder all but an impossibility. Fortunately there are charms for the latter and potions and salves for the former. Having sorted the most pressing issue, he's left considering how best to deal with the erection. Hmm. He's an eighteen year old male with a wand, or technically two; it doesn't take him long to come up with a solution, although he does spare a fleeting thought for the energy required to see a certain Moggie satisfied later today. On the other hand, thoughts of her are primarily what fuel his... solution, so it's essentially a fait accompli. C'est l'amour.
After, he lies there panting in his bed, trying to put together a list of potions he'll need - for himself and for Lavender; he can be considerate like that - and realises that he doesn't have close to everything he wants, which means he'll need to trouble Theo for the rest. The only snag is Theo hasn't made it back yet. Hestia and a nearly full moon? It's little wonder. Where Blaise had only understood that in theory before, after last night, he's come to better appreciate the ramifications of... having a partner who'd been infected by a lycanthrope. Heavens.
And he's very much looking forward to having her again.
To make sure that happens, he needs to see to it they're both in... fighting shape tonight. Blaise sits up and runs a hand over his scalp as he tries to focus - potions and such - and then has a good rummage through his trunk to check his supplies, lest he'd forgotten something... No, it's as he thought, he'll need Theo. Since Vince's... Since Vince is no longer with them, Harper and Tracey had begun brewing for the House, supplying the others with potions, but Theo is the one who keeps the stores for their room. Blaise figures he'll need a couple of things. The only useful thing he has is Muscle Mender, which she'll definitely need - mercy, her thighs - but at the very least, some Hangover Helper and Pain Reliever shouldn't go amiss... He tries not to think about where she'd need what in too much detail, or he'll be right back where he was a quarter of an hour ago, taking matters in hand.
Fortunately Theo comes figuratively crawling into the room about then, looking very much like he'd been ridden hard and put up wet, a fact Blaise can't seem to let pass unremarked. Smirking, he asks, "Did she throw you out?" There's no bite to it, though. After last year, there's virtually no jockeying for position amongst them anymore. And with things the way they are in the castle, they need every wand at their disposal.
"More like wrung me out," Theo sighs happily as he flops onto his bed. "And then threw me out," he grins like a mad fool. It suits him. "I certainly wasn't going to argue with her, not at this time of month." Personally Blaise thinks Hestia wields the wand in the relationship at any time of month, but there's little point in saying so. Plus it probably isn't sensible to antagonise his roommate when he still needs to get the potions off him.
"Mate, before you drift off..." He checks the parchment Lavender had given him and applies the Glamour - he has a fair few bites, bruises and scratches he doesn't really want to explain - and then he crosses over to Theo's bed in an effort not to disturb Gregory with their conversation. With the way Gregory sleeps, he needn't have worried. It doesn't take long for Theo to get the things his friend needs, and soon Blaise has an armful of jars and phials, some for him, some for her, some for both - just in case.
"I don't suppose you'd also have a bottle of Blishen's I could buy off you? Premium?" With the year they'd just completed, Theo doesn't even comment on the request with respect to the hour, which is a little sad. Sure, Blaise has his reasons, but one might hope enquires after Firewhisky before matins would still earn him some raised brows.
"Sorry, no. Draco might," Theo suggests, indicating the remaining empty bed. There's no sign of their roommate; unquestionably off canoodling with Potter. Good for him. Literally. As the only one - remaining - amongst them to have taken the Dark Mark, eighth year was proving incredibly difficult for the Prefect. It was good that he had an outlet. It was good he'd found some happiness, negative repercussions be damned, no matter what Blaise had said to Lavender about the inherent drawbacks of relationships with Slytherins in the present political climate. But that would have been too personal, sharing his insights into Draco's private life, too much like a betrayal of their friendship. And of course he and Brown were hardly the same sort of thing...
He withdraws to the lavatory to take his potions and shower, and then sets about putting a care package together for the witch and applying his salves. The thought is he might disturb his roommates less by doing so here. Or maybe there's a hope it will keep them from noticing and asking inopportune questions, whichever. A prudent wizard takes measures to create his own good fortune.
He thinks long and hard about sending her the Bruise Salve, there's something dead sexy about the idea of her walking around the castle thoroughly marked by him... Unhn. Yes. And he has a sneaking suspicion she'd enjoyed being marked. (The howling did rather give it away...) As he has the room to himself, he drops the Glamour and examines his reflection and decides, at least in this case (his vanity is a force to be reckoned with), he does too. Yes, he very much does.
He stands there admiring a clear impression of her teeth on his shoulder... A weak Healing Salve will see to it it doesn't become infected and lingers for him to enjoy for a while yet; her Glamour will ensure it remains their secret. But if he's going to allow something like that to stay, Glamour or not, getting the blemishes had to have been worth it. As he's still smiling at the memory of how he'd received them, it's a pretty good indication these most certainly had been.
By contrast, he doesn't hesitate to apply Dittany to his lip and is pleased to see the cut close, although he can't help noting the wound is indeed smaller now than it had been after his Healing Charm the evening before. Brown was clearly on to something with that Glamour of hers, and he reevaluates its priority on his mental list of things to learn more about.
However tempting the thought of a marked witch may be - fine, very - he's not an idiot and he's also come to understand something about the after-effects of the werewolf attack she'd survived. It's entirely possible by the light of day, she isn't as enamoured of the marks he'd given her as she'd been last night. It's best to let her decide for herself. Either way, as long as she has options, he thinks the end result will be better. Which isn't to say he doesn't feel a twinge of regret as he includes the Salve in the little hamper he Conjures.
Hurrying slightly to finish his errand, he summons an elf and is able to prevail upon it to deliver the package to the Gryffindor tower. Curfew, while not rigidly observed for the eighth years - and certainly not during the hols - is technically still in effect, there's nowhere much for her to have gone at this hour. Blaise smiles as he considers that she was also fairly exhausted by the time she'd headed bedwards, thoughts as to why only set him to smirking. Yes, he imagines chances are very good he won't have missed her.
He smiles some more as he pictures her reaction to his little gift.
Lav is just stretching herself awake when a small woven bowl of potions and salves appears on her nightstand. As the stretch revealed just how sore she is - goodness - it isn't unwelcome, far from it, and she descends upon it rather eagerly. She's reasonably sure who it's from, a small square of paper with nothing but a '- B.' on it confirms it as far as she's concerned, and she smiles, thinking both about the little token of Blaise's esteem and the wizard who had sent it. That lasts until she determines that was the whole sum of the writing involved. Not a one of the phials or jars is labelled, the idiot. She doesn't happen to be in N.E.W.T.s Potions, thank you kindly, and she hasn't a clue what half of them are. Brilliant.
She's reasonably sure she's identified the topical Pain Relief, and assumes the other is Muscle Mender, Ron had used that often enough. They're similar enough to confuse on a good day, something she can't help thinking is a bit of stupidity right there, but she's fairly convinced they're both going more or less to the same general vicinity and doesn't give it much further thought. The Bruise Salve she identifies easily, that at least was distinct, except looking at the handprints visible on her hips - mercy - she doesn't think she'll be needing that particular Salve. She does blush some at the thought but generally feels quite pleased with herself as she puts the little hamper on her bed and continues to sort through her haul.
It appears Blaise's gesture will have to remain largely one of those 'it's the thought that counts' things, because aside from the Hangover Helper, soon gratefully quaffed, she isn't able to identify anything else. It probably doesn't matter. Had she felt the need for something specific, one might think she'd be better able to identify it. Yes, that seems probable. Or at least she'd have had a list to work from, more likely that. So as she sees it, she isn't really missing out on anything, and begins to entertain notions of leaving the Salves lying about amongst her things as a sort of super secret reminder of the previous night. No one would know what they represent, and it might help to take her mind off the abysmal situation with Ron, who she absolutely positively did not just think about... Well, not more than briefly.
And then it comes as a bit of a shock to realise how many hours she'd gone without doing so.
Blaise had been such a lovely way to take her mind off of... well... things. That seems a much better way to regard... yes, things. Consciously she steers her thoughts away from such problematic areas and very naturally they alight on the oh so pleasant night before, and soon she's pressing her thighs together at the recollection... which is about the point their tenderness begins clamouring for attention, but then that was presumably why the Slytherin had sent her the salves in the first place. She smirks at the thought he might be in similar shape, and then begins to grin a touch wickedly at the realisation she'd have done that to him, and with a nod to propriety draws the bed-curtains closed to see to her own aching muscles, and, um, equally tender... bits. Decidedly those.
And it might have remained at that, a bit of strictly medicinal application of salves and nothing more, had she not confused the Muscle Mending Salve with the Pain Reliever. The latter on her thighs, while not as helpful as it would have been had she gotten things right, doesn't cause any issues. It isn't until she applies the Muscle Mender - there - and her skin turns bright red (with the Salve's characteristic audible 'Oooo!') that she realises she'd got them wrong. Too, too stupid really, she should have remembered that from when Ron used the stuff... Er, he-who-shall-not-be-named. Him. When he used it, there was always the 'Oooo!' followed by... She doesn't even have time to worry if her... well if that was going to stay red, that would be embarrassing, when the colour fades into some truly unflattering, thoroughly garish stripes (complete with the attendant 'Aaaah!'). The least they could do is run vertically; although on consideration that might have something to do with the direction of application. Hmm. And right about there she discovers the stuff tickles. Rather a lot. She's flushed and warm and, sure, there had been some very nice dreams about a proverbially tall, dark and handsome Slytherin... And somewhat overcome in the moment, she allows her hands to roam.
It isn't long before her own 'Oooo!'s and 'Aaaah!'s rival the Salve's, and this too wouldn't have had much significance, it's hardly the first time, except it very much is since she and... well since she'd stopped seeing her ex, she's rubbish at Privacy Charms, she hadn't even remembered to try to put one in place to begin with, and as the hour is sufficiently advanced, 'Vati is now very much awake.
Lav emerges from behind her bed's curtains looking thoroughly tousled to find her roommate grinning at her.
"I forgot the bloody Privacy Charm," Lavender groans.
"You go, girl!" 'Vati greets her with a chuckle as Lav hastens to straighten her hair. Fortunately she knows a fair few charms for that sort of thing. "No worries, I'm just glad to see you're in better spirits. Happy New Year, by the way."
Latching onto that, Lav has no idea why people always act like she were so slow, she replies, "I resolved to put that chapter firmly behind me. Fresh starts and all that."
"And last night's... plans of yours had nothing to do with that?" Her hand gestures vaguely in the direction of Lav's bed, and the blonde pinks violently in reply. Barely noticeable - if one were in an entirely different room that is. Luckily it's just the two of them here for the holidays. "Where'd you get off to anyway?"
Which is about the point when Lav recalls dispatching a Patronus saying she'd tell her everything in the morning, and then immediately remembers how she and Blaise had agreed to keep everything on the down-low. Damn. So she explains instead about how she'd hexed the Ravenclaws and thought it best she not appear at their party, and the suggestive message? Said purely for other people's benefit. One never knew who was listening. She'd spent the evening watching the fireworks in Hogsmeade from the roof, enjoying the bottle of Ogden's that Seamus had sent her. As it's now standing very nearly empty on her nightstand, 'Vati looks more than a little alarmed. "I'm fine," Lav assures her, but there'd been too much lying last term for her friend to feel certain she can take her at her word.
That worry persists until breakfast, when it's supplanted by another as 'Vati begins to notice Lav's unsubtle looks in a completely unexpected direction...
They haven't got the tables they usually do in the Great Hall during the holidays, and without their assigned seats, it hadn't taken long for the students to resume grouping by House. That was probably to be expected, but it frustrates the Headmistress nevertheless that that's the result of her social experiment after an entire semester. It would be wiser to focus on the number of students still mingling amongst the Houses, but sometimes overly ambitious goals - to say nothing of unrealistic ones - make it difficult to frame things properly.
After the rather spectacular fallout with Ron, well, the two witches had quite naturally taken to sitting further away from him. That almost by default had put them deeper in Slytherin territory given the number of them who'd remained at school over the hols. A handful had parents in Azkaban, a few had families who appeared to have permanently relocated to the continent, a couple had lost the family homes to the Ministry in reparations, too many were now effectively orphans, and presumably some others had stayed in solidarity with the rest... It didn't really bear thinking about or it left one altogether less than festive, hardly ideal conditions for maintaining the holiday spirit. But whatever their individual reasons for it, there were certainly a lot of them here, and today Lav can't seem to stop staring at Zabini of all people.
Zabini, the Slythiern manwhore, at least if the stories in the Ravenclaw tower are to be believed, and 'Vati suspects they are, at least to an extent. It's definitely worth asking Padma about them, because she isn't sure what to think.
Worse, watching the Snake as she is now, he doesn't seem to acknowledge the blonde's presence once, which is infuriating. She can only hope this is one of Lav's infatuations, in which case that would be perfectly fair really. The Slytherin couldn't help that...
Lunch passes much the same; it isn't until dinner that she catches Zabini winking at Lav - just the once, and only because she was watching him like a hawk - and begins to suspect that either something had transpired between them, Circe's left tit, or the Slytherin isn't beneath leading her roommate on having noticed her interest. (But then how could he not? The blonde has never been subtle.)
When she has Lav's attention once more, in something of a whisper she asks her friend, "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She can't help thinking there'd been a fair bit of transference involved in Lav's relationship with Gaston, and while he'd indisputably been good for her, 'Vati would hate to see that happen all over again, at least with such a himbo. She can't imagine Zabini wouldn't take fullest advantage of the opportunities a rebounding Lavender presented.
Lav blanches, realising that 'Vati has twigged to her nascent... whatever it was with Blaise, and then even more so when it occurs to her it means her roommate knows she'd lied. Again. She trips over herself apologising - it isn't as though she likes lying to her best friend - and fortunately 'Vati is more concerned than upset. When Lav finally swears her to secrecy, she agrees with no reservations.
Thus reassured, as if 'Vati's silence were the only concern, Lavender begins throwing regular glances in Blaise's direction, smiling at him shyly from time to time. 'Vati keeps looking back and forth between the two. The Slytherin is far more subtle. If she had to judge based just on his actions, she'd couldn't tell there was anything between the two of them at all; if she didn't trust her roommate on these things implicitly - Lav's a romantic, not a fantasist - 'Vati would find it hard to believe there were anything to it at all.
But there Lav sits, looking his way again and sighing contentedly.
Say what one might about the Snake, 'Vati hasn't seen Lav this happy in a long while, and the boy certainly is pretty.
A few hours later, Lavender meets Blaise on the Astronomy Tower as arranged. She's flattered to see he'd evidently arrived early, and has already Transfigured them a couch - much longer tonight as its intended purpose clearly isn't for viewing pyrotechnics anymore, but for creating some of their own. Beside it stands a small table, complete with a couple of glasses and a bottle of some wine or another. Knowing Blaise, it's probably good, and she makes a mental note to compliment his taste, even if she can't pick out those berry and chocolatey notes people always went on about. (His robust and in part redundant Privacy Charms - for which the Baron would be grateful - understandably go unremarked.) Anyway, his arrangements are sweet enough that she doesn't think twice, she sort of falls into his arms and snogs him most thoroughly.
Her inhibition in greeting surprises him, he'd expected more reticence. In as much as she then takes a seat on the couch and quite apparently doesn't appear to mean to proceed in that fashion, however, it puts the whole salutation very firmly in unaccustomed territory. Kisses that don't lead anywhere are still decidedly odd. Pleasant, he'll allow that without hesitation, but nevertheless odd. Instead she sits there smiling and begins thanking him effusively for his present this morning and the preparations now. Considering both had seemed imperatives - anything less would have been uncouth - he initially waves the thanks off, but she simply redoubles her efforts and it finally dawns on him that she definitely means it, and it's rather nice being appreciated. In consequence he soon finds himself giving her thoroughly pointless but pleasant kisses of his own. There's something to them.
Eventually things become heated enough that those kisses become more... directed. Less than twenty-four hours from the full moon, Lav couldn't have held back at this point had she wanted, and the wanting involved - there's plenty - is aimed in a very different direction. She fumbles with his belt buckle briefly before Blaise comes to her rescue. He has every intention of leaving his trousers on for the moment, but he's determined to take his lead from her, and the belt obviously needs to go. For one thing the buckle was too large and ornamental - a Christmas gift from Pansy - and at the rate they were going, someone was likely to get hurt. For another the belt limited her access, and he is anything but an idiot, cheers. (Well, sometimes.) He suspects, however, that removing his trousers could prove daunting at this point; he knows now she's a good deal more shy at the outset. He has little doubt how things will end - at least in broad strokes - but he plans to give her as much time as she needs to actually get there.
He likes that about himself. He loves knowing things about his partners, and he delights in learning them. He prides himself - perhaps too much so, but then everyone is flawed - on being a good lover. A very good lover. That requires self control, situational awareness and excellent attention to detail.
Given that attention, he quite naturally doesn't miss the half worried, half aroused look she gives the length of black leather as he pulls it through the loops on his trousers. It has him immediately rethinking just chucking it to the side, and in "full flight" as it were - the woman is too cute - he puts it to use.
The witch, or maybe more accurately her inner wolf, doesn't hesitate for a moment to return the favour.
The aftermath of their first coupling is less comfortable tonight than it had been this morning, and Blaise doesn't fail to notice that too. The lashing had been enthusiastically received at the time, but afterwards... She's quieter, and withdrawn, and back to pulling her cloak tightly around her. This time it's accompanied by repeated glances in the direction of her bum, the deeply red stripes between creamy wales on that glorious heart-shaped arse of hers quite evidently not the least to her liking.
He'd allowed the fact she'd left the bruises his hands had made on her hips last night to mislead him as to how comfortable she was being marked. The other issue of course, is that this obviously needn't be the final result. He's a wizard, after all, and she's a witch. Still naked, he takes his now customary seat behind her, straddling her and gently pulling her back against his chest. He's relieved when she soon yields and leans into him, not that that seems to solve the problem, but it shifts the issues he needs to address to less troublesome ones if she clearly still trusts him and finds comfort in his arms. He chastises himself when that thought sets him to nibbling softly at her neck, and with a soft moan she sags into him even further, his hand half automatically slipping between her legs and beginning to tease her.
First things first. Focus, man.
He tries to remove his hand, but she catches his arm and attempts to hold him there, whimpering as she arcs into his touch. It's blazingly tempting, Merlin, and he feels the world's greatest fool, but experience shows the sooner he addresses her problems the better their sex will be as a whole. It would seem he wants more than just another tumble, not that that had been in any doubt, really, but this is a very deliberate decision towards that end. Sorting misunderstandings too much after the fact had led to some exceedingly mediocre sex in the past. As the last year had amply demonstrated, life is much too short for mediocre sex, and besides, the two of them together can do much better than that, he's sure. He also may be banking on her wolf working with him to resolve the witch's issues; in a few days time, that presumably wouldn't be the case anymore, and he suspects now they're more likely to come the desired result. Either way, he means to have a stab at it.
His arm fixed in place by her vice-like grip, his fingers still, eliciting a whimper of another kind - her wolf may even have growled - but he remains firm in his resolve. At least for the moment. "Soon, Lavender. We can get to that soon. Tell me what's wrong first." Growl, that was definitely a growl. He adjusts his approach. There's a fleeting touch, a more pleased and pleasing whimper, he nips at her ear and whispers lowly, "I promise to fuck you thoroughly, witch, but only if you're a good girl and tell me what's wrong." When she answers with another of those appealing whimpers without him needing to touch her again first, he decides he's found the happy medium. He rewards them - both - with another brief caress that leaves witch and wizard wanting more. She's dropped her cloak again, a sure sign the wolf is back in play.
It's an interesting constellation, and bears some resemblance to a threesome, he decides. It reminds him of the early days with his Ravenclaws when they were still becoming acquainted with one another, learning each other's likes and dislikes... It was necessary to please each respectively for their coupling... thripling to work, but their preferences weren't always compatible... Having mastered that in the past, he's confident he can manage the situation now, he simply needs to apply himself.
Her inner wolf, he thinks, takes no issue with anything they've done, on the contrary, he's reasonably certain she was the one chiefly dictating their behaviour. He feels sure the witch is the individual he needs to address and to do so sensibly, without the wolf's interference, he resolves not to keep nibbling on her delectable neck, to say nothing of allowing his hand to pleasure her further... Without his sexual advances, the wolf soon retreats, the witch grows more taciturn, until her gaze lowers, studiously attempting to ignore his hand between her thighs and stare at their bare feet on the flagstones.
"Lavender, speak to me," he commands her gently.
But without the wolf, so much easier to please, instead she begins to sniffle, her sniffles soon giving way to tears.
Hmm.
He'd done a little reading about this this afternoon, so he isn't unprepared. The fact it had been only a little reading was entirely due to the absolute dearth of information available on the subject, shockingly enough, particularly considering the number of affected at the castle that he knows of alone. By dinner he'd been nearly desperate enough to ask Theo for some insights, but he hadn't wanted to explain why he needed the information, certainly not after having agreed to keep the affair to themselves. But casually fishing for how things were going with his roommate and Hestia unfortunately had only got him so far.
Lav's tears quickly reach the point where she's sobbing uncontrollably. This. This is easily half the reason she'd never tried this with Ron before. The wolf makes such an incredible mess of things. This was a horrible idea. She has very little control over her emotions when the moon is full. A day more or less seems to make little difference, even less so when she's naturally agitated. She's about to tell Blaise that, and that it's all his fault because they decided to meet again tonight - which may be misremembering a few things, but then that, too, is part of the problem; her wolf isn't a stickler for accuracy - when, after a couple of hastily applied Cushioning Charms, he scoops her into his lap and cradles her.
"Lavender, shh, easy witch. Tell me what's wrong." He gently wipes away her tears. "Shh. Take it easy..." In the face of such tenderness, it isn't long before her sobs abate, leaving her sat there hiccoughing, but still she offers no explanation for the waterworks, in part because she doesn't understand them herself. "Don't make me use Legilimency," he mock scolds and, shocked, her hiccoughs stop.
"I thought you couldn't?" She asks, a little worried.
He laughs, "Quite right, but it got you talking, didn't it?" He smiles gently, and she finds herself trying to muster one in return. Hmm. Well. That will take a little work. But it's good enough for the moment. "Now why don't you tell me what's wrong?" He asks as he rocks her gently. It's subtle enough she doesn't even consciously notice what he's doing, but she enjoys the feeling it gives her.
"I liked it," she finally admits quietly.
"Ah yes, I can see where that's a problem." That was a misstep as she starts to shut down almost immediately; he can feel her muscles tensing as he holds her. "I wasn't teasing you, Lavender," he nuzzles her gently. "Not at all, I wasn't being the least bit facetious. I really do understand how that can be a problem." His thumbs gently remove the tear tracks from her cheeks and he kisses them softly when he's done. He thinks the easiest approach will be to treat the witch and her wolf like distinct individuals - it's certainly simplifying how he looks at the issue, perhaps it can do the same for her - and so he asks, "Are you uncomfortable that the wolf liked it, or is the problem that you liked it too?"
She stares at him, a little surprised that he's willing to distinguish her from those impulses she can't control. She isn't even sure it makes sense to do so as there apparently will never be one without the other again. This is the new 'her' now, a composite being. As far as she'd been concerned, the only thing to be done for it was to take herself out of circulation a few days a month. So far 'Vati had been good enough to see to Privacy Charms, and any excesses had gone largely unnoted by anyone else. Letting her wolf run wild was something new, and Lav can't say she's sure she likes the creature's tastes. Except, unfortunately she sort of did, and now is sitting here - a mite uncomfortably on her thoroughly striped rear - fervently wishing she hadn't.
And so her thoughts come out in a jumble.
She doesn't like this whole S&M thing. Well... except for the bits she did. (The former is certainly not a deal breaker for him, and he's perfectly happy to explore the latter at her leisure.) She isn't comfortable with having liked it. (He's very nearly expert at working through that.) She isn't a doormat, thank you kindly. (The furthest thing from it, the thought had never crossed his mind. And the one had nothing to do with the other by the way.) And she isn't happy with still more blemishes to her hide, she was mangled enough, cheers. That's more complicated. He'll need to work on her self-image another day, but the immediate problem is easy enough to solve. Blaise Summons his robes, gropes around in his pockets until he pulls forth a small satchel of salves.
"You don't need to keep the marks, Lavender. You can enjoy one aspect of a thing without having to enjoy them all. Think of it as an à la carte selection..." He hadn't planned on doing this tonight or he'd have brought a different salve, but he can improvise, and between the Dittany and Pain Relieving Salve he explains he can have her arse as good as new in moments.
Or could do if he didn't first have to manoeuvre her around what appears to be vestigial catholic guilt.
That one was new.
He hasn't encountered that before. Repression was one thing, but thinking she must now keep the welts as some form of punishment because she'd enjoyed receiving them, all the more unhappy as she didn't like actually having them in the least... He thinks somewhat ungenerous thoughts of her family for that result. It takes him some effort to convince her she's entitled to her pleasure, and the logical consequences should - quite logically - be no better or worse than those she chose and they were capable of producing. "If there's a Salve for it, if there's a Charm for it, unless you want those marks, there's no earthly reason for a witch to wear them." He kisses her repeatedly as he massages first one cream and then the other into her cheeks, and soon they are milky as ever, if perhaps a bit rosy from the increased circulation and attention. He greets their return with a gentle goosing that makes her giggle.
Somewhat academically at this point, she questions if removing the results wouldn't diminish the pleasure in receiving them, apparently planning ahead. He refrains from asking if she isn't better equipped to know the answer, pleased that she at least seems to be willing to acknowledge the enjoyment she hadn't wished to before. "I think you'll be fine. For you, this approach addresses your wants and needs as they arise in turn. And I don't imagine your wolf will like it any less either. She didn't seem to object now. Bear in mind, as far as wolves are concerned, they usually heal very quickly." Or at least that's true for the lycanthropes, but he delicately avoids mentioning the creature that had done this to her.
In illustration he drops his Glamour to show her her teeth marks on his shoulder. "Sometimes it's nice to keep a reminder, as a sort of a souvenir..." Lav's pupils widen at the sight, and her wolf seems back in force.
Mine.
Want.
It doesn't last.
"But some things just aren't practical, or the repercussions aren't pleasant, and that's when it makes sense to do something about it. It doesn't mean I liked the process any less as it was occurring..." He lies down on the couch, turning slightly as he speaks to show her what she'd done to him with the belt, and she's appalled. Where he'd left a series of tidy red stripes - which she still hadn't liked - she seems to have made hamburger of his flesh. The sight is sickening, the thought she could do that to someone else...
It's a hopeless exaggeration, nothing at all like an accurate reflection of the sight before her, but this is all very new to her, the wolf and the moon have left her fragile and she's seeing less than clearly.
Sadly unaware of that fact, she sits there staring at him in horror. She has no idea how he could be sat there calmly talking to her all this time like that. (Cushioning Charms are truly wonders.) She had no experience with the belt, and her wolf had been overeager and now he's cut and in places still bleeding, for fuck's sake, and she feels an utter monster for having mutilated something so incredibly pretty...
"Blaise, why didn't you say anything???" She snatches up the Pain Reliever, anxious to undo the damage, and for all her focus on marring such a perfect canvas, it's telling she thinks of his comfort first. He rolls over onto his stomach to grant her better access, and she's incredibly thorough in her care. He likes that. It's almost as if he can feel her concern in her fingers. Of course, if he couldn't, her words would have probably conveyed it more than adequately. She apologises profusely as she works, but he brushes it off. If he'd wanted her to stop, he would have said so. If he had needed to stop her, he could have seen to it.
A little uncertainly, feeling like she's in over her head, she asks, "Do you like that sort of thing?"
"I liked your letting go. Correction, I really liked your letting go. You're incredibly beautiful in the throes of passion, do you know that?" He turns his head so he can smile up at her from the couch. Uncomfortable, she renews her efforts with the Dittany now, relieved when his wounds begin to knit together. "And this was nothing we couldn't rectify."
"I could have really hurt you," she says quietly, not entirely sure she hadn't, to be honest.
"I trust you," he tells her simply, positive she wouldn't go too far. Not with the way she ticks.
"I don't" she replies quite truthfully. She hadn't even noticed the damage she'd done, apparently neither while she was inflicting it on him nor after.
"Lavender, the wolf is still you. If you wouldn't hurt me, then she won't either." He sounds so sure. It would be much more convincing if she weren't becoming steadily more certain the longer she works on his abused flesh that she already had.
What makes it even worse is she'd enjoyed doing that to him - well not the results obviously, but the flogging... definitely - and she just doesn't understand why. She's visibly uncomfortable again, but this isn't really something he can reason through with her. She'll need to learn to trust her wolf. That's not the work of a night, that will take time. It would help, though, if she got to know that side of her better, and he knows just how to reach the creature. Smirking he pulls the witch back into his lap - so much more comfortable now - pushing his legs between hers so he can hold them spread for easier access - not that she wouldn't have granted it to him anyway, but she does seem to like when he takes charge - and slowly, unrelentingly begins to lavish attention in a three pronged assault, his right hand disappearing again between her legs, his left addressing her breast and his mouth feasting on a spot at the base of her neck and shoulder than seems to make her squirm most. He doesn't have to wait long before she does. The wolf weighs in with a growl and she grabs his arm once more to forcibly increase the pressure.
Perversely, so very, he stops, hoping her response will help prove his point. The incredibly needy whimper in reply may be his favourite whimper yet.
"Combined with the wolf, you're effectively a switch, Lavender. You're relatively submissive..." She wants to object, but irritatingly is failing - completely - to find any valid arguments. Then again, this close to him in their present states of undress, with his hand there... Thinking isn't precisely easy. "But your wolf most definitely is not," he concludes. As if to emphasise that, his fingers resume their work and stop once more, and mortifyingly she snarls in response.
She's quite sure she didn't used to do that.
Not that it any way changes the fact she evidently does so now.
Bugger.
He stops long enough for her to gather her thoughts. Or resume thinking. Probably that. "But if the wolf is dominant and I'm... submissive," she doesn't like that sound of the word at all, however true she's begun to fear it might be, "then it makes no sense that I liked that, doing that to you, because I don't. I really don't. And I'm far from that submissive either." Or at least, she'd never been before...
He's waits to gauge which of the two of them she's more eager to convince, only replying when he's sure of her uncertainty. "I suspect that's the intersection between you and the wolf. How she affects you. A bit of bleed-through on the one hand and some amplification on the other. I think for you primarily it's less about liking the thing itself than it is about liking being so aroused, that you're pushing your limits. I believe with sufficient experimentation," his hands lazily resume their efforts, and she likes the sound of this 'experimentation' very much, "you'll discover the boundaries themselves often matter less than the fact they were there."
His todger makes its presence known and seems eager to push a few of those boundaries itself, and Lav's back to whimpering and trying to get more. But the bastard merely stops again.
Prick.
"In fact, half the point tends to be that under normal circumstances you wouldn't want whatever it is in the first place." He turns her a little so she's looking at him, and she's still quite heated, but he seems intent on having a serious conversation with her - now - of all times. This is definitely something she doesn't want under any circumstances, normal or otherwise, damn his eyes. She's about to complain, vociferously - how dare he stop - when he snares her arms in his left hand, pulling them behind her back. It's not exactly rough, but it isn't gentle either; it definitely puts her tits to best advantage, and although she wouldn't have expected to like it, she feels herself responding. It's confusing how he seems to know her better than she does herself.
"Given those conditions, it means occasionally you might feel uncomfortable with something we've done afterwards. Or not," he shrugs. "It varies, obviously, from person to person, but also for any given person from act to act. It's perfectly possible you could be proud of yourself." That earns him a sharp look, because she can wrap her head around feeling uncomfortable after the fact - she had, after all - but pride... She isn't ready to admit to that. But he's relentless, "Or do you mean to say you weren't pleased, exceedingly, to see what you do to me?" He's right (and his cock seems to nod, as though manifesting her unvoiced agreement), which unfortunately means she's back to feeling uncomfortable again. He pulls her arms a little tighter, which is when she realises he's applied a Charm as both of his hands are soon running up and down her body. She likes the feel of them, but she'd like them elsewhere even more. He stops and Summons his wand, and she's embarrassed by the wave of anticipation that greets it. At this point, she's fairly sure he knows it, too, but he surprises her instead.
Blaise looks her in the eyes and solemnly tells her, "Perhaps it will help," he twitches his wand, "if I promise not to shame you for your preferences?" His wand flares gold, she has his Oath on the matter then. "With the caveat that teasing must be allowed, of course. Where would we be without it?" The fingers of his left hand are able to tickle her enthusiastic agreement out of her. "But I shan't tell anyone," another golden flare, "and you should feel safe to experiment," and there's a third. "If I find myself incapable of joining you in... such an experiment, I'll simply let you know, but never hesitate to ask." That seems remarkably decent of him really, which is about the last decent thing he proceeds to do for the next quarter of an hour. Goodness.
Apparently he means to have sex in this position, and while it sort of makes sense it could work, certainly after her reverse cowgirl of the night before, she hasn't tried it quite like this yet, and she'd have thought the angles are all wrong...
They most definitely are not.
No, they work quite nicely. Not that she doesn't prefer facing him, but the increased access the present arrangement offers has much to recommend it.
Mercy.
She's too exhausted when he's done with her to be embarrassed anymore, which probably helps. It had certainly been his goal anyway. He's got a better read on the wolf and how to meet her needs, and the witch is increasingly happy to go along for the ride; who is he to deny her? But he imagines if they were to make this work for the longer term, he can spend the next couple of weeks seeing to the witch's wants and desires. The thought of that balancing act excites him more than he'd like to admit. Satisfying her, both sides of her, will be something of an accomplishment, and it promises to be complicated. He likes being kept on his toes.
Except that isn't precisely true.
Laurel Greengrass, Daphne and Tori's cousin who had graduated three years ago, had been exceedingly complicated, but with her it had been theatre practically from start to finish. None of it, absolutely none of it had to have played out as it had. The problems, and they were manifold, were always entirely of her own devising. He should have known something was afoot when she'd condescended to their arrangement of sorts to begin with, back when he was just a mere substitute Chaser and two years her junior at that. He certainly hadn't the reputation he presently enjoys within the House at the time to help justify her interest. Slytherin presented what was often a highly competitive dating environment, matters unduly complicated by a tendency on the part of the traditional skewing witches (not that the wizards were much better naturally) to only enter into relationships with wizards at least their age or older. Not that Blaise doesn't appreciate tradition, of course not, but some simply aren't sensible, as the maths there bore out. So yes, Laurel's attention had struck him as odd at the time, but in the face of her largely uninhibited nature, he hadn't given it all too much thought.
He should have.
Well he'd learnt his lesson, hadn't he?
First and foremost that he hasn't anywhere near the patience for that sort of artificial drama.
A legitimate challenge, on the other hand... Yes that quite piques his interest. Lavender is a very different story indeed. He's already begun composing a list of things he thinks the witch in hand might enjoy.
He doesn't wait long to try some of them out.
Zabini definitely has a way of saying things that leave Lavender wrong-footed. Just as well she's lying down then, she supposes... Not that she can argue with his success, heavens forfend, because he definitely seems to know what he's doing... Yes, he certainly does. Quips aside, especially now after the Ron debacle, she knows she's a good deal more sensitive than usual, and reluctantly she finds herself questioning how Blaise means some of the things he says. 'Bitch' resonated with her wolf all too well, and yes, he'd gone there again, more than once, and had her practically purring, too, or whatever the wolf-y equivalent was. Whimpering? That. She was definitely doing that. She doesn't think she likes 'bitch', or well, maybe she does, but she isn't sure she likes him calling her that, or fine, yes, she likes that, but doesn't think she should. That's probably the most accurate analysis.
That analysis is simultaneously more difficult after sex - concentrate, woman - and less confronting, so she finds herself trying to puzzle things through in between goes. This feels all part and parcel of what he'd said about the limits she imposes. As uncertain as some of his words leave her, she keeps remembering how he held her earlier when her feelings got the better of her, far kinder of him than she'd have ever expected, and just as regularly arrives at the conclusion that the confusing things he says shouldn't be taken at face value. He seems to do that strictly for the results - mercy, those results - and not because he actually means it. That distinction matters.
Greatly.
And if she had more self-assurance, that conclusion would be enough, but then she'd thought she understood Ron, too, and she'd clearly spent much more time with him than she has with Blaise, so really, she should have known him better, shouldn't she? And she'd been so very wrong there... The thought leaves her uncertain if she can trust her judgment. Talking to 'Vati hasn't boosted her confidence in that regard either. Not that her friend wasn't right, but then that's the problem, isn't it? Lav is clearly pants at the whole 'boy thing'... So she tries to focus more on Blaise's actions and interrogate his motives, and she's back to thinking about how he held her.
She likes the thought nearly as much as she'd liked being held.
And he hadn't done it just to get in her knickers. For one, she hadn't been wearing any at the time... Goodness. Fine, he hadn't done it just to get in her cunt, either - so there - because Merlin knows, he could have, had he wanted, because she'd very much wanted, and he'd talked to her instead. She may be rubbish at boys, but even she's sure that's unusual. Sort of special.
Yes, she decides she is right, it really isn't so much that he believes the things he says - it can't be - as it is that he uses what works, which considering some of those things clearly means she's a mess, a hot mess, but they're okay.
They're okay.
That's a huge relief really. She hadn't realised how much of one it would be until she formulates it.
She can keep a relationship secret again, but she doesn't want to end up feeling like she isn't respected, that people can just walk all over her...
But he'd been patient and dried her tears when she was overwrought. He hadn't belittled her for it, not once. In fact he'd basically given her his Oath not to, at least in the ways that probably count... Instead of pressing his advantage, he'd simply sat there and held her tight while she got some of the uncertainty out of her system...
Having reached the conclusions she needed, this time the thought of his arms has her burrowing into his side seeking them again, and when overcome by a fit of gratitude he can't begin to fathom she starts kissing him with abandon, it leads where their interactions now inevitably seem to, and Blaise is able to try another thing from his list.
It's every bit as successful as the rest.
At some point, overcome by the moment and acting on an accidental discovery, an ebullient Lavender casts an Incarcerous to hold his legs in place - she really must get him to teach her the Charm he'd used, it was clearly superior - and begins to tickle Blaise's feet. In no time at all he's begging and pleading - this is so much better than the belt by far - and the two of them finally dissolve into fits of laughter as she frees him before she claims his lips for a ridiculously thorough snog.
Heavens.
She makes a mental note to try it again in the near future with Muscle Mender, but it will take some time yet before she asks him to show her his Charm.
"Witches first," he insists stubbornly, which is one of the stupidest things she thinks she's ever heard - it certainly runs counter to her experience - and seems exceedingly sexist to boot. That last objection is probably yet another bit of Hermione's influence, although it's entirely possible Lav would have gotten there on her own, not that she's nearly the bluestocking her ex-roommate is, but witches should receive the same consideration as wizards, she'd think, no more, no less? Or in this case, presumably that means it's the other way around? Doesn't it?
Blaise defends his position by arguing in favour of 'biology', and briefly they debate respective refractory times - she thinks her line of reasoning is strong - before he finally wins with the argument that a witch could theoretically climax almost endlessly.
Or rather, with his attempted proof of the same.
Mercy.
By the time he's done with his endeavours to prove the assertion, she's willing to concede the point. And anything else he asks for that matter. Kidneys, first born, it's all the same to her.
Conveniently it's an argument they ultimately both seem to win.
Before he escorts her back to the Gryffindor tower that night, she insists on practising the Patronus Charm with him again. The lack of success could have been frustrating - although her assurances she'd needed for-ev-er to master it help - but the ready way she hands him her wand to use makes up for much of it, and the fact the whole thing obviously hadn't just been some gambit to impress him last night, that she actually means to try to see this through... Well that does the rest. He's not precisely optimistic, but he definitely appreciates her dedication.
Every now and again, though, as she puts him through his paces, he can almost picture her succeeding in teaching him, too.
Almost.
Saturday, 02 January, 1999 - Full Moon
Closely observing her roommate Saturday, 'Vati decides that there's more than just an infatuation going on here. She wouldn't read any meaning into the nature of the attachment to Zabini, that's not it, but she's certain now that whatever it is has been acted upon and that in a non-trivial fashion. Lavender has returned in the wee hours two nights in a row, and that's in a very marked contrast to the way usually she barricades herself in their dorms this close to a full moon. No, there's clearly something in the wind.
That and she keeps grinning like an absolute dafty.
And she may just be glowing.
'Vati becomes increasingly thankful the only available seats at their dining table had been with their backs to most of the rest of the room, because Lav is looking at Zabini sort of like she were starving and he's all steak. Raw steak, hit with little more than a Warming Charm, and just the way Lav likes it of late.
Merlin.
No, it's hard to miss the way she keeps staring at the Slytherin.
'Vati naturally doesn't hesitate long before asking all sorts of thoroughly inappropriate questions, many of which Lav actually answers, Blaise's suggestion they keep this to themselves notwithstanding. She has her friend's word on the matter after all.
It's just as well he's ignorant of their conversation. For all his relative lack of inhibitions, 'Vati probably would have succeeded in embarrassing him anyway.
Pansy can't help noticing the way a certain Gryffindor keeps looking their way. How could she miss it? The angle is a little unfortunate from where she's sitting, and no one in their group seems to be acknowledging it - although she can rule out several with little effort - but she soon thinks she's narrowed the reason for the blonde's interest down to one of two of her Housemates, and Blaise is the far more likely of those two to draw this sort of interest. Gregory tended to be too sweet to generate an attraction of that nature. Fuck, snog, marry? (Killing, for all too obvious reasons, was clearly out.) Of the two, Blaise was the fuck and Gregory the marry. No question. And Brown doesn't seem to have little hearts in her eyes...
Fishing, Pansy remarks upon it. Nodding towards the witch, she says "It seems all Moggies now want their very own Slytherin," and with the exception of Daphne, who is frankly in a class of her own and just outright smiles at the witch in question - honestly, if the rest of her family hadn't been Slytherins going back centuries, there would be no explanation whatsoever for how she ended up in their House - the Snakes begin surreptitiously stealing glances the Gryffindor's way. Pansy's kept a close eye on Blaise as she made her comment. She doesn't spot any telltale signs, but then with Blaise, that doesn't reveal much one way or the other. She resolves to watch him more closely, just in case.
Theo smiles, reaching for Hestia's hand, "Not sure how much luck she'll have there. I think she'll find many of us are quite happy sticking with Slytherins." Hestia's look in return is far less warm than her lover's and far more hungry, and it strikes Pansy that it bears a definite resemblance to the Gryffindor's.
Hmm.
"'Unleash the python'?" Blaise repeats, still barely able to believe she'd said it and hardly containing his laughter. Under no circumstances does she intend to tell him that had been 'Vati's term for his, erm, endowment, or anything else about her talk with her roommate for that matter. "And 'come, my snake boy'?" That really was beyond the pale.
"You came didn't you?" With nary a trace of embarrassment, Lav grins quite smugly instead.
Blaise doesn't tell her it might have been the possessive pronoun 'my' that had done it. It's been a very long time since he's been anyone's.
If ever.
In the midst of what is unquestionably the most aggressive shagfest he's ever enjoyed - he'll never look at a full moon the same way again - just shy of her third orgasm of the night, Blaise is able to get Lavender to drop her Glamour. Finally able to see what's left of the damage the werewolf had done, he understands why she uses the Charm, but doesn't think she needs it. Obviously that's a great deal easier to say when one isn't the individual bearing the scars.
He rewards her trust by covering those scars in kisses, devoting even more attention to what she considers her 'mangled' right side. He lavishes affection on it and her and with one thing or another, she neglects to put the Glamour on again until much later when he walks her home once more.
It's the best she's felt about herself in months.
Possibly longer.
And that concludes "a couple of castle encounters" (or: how Blaisender began).
The next story in the christmas spirit AU series features Severus and Hermione. "happy christmas, severus 1 / 2" (LJ / DW)
The adventures of Blaise and Lavender (and many other familiar characters from this AU) continue in the story after that. "interconnected part 1" (LJ / DW)
The story is mirrored on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
Other works by gingerbred can be found on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal.
ADDITIONAL STAND ALONE ONE SHOTS PLANNED FOR THIS UNIVERSE.