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blaise was draco's shadow. during the day he followed, slanted eyes following the curve of draco's neck. his confident walk. at night he drew close and their shoulders brushed as they lay side by side, snakes trying to find warmth in one another's cold. blaise smiled while draco cut down every mudblood, every hated gryffindor. draco wanted blood. he wanted his hands wet with it. except that his voice would quaver when he talked of death and mudbloods. of secret tasks given by the dark lord.

draco's dark lord was not his. blood traitors and mudbloods drew his scorn but he was looking out for himself. draco would do the same if he were smart. he wasn't, though. a regular mummy's boy. draco worshipped at his mother's altar; he drew his strength from her love. in the end, she was the weakness that would break him.

as the year wore on draco's hands began to tremble as he talked at night. blaise wanted to take them between his hands. he didn't like to see the weakness in draco. he wanted to see spite and hate and the cold that used to link them together.

i'm not going to fail.

you can't afford to.

after the winter holidays blaise found draco had grown paler and more distracted. there was never enough time to jeer at potter or bother the first years. draco spent all his time locked up in that room of requirement. he said that only crabbe and goyle could accompany him. made to look like a pair of girls, they were. pansy was angry that draco was never around to be coddled and cooed at. she couldn't be proud of him if he was failing classes and that important task, she couldn't wrap herself around him if he pushed her away with not even a sneer.

blaise could not be his shadow in the day.

days slid by until the end of february.

i can't do it. i can't.

you know what happens if you don't.

i know what fucking happens. you -

then draco was in blaise's arms and his body was cold and trembling. he was all angles. his mouth was cool and hard against blaise's. he kissed blaise as if he wanted to want to suck the life out of him. draco's teeth drew blood. blaise only drew him closer, trying to make draco's shaking go away. trying to make him warm and yielding. trying to make him stronger. he didn't need anybody. not his mother. not the dark lord. not blaise.

when draco whimpered blaise slid his hand between the two of them and stroked draco's growing erection. instead of trying to get his body closer draco drew away. blaise could feel that his hands had clenched into fists.

zabini. you've been planning this all along

blaise was quiet for a moment. he stroked his hand along draco's arm and felt that the muscles were tense there.

of course not, you idiot. typical malfoy.

that name seemed to break draco apart. he started shaking again and he cried for the first time blaise could remember. the sobs seemed too large for his body. blaise patted him and said nothing. he put his arms around draco and held him until the tears had turned to hiccups. draco wasn't trembling anymore.

the following day draco ignored him at breakfast. when blaise said his name he turned his head and pretended he did not hear. that night he did not come to talk to blaise. blaise had known instantly that draco would never speak with him again. weakness was a failing to slytherins.

blaise could not be his shadow at night. he could not be his shadow at all. he understood.