A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Twenty-Five

He raises his eyebrows. "I didn't know you knew that spell."

Honestly, Blaise forgot that spell even existed.

"Yeah," Ron sighs effortlessly. "Had to learn a lot of stuff last year."

The Slytherin watches him move easily while flicking his wand, repairing glass panels all around him and he is speechless.

If Blaise remembers correctly, Novis is not an easy spell to preform. And he knows from experience that it makes your bones feel like lead and your skin like metal. Overall, the spell makes your internal gravity flip, so your head feels detached and your body like it needs to crumple to the floor.

And Ron. Ron Weasley is just moving about, light as a feather as he mends the broken glass.

It takes his breath away.

"Hermione wanted us to learn as much spells as we could in case we," he stops his words, turns to look at Blaise with wide eyes. "In case we needed them."

"How...did he do it? Potter. How did he kill the Dark Lord?"

"You weren't there?" Ron sounds confused.

"There?"

"In the courtyard? Where it all ended?"

"Oh. No. I was...down."

"You fought?"

"I...I did," Blaise says proudly, but when he sees Ron's face contour darkly, he realizes he didn't specify what he fought for. "W-Wait, no."

"You harmed your own peers for the sake of a...a higher elite society? Some...thug cult?"

"No!"

"Do you know how many people died?" Ron stalks forward and takes the lapels of Blaise's robe. Blaise gasps, fingers his wand from the hem of his trousers. "Did you even know half of them?"

"Weasley, I didn't--"

"My brother died," his voice cracks. "He was hit so many times, I'm lucky I could even recognize him when we found him."

"I fought on your side!" Blaise squeezes his eyes closed when Ron lets go and he feels him back off. He hangs his head. "I fought on your side. I might not have showed my interest in who I was fighting in or with whom.

"But I never believed in his views. I had friends like Granger. Good friends, good people. I found no reason to hate them for their blood status."

Ron is staring at him when he summons the courage to open his eyes. "You...didn't kill?"

Blaise shakes his head. He gives a weak grin. "I don't even have the courage to confront the person I fancy. I would never raise a wand to an innocent."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"I know you didn't. I don't blame you. I know I'm difficult," Blaise takes a step back.

"You're not difficult. Difficult to decipher, yes. But you're like anyone else who would like to be safe."

Ron purses his lips when Blaise looks away and holds his arm. His eyes move all over his face.

"Where did you fight?"

"The Great Hall," Blaise answers after a few seconds of silence, trying to ignore Ron's surprised face.

"The Great Hall? Where all the younger years were refuged? You were the first defense for the defenseless?"

"Of course. No one else would have done it. Someone had to."