The Buddy System. *Updating In Process*

40. The Lines We Cross for Each Other

The silence after Blaise's revelation lingered like fog — thick, oppressive, clinging to everything it touched. It pressed against my ears until even the crackle of the fire sounded too loud, too sharp, like it might fracture the fragile stillness holding us together. The common room felt smaller somehow, the shadows deeper, the air heavier, as though the truth he'd spoken had weight of its own and had settled into the stones.

No one moved.

Theo sat rigid beside me, eyes fixed on nothing, jaw tight as if holding himself together by sheer force of will. Pansy's hands were wrapped around her mug, knuckles pale, her lashes damp and clumped together where tears had fallen and not yet fully dried. Draco was utterly still behind me, his presence solid and grounding, but even he hadn't spoken — hadn't tried to soften what had been said.

Because some things didn't need softening.
Some things needed to be faced.

Blaise shifted first.

It was subtle — just a small adjustment of his weight on the rug — but it broke the spell. His shoulders were tense, the easy confidence he usually wore like armour stripped away. When his gaze flicked toward me, there was something uncertain in his eyes. Not defiance. Not arrogance.

Guilt.

Or maybe fear that he'd gone too far.

"Rae," he said quietly, his voice low and careful, like he was testing the floor for cracks, "I didn't mean to... upset you. Or make tonight harder than it already is."

The words weren't dramatic. They weren't polished. They were raw and honest, and that somehow made them land harder.

I drew in a slow, shaky breath. My eyes still burned, still felt swollen and tight, but the sharp edge of my anger had eased into something steadier — heavier, yes, but clearer. Like pain that had finally found its shape.

I shook my head.

"No," I said softly. My voice surprised me with how calm it sounded. "Blaise... thank you."

He blinked. Once. Twice. Clearly not expecting that.

"Thank you for being honest," I went on, forcing myself to keep going, to not let the moment slip away. "I needed to hear that. Even if it was uncomfortable. Even if it hurt. Honesty is all we have right now — especially after everything we've lived through. And you gave me that."

Something shifted in his expression then. The sharp wit, the defensive humour — all of it fell away for just a heartbeat, revealing something gentler underneath. Something tired. Something relieved.

He huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.
"Still," he muttered, "didn't mean to drop a moral revelation on you at two in the morning. Bit of a dramatic time for it."

A small smile tugged at my lips — faint, weary, but real.

"It's fine," I said quietly. "Really. If we're going to fix things — if we're going to change anything — then this is exactly when it needs to be said."

The silence that followed wasn't quite so suffocating.

It still hurt.
But it felt... necessary.

And for the first time since Blaise had spoken, the fog began — just slightly — to lift.

Theo let out an enormous yawn — not the polite, half-suppressed kind, but the full-body sort that seemed to pull the sound straight from his chest. It cracked his jaw wide and made his shoulders slump forward, eyes watering as he dragged a hand down his face like he might physically peel the exhaustion away. His lashes fluttered uselessly, his body swaying just a little as if gravity had suddenly doubled.