March Prompt: Rock.
Title / Prompt: Rock.
Character: Blaise Zabini.
Pairing: Blaise/Tom.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did, he'd look like Hans Matheson.
Word count: 779
Rating: PG13.
"Fucking ow!" Blaise rubs his head and scowls. He's not built for this, he tells himself, skulking about in dark caves that are narrow in some places, and have low ceilings in others. It is one of those low ceilings that he is glaring at now, having managed to smack his head into an overhanging rock with considerable force.
"I said, OW," he repeats, glaring at the back of his lover's head.
Tom smiles over his shoulder. "When the cave opens up a bit, I'll do a healing spell, Love."
Blaise mutters some rather uncomplimentary things at that point, having to do with the pain in his head and the fact that he fucking hates caves.
His head is throbbing and there's blood trickling down his cheek by the time the cave opens out into a large, rocky chamber. Blaise feels tired and a little dizzy and he sits down heavily on the sandy floor of the cave. Tom, looking around them, takes in his lover and frowns - Blaise is usually the first to get into trouble, the first to climb trees of ridiculous heights and leap off cliffs into icy cold rivers. But right now, Blaise looks dejected, tired and in serious pain.
"Are you all right?" Tom drops to kneel beside Blaise and Blaise scowls.
"No, I'm not fucking all right."
"Here." Tom lightly touches Blaise's head, fingers coming away with blood smeared on them. He whispers in Parseltongue, a healing spell that manages to stem the blood flow and close over the cut that runs from Blaise's forehead into his hair. "It won't take long," he says, trying to be reassuring, "then we can Apparate out of here."
"We should have just Apparated in here in the first place," Blaise replies, but his eyes are closed and he leans back against the rocky wall of the cave. "Look, you know what you're looking for. I'm just…going to hang out here, yeah?"
Tom bites down on his lower lip for a moment, indecisive, but Blaise doesn't open his eyes or say anything else, so he nods, touches his lover's shoulder gently and heads back into the labyrinth of caves and passageways that they're in.
Blaise waits. Time has no meaning, each beat of his heart feels like a hammer pounding in his skull. He's exhausted now and thirsty, the dizziness is coming over him in waves, making him want to vomit. He wishes he could summon the energy to Apparate out of the cave and home, but he can't. He hopes that what Tom is looking for, a relic of his ancestor's past, will be found quickly and soon.
After what feels like forever, Blaise hears the sound of footfalls and knows that Tom is approaching. He manages to open his eyes, looking at Tom, his dirt smeared face, his bright eyes, the expression of triumph on his lips. "You got it, then," Blaise says tiredly, struggling to his feet.
"I did." Tom rushes to him, wraps an arm around Blaise and nods. "I'll get us out of here, Love."
Blaise doesn't argue.
Back in the house on the outskirts of Abakan, Siberia, Blaise is dosed with a foul tasting Potion that makes him feel light-headed but gets rid of the nausea. He is carried to bed by his uncle and he sleeps deeply. At some point, Blaise surfaces from his slumber to realise that Tom has crawled into bed beside him, but then he's pulled back down into sleep, a comforting blackness.
Tom sighs as he watches Blaise sleep and looks at his lover and then at the artefact he'd retrieved from the caves. The caves had once been the lair of a basilisk, the perfect guardian for relics belonging to Salazar Slytherin and his line. But the basilisk, as with most things, had died in time, and the caves entrance had been sealed over by a rock fall. The artefact is small, a serpent crafted from silver and emerald, worth a fortune by modern standards, but to Tom it is priceless. He looks at the serpent then looks at Blaise again and swallows convulsively. He had almost paid with Blaise's life for this piece of his heritage, was it really worth it?
He wrestles with guilt as Blaise sleeps, and when he joins his lover in bed, he sighs, and knows that both of them will have their own agony to face when they awake. Blaise's agony, derived from rock and stone, will pass sooner than Tom's.
Character: Blaise Zabini.
Pairing: Blaise/Tom.
Fandom: Harry Potter.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, if I did, he'd look like Hans Matheson.
Word count: 779
Rating: PG13.
"Fucking ow!" Blaise rubs his head and scowls. He's not built for this, he tells himself, skulking about in dark caves that are narrow in some places, and have low ceilings in others. It is one of those low ceilings that he is glaring at now, having managed to smack his head into an overhanging rock with considerable force.
"I said, OW," he repeats, glaring at the back of his lover's head.
Tom smiles over his shoulder. "When the cave opens up a bit, I'll do a healing spell, Love."
Blaise mutters some rather uncomplimentary things at that point, having to do with the pain in his head and the fact that he fucking hates caves.
His head is throbbing and there's blood trickling down his cheek by the time the cave opens out into a large, rocky chamber. Blaise feels tired and a little dizzy and he sits down heavily on the sandy floor of the cave. Tom, looking around them, takes in his lover and frowns - Blaise is usually the first to get into trouble, the first to climb trees of ridiculous heights and leap off cliffs into icy cold rivers. But right now, Blaise looks dejected, tired and in serious pain.
"Are you all right?" Tom drops to kneel beside Blaise and Blaise scowls.
"No, I'm not fucking all right."
"Here." Tom lightly touches Blaise's head, fingers coming away with blood smeared on them. He whispers in Parseltongue, a healing spell that manages to stem the blood flow and close over the cut that runs from Blaise's forehead into his hair. "It won't take long," he says, trying to be reassuring, "then we can Apparate out of here."
"We should have just Apparated in here in the first place," Blaise replies, but his eyes are closed and he leans back against the rocky wall of the cave. "Look, you know what you're looking for. I'm just…going to hang out here, yeah?"
Tom bites down on his lower lip for a moment, indecisive, but Blaise doesn't open his eyes or say anything else, so he nods, touches his lover's shoulder gently and heads back into the labyrinth of caves and passageways that they're in.
Blaise waits. Time has no meaning, each beat of his heart feels like a hammer pounding in his skull. He's exhausted now and thirsty, the dizziness is coming over him in waves, making him want to vomit. He wishes he could summon the energy to Apparate out of the cave and home, but he can't. He hopes that what Tom is looking for, a relic of his ancestor's past, will be found quickly and soon.
After what feels like forever, Blaise hears the sound of footfalls and knows that Tom is approaching. He manages to open his eyes, looking at Tom, his dirt smeared face, his bright eyes, the expression of triumph on his lips. "You got it, then," Blaise says tiredly, struggling to his feet.
"I did." Tom rushes to him, wraps an arm around Blaise and nods. "I'll get us out of here, Love."
Blaise doesn't argue.
Back in the house on the outskirts of Abakan, Siberia, Blaise is dosed with a foul tasting Potion that makes him feel light-headed but gets rid of the nausea. He is carried to bed by his uncle and he sleeps deeply. At some point, Blaise surfaces from his slumber to realise that Tom has crawled into bed beside him, but then he's pulled back down into sleep, a comforting blackness.
Tom sighs as he watches Blaise sleep and looks at his lover and then at the artefact he'd retrieved from the caves. The caves had once been the lair of a basilisk, the perfect guardian for relics belonging to Salazar Slytherin and his line. But the basilisk, as with most things, had died in time, and the caves entrance had been sealed over by a rock fall. The artefact is small, a serpent crafted from silver and emerald, worth a fortune by modern standards, but to Tom it is priceless. He looks at the serpent then looks at Blaise again and swallows convulsively. He had almost paid with Blaise's life for this piece of his heritage, was it really worth it?
He wrestles with guilt as Blaise sleeps, and when he joins his lover in bed, he sighs, and knows that both of them will have their own agony to face when they awake. Blaise's agony, derived from rock and stone, will pass sooner than Tom's.