Title: Ill Met By Daylight
Author: elfflame
Characters: Rodolphus Lestrange/Blaise Zabini (yes, you read that right…)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Bloodplay, dub-con, rough sex, chan, dark
Kinks chosen: Salirophilia: Arousal by tasting salty body fluids.
Word Count: 2060
Summary: A trip to Hogsmeade leads to a dark encounter for Blaise Zabini.
Author's notes: Erm…this was going to be a Harry/Draco fic, but… Draco getting off on sweaty clothes just doesn’t do it for me. Less so than blood, apparently. Anyway, these two have had a few talks in private RPs between myself and wolfish_cat, so this idea came to mind. It’s far more canon than we play then, especially her Ro. Still, I hope people will give it a look… Even if it is the third Blaise fic in a row this year… *headdesk*



Hogsmeade was quieter than usual. Many of the older students had stayed at the castle to study, but Blaise had needed to get out. He felt like he was being stifled up there, watching his best friend worry himself to death.

He’d spent the morning wandering the Hogwarts grounds and then walking up the path to Hogsmeade, making his way to the Three Broomsticks just before lunch. The place was not as packed as usual, and he found a table by the window, then watched people go by as he ate his lunch, trying not to think about what might happen to Draco before all this was over. After he’d paid his bill, he’d had to brush past Potter and his cronies with a glare before he could get out into the street. Once free of that dubious pleasure, he headed up the high street towards Gladrags. New clothes always distracted him. For a bit.

But he never made it that far. Just as he was approaching Honeydukes, an arm snaked around his waist and dragged him into an alley. He’d assumed it would be one of his housemates trying to surprise him, but when he looked up into the face above his, all he could feel was shock. Rodolphus Lestrange. If he could have found the air in his lungs, he’d have screamed, but the shock of seeing a Death Eater here in Hogsmeade made him feel as though the man had punched him, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

Lestrange didn’t look as bad as the wanted posters that lined the streets. He was far better groomed, and there was a life to his eyes that hadn’t been in the mug shot. “Well, well. Aren’t you pretty?”

Weren’t there supposed to be Aurors crowding the streets of Hogsmeade? How in the hell had a Death Eater managed to sneak by them?

“Wh-what?”

Lestrange smirked. “Never mind, pretty boy. You do know my nephew, don’t you? I’ve seen his pictures of the two of you…”

Nephew? It took Blaise a few moments before he realized the man meant Draco. He nodded slowly. “We’re dorm-mates. Why?”

That seemed to please Lestrange. “Good. I need to get a message to him.” He held up a sealed note. The green wax seal was imprinted with a Morsmordre, and Blaise shivered, realizing who the note was from, and why Lestrange had risked himself to get the note this far.

“Y-yes, sir,” Blaise said, hating that he was stuttering, but unable to stop it.

The man smirked widely, his fingers curling a bit too tight around Blaise’s chin, his eyes glittering. “Such a good, obedient boy. I’ll bet that your father adores you, hm?” A finger reached out to stroke his cheek.

Surprisingly enough, the words helped. They didn’t calm Blaise in the least, but the sharp spike of anger brought him back to himself. His voice was cool when he spoke again. “My father is dead, sir. Now…if you’ll excuse me…” He tried to pull away, but Lestrange pressed him to the rough brick wall of the building behind him, his hand scraping against it when he tried to catch himself.

“Well, that is a shame,” he said softly. “I’m sure Draco would tell you that every boy needs a father…”

“I’ve had far too many fathers in my life, thank you very much,” Blaise growled as he struggled against the man’s grip. “Now let me go.”

“I can’t say I’m inclined to do that, pretty boy.” Lestrange leaned in close and ran his lips along Blaise’s neck, making him shiver. “I rather like you,” he whispered. “Think the Dark Lord would let me keep you? I’m sure young Draco could use the company…”

“Stop it,” Blaise said, horrified to recognize a whimper in his voice, but unable to stop it. “Let me go!”

“I’ll let you go. Once I’m done and I’ve gotten what I wanted.” Blaise shivered again when he felt the man begin to lick at his neck, and closed his eyes.

“Please don’t,” he whispered. “I’ll give you anything, just don’t—” The words broke off as the man began to suck at his neck, causing his cock to twitch. Blaise’s head fell back against the wall. That shouldn’t feel so good, he thought to himself. But it did, and he groaned. “Ohgod…”

Lestrange pulled back, his eyes meeting Blaise’s. “Are you going to fight me more, pretty boy? Or are you going to let me play? Either way, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

Blaise looked into those dark eyes. He expected to see madness. Or anger. Something that would chill him to the bone. What he saw, though, was lust. An almost animal hunger. It was enough to make him shiver. To realize that this could go two ways. Pleasure or pain. He’d had worse from his lovers in the past. And it wasn’t like Lestrange was difficult to look at. If he gave in, he might even survive unmarked.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Yes. So long as you let me go after.”

Lestrange snorted. “I have to, don’t I? The Dark Lord would flay me alive if Draco didn’t get that message. So you’re safe there.”

“All right, then.”

The man’s eyes glinted, and his hand tangled in Blaise’s hair, pulling his head back and to the side to give him better access to his neck, then bit at the mark he’d already made. Blaise moaned, clinging to him. Fuck, that felt good. His hands curled around the man’s shoulders, and one leg twined with Lestrange’s as he arched up against him.

“Eager little thing,” Lestrange growled against his skin.

Blaise knew his flush would show through his dark skin, even, but he glowered at the man. Normally, he’d have snapped at him and asked if he wanted him to struggle, but hadn’t he already said so? “Just…do it. If you’re going to. Or are you worried an Auror will show?”

The man’s eyes narrowed, and then his mouth was on Blaise’s neck again, even as he pulled his legs up around his waist. Blaise whimpered as he felt his skin tear, but at that point, even the pain made him want more. Then there were lips on his own, and he could taste the salty tang of his own blood as Lestrange’s tongue slid into his mouth. His whole body shuddered at the taste. He hadn’t expected it to affect him that way. He wasn’t squeamish about blood, but he’d never been turned on by it before.

His reaction had him clinging to the man, grinding against him the best he could. Lestrange growled in pleasure at that, his tongue pressing deeper as he tore at Blaise’s trousers. There was a thought in the back of his mind that he should vanish his clothes before the man tore them from his body, but then there was a flash of silver, and Blaise went utterly still as he felt a blade slide between them.

Even with the man’s agreement that he needed to let Blaise go, he knew that he was unhinged. What if he forgot? He closed his eyes, feeling the knife move between skin and cloth as Lestrange cut it away.

There was a low chuckle in his ear. “Mmm…as pretty in fear as you are in need.” Before he could answer, lips covered his own once more. The fear didn’t fade completely, but neither had his arousal, and when the man moved to suck at the wound on his neck, Blaise arched against him once more.

He felt Lestrange fumble with his own clothes, and shivered at the feel of skin on skin, not sure which was stronger—his fear or his need. He whimpered, and the man chuckled. “Soon enough, pretty boy. Can’t wait to feel you around me.”

Part of Blaise wondered if Lestrange would even bother stretching him first, and he was relieved to feel a finger press into him. Not for long, though. Just enough to stretch him a bit. He whimpered as the finger pulled out and much larger took its place, pushing into him with minimal lubrication. It felt as though he were going to tear apart.

Before he could cry out, though, Lestrange was kissing him again, and once more, the taste of his own blood had him moaning. Pleasure. Pain. Fear. Need. They all combined to make him writhe as the man impaled him on his cock, his own twitching between them.

There was no pause before he pulled back and thrust in again, the taste of blood fading between their tongues as they continued to kiss. Blaise’s fingers were digging into the man’s shoulders as he moaned. It hurt. But at the same time…he’d never felt like this before. Other lovers had either been so focused on their own pleasures that he’d gotten nothing from them, or so awed by him that he’d been the one in control. For once, the two combined in a way he’d never thought it was possible to feel, and all he could do was cling to the man as he was fucked, his cries growing louder, not even caring if others found them.

Apparently Lestrange did, though, for he covered Blaise’s mouth with his own, swallowing the cries even as his thrusts increased. Blaise bit and clawed at the man, his body clenching around the thick cock filling him when it swept across his prostate, going rigid at the pleasure that rushed through him. He would have sworn if he’d been able, but Lestrange kissed him again, stifling all comprehensible sound.

Lestrange’s cock rubbed against his prostate again, and before he could even think of dropping his hand to his cock, he was arching against him, coming with a wail that the man swallowed greedily. He didn’t still for a moment, though, his thrusts still hard and fast into Blaise as he pressed him against the wall. Blaise clung to him, his ears ringing as the man fucked him, groaning each time he felt his prostate stroked.

Just when Blaise was starting to wonder if the man would keep going indefinitely, he gave an especially hard thrust, then stilled inside him, and Blaise felt his drained cock twitch as his insides were bathed with the man’s come.

After a moment, Lestrange pulled back, and Blaise made a face as the softened cock slipped from him. They straightened themselves, silent for a long moment before Lestrange spoke. “Better than I expected.” He reached out to stroke Blaise’s cheek. “Perhaps I should ask my Lord a boon…” He smirked at Blaise. “I could use a pet…”

Blaise flushed. He wasn’t sure if the idea terrified or excited him. All he knew was that his heart was racing as though he’d been running the entire time. He couldn’t seem to find the words to respond.

Lestrange didn’t seem to need one, though. He smirked at Blaise’s reaction, then nodded at him once, pulling himself together for a moment before apparating away with a loud crack.

Blaise sagged against the wall of the building once more, trying to catch his breath. He kicked at the remains of his ruined trousers, then reached into the pocket of his robe, his finger running over the edge of the letter Lestrange had given him to give to Draco. He’d almost forgotten. Until now. He wasn’t sure what he wanted any more. But he supposed keeping the letter from Draco, while it might get Lestrange in trouble, would also be detrimental to Draco.

Besides, if he were truly honest with himself, he wanted that again. All of it. The fear. The blood. The need. That thick cock filling him… He shivered, then pushed himself away from the building. At least he was wearing a robe. No one would be the wiser about what had happened.

He cast a few cleaning spells on himself, vanished his ruined trousers, then stepped back out onto the High Street once more, and headed for Gladrags. The note could wait. Right now, he needed to go shopping, to forget for a bit, before he delivered the letter and whatever bad news it held to Draco.


If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.