Draco's eyes snap open and he gasps. His upper body lifts involuntary into a sitting position, and he only has a spare second to inhale deeply and look around the darkness of his enclosed bed before his entire body twists in pain.
He convulses, twisting and folding, getting tangled in the sheets and he realizes it's hot. His skin feels as if it's on fire and his lungs feel like sand and every time he takes a breath it scratches irritably in his throat.
His hands reach up to scrape against his throat, his nails leave blunt lines on his pale skin and he cramps backward, half of his body hanging off the side of the bed.
But despite the raging inferno inside him, he feels almost...empty. His entire body is burning but he senses a chilling loneliness in him, and he tries to stand to scream for help but all that does is make him stumble to the floor.
He stops scratching at his neck and instead thinks, the floor is cold, I need cold. So he starts pulling at the buttons in his silken pajamas, harshly popping them off the threading and his hands paw at his chest. He turns his head sideways, towards the window, sees the moon in it's fullness, and howls as another wave of searing heat crashes over him.
"Draco?" Blaise sits up in his bed, but jumps when he hears the sounds coming from across the hallway.
He doesn't waste time running out of his room and into his best friend's, and he instantly feels the pit of his stomach revolt in fear.
"Draco?"
"I...need..." Draco's voice is extraterrestrial, strained and unfamiliar, and his mouth falls open in a silent scream as he twists unnaturally. "I...need..."
"What do you need," Blaise asks urgently, coming closer and reaching out to touch his shoulder. "What do I do?"
Blaise flinches back when Draco's hand clamps over his and turns to face him, the entirety of his eyes glowing white. Blaise screams and tries to get out of his hold, tugging desperately at his arm when Draco starts illuminating silver.
Draco's skin is hot and sweaty and with a few more hasty tugs, his wrist falls free and Blaise runs out of the room.
*******
"Potter, open up!"
Blaise growls in frustration and pounds his fists repeatedly over the Gryffindor Hall door.
"Potter!"
"Blaise," a groggy, familiar voice muffles behind the door. A moment after the door is pulled to reveal Ron, with his striped pajama top unbuttoned and his welt-and-freckle-covered torso winking at him. "What are you on about, it's half past three, love."
"I need Harry, Ron," Blaise says desperately, clinging onto the open lapels of Ron's sleeping shirt. "Draco is screaming and in pain or I don't know. He attacked me when I went to touch him, he wouldn't let me go. I don't know what's wrong with him."
Ron looks visibly more awake and he gently takes Blaise's wrists and nods, his eyebrows furrowed as he listens intently. "Alright, relax, take a breather."
Blaise shakes his head. "No, you don't understand, Draco needs Harry, he needs..."
Just then, Blaise is interrupted by a vicious howl of pain, and then a moment after, Draco's very recognizable scream. He turns to look at Ron with wide eyes.
"Alright," Ron nods quickly. "Let's go get Harry."
He pulls the Slytherin up the coiled staircase in haste, not stopping one bit as they reach the door that has Potter, Finnigan & Weasley on a golden plaque. He pushes it open and lets it slam on the wall, but Blaise doesn't get to cross the threshold because Ron stops in his steps and tightens his hold on Blaise's wrist.
"Don't move," he hears Ron say. "Don't make a sound."
Blaise doesn't dare, he squeezes his eyes shut when he hears another howl from the West Wing of the tower, where he knows Draco is writhing around on the floor.
He stops himself from gasping when Ron's hold tightens even more, to the point where he's twisting his hand to get him to release him, but to no avail. Blaise moves when the Gryffindor takes a step back and he pokes his head around Ron's shoulder to look at what's happening.
He immediately regrets it.
Harry is standing, holding himself up like a puppet on broken strings, his head is balanced on one shoulder and his knees are wobbling.
But the most terrifying part is that his eyes are glowing red and there's an aura about him that is also glowing. His hair is suspended in midair as if he was floating in water, and for the first time Blaise feels the staticky shock of electricity all around him.
He watches in horror as Harry's body straightens itself out, and once he's standing completely straight, he takes a step forward. Ron backs up again.
"Ron," Blaise whispers, tugging on his hand. "I think he's trying to go to Draco."
"What," Ron says from in front of him.
"That's what Draco looks like," Blaise points a finger at Harry taking a step at a time.
Blaise looks up at Ron and sees his eyebrows are furrowed. "Are...Are you sure?"
Blaise spares a look at Harry and shudders. He nods. "Yes."
Ron exhales through his nose. "I hope you're right about this," and he pulls Blaise aside with him.
Harry, noticing a clear path, stands straighter and starts walking in pace. Ron looks at Blaise over his shoulder and purses his lips, turns to follow Harry.
They follow him down the spiral staircase and into the Common Room, and when Harry takes a turn into the West Wing of the tower, where Draco's screams can be heard, Ron looks back at Blaise with raised brows.
"What do you think they're doing," Ron asks as he faces Harry's retreating figure.
"I don't know," Blaise says honestly. "How did Harry know that Draco needed him?"
Ron shrugs. He notices that Blaise is still behind him, peeking over his shoulder and squeezing his arms. He chuckles. "Come on, let's go find out."
They move quietly but quickly, and they reach the top of the stairs when Harry turns to the doorway of Draco's room. "Must be an instinctive feeling."
"Come on," Ron says, pulling Blaise along when Harry disappears past the doorframe. They can hear Draco's whimpers from where they are.
When they reach the door, Ron pulls Blaise next to him and they watch as Harry approaches Draco' withering frame on the floor, his whimpers reducing to labored breaths the closer Harry got.
Harry stops right next to Draco, bends down and lifts him into his arms like he weighs nothing, and turns towards Draco's bed to set him down.
"Omega," Harry rasps out, his voice sounding the same as Draco's--harsh and unfamiliar.
He spreads his arm out over Draco, opens his palm, and Draco's mouth falls open. "Alpha."
"What is going on," Ron mumbles. "What does that mean?"
Blaise shrugs, keeps his eyes on the exchange of power happening before their eyes. "I've never heard that before."
All of a sudden, Harry flips his head to look back at the two at the door, and Ron instinctively reaches back to hold Blaise.
Harry reaches a finger towards them and opens his mouth. "Intruders."
Ron frowns, but before he has a chance to say something, the door swings and slams shut in his face. He huffs, turns to Blaise and gives him a smile. "You need sleep. Come on."
"Wait, what?"
"Well, they're obviously not going to harm each other. Do you hear screaming? They're fine, and I'm tired. Let's go."
The Gryffindor drags him back down the West Wing and up the Gryffindor staircase, into the room with the open door.
Blaise stops right inside the room. "I'm sleeping in here?"
"Well, yes."
"Are you taking Harry's bed?"
Ron makes a face. "Of course not. Harry's bed smells like treacle tarts from all the times he sneaks them in."
Blaise tries to keep a straight face, he really does. But Ron is looking at him expectantly and he just throws his hands up, releasing a laugh. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," Ron grins, pushing his sheets aside and climbing in. He pats the other side of the bed. "Sleep?"
Blaise hesitates. He looks at the rug that's spread under the bed and thinks he can sleep there. It really isn't a big deal, but for some reason, Blaise's legs start itching and he wants to start pacing.
Until there's a pair of arms that hefts him over a shoulder and he yelps in surprise. "Ron!"
"Don't overthink it. We're just two boys sleeping in the same bed. Like a sleepover. That's it."
Ron places him over the sheets and rounds the bed, tucking himself in. Blaise huffs. No goodnight kiss?
And, as if reading his mind, Ron lifts his head from under the duvet, takes Blaise's hand, and he places a lingering kiss on his knuckles.
The smile that Ron gives him makes his stomach leap. "Goodnight, Blaise."
"Goodnight."
Ron keeps looking at him, and he can't really see him but he knows he is because he can feel it.
"What?"
"Are you going to get under the covers or freeze to death, your Highness?" He laughs.
Blaise refuses to flush. He just scoots up and pushes the sheets back with his feet, then slides down. He remains facing the canopy of the bed, the swirling golden patterns on the red velvet.
"By Godric, Blaise," Ron laughs incredulously. "Could you be anymore awkward?"
"I apologize, I do not..."
"Okay," Ron chuckles again, lifting his hand. "I'm going to stop you right there."
Ron is shaking his head with a smile as he scoots closer, and without warning he wraps an arm over Blaise and pulls him against his body. The Slytherin feels his lungs turn to mush. "What are you doing?"
"Getting comfortable," Ron says. He adjusts his arm so it lays under the pillow that Blaise is laying on and when he's satisfied, he lays his head back down. He takes a deep breath, sighs, and Blaise gets goosebumps when he feels it on his neck. So close.
"Right," Blaise says. He lifts an arm and puts it over Ron's on his waist.
"Are you comfortable?"
"This..." Blaise pauses, thinks about not saying this is different. He rolls his eyes at himself and throws his thoughts out the window. "This is an improvement."
"Good," Ron sighs, tightening his hold on Blaise. "Now sleep."
*******
When Blaise wakes up, he's warm.
It's not alarming at all, it feels nice. It does throw him off, though, because when Blaise usually wakes up, his toes, elbows and nose are always freezing despite the thick duvets he sleeps under. He also notices he smells leather, and whatever his nose is on, it's not bed dressings.
Blaise experimentally rubs his nose back and forth, and his eyes open when he comes to the realization that it's skin. He sees tan freckles and pink welts and immediately recognizes the smell of Quidditch uniforms, disregards the lovely smell of Ron's body.
He looks up slowly, and exhales. Ron is still asleep. He has his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth is pinched into a frown, but his breathing is calm. Blaise looks back down at the open shirt, and pulls his hand out from wherever it was to lay it openly on Ron's chest.
The welts are warmer than the rest of him, is the first thing he notices. The second thing he notices is that they wrap all around him, all the way down, down, down. Past his toned stomach and his bellybutton. The welts even dip into his pajama bottoms.
Blaise starts when his wrist is taken and a deep, throaty hum reverberates through his hand on Ron's lower abdomen. He looks up to see Ron is very much awake, and he's looking at him with dark blue eyes.
"Good morning," is the only think Blaise can think of right now.
"Yes, it appears it is," Ron looks down at Blaise's hand pointedly, where it's resting just above Ron's trouser line. "What were you doing?"
"Oh...exploring," Blaise says slowly, because he honestly does not know what he was doing.
"Yeah?" Ron hums again, presses Blaise's hand against his abs again. "Well, by all means, don't let me stop you."
Blaise holds Ron's gaze, swallows at his darkened eyes and looks back down at his hand. He moves his fingers to trace a specifically large welt and follows it as it curves into Ron's sleeping bottoms. He stops right at the hem and blinks up at the Gryffindor through his lashes.
"Go on," Ron tells him, breathless.
He feels his heart thudding in his chest, wildly running out of blood to pump as he feels it all rush to his cheeks. "How far do they go?"
"Isn't that what you're trying to find out?"
Blaise's breath hitches when Ron rolls over and suddenly he's on top of him, and the open lapels of his shirt block his view of the rest of the room. Ron takes his hand again and puts it on his stomach.
"Go for it."
He hooks a finger into Ron's pajamas, and as he's looking into his eyes, very slowly, pulls the hem of his trousers down. Ron's black briefs conceal his parts, but that doesn't stop Blaise from very openly staring at the way the material clings to his pale skin.
Blaise notices that all the other welts end just at his waist, except the one he was following, which curls under the briefs. "That's the only one."
The Slytherin looks up at the redhead. "Just that one?"
Ron nods, his eyes roaming all over Blaise's face.
"May I?"
The way Ron's eyebrows lift in surprise is almost comical. "You want to undress me?"
"Not...I don't want...I didn't want to," Blaise huffs angrily, upset that he can't finish the sentence.
"Not sexually."
"Yes," Blaise says in relief, looking back up at Ron. "Not sexually."
Ron holds his eyes for a few seconds. Then he looks down at Blaise's fingertip laying where the welt disappears under his undergarments. "Okay."
Blaise keeps his eyes on Ron's face, examining every emotion that passes over him, and he hooks his index finger into his briefs, slowly pulls the hem down. He only pushes them as far as the welt travels, not revealing anything, and when he finally reaches where the scar curls to an end, Ron exhales shakily. "Okay?"
The Gryffindor nods and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead on Blaise's. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just new, the feeling. No one's ever touched them."
"Oh," Blaise says softly, running his finger in endless swirls, tracing and retracing the raised skin. "I'm honored, then."
"Can I kiss you?"
Blaise's eyes widen and his finger stops moving. "You want to kiss me?"
"Yes," Ron breathes. He opens his eyes and Blaise can see his pupils have widened, but the baby blue is still present around them.
"Okay," Blaise whispers. He sees Ron look down at his lips and he pokes his tongue out to wet them out of habit.
Ron moves slowly, incredibly slow to the point that Blaise questions the distance between them. When Ron is just a breath away, he stops and closes his eyes. "Are you sure?"
The Slytherin wants to scream at the suspense this boy is making him go through, but he doesn't. He just jerks his head in a nod.
"Say it."
Blaise actually releases the moan that's stuck in his throat. He starts tracing the welt on Ron's skin again. "I want you to kiss me."
The moment their lips touch, it's as if Blaise's soul sighs, as if his body exhales in relief and his brain is flooding with so much yes that it overwhelms him. Ron's lips are warm and not as thin as they look and he feels goosebumps everywhere.
Ron rolls to his side but does not detach his lips from Blaise, and he rolls again to where Blaise is sitting over his hipbones, and then pulls back. "Blimey," Ron breathes with a wide grin.
Blaise, however, loves the way Ron's red lips stretch over his smile and goes to kiss him again, mesmerized.
The Gryffindor hums in surprise, chuckles in his throat but doesn't hesitate in kissing back. He moves his hands up, rubbing Blaise's shoulders and then rubbing down, down, down. Until he gets to his thin waist and squeezes, pulling back again. He laughs when Blaise whines and dives in again. "Hold on, Blaise."
"Sorry," Blaise whispers. He puts his hands over Ron's on his waist. "Sorry."
"'S alright," Ron bites his lip to stop from smiling so widely. He laughs loudly when Blaise goes to kiss him again. "Wait!"
Blaise sits back and huffs. "Why did you kiss me if you wanted to stop just after? That's torture," he places his hands on Ron's naked chest and rubs his thumbs over his skin. "It's not right."
"Says the one who ignored me for a week after giving me mixed signals."
"Hey!" Blaise splutters, hitting Ron's arm.
"Joking! I'm joking," Ron chuckles.
"Can we keep kissing now?"
Ron laughs, closes his eyes and looks away. "By Godric! Control yourself, man."
Blaise scowls.
"We need to go check on Harry and Malfoy," Ron reasons, drumming his fingers on Blaise's hips. He smiles knowingly at the wide eyes that the Slytherin gives him.
"Oh, joy."