Disclaimer- Jo's characters.



In a world filled with enemies, they were friends. Physically they were as different as night and day. Mentally, they were the same. Perhaps that was why they had become so close, though neither of them would freely admit how much the other meant to him.

Slytherin’s were supposed to be ambitious; ruthlessly using others to advance in life… or so his mother had once told him… but look at where that had gotten her. His mother scorned everybody, even him, her only son. To Blaise, she was nothing. She felt nothing, and loved no one. Blaise would rather die a thousand deaths than to ever be like her, or her view of the perfect Slytherin.

Draco and him were different. Sure, they would use other people, but they would never willingly use each other. They shared something that was taboo to their fellow Slytherin’s… trust. Draco trusted Blaise to have his back in a fight, and Blaise trusted Draco to sit with him, smuggled drinks in hand, while he vented his frustration of life.

They were closer than brothers, Blaise reflected, but he wanted more.

He longed for Draco’s smooth, pallid skin; his perfectly sculpted lips. He wanted to run his hands through Draco’s silky blonde locks, and wanted Draco to say his name with such affection that he would feel as if his heart would burst.

And he hated himself for having these feelings. He was ashamed that he had them. He wanted something that he would never have, and it was killing him inside.

He longed for each accidental touch just as much as he avoided them. He waited for Draco to enter the room anxiously, but still felt nervous once he had joined. He tried to bring Draco closer, but pushed him away.

All of these conflicting emotions confused him to the point of exhaustion. He was tired of feeling. He searched for a blankness that would let his body be numb, but all he felt was the bitter sting of pain.

Perhaps his mother had the right of it.

*****

“Blaise!�

It was the call of a dark angel striking deep into his very soul. Blaise lifted his emotionless eyes to Draco’s concerned ones.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!�

A part of him rejoiced, while another part felt disgusted. Disgust of himself or disgust of Draco, he did not know.

“What’s the matter with you?� Draco exclaimed both harshly and worriedly.

What was the matter with him? Everything. Nothing.

“You’ve been avoiding me.�

It was said almost as a question that had already been answered.

“Why?�

Because he is in love with Draco. The truth of it shocked Blaise, though he wondered why. A small part of him had always known.

Draco stood with his arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently, as he waited for a response. He was annoyed that Blaise was acting differently, and that he would now have to figure out why.

Blaise sneered at him, though his heart was not really in it. Draco saw past the guise.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me,� Draco said as he plopped himself down next to Blaise.

Blaise sneered again. Draco could never take the silence. Blaise lived his life in silence. He had been able to outlast many an awkward or uncomfortable silence, and yet this silence, the silence between two friends, was begging Blaise to break it.

The feel of Draco’s shoulder barely touching his own, brushing like the ghost of a whisper whenever Draco shifted angrily yet determinedly was beginning to be too much for Blaise. And still no words would come.

Oh how he wanted to tell Draco. He had even agonized over the exact words he would say. He fantasized over the intended response it would have; how Draco would take him in his arms and kiss him soundly. But uncertainty and the fear of rejection were holding him back, keeping his mouth firmly clamped shut, sticking the words in his throat.

Draco was too close; Blaise could no longer breathe. His heart was pounding furiously and he was sure Draco could hear it. His hands had turned clammy and his throat was too dry. It was a sin how Draco could make him feel this way. He was a disease, a disease that was slowly taking over Blaise’s body. And Blaise wanted Draco to win.

The silence had become unbearable. Draco’s silver eyes watched him closely. He could not take it anymore. He jumped to his feet.

Draco caught him around the wrist, effectively keeping him rooted to the spot.

The skin on skin connection was too much. He felt jolts of electricity shooting up his arm. His breath quickened and he felt increasingly dizzy. He staggered and would have fallen if it were not for Draco’s strong arms keeping him upright.

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?� Draco asked him anxiously.

Yes, he was sick with a terrible illness—love.

Draco’s face was too close to his. His hot breaths caressed his face. Blaise had never wanted to kiss Draco more than in this one moment. He had to get away. He needed to gain the safety of his room where he could keep his secret longings to himself. Where he could go back to being depressed and always wonder what would have happened if he had seized the moment.

He wanted this desperately, but he also wanted to kiss Draco.

“Blaise?�

He pulled Draco close and stole his next breath. His lips found Draco’s and now he felt fevered for a whole different reason. His mind was pure bliss, while his body felt more alive than ever before. It felt like Draco was sucking all the pain out of him. He sighed contentedly, wanting it to last forever.

He savored this moment, aware that it would be the last. He wanted to go further, but he knew he could not. He should just be happy for this one chance.

And then he was pushing Draco away. Pain, dread, and fear all flooded back into his body. He felt cold wash over him once again, and welcomed it back, preferring it to the heat that had enveloped him before.

He avoided those silver eyes, already knowing what they held. He should say something, but for some reason the words were still stuck, and he swallowed them down once and for all. Turning his back on Draco, he prepared to walk away, mourning the fact that he had just lost his best friend. Tears surfaced and gently streamed down his cheeks.

A soft hand on his shoulder gave him pause. Arms encircling his waist from behind him caused him to startle slightly. A light kiss on the base of his neck let him believe. The three whispered words in his ear allowed him the grace to smile.

The passionate kiss that Draco pulled him into allowed him to feel a warmth that he had never felt before.

And now he knew that the cold would never claim him again.


A/n- Written in response to a challenge that one of my friends gave me to write a story in which the main character, from whose point of view we read, doesn't actually ever say anything. So, let me know, did it come out ok?