The dark thoughts formed, pulling at his memories, and sending him back years ago. Blaise was standing outside the infirmary, shaking. Blood was dripping on the floor, not at all stifled by the makeshift bandages he had used to try to stem the bleeding. He was torn very badly.
                              
"Look at me," Marcus Flint said, pulling his head up.
                              
He obliged, wincing from the pain, and stared into the older boy's eyes, innocently. Well... not so innocent anymore. He was scared. Miles was only a few steps away, watching for other students.
                              
"What are you going to say?" Flint said, his cold, cruel eyes stared down at him.
                              
"It was an accident," Blaise repeated, they had had this talk before.
                              
"That's right. And what will you say if she pushes harder?" Marcus asked.
                              
"Nothing."
                              
"Good... but she's going to insist on an answer. Tell her you were... experimenting. No one else was there... got it?" Marcus said, his voice rough and his fingers dug into his neck, possessively. Miles, his second, gave him a supportive smirk, making Blaise nervous. They were over three years above him and strong physically, as well as socially. Marcus was 19 having been held back to retake his NEWTS.
                              
"Yes."
                              
"Say it," Flint ordered. He always demanded immediate obedience. Blaise knew not to refuse him.
                              
"I was experimenting. It was just me... no one else was there," Blaise chanted, immediately.
                              
"There's my boy. You're doing so well," he praised and Blaise felt better. Marcus didn't hurt him as much when he was pleased with him. "You want to stay with me, right?"
                              
Blaise nodded. Flint was in charge of their house. There was no one higher. He carried the full weight of Slytherin behind him and issued the orders. They all were required to follow them or pay dearly.
                              
"The school has to... follow rules. Rules that are stupid. You can't tell the professors anything. Not Pomfrey, not Snape, not Dumbledore. Unless you want everyone to know what you have done?"
                              
Blaise shook, he didn't want that, everyone knowing what he was and did for Marcus. He could be kicked out and sent home. He'd get in big trouble. He didn't have the Ministry contacts Flint had to help him.
                              
Marcus ran his fingers across his cheek. "You can't tell anyone about our games... you understand?"
                              
Blaise said, almost automatically, "I do."
                              
Flint did not seem satisfied, though they had gone over this before. "If you tell... if they find out... everyone will know that you're a snitch and a little bitch. You want that?"
                              
"No. I'm not...."
                              
"You know what our House will do to you, if you squawk. They'll put you through a gauntlet. They'll turn their back on you and no one will touch you again," he said and Blaise shivered. "You do enjoy... being with me? Or do you want to stop?"
                              
He shook his head.
                              
"Then don't say a word about what happened," Marcus growled, anger in voice. 
                              
Blaise cringed. "I won't."
                              
Flint went on though, determined to assert his control more. "You understand that no one will believe you, right?"
                              
Blaise nodded. Marcus was the Captain of the Quidditch team. The other Slytherins worshipped him and followed his every order or paid for it. He was a no one. He was just a third year, son of a murderess with new money and, basically, he had no influence. He barely talked to his own housemates. Theo and Draco were his only friends, but they weren't close. But Marcus had handpicked him to join his group. He said that he wanted him to be a part of the elite, the ones in charge. He was special. But there were dues, though. He had to prove himself. Prove he wasn't coward or a snitch. Saying no wasn't an option, either. Marcus said that punishment for disobeying would be severe and in front of the whole house. Pain or humiliation.