Chapter Text
Harry was a sweetheart. The sweetheart from Knockturn Alley. The king of hearts literally. Lily had a little potion shop in the centre of the place and Harry used to work there, some days, sometimes, especially after Hogwarts was over. He was everyone’s favourite. Even if his two boyfriends had died miserably in the middle of the night. Blaise told Draco that it was a bad idea to date Harry, that it wasn’t wise of him to do it. Even Lily was suspicious sometimes. Even the rumours were strong. Even if no one dared to yell at the Golden boy, because that what he did, he used his title for the best and the privileges.
Blaise saw them together. It was one of the famous restaurants where the Malfoys were well-known clients. He saw the caress and the touches. Harry was beautiful, he wore mourning attire two times, both funerals of his boyfriends. He attended with his mother. Miss Zabini excelled at being the mistress, so when Blaise noticed the glint in his mother's eyes, he knew that Harry was trouble. But in truth he never had an inkling for it, the boy couldn't even kill a fly and his whole life had been dedicated to sacrifice, for him, for Hogwarts, for the magical world in general. He was a prideful Gryffindor. Not a dumb jock.
“Be careful.” He said, one time, to Draco. He had seen the ring he had bought for Harry. He was going to ask for his hand; maybe it was jealousy. That was what Pansy mentioned to him at one point, she mentioned that he was jealous because he had actually fallen in love with Draco. But Blaise never felt that way. He loved his friend, but he was not in love with him. Draco looked at him oddly when he heard him say those words, and his brows furrowed.
“You’re too dramatic sometimes, Blaise. The war ended.” He answered and his hands were itching, but he ended up putting the box with the ring back in one of the closet drawers as if he was also hesitating.
For a while, he wasn't close to his friend’s soon-to-be-husband but the same day he met Harry he was working at his mother's place with a smile on his face, and a black cat in his arms. He was working on something, but the cat kept climbing into his arms and seemed to want his attention. It was almost ridiculous, like on purpose.
As soon as the boy realised he was there, he greeted him and Blaise noticed that he had made some chocolates. They were kind of cute and had the initials of Draco's name, with colours and shapes. It was their anniversary. "I bet Draco would love it." He said, trying to make small-talk, because even though Draco was dating Harry a while back, he never got a chance to talk to him alone, he never even got to know him well at Hogwarts, and if Draco thought he should give the boy a chance, he would.
“I hope so. Here, take one.” Harry replied with too-bright green eyes and for a few seconds he saw something there, but it was quickly replaced with kindness. He handed him one of the chocolates and Blaise took it carefully, he didn't want to look at it with his magic because he felt he was being disrespectful, so he just ate it. It tasted really good, it was sweet and soft, there was something crunchy there which added flavour and Harry was smiling at him maniacally.
There was hunger in his eyes, and he made a little moan when Blaise swallowed the candy. It was obscene for a normal reaction. But he didn't say anything. It had a minty taste, with something that was a bit saltier, but then there seemed to be some special chocolate mousse.
“It was great, Harry. Thanks.” Blaise offered politely as an answer and Harry was surprised or it seemed he feigned surprise.
“Thanks you! My mother is tired of tasting them, so she doesn’t do it anymore.” Harry pouted prettily and he handed him another one saying that it was for the "trip" or that he could give it to someone, although Blaise did not want to accept another one for free. However, due to the look of him, he simply preserved it in a bag that Harry gave him so that it would not melt from the chocolate and keep the warm feeling.
Just as he got ready to go, Lily Evans came through the door with bags floating above her. She seemed in fact gloomy, especially when she saw Harry as if there was some sort of tension between them, but she masked it well, with years of practice, when she saw Blaise and greeted him with extreme kindness that was utterly fake, but he could appreciate it. He never understood the history between Harry and his mother. He knew that she was a muggle witch, while Harry was half-blood. They seemed to have a good relationship, but for some reason he always doubted it. He always felt that Lily Evans was afraid of his own son.
He didn't see Harry for a few more days, but he did find out from Draco that Harry had started selling the chocolates and was successful with them. Blaise, for his part, began to investigate the causes of the deaths of Harry's former boyfriends. He started in Knockturn Alley with some of the sex workers, because apparently, they knew a lot about him.
“Oh, sweetie. He was so happy with the Longbottom kid. He wore the black colour for almost a year, and then awful people started joking saying he was always preparing for a funeral, you know.” Claire said to him biting his nails, and watching her own makeup on a heart-shaped mirror. “But I don’t care about that shit. The animals love him, you know? And they said that when animals love people it is because they can trust them.” She explained gently with her knowledge, and Blaise thought it was a joke, but it wasn’t in reality. Claire really believed that.
But, in fact, it was the truth. Blaise had seen him with butterflies over his head like a fairytale, and the dogs used to follow him everywhere. He always scared them away with gesticulations of his hands, getting rid of them, in a kind way, because you couldn’t compromise Harry in another situation or in another mood, other than cheerful and bright.
“Do you know how Neville died?” He asked with curiosity, and Claire clicked her tongue against her palate, looking at him with interest. She was playing with cherry gum.
“Yeah. They said he had a heart attack. Poor kid. He was kinda nice. I didn’t know he suffered from the heart, but whatever, maybe he had a curse or something.” Claire raised one of her eyebrows and colored it blue with the lipstick she was wearing indicating that the conversation was over, and if he wanted to know more, he had to pay her, so Blaise left the place. Everything went to Harry's ears. Neville, his classmate, died from a heart attack. It wasn't suspicious at all. Things like that happened; stranger stuff had happened in Harry's life. For the next few days, he tried to investigate everything he could.
Ron Weasley was Harry’s second boyfriend who died because he killed himself. People said that they were fighting, but Harry didn’t even do anything. The man just comitted a suicide.
Weasley had written a letter to his mother saying that he was suffering from the weight of the war. Harry’s name wasn’t written on it, and they scoffed when they saw him entering the funeral of his boyfriend looking stunning. Who looked so stunning going to a funeral?
Blaise didn’t have any more hints, but he could remember everything. Nothing was out of the normal in Hogwarts, maybe because he wasn’t Harry’s friend, but he had always watched him. He knew every detail of his face and every mannerism. And maybe it did sound creepy, but there was something that didn't convince him, there was something more or less, there was something in the boy.
Maybe the horcrux. The little piece of Voldemort in his soul. So, he started chatting more with Harry, he started spending more time with him, and he opened up about his problems with his mother.
“Are you still talking with Granger and Lovegood?” He asked once, drinking his milkshake. The straw was bitten because he was nervous and didn’t know why he accepted an outing with the man.
“Yes! They’re my best friends. They are always there for me. Luna is working alongside his father in South America and Mione was fighting a position in the Magic department. They’re really smart.” Harry said, tasting his own milkshake, and Blaise was made to see that his lips were painted with gloss, and this became more pronounced after he drank the milkshake that was strawberry flavour. The smell was delicious. And Harry was a vision. "And what about you, Blaise?" He asked him with twinkling eyes and the noise of the straw rang in his ears.
“I’m fine. I’m still talking with some of our classmates, especially Theodore and Draco. They’re like my family now. I’m working along with my mother in her business.” Blaise commented to him. He was still young, but he would like to start studying something sometime in the future, and specialise in potions or duelling.
“That’s really amazing, Blaise. Why were you asking for my ex-boyfriends in the streets?” Harry's abrupt change in conversation made his eyes widen, and he nearly swallowed what he was drinking. The silence stretched for a few seconds.
“I’m really sorry. I was just curious. Neville and Ron were my classmates too, and it’s sad knowing that they’re not here anymore.” It was a lie. But it was partially true. Perhaps playing the victim worked in front of Harry who felt sorry for even a simple fly, but the way the other was looking at him basically said that he didn't believe anything he was saying, although that was quickly hidden behind a mask at the time, just like Lily Evans did when she saw him.
“If you have doubts, you can ask me, you know? We are friends.” Harry made sure to pay for the two milkshakes before Blaise could get his money. They were in a muggle shop. It was a power move.
He didn’t know why he found himself an hour later in Harry’s house while the man was preparing more liquors and chocolates to sell. There was a piano in the living room and Blaise was tempted to touch it. It looked beautiful and expensive. He knew Harry was rich because his father was a pureblood.
The boy followed his eye to the piano and offered to play something if he knew how to make music with it. Blaise did know it. When he was a child, he learned how to play it. Every pureblood kid had to learn different talents or abilities. So, he did not know why he found himself playing the piano with Harry's precious attention on his fingers, on every key that he slowly pressed, taking his time, closing his eyes, letting himself enjoy the moment.
For some reason, the situation seemed very intimate to him. Like a tradition of intimacy. Perhaps he behaved the same way with his female friends? But the way Harry was seeing him, the way he was checking him out. It was odd and fluttering.
The yellow glow of the lamp reflected Harry’s eyes and there was a tingle of red in them, like different bubbles of colour. His posture was relaxed while he was doing the candy and the liquors. His hands seemed gentle, but the way he worked with the chocolates made him remember something different. It reminded him of the hands of a surgeon dissecting something, and for a few seconds, he felt the need to throw the chocolates at him that looked like living rats.
He worked with the concentration and interest of a doctor, injecting the liquids, manoeuvring them as if the candy had a life of its own, and it seemed that way. His fingers were long, thin, and pale, slightly stained with something red, they looked like little dots of his blood on the tip of his fingers. For some reason, it was frightening, and the music he was playing created a kind of harmonious background, almost like a movie, almost a fairy story, to what they both did, and the way they harmonised together in that cubicle.
The lamp only joined them both, the other places were dark and for some reason, he could feel a breath from one of the neighbouring rooms. He didn't know if anyone else lived there besides Lily and Harry, but there was someone preying on them. If he focused on the music, he didn't hear the rest, but if he concentrated too much he could feel the utensils used by Harry in the chocolates, the littles "clank", "clink", the little tap, tap to the chocolate.
Harry joined him immediately with two chocolates in his hands. One of them was a bright yellow, and the other one was dark chocolate. And as he was offering them to him, he took the first one, chewed quickly, but a sweet lemon flavour exploded on his taste buds. He had a talent for that. “Draco bought me all the tools to do this.” He mentioned it as an on-air comment, and Blaise hummed, swirling his tongue to the flavoured chocolate. He heard a meow a few metres from him and a little gasp from Harry when he took the other dark chocolate covered bonbon. He said it had mousse inside.
This one was even better than the previous one, or perhaps because one of his favourite tastes was chocolate, so he tried to chew it more slowly, pressing it against his palate so that the taste lasted longer and enjoyed the exploding flavour. It had something crunchy in it. However at one point what passed through his throat was not the mousse inside the chocolate, but rather something that tasted like iron, a heavy taste, disgusting, so he looked at the half of the caramel that was left in his hand, and his heart began to beat strongly when he noticed that there was blood, it shined silvery red against the colour, and he felt like vomiting, so the blood he had swallowed returned to his mouth, staining his lips, and with his fingers he cleaned what fell while Harry was smirking at him, in a macabre way, wide eyed and wide mouth. There were little clots in the blood, and not only that but there was something else inside the candy, they looked like bone gnawed into thousands of small pieces and it had the smell of death, the smell of rot.
He got up from the chair, the piano key clicking as his stomach hit it. Harry had an arched eyebrow and was waiting for his verdict. At the same moment, he wanted to go out of the house, he heard the “meows” more closer, and then he saw the cat Harry was petting the other day, dragging his body towards the kitchen, his claws were severed abruptly, he had needles stuck in his yellow eyes, and his ears were cut off.
The cat was meowing, the cat was screaming like a child, like a person. The way he moved his body, away from Harry, but going to the only source of relief that was him at the same time. He had needles embedded all over his body, bleeding him, and the flesh falling off. The cat was a pool of blood.
Blaise got away from the house until Draco and Harry’s wedding. He told Draco, but the man never believed him. He offered his memory, but Draco was astounded by his offer, so he declined. “Poor dear, he’s a lost cause.” The woman who was next to him whispered.
“Why did you say that, ma’am?” Blaise questioned warily, and the woman looked at him with sadness all over her face.
“I believe he loves him,” She said, pointing to Harry and then Draco. “But I also believe that you can love someone and be able to murder that person too.”