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*
The last thing Blaise remembers seeing is…
A boy. A boy with dark hair.
And then, a clear and filmy liquid splashed right into Blaise's eyes. His attacker huffed out a laugh, elbowing Blaise aside. And then… nothing.
Nothing.
He can see nothing but darkness stretching in front of Blaise, his eyes widening and blinking rapidly.
Panic creeps up inside him, slow-winding, serpentine.
Do not…
Do not show them weakness…
Blaise stifles down a softly wheezing breath. He thinks of his mother's murmurous, grim-hearted words.
You are far better of a man than that…
Out of nowhere, a set of small fingers twitch against Blaise's. "Take my hand."
His stomach recoils at the unfamiliar warmth of someone else, and so does Blaise, jerking away. He blinks again, and again, hoping to see light, raising his other hand and forcefully wiping at his eyelids. "Not on your life or mine," he mutters scathingly,
"You shouldn't rub. It might only make it worse."
It takes a long and confounding moment, but Blaise almost immediately recognises the girl's voice.
She sounds like a light, perfumed wind sweeping through a curtain. A dreamer dreaming while awakened. Blaise can see her in his mind. The loony loon herself. Pretty as ever, if not nonsensical in manner, and Blaise's mother would not approve of him regarding her at all…
"Take my hand," Luna repeats, this time only touching Blaise with her pinky.
"It's alright," she encourages when Blaise says and does nothing after a long moment. "I can help you."
Blaise considers what to do. It's gotten late during Slughorn's Christmas party, and he wandered towards a less crowded end of the office before being attacked. Why not a jinx? Why throw something stinging hot into Blaise's eyes for their revenge?
It's what he assumes this is… it's revenge for whatever Blaise has done, or hasn't done, or has yet to have done…
Luna is a Ravenclaw. She is best mates with Potter, but she's never attacked any Slytherin to his memory. In fact, Blaise thought he recognised Luna during a Hufflepuff vs Slytherin match, wearing bold green streaks in her hair from an enchantment, waving airily to him in the stands.
Blaise lets out a frustrated growl.
He wipes off his moistened cheek, ignoring the quiver of his fingers while taking Luna's hand.
Weakness…
If she's noticed Blaise's nerves, Luna doesn't point it out to him.
She does, however, point out a stray chair at one of the dinner tables before Blaise knocks a leg into it. He minds Luna's cadence in her step, and where she leads, following with his head down and hoping anyone left in the party doesn't notice anything of Blaise.
The last thing he needs done onto him is… further humiliation.
Where the hell is she leading to?
They move through a thin, gauzy draping, which Blaise remembers them being near the entrance-door. His pulse quickens.
Where…?
He hears Luna murmuring, and then someone else murmuring, followed by a cloak swishing against the office's floor.
"Who is that?" Blaise mutters, trying to not seem overly interested, or worried, or terrified at all.
"Professor Snape," Luna tells him, her voice strangely soothing. Blaise's pulse steadies. Her small fingers twitch in his. "You're hurting me," she observes, but doesn't come off as upset or distressed. He clears his throat awkwardly, loosening his grip.
Blaise exhales a "srry" and pretending he didn't say it at all, but he can picture her odd, little smile.
It's the kind of smile like when Blaise found himself with Luna peeking into his train compartment, questioning if she could borrow his quill. He almost said no. He wanted to. Luna nodded and scribbled onto her wrist, the fresh ink gleaming to her very pale skin.
"Does it hurt?"
"I'd rather not think about it," he grumbles, already aware that it feels like a living fire, like his eyes are swelling in their sockets.
All there is… the endless darkness in front of Blaise's eyes and Luna's voice, and their hands holding on.
Footsteps approach.
Blaise can't be sure who entirely is there, asides from Professor Slughorn prattling on and on, sounding like he's getting nearer, about a masterful concoction he prepared in 1970 that saved the lives of twenty Muggles with cursed, inflated heads—
"—Lobalug venom. Stolen out of your cupboard, I expect, Horace. I would check if I were you."
If Luna speaks as pleasant dreams do, then Snape must be the harsh awakening.
Blaise straightens himself up.
"Thankfully the effects can be counteracted."
Professor Slughorn bellows out "I say! This is quite egregious, it is!" and slurps down what Blaise assumes is the rest of his mead.
A finger tilts under Blaise's chin, tilting his face up.
"Keep your eyes open," Snape murmurs to him, softly but sternly. "Do… not… move…"
A thrum of panic lodges into Blaise's throat. He swallows it down, stiffening, keeping his eyes wide-open and unblinking.
You are my only son… my heir…
You cannot be let your weakness rule you…
What feels like a cold drop of liquid lands in each of Blaise's eyes, quelling the uncontrollable fire. His eyes no longer leak tears. Snape's fingers lower from his chin. Blaise takes that as a cue to blink, silently grateful as the darkness fades into ashen colour.
"Who… did… this…?"
There's a silvery-steel edge to Snape's words.
"I am not sure, Professor," Blaise answers. "I don't think anyone saw it either."
"Was it a boy?"
"He had dark hair."
An overly satisfied noise. "Was it Potter?"
"Excuse me, Professor. I don't mean to interrupt… I only wonder how it could be Harry?" Luna says curiously, and Blaise can hardly see her in the glowing, growing blotches, but he gazes impressed in Luna's direction. Contradicting Snape? "Harry left with Hermione and Neville."
Snape grunts, now deeply displeased.
"Miss Lovegood," he says warning, but there's a commotion back inside the office.
"GEDDEERRFF!"
"It was YOU, wasn't it, BELBY!"
Blaise winces, his vision clearing as Snape hurries off.
He stares up at the red-gold-green hangings, and the ornate lamps, and the circle of cleared-off dinner tables. Finally, Blaise stares at Luna.
She tilts her head to the side, staring right back at him.
"You could have gotten detention," Blaise admits.
"I suppose."
The clearest part of Luna, at first, is the ridiculous bell-shaped dress, twinkling pink-silver. And then, he notices Luna's smile. It's genuine, and warm, and Blaise knows she's pretty in a loony way, but it surprises him every time.
He glances to their hands, still gripping, and Luna does as well.
Before she means to release them, Blaise tightens his grip onto Luna's hand, arching an eyebrow.
Luna's smile twinkles.
"Would you like to sit me with outside, Blaise?"
His mother can't scold him if Blaise doesn't say yes… but he certainly doesn't say no, feeling Luna's hand tug his.
*