Content Harry Potter Crossovers
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Blaise had a furious expression on her face as she stomped over to me, well, us. It did not escape me that I was in a very similar situation now as to when she arrived at Zabini Manor and began hexing me. With a flick of her wand, I was casually lifted off and roughly tossed across the room and into one of the few surviving pieces of furniture. Fortunately, it was an armchair. Unfortunately, it was one of Hermione's favourites, and bloodstains made her queasy. The crimson flow from my backside was making the seat slippery, though putting pressure on my wound stopped the flow somewhat.

She focused on my assailant. "Well? What are you doing here, Great-grandfather? In our house?" she snapped.

Through teeth clenched in pain, Zab jabbed his finger towards me with indignation and hissed, "He's cheating on you! I caught him!" He spun to face me, his face mottled with rage.

Blaise blinked, looking up at the bed, noting that there was a vaguely human-shaped lump under the sheets. A lump with uncontrollable bushy brown hair at the far end. A smirk crossed her angular features. "You can come out now, Hermione. The baaaaaaaaad man has gone away," she said in a sing-song, insulting tone.

I coughed, ignoring Zab. "She's stunned."

Blaise's eyes flickered with something resembling irritation. "Bugger. It would have been nice to be able to tease a Gryff for hiding during a fight." She turned back to Zab, making no effort to wake Hermione. "So let me guess, you barged in here, found my boyfriend in bed with another girl, and started throwing spells?"

Zab glowered at her. "Damnit, yes! I will not have a Zabini humiliated! Especially not by the media circus surrounding the bloody Boy-Who-Lived! I will not allow it!"

I slowly relaxed into the chair, ignoring the slippery sensation under my stinging bum, taking care to take pressure off my knee. Slowly my heart rate dropped as the chance of death, or at least humiliating injury, was reduced. My frayed nerves began reforming. Blaise reached out to help Zab to his feet, but gave a gasp of shock when the extent of his injuries became obvious.

Muttering something about having to find some way to negate testosterone, she set about healing her Great-grandfather's legs. As a first year medical student, she was studying and attending classes ten hours a day. Judging from the level of stress she tended to exhibit after coming home at the end of the day, I'd say things were progressing as expected.

Though judging from Zab's pain-filled grunts and hisses, either she hadn't paid attention in the bedside manner class (possibly), it wasn't required for Slytherins (highly unlikely), or she was taking out her stress on someone who couldn't fight back (far more likely). I gingerly rose to my feet, leaning on my left leg, and summoned my own wands.

The pair of wands erupted from piles of kindling which had once been a bedside table and a vanity unit. I ignored Zab's pointed glares with ease, since every time he tried to stare at me, Blaise did something at the other end that made him suck in air through his teeth and turn red. This rather ruined the effect he was after.

I'll have to work out a way to thank her later.

I gently revived Hermione, shushing her as she panicked in the first half second of her sudden burst of consciousness. It took her a few seconds to come to terms with the fact that our lovemaking session had been rudely interrupted, and in the interim the furniture in the room had been reduced to firewood. I imagine that it would be more than a little surreal.

Hermione clutched a sheet to her bare chest, sitting up and looking down at Zab and Blaise. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Zab snarled back at her. "I should ask you the same question, whore!"

Hermione flushed instantly, her fingers twitching as they searched the bed for her wand. Blaise's expression darkened as she stared into the back of Zab's head.

Zab yelped as Blaise ceased being as gentle with her ministrations. "Shut up, you. You have no idea what is going on here," she told him.

Zab turned and gave her an incredulous look. "What in Merlin's name is going on? You're a Zabini! He's in bed with some bitch! Why aren't you hexing him to hell and back?"

Blaise slowly let a sly smile spread over her pretty elfin features as she looked up at Hermione and I. "What do you say, Harry? Shall we let him have a taste of his own medicine?"

Despite the pain in my knee and bum, I returned the smile. I wondered just how Zab would take to us not answering any of his questions. "Sounds good to me," I replied as I tossed Zab's wand back. The wand rattled on the floor and rolled to a halt near his clenched fist. In a flash, he snatched out and grabbed it, once more hissing as Blaise pushed down harder than strictly necessary.

"You don't need to be that rough!" he snapped at her.

"You're completely correct, as usual," she replied winsomely. "It's entirely voluntary on my part."

Hermione had obviously caught up at this point, glaring down at Zab. "So you are Harry's enigmatic master. I had really wanted to meet you. A pity you don't live up to my expectations."

Zab flashed her a glare full of venom. "Don't speak to me, whore," he spat, before hissing in agony.

Blaise stopped jabbing her wand into her Great-grandfather's legs. "Perhaps some introductions are in order?"

I stood, a little light headed from the amount of blood running down my leg. "Master, do yourself a favour and shut up for a moment."

Zab's eyes narrowed. "Will you stop calling me that! Your apprenticeship ended months ago!"

I snorted. "Not while it still annoys you. Now, the lovely young lady dressed in a makeshift toga is Hermione Granger. You know, the witch you desperately wanted to meet, perhaps work with in your research for a while? She's my girlfriend. The malicious Slytherin medical student attempting to locate every single nerve ending in your legs is Blaise Zabini. I believe you've met her before. She's also my girlfriend."

Zab turned a faint shade of purple. "What?"

I sighed and moved over to Dobby, leaving my former teacher and Blaise to exchange family greetings, spit insults and generally catch up. My poor elf was still lying stunned on the floor. With a wave of my holly wand, I woke Dobby up from his induced nap. "Are you alright, Dobby?"

The elf blinked rapidly looking around the room in confusion for a few seconds. "Is Harry Potter sir safe?" he slurred.

I sighed, but nodded. "I'm fine Dobby. But you shouldn't have leapt into the fray like that."

A mournful expression crossed Dobby's face. "Dobby has failed Harry Potter sir." He picked up the leg of a broken chair and made to swing it at his head. I waved my yew wand and transfigured it into foam before he managed to hit himself. I'd discovered that Voldemort's old wand was better for transfiguration and other magical efforts requiring power, whereas my holly wand was far more effective for subtle work.

"Dobby! I've told you before; you don't have to punish yourself anymore!"

"But Dobby failed Harry Potter sir!" the elf wailed, still hitting himself rather comically with the spongy bat. He'd have been lucky to have squashed a fly with the thing.

I grabbed his wrists gently but firmly with the ring and little fingers of each hand, still retaining hold of my wands. "Dobby, listen to me. Go and get Winky to check you over, to make sure you are not hurt. You do not have permission to punish yourself. Do you understand?"

Dobby gave me a mournful look, but nodded and disappeared with a shimmer. I sighed at his antics. He'd been the Malfoy family's elf for too long. Despite being out from under their sadistic thumbs for five years now, whenever he thought that he'd failed me, he still felt the need to punish himself.

You know, there are times I really wish I could raise Lucius from the dead to kill him again. And again.


A shriek from behind me captured my attention quite effectively. I spun round with both wands at the ready and a curse on my lips to see Hermione fixated on my backside.

It wasn't the first time she'd been interested in that part of my anatomy. Both she and Blaise were quite vocally fond of squeezing my bum, and were adamant that my quidditch training continued to ensure it didn't change. But Hermione looked quite woozy at the sight of blood running down my leg.

"Blaise? When you're done, could you check me out?"

My Slytherin girlfriend gave me a wicked smile and lasciviously licked her lips. "You're asking me to give your arse a detailed examination? You do know how to make a girl's day."

Zab looked on the verge of having an apoplexy.

It took quite a bit of quick talking before everyone was calm enough not to fling hexes and jinxes in every direction, not to mention administer medical aid. Zab in particular seemed to have a bit of trouble with the living arrangements in Grimmauld Place. While all three of us each had a room in which the other two had agreed to keep out of (for when we felt the need for some privacy), more often than not, we all slept together in the master bedroom.

It didn't take someone of Hermione's calibre to determine that Zab had some major issues with that.

"I thought you were living in Hogsmeade?" he demanded of Blaise as we made our way downstairs into the main living room. "That house on the main road?"

She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows at me. "You mean the house that Harry bought?"

Zab swung his head back to me, still coloured from recent bouts of fury. "What?"

I tilted my head to one side. "What what?"

Zab blinked, narrowed his eyes and glowered. "Listen, Potter," he growled before Hermione squeezed my shoulder.

"Harry, just tell him. He's going to have a coronary."

I sighed, and gave her a mock frown, before turning back to Zab. "I purchased that house a few months ago, for Blaise to live in. It has a floo connection between here and there, similar to one you maintain," I said, gently shaking my head and inclining it subtly towards Hermione.

Zab blinked. "You haven't told her?" he asked, quite surprised.

I frowned. "Of course not."

Hermione frowned herself. "Told me what?"

"Never mind," Zab and I said in unison. Hermione's gaze flickered between Zab and myself several times, before looking up at Blaise, who was smirking like a Slytherin who knew something a brainy Gryffindor didn't. Funny that.

"So that's where you got the idea from," Hermione finally said, looking back at me. "For a fixed floo connection."

I nodded, a smile on my lips. Zab relaxed a little, realising that his secrets were still just that.

"I also purchased a home for Hermione to live, in Oxford, close to her campus. The magical college there was too noisy for her tastes," I continued.

Zab gave me a sour look. "Another fixed floo?"

I nodded. "Joined to the fireplace in her room, just like Blaise's."

"You've gone to a great deal of effort and expense to keep your living arrangements a secret," he grumbled. I wondered if his mood was still due to his disapproval, or to the fact that he didn't know how we were living. Probably a bit of both. "Who else knows?"

I shrugged. "Apart from the three elves here, no one."

Zab blinked. "Three elves?" he blurted incredulously.

I nodded, my facial expression neutral. "Dobby! Winky! Kretcher!" I called.

The three elves appeared, Dobby shimmering in wearing his yeoman's outfit Hermione and I purchased for him, Winky appearing wringing her hands nervously on her apron, and Kretcher last, walking down the stairs from the elves' quarters instead of popping in. A studied insult to me, as the head of the house."

As Kretcher lisped insults to himself, Zab glanced at each elf, ending with the vocally treasonous Kretcher. "You put up with that from an elf?" He snapped at me.

I shrugged. "It bothered me to start with, especially since he tricked me into believing that Sirius had been kidnapped by the Lord High Crap Anagram Maker himself, but I grew to pity him. I think he's insane. But since he's bound to me and this house, he can't do anything dangerous."

Zab frowned, glancing back at the old Black house elf, still mumbling lisping insults about my lack of pedigree. "Just how old is he? Normally, elves don't start loosing their teeth until well into their second century."

I smiled, and waved the elves away. "Thank you, I just wanted you to meet this man," I said, letting them go. I grinned back at Zab. "Let's just say that one of my elves took exception to Kretcher's insults. He was loosing an average of three teeth a week before he learned to keep quiet enough to not be heard."

Zab's eyes bulged. "Your elves were fighting?"

I shrugged. "Dobby claimed that he was just administering discipline. You've got to remember that Kretcher was living here for years after Sirius' mother passed away, and all he had for company was her raving portrait in the entrance hall."

Winky shimmered into the living room, carrying a pot of tea and four china cups. She quickly settled the china down on the table and poured the tea before leaving quickly. She was still not comfortable around strangers. I really doubted she would ever be truly comfortable living with a family that wasn't the Crouch household.

I pulled over a cup as the other three began adding various bits and pieces to their own. Sugar, milk, cream, honey, lemon, all sorts of things. I just preferred plain tea. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves, raised an eyebrow and raised the steaming cup to my mouth without sipping. "So, to what do I thank for the pleasure of your company?" I asked him, making no particular emphasis on the word 'pleasure'. Since his arrival, we've both needed medical attention, so I'm guessing the irony wouldn't be lost.

Zab stared straight into my eyes, and I felt a subtle flickering against my mind, which I easily kept out. "Albus needs to speak to you," he said plainly.

I raised the cup of the piping hot tea to my lips. "I know," I said, before taking a sip.

Zab blinked, and that blank expression that I'd come to love flashed across his face. "You know? He's at his wits end trying to get some information to you!"

"Of course I bloody know!" I spat. "He's been trying to contact me for weeks."

Zab frowned deeply. "They why are you ignoring him?"

I took another sip. "How long do we have?"


"How long do we have?" I repeated. "I have many reasons. It's going to take a fair while to get through them all."

Zab's eyes narrowed. "Start from the top."

"I don't trust him."

Zab sighed. "Neither do I. However, the man does have more knowledge and influence than most. If he has something of import to discuss, it would be worthwhile to put aside your distrust."

I rolled my eyes. "If I want information, I'll get it from a reputable source. Dumbledore has never told me the straight truth in my entire life." I took another sip. "Even when he promised he would."

Zab rolled his eyes. "So go in there, knowing that you are only going to be told part of the story!"

"That sounds like a brilliant way of submitting yourself to his machinations," I replied sourly. "He knows how to get me to do things. He'll suggest that my friends are in danger, or that someone needs my help. Well, sod that, I'm not going to allow him to begin manipulating me."

Zab nearly snarled at me. "You don’t trust that you could recognise, and possibly even reverse, his machinations?

I shrugged. "Maybe. But I have no particular desire to listen to what he has to say."

Zab looked faintly concerned, but picked up his cup and took a sip. His face twisted into a grimace of disgust, and he half coughed, half spat out the liquid. "What the hell is this?" he wheezed through his choking.

Dobby appeared with a shimmering snap of his fingers. "Dobby is not liking bad wizards who attacks Harry Potter," the little elf said.

Zab snarled at him. "Listen here, you little pest-"

"I wouldn't," I said quietly, masking a smile with the cup.

Zab snapped his head around. "What?"

I chuckled softly. "This is the house elf that threw Lucius Malfoy across the room when he tried to curse me. Despite what you're used to, and the fact that you knocked him out earlier, he has no qualms about attacking people who threaten me." I glanced over to Dobby, giving him a broad smile. "And I wouldn't put it past him to have set something up to severely inconvenience you if you do act out. But besides all that, he's one of my best friends, one who I trust implicitly." Dobby blushed crimson with pride.

Zab took a deep breath, and returned his gaze to Dobby. "I see. So you are the one my own house elves are talking about. The free elf."

Dobby nodded, his tennis ball-sized eyes not even holding a hint of submissiveness. "Dobby is free elf. Dobby is highest paid elf in the world."

Zab looked surprised. "How much do you pay him?" he asked, turning back to me.

I sighed. "One galleon, two sickles and ten knuts a week. I can't persuade him to take any more. I had to trick him into taking that much."

"Trick him?"

I nodded. "He thought it was for a month."

A faint smile touched the corners of Zab's mouth, but he kept it in check. Turning back to Dobby once more, he said, "Then it appears I owe you an apology, young elf. I am sorry for both attacking your Master, and for attacking you."

Dobby slowly nodded, but didn't change expression. "Dobby is accepting Mistress Zabini's forebear, but will not forget."

Zab narrowed his eyes, but nodded too.

Dobby disappeared suddenly, only to return a second or so later with a fresh cup of tea. "Some proper tea," he said in his squeaky voice.

Zab thanked him, and took a sip without hesitation or expression. "Mmm, this is very good. I can see why Harry pays you so much."

Dobby blushed slightly, and disappeared without further ado.

"Interesting elf you have there."

"One of a kind," I agreed.

We sat sipping tea for nearly a minute before Zab continued. "Harry, there is a reason Albus has been trying to contact you. He told me he'd contacted all your friends in an effort to get them to persuade you to listen to him."

I shrugged. "And I've told them that they are not welcome here if they've come on behalf of Dumbledore. So far, only Shacklebot has broken that request." I leaned forward. "I'll give you three guesses as to who has been taken off the access list for the floo after I threw him out. You probably won't need the first two."

Zab glowered at me. "You are deliberately shutting yourself off from a valuable source of information. Did you learn nothing from my tutelage?"

"Cutting myself from a useless source of manipulation, you mean," I scoffed.

Zab slammed down his cup, breaking the handle off. "You can take what he says with a great deal of scepticism if necessary, but ignoring him completely is foolish in the extreme! Someone who wishes to know everything that is going on needs every channel of information open at all times!"

I casually took another sip during his tirade. "You're mistaking me for someone who actually wants to know everything that is going on. I don't. I want to enjoy my life for the next few years without having to bother with what is happening in the world."

Zab sneered at me. "Your exceptional NEWT scores proved that you could accomplish anything you wished. Now, after all your hard work, you just want to sit on your backside and do nothing?"

I chuckled softly. "Nope. I've been practising flying a good nine or ten hours a every day. I'm trying out for a couple of the local Quidditch teams in the next few months, ready for next season. My personal coach says that I've got an excellent chance of making the reserve lists for any team I care to name. That's all I care about right now, focusing on playing a game that I love." I smirked at Zab. "Both Blaise and Hermione are quite pleased with the results of my efforts," I finished, holding an arm out and making a fist. The muscles and tendons in my forearm showed with great definition.

Zab raised a hand and traced a finger and thumb around the edge of his goatee. "Do you have any idea the favours Albus had to call in to get in contact with me? How much effort and resources he expended to do so?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Of course. I must admit that I am surprised that he has gone to the effort of bothering you. You've already expressed in far more eloquent terms that you'd prefer not to be bothered by the rest of the wizarding world." I leaned forward, a wicked grin on my face. "Maybe he's trying to get me mad at you, or you at me. Maybe he's trying to drive a wedge between us, so that I go running back to him as my previous mentor?"

Zab's eyes narrowed dangerously. "As if cheating on my Great-granddaughter wasn't enough to get me angry with you."

"Oh, do grow up. I told them both straight out that if by choosing one to be my girlfriend resulted in losing the other as a friend, then I wouldn't pick either of them." I leaned forward, staring straight into Zab's eyes. "They decided between themselves that sharing me was preferable to neither of them getting me."

Later, I watched as Hermione led Zab to the floo, the two of them frostily insulting each other. I turned to Blaise and gave her a grin. "Do you think either of them suspects?"

Blaise looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hermione? No. Great-grandfather, maybe. He's hard to fool." A smile erupted and she leaned over to kiss me. "It's just so Slytherin of you, I love it."

I grinned slyly back, before becoming stern. "Hermione can't know," I said seriously. "I need her innocence to pull off some upcoming deceptions."

Blaise actually became aroused at the thought. She slipped one leg over me and sat on my lap, grinding her hips into mine. "What did you have in mind, lover?"

I kissed the tip of her nose. "Dumbledore has put a great deal of effort into getting me to talk to him. So much that there are only really two possible explanations. When he tells me, I need Hermione there with her all-too-honest face to prevent him from picking out that I already know."

Blaise's eyes lit up. "You know? You already know what he wants to tell you?"

I shrugged, and then stretched, taking the opportunity to wrap my arms around Blaise's shoulders. "Either he's dying..."

Blaise raised and eyebrow. "He's not. He came in to the hospital for an examination recently. He's in perfect health, except for..." she stopped, biting her lip.

I grinned. "I know you can't tell me. Patient confidentiality and all that. But if he's not dying, then there is only one reason why he'd spend so much effort just to talk to me."

She frowned. "And that is?"

I lost my smile. "Riddle is back."

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