Where: Sixth Year Slytherin Dorm
Rating: PG-13 for some violence *gasp*!
After the days events, Blaise was doing everything in his power to avoid human contact. He hadn't gone to see Marietta yet or even attempted to find Adrian. Instead he was occupying the evening nursing his slightly pained ankle.
Once Adrian learned of Marietta's unconsciousness, he immediately headed for Blaise's room. But when he overheard that Blaise had failed in protecting her, he was to speak of something very different. Erupting into the sixth year's dorm, Adrian's eyes lowered to Blaise. "I hope you aren't suffering. You know, you did such a swell job protecting Marietta." He nearly spat in his face.
Blaise stared at Adrian, stunned at his temper. His mouth kept moving trying to form words, to reply to the one person he had been loyal to that day. He could only manage out an almost inaudible, "I...I tried."
He shoved at Blaise. "Not good enough, Zabini. Not good enough."
Blaise fell back onto his bed. He stared at Adrian for a moment before his jaw tightened and he slurred out, "Well I didn't see you doing any better, Pucey." His eyes narrowed.
Adrian clenched Blaise's shirt and lifted him to his feet. "You're lousy. I had hundreds of people to watch out for; you only had one. Couldn't even do that!" He shoved his forearm into Blaise's neck and forced him against the bookcase. "Fucking worthless."
Blaise face was mashed against the wood, and he could feel Adrian's arm gain pressure on his neck. But if he was going to take backlash from his entire house, he would not take it from Adrian too. His cheek was pressed so hard against the bookcase he barely spit out, "But you failed to protect the one person that should have been your top priority. When did it become my job?!" Blaise reared his elbow back straight into Adrian's chest.
Adrian, shocked, closed his eyes and drew his shoulders inward upon impact. He felt the ache in his chest and the frustration from the entire day flood into his fist. "I couldn't find her!" he screamed, then slowly let his forearm fall from Blaise's neck.
Blaise straightened from the bookcase, rubbing the back of his neck as he did. He slowly turned to face Adrian. A blank expression covered his face, as he could see all of Adrian's rage. "Don't blame me. I could have left her." He growled out.
It took Adrian a few seconds to make sense of what had happened. He stared at Blaise, and then the floor, the scattered books - in particular, the one at his feet - the opened door. He knelt down and picked up the book. "Here," he mumbled, and handed it to him.
Blaise looked down at the book, and then at Adrian. It seemed to be over and Blaise had no desire to keep it going. He slowly reached out and took it from Adrian, "Thanks."
Adrian was drained, and it showed on his face - the way his lips fell and his eyes appeared to cloud. "Your shirt," he pointed, and made for the door, "I hope it's not your favourite."
Blaise smirked, "Not anymore." He lowered his head after he watched Adrian leave.