#slashfoxes

Blaise remembered listening to Potterwatch during the war. Not because he cared about Potter or how the Chosen one was faring, but because he recognised the voice of the host. He knew it was the Gryffindor who commentated Quidditch games for the school, and he's probably not the only one.

He remembered being thirteen years old, watching Draco play against Potter and inexplicable getting hard. He remembers being confused about it until he walked past the Weasley Twins and their friend, hearing him say something, listening to the way the word "fuck" fell from his lips, and having to deal with an inappropriate erection in the middle of the hallway.

He remembered tapping his wand on his wireless, trying to guess the password, while he was hidden away on his bed with silencing charms wrapped around him, hoping that the sons of Death Eaters that made up the rest of his dorm room didn't hear him listening to the propaganda of the other side.

He remembered being one of the only Slytherins in his year who refused to leave for the final Battle, but was clever enough not to make a big deal out of being forced away from the Great Hall after Pansy's ridiculous outburst.

He remembered seeing Lee Jordan on the morning after the battle, with tears in his eyes as he wrote the names of the dead on a piece of parchment.

"I'm sorry about your friend," He said. It was the first time Blaise had spoken to him.

"Why do you care?" Lee asked, as he wrote down the name of the Camera-wielding Muggleborn that used to follow Potter around. "You're a Slytherin, you shouldn't even be here."

"Then tell me to fuck off," Blaise said.

Lee looked up at him, his dreadlocks falling out of the air tie he'd pulled them back into. "Alright. Fuck off."

Blaise was eighteen years old when he realised that even a teenager couldn't get hard when they were surrounded by death.

When Blaise was twenty-one, he moved back to England. After appearing at the Ministry, he Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron where he bumped into the surviving Weasley Twin on his way out of the fireplace.

"Hannah!" Weasley shouted across the half-full room. "Make sure the wireless is on for the Quidditch game! Our boy Lee is commentating."

"Fuck off Weasley," Lee said. "Boy," he said with an arrogant huff. "Like I'm not two months older than your scrawny arse."

Blaise spent an hour sat at the bar of the Leaky wondering why the word "fuck", when said by Lee Jordan still made his cock swell.

After the Quidditch game, Lee Jordan came back to the Leaky. Blaise had spent three hours listening to his voice on the wireless, pretending he was focussed on the game like all the other patrons, when really, he was wondering if Lee saying filthy words in his commentators voice would be enough to bring him off without touching himself.

It was another three weeks before listening to Lee talking to the masses wasn't enough for him. After a match with the Holyhead Harpies against the Applebee Arrows, Blaise Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron once more. He saw a group of Weasleys, Granger, Potter and, to his surprise, Malfoy all with Lee Jordan near the bar and decided that seven years in Slytherin with Draco would be enough to get him into the group, if only for a few minutes.

He ended up being invited to a muggle club with them, which was only half as surprising as seeing Draco and Potter playing tonsil tennis together in public, but it was enough that it meant he could actually speak to the person who'd been supplying his wet dreams for almost ten years.

He'd been folded into their close-knit group almost seamlessly, but it was another two months before anything happened with Lee Jordan.

Potter's birthday party was at the Weasley's home. There were couples everywhere, and it was seemingly only Blaise and Lee who were the only single people there. The Weasely Mother was asking Lee about his love-life, Lee stammered out an excuse and left the room without meeting anyone's eye.

After a few minutes, Blaise also left, looking for Lee in the bedrooms upstairs. The one he found him in had likely belonged to the Twins when they were younger, if the marks on the ceiling from explosions were any indicator.

"So," Blaise said as he closed the door behind him, blocking out the sounds of the rowdy household. "Want to tell me why you run off?"

Lee looked over at Blaise and huffed before lying back on the bed. "Molly Weasley's interrogations aren't worth embarrassing myself”

"It seems nice, really," Blaise said. "Having someone care about you enough to wonder if you're happy. Merlin knows my own mother doesn't care."

"It's a little different though when Molly's asking if I have my eye on anyone. Can't tell her I've had my eye on someone for months and still haven't made a move without her giving me a pep talk."

"Why haven't you made a move?" Blaise asked, his heart pounding as he prepared once more to give Lee up.

"I don't know if they like me."

Blaise sat down on the opposite bed, kicking Lee's ankle softly to get his attention properly. "You do realise that the only people who don't like you are fans of the losing teams, yes? And even they forgive after about an hour."

"Be serious for once, would you, you fucking prick." Lee sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, his eyes focused on the floor between them. "I don't even know if they like men, how am I supposed to tell them I fucking fancy them?"

"Like this," Blaise said, and he slipped off the bed to kneel at Lee's feet. "I really fucking fancy you."

"And if they don't believe me?"

"Then tell them a secret that no one else knows. For example," Blaise grinned wickedly as he looked Lee dead in the eye. "Every time you swear, my cock gets hard, and I've wondered for years if you could make me come just by talking."

"Fuck off," Lee said, pushing slightly at Blaise's shoulder. "You can't just say shit like that."

"I'm not just saying it. I'm not willing to let you go to someone who may not even like you if there's a chance you could want me instead."

"Blaise..."

"I could drop trou right now and show you if you really don't believe me."

"When did you get so bold?"

"You're a Gryffindor, subtlety is lost on you."

"Fuck..."