Chapter 31

Zoe

It's a shockingly warm day for the middle of February.

The sky is a bright blue ribbon, the color of a summertime river. Although the sun hides behind a cluster of vague clouds, its warmth still manages to reach all the way down to my skin.

I'm standing on the Covered Bridge, which stretches from the clock tower to the courtyard. It's vast and wooden, overlooking a deep ravine filled with green forestry and pure streams. Blaise and I have taken to meeting here after I finish with Transfiguration, and he with Arithmancy. We walk across the bridge and through the courtyard to Charms or Herbology, depending on which class we have that day.

It'd been his idea at first; he'd asked me to meet him in the courtyard before Charms one day so I could look over his essay. Naturally, I'd agreed, because Charms is one of the few subjects that I excel at. Upon making it out to the busy courtyard, though, I'd been fascinated by the deep and earthy-green valley beneath the bridge, and Blaise only found me after he'd already been waiting for ten minutes. So, we'd started meeting on the bridge, instead.

"Hey." An upbeat voice calls from a few feet away, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps. My head snaps up. I hope it's who I think it is.

I smile when I see that I'm right. It's Blaise.

As he grows closer to me, a grin breaks out across his face -- something that he tries to bite back at first. I haven't seen him look this way -- happy -- since last term. Maybe ever. There's something glowing and lively about him that's infectious in the best ways.

He's been like this -- more upbeat -- for about a week now. His mood isn't nearly as unstable as it was at the beginning of term, and most of his cuts and bruises have faded. I still have so many questions about what happened to him over break, but I've decided to hold them in for now. Whatever it was, it seems like he's finally healing from it. I don't want to make things worse by bringing it back up.

The only reminder that something ever happened to Blaise is the jagged cut on his forearm that I spotted a few weeks ago in potions. The wound hasn't quite healed yet -- it's still red and blistering. I see flashes of it sometimes, when he reaches for his quill or runs his hand over his head and his sleeve rises up. I try to ignore it, though. He looks like he's doing better, and that's what matters.

We haven't talked much about what happened at the slug party, and I'm guessing it's because he thinks I don't remember it too well. But I do. I remember most of it as clear as day. Dancing with him to soft music, his arms wound around me. Laughing until I had to clutch my hands over my stomach, which was burning with pain. I know he hasn't forgotten about it, either -- I can see it in the way he looks at me sometimes. However, many late-night shots of firewhiskey made the rest of my memory of the night foggy and blurred, and I can only recall one other thing: him kissing me.

I don't know when it happened, but at some point, Blaise kissed me. I can't picture him in the moment, or where we were. Rather, I remember sensations -- the taste of his lips on mine, his fingers softly tangled into my hair. Nothing else.

It makes me wish I hadn't drank so much, because I want to remember every detail of that moment and never let it go.

***

Sleep doesn't come easily to me that night.

I've been having nightmares for months now. Before the dementor attack, they were about the mysterious person who lurked outside my dorm with a knife. Before that, they concerned Flint's vile behavior. Lately though, they've only gotten worse, and sleep is quickly slipping farther and farther out of my grasp.

I toss and turn at night, my body tense with anxiety. I feel like a child who's afraid of a monster lurking under my bed. I try to keep my eyes open, but when my sleep-deprivation coaxes them into drifting shut, I see flashes of horrible things -- a grey, scabby hand, or a floating figure in a dark cloak. The flashbacks make me sweaty and cold-skinned.

I tuck myself beneath my covers that night around midnight. Besides Millicent Bulstrode's light snores, the room is pitch-black and silent.

An hour passes by, and it gets harder and harder to keep my eyes open. Even though my mind is swimming with horrifying images, the consequences of forcing myself to stay awake for days are finally starting to catch up to me. Eventually, I allow my eyelids to flutter shut. I pull my sheets up to my chin, trying to focus on happy memories of my home in Copenhagen as the rest of the world fades around me.

***

A bright flash of light, then total darkness.

A familiar girl with caramel-colored hair stands on the Hogwarts grounds, right next to the Great Lake. The sky is jet black -- every single star has blinked out, leaving behind a dark and empty void. The girl shivers from the cold. She tries to take a step forward, but she can't move -- her feet are completely glued to the ground, as if thick roots have sprouted from her heels and grown deep into the earth.

There's a strong wind that feels like ice-cold water. Through the darkness, an enormous black figure is drifting towards the girl. It's a giant dementor. She tries to scream, but no sound comes out.

The dementor's slender fingers clasp around her neck. Unlike a real dementor, its touch is searing hot, melting through flesh and bone. It tears her from the ground and lifts her high into the air. With one rotted hand, it pulls back the hood of its cloak.

Beneath the hood is not the hollow and scabbed face of a normal dementor. Rather, the face is a familiar one -- it belongs to a cruel and sinister boy named Julian Tines.

"You were not the chosen one." Though Julian's mouth opens to say the words, the sound of his voice comes in the form of thousands of voices. These voices seem to pour out of the sky, the lake, the ground, even the air itself. "You were unwanted."

You were unwanted.

Julian's last three words begin to echo loudly from all around them, piercing the girl like bullets fired from every direction. A petrified scream rips its way from her mouth -- fear gone wild. The voices grow louder and louder, shouting the words over and over again until the girl feels like she might die of insanity.

Then, the nightmare-ish world is quickly slipping away like sand through her fingers...

***

I shoot up in bed, my mind racing. The world spins around me dizzily, and my heart is pounding so loud that I think Pansy and Millicent might hear it.

What the hell just happened?

I'd been having a nightmare -- that much I know. Normally, my bad dreams are just quick flashes of scary memories, but this one was a full-fledged terror. I'd been sucked in and held prisoner by my own mind, tortured by the most horrific images it could stir up. I can't even fully remember what the dream had been about -- I just know that it scared me to death.

My head is hot and sweaty. I can't breathe, and I'm shaking so violently that I think I might throw up.

I rip off my sheets, suddenly feeling claustrophobic, and force myself to my feet. I don't care if I wake up Pansy or Millicent -- I need to get out of this room as fast as possible. And right now, there's only one place that I can think of to go.

A few minutes later, I'm racing down a new corridor, the world spinning in front of me. My eyes flit over the labels plastered on the walls: third year dormitories, fourth year dormitories, fifth year dormitories.

Even in my delirium, it hadn't been hard to find the Slytherin boys' dorms. I'm going to find Blaise.

I take a sharp right down a corridor labeled sixth year dormitories, struggling to keep myself upright on unsteady feet. I'm still panic-stricken from my night terror. My heart is thumping wildly under my ribcage. My chest heaves rapidly as I try to take in air, but every breath seems to burn my lungs.

There are seven sixth-year Slytherin boys, and four doors lining the wall in their dorm corridor. My eyes skim over the labels anxiously:

Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, & Theodore Nott

Julian Tines

Gregory Goyle & Marcus Flint

The mere sight of Flint's name makes me shiver. If I were to run into him in the dead of night, I don't know what I'd do.

The final door is at the end of the corridor, and I feel slightly relieved when I see Blaise's name plastered on it.

Still gripped with fear, I pound a trembling fist against his door, not bothering to be quiet. I can only hope I don't wake anyone else up -- particularly Flint or Julian.

I pound again, my bottom lip trembling. I really hope it won't bother Blaise that I'm here, but I can't help myself. I'm terrified. I'm praying for him to answer, please answer, and I'm starting to lose hope when the door finally flies open.

Between the blackness of his room and the tears stinging my eyes, I can barely make out Blaise's tall, dark figure.

He's wearing a pair of white boxer shorts, and nothing else. His body is big, hard, roped with muscle, and it makes me even more nervous to see him. He wears a look of anger on his face, but it vanishes once he realizes who I am.

"Shit, Zo..." He trails off, his voice hoarse from sleep. "It's two in the morning. What're you doing up so late?"

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. There's a hard lump forming in my throat, and I can't seem to push my words up through it.

"I -- I'm sorry." I manage to say. "I h-had a nightmare and -- I didn't know where to go but I didn't want to be alone and I'm just really scared right no -- "

"Stop, stop." His eyes have gone wide by the time he cuts me off. He no longer looks tired anymore. His hand slips off the doorknob. "Just get in."

At his words, I rush through the doorway. I keep my head down, my hair falling in my face. I don't want him to see me cry.

Blaise shuts the door behind me, leaving the two of us in his dark room. He turns to face me.

"Are you okay?" He breathes, his voice laced with tension. Even though I don't know the true answer to that question, I give a small nod. I'm still shaken from my nightmare, but being in Blaise's room gives me a sense of safety that I can't quite explain.

He sighs. Clearly, he doesn't believe me.

I keep my eyes trained towards my feet, my cheeks growing hot. I'm very aware of the fact that Blaise is only a pair of flimsy boxers away from being completely naked.

"Just try to breathe, Zoe." He says. "It was just a dream. It can't hurt you."

"Okay." I sound weak and fragile, like I might break at any moment.

Blaise scratches his head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head no. I don't remember much from my nightmare, other than feeling terrified.

"Okay..." He trails off, glancing around the room as if it will tell him what to say next. "Well, do you wanna try to go back to sleep? I can stay awake if you want. I don't mind -- I don't sleep that well, anyways."

I pause for a moment. The idea of trying to fall back asleep tonight sounds enticing when he says it, but I don't want him to keep himself awake for me. I slowly nod my head anyways.

"Alright. C'mon."

Blaise leads me across the dark room towards his bed. I feel my fear starting to fade as he quietly pulls back his duvet for me. I slide into his bed. The sheets are soft, and they smell like him. As he folds the sheets back up to my shoulders, his finger skims my collarbone. The touch makes my skin tingle.

Blaise stands above me. "I can sleep on the floor, if you want." He offers.

"No. I don't want to kick you out of your own bed."

"Don't worry about me." He scoffs quietly. I think I even see him roll his eyes through the darkness. "I can sleep in the bed, but only if you want me to."

I chew on my lower lip, my heartbeat picking up. Blaise and I in the same bed? At this point, I'm not sure I'll be able to fall back asleep at all.

"What do you want, Zo?"

"I want you to sleep next to me." I'm surprised by my words. They seem to burst forth from my lips before I'd even decided I'd wanted to say them.

Blaise is silent for a moment. He stands there, unmoving. Then, he nods his head quietly, and paces to the other side of the bed.

The mattress sinks down as Blaise slides in bed next to me. I can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, only a foot or so away. I stay very still, mentally willing my racing pulse to slow down.

I've never been like this with a boy before, and the fact that I am right now with Blaise makes my heart pound in ways I didn't know it could. I try to close my eyes, but I feel wide awake. I am riddled with nerves -- the soft sound of him breathing, even the smallest of his movements beside me makes my body go tense.

Time ticks by slowly. Blaise pipes up a few times to ask me if I'm okay or if I need anything, but other than that, we remain quiet. I can barely move, my tummy fluttering nervously. I doubt I'll be getting any more sleep tonight.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of sheets shuffling beside me. The mattress shifts.

Blaise has rolled over, and he's very, very close to me. He's right behind me now. I can feel the heat of his broad chest an inch away from my back. His warm, deep breath is blowing against my skin, causing a few strands of hair to drift off of my neck.

I can barely breathe.

"Zoe..." His low voice penetrates the silence, his lips hovering above my ear. He sounds hazy, almost intoxicated. I feel my breath catch in my throat.

His large hand drags up my thigh and onto my hipbone, sending a chill rippling down my spine. My eyelids flutter shut uncontrollably. I have no control over the effect this boy has on me.

"I want you."

The words pierce through my skin, seeping into my veins and spreading throughout my entire body. Addicting me to him.

Blaise rolls me onto my back, so I'm laying beneath him.

Even through the dark, I can see the look in his eyes as clear as day. It's deep, passionate. It makes my heart skip a beat. I feel frozen, only able to focus on the boy above me.

And then, he's leaning down ever-so slowly, like there's a gravitational pull between us. He hovers there for a moment, his nose grazing mine. He's so close to me. He gazes down at my lips, his eyelids hanging low.

Then, he kisses me.

My entire body shivers, and then melts. His lips are deep against mine, his large hand grazing over my belly and igniting a fire within me. We kiss each other with a hunger, a passion that's overwhelming, because it's the first time we're truly letting go together.

Blaise's breath is low as his lips pull away from mine. He drags them along my jawline, down my neck, and against my collarbone, planting heavy kisses in all the right places. My entire body burns with passion. I bite my lip, trying to hold back a moan, but it escapes anyways. Blaise's grip on my hips hardens when he hears the sounds. His fingers dig into my side.

"Fuck..." He breathes the word out, sounding as if he's been drugged. His arms wrap tightly around my waist, and he rolls over forcefully, pulling me on top of him.

Our lips mash together again, heat rising between us like wildfire.

I'm straddling his waist now, my legs on either side of his, and I can feel him hard in between my thighs. I've never felt such intense pleasure before, and in this moment, I crave him more than anything. My arms slide up his broad back and I pull him as close to me as I possibly can, closing the gap between us so we're flush against each other. His fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, making my bare skin tingle.

But then Blaise's hands are traveling up towards my chest, and my heart starts to pound beneath my ribs. Images of Flint ripping away at my shirt flash through my mind, and all I can think is that I'm not ready, I'm not ready for this.

"Hold on." I manage to choke out the words. Blaise instantly goes still, jerking back to look at me.

"What?" He's breathless. His eyes flit around my face, searching for answers. "What's wrong? Was it something I did?"

I glance down at my lap, unable to look at him. I'm glad it's dark in here -- otherwise, he'd see the fierce blush on my face. I feel vulnerable, exposed, not good enough for the boy in front of me. But I have to be honest with him.

"I -- " I stammer, my mouth suddenly dry. "The last time someone had their hands up my shirt, it was Flint. I just -- I can't."

Saying the words makes me feel like I'm opening myself up for him to see, standing completely naked in broad daylight. I have no idea how he'll react to this.

Blaise's face slowly twists into a look of aggravation. His expression is stony and rigid, and his eyes look as though there's a storm brewing in them. The longer I look at him, the more loudly my heart throbs in my ears. He's tight, tense, and I feel like it's my fault somehow.

"I'm sorry." I blurt out. I'm not even sure why I'm apologizing.

"What?" Blaise snaps, his voice sharp. Then, his face falls. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound mad. I'm not mad at you, Zo, I'm mad at -- "

"Flint." I finish for him.

Blaise sighs, and takes my face in hands. "Don't you ever apologize for what that asshole did to you. I'm sorry I tried to touch you like that, it was a dumb decision. I just wasn't thinking -- not that that's an excuse..."

"It's okay." I say quietly. The hard lump I'd felt in my throat earlier has returned. Though he's never told me about it, I know Blaise has been with his fair share of girls. I'm sure that this was a disappointment for him. "I just wish I could've been better at this for you -- "

"What? No. Hell no." He cuts me off. "You really think I care about that? You really think that's what's important to me here?"

He goes quiet for a moment, evidently struggling for words.

"Zoe, I don't give a fuck about sex. Not when it comes to you. We're not going any further unless you're one-hundred percent okay with it. Okay?"

I take my lower lip between my teeth, and nod. His words seem to melt the nerves I'd had only moments ago. Is it possible that this boy can be so considerate, so understanding?

Blaise's hands shift to my upper arms. His gaze on me is firm and gentle at the same time.

"I'm not Flint." He says. His words are steady, like a rock. "I'm not going to hurt you, ever. Okay?"

"Okay."

His eyebrows furrow in concern. "Do you believe me?"

I don't hesitate before answering, "Yes."

Something deep within me can't help other than to trust Blaise completely. He may have been a dick to me at the beginning of the year, but the more I've gotten to know him, the more I see through the cold and hard mask he puts on for the world to see. There's something good inside of him -- something honest and pure. I know it.

Blaise sighs. "Good."

Then, he pulls me forward into his chest.

The familiar feeling of safety that I get when Blaise holds me engulfs me again, turning me into a gooey puddle in his arms. I fold into him easily, our bodies fitting together. My head curls into the soft space between his neck and shoulder, and his hand drags gently up and down my back, sending warm tingles down my spine.

I can feel myself beginning to trust Blaise, in a way that I've never trusted anyone before. When I'm with him, it feels like nothing bad can happen to me. It feels like I'm invincible.

I'm finally starting to solve the mystery of the tall and dark Slytherin boy, and it's better than I ever could've expected.