He's actually going to do it, Blaise thinks. Do I want him to? Will it complicate everything?
By Salazar, he smells so good, though.
No, he can't. He won't.
"I don't want..."
The way Ron tilts his head to thoroughly examine his expression as he's talking makes Blaise's mouth go dry. His tongue stops working and he feels his jaw just pause, leaving his mouth open halfway through his sentence.
He looks like an idiot, he knows. But Ron keeps rubbing his thumb on his skin and it's addicting.
Ron is addicting. With his worn sweaters and pink scars. And that damned shade of blue his eyes have, like it's dancing between a clear sky and the Caribbean sea. And the scent of used leather and earth.
"What don't you want?"
"Y-You," Blaise stutters, closing his eyes and moving away. What is happening to me, what is this?
"You don't want me?" He sounds amused, and thankfully moves away where Blaise can breathe and not inhale so much Ron.
"No, no," he breathes. "I don't want...to seem," Blaise clenches his eyes shut and thinks, and thinks, and thinks, but he can't get the right word to cross his mind. He growls in frustration.
"You don't want to seem...?"
"Lost," Blaise looks up, his dark brown eyes meeting the undecided blue ones in front of him. "I will lose myself."
"You're better than that, you won't do that to yourself."
"I'll act differently."
"In public, maybe."
"Stop that!" Blaise splutters. "Stop...stop doing...that."
"What," Ron laughs, reaching for him again. "What am I doing?"
"You're finishing my sentences. Don't justify the fact that I'm trying to stop...whatever this is from happening."
"Oh," Ron feigns understanding, pulls Blaise flush against him. "And what is this?"
The Slytherin blushes darkly, pushes Ron's chest.
"No answer? Hm, a bit uncharacteristic of you."
"Before," Blaise inhales and takes a step back, away from Ron. "Before anything happens, and you won't stop so I know something will happen, I need to know that you will never think less of me. No matter what. I'm...I'm exhausted, Ron. I don't want to get my hopes up and watch them burn because I was too easy."
"Easy," Ron laughs. "Easy? By Godric, Blaise, you have been anything but easy. You are by far the most difficult person to figure out. I never know what you're thinking, or if what I'm saying is the right thing to say. It's irritating and fascinating at the same time."
Blaise swallows when Ron brushes a thumb over his cheekbone.
"I think it's why I can't stay away," he chuckles, dropping his hand and shaking his head. "Not even a month and you have me wrapped around your finger. And you didn't even know it."
"Ron..."
"I'm not going to do anything. I'm going to let you make the first move, because then I know it's you who figures everything by yourself. You have the reigns on this one," Ron murmurs, flexing his hand by his side.
"You...what?"
"Every time I come to you, you push me away. So now you're going to come to me. Take your time, don't think too hard."
"But," Blaise whispers, taking a step towards Ron when he makes to move back. "We're still friends, right? I can still talk to you, and you'll still talk to me?"
Ron smiles. "You can't get rid of me that easily. I'll be around."
*******
"If whoever did this to me wanted me dead, they could have easily done that, especially with such a fatal procedure."
Headmistress McGonagall examines the boy in front of her. She sees...grace. And strength. There is not one piece of this boy that exhumes hesitation or weakness. And it pains her to know that he has seen too much for his young age.
"And what do you propose was the motive, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I can not be sure. But the fact that I'm still alive proves that what they did to me isn't all they planned."
The Professor lifts her brows. "You believe they will strike again?"
"Perhaps," Draco says quietly. "Do you think it was..."
"No," she interrupts immediately. "The perimeter is secure. I have trusted officials on the line and another group of very qualified tactic...practitioners."
Draco lifts a brow and the Headmistress takes a conspicuous sip of her tea.
"Even if it were, they would have been detected from before the time they reached the Forbidden Forest."
"How," Draco is impressed, but he doesn't show it. "Reassuring."
Headmistress McGonagall sets her cuppa down and folds her hands before her. "Your protection and the safety of my students is my top priority. I am your guardian before I am your Headmistress or your Professor. The trust that you put in me to have your life in my hands is an inexplicable honor, Mr. Malfoy, and I take it to the highest of precautions."
Draco breathes out a small smile, the first genuine reaction in a few months. "I appreciate you, Professor. I am glad someone more capable stood up to the position. I am not saying Professor Dumbledore was not fit, he just had certain..."
"I know," she chuckles lightly, flourishing her hand towards his portrait to her right, where said Headmaster was absent. "He had a thing for the extreme. But he was good. Too good. Albus did the best he could to protect this school."
The Slytherin remains quiet for a second, staring at the empty frame of Albus Dumbledore. "I never offered my condolences..."
"Oh, dear boy, don't..."
"You were dear friends," Draco says, staring into her eyes. "For a long time. And I know he was one of a kind. For my conscience, please. I apologize for your loss."
Headmistress smiles kindly at him. "Thank you, Draco. Now, off to bed with you."
She watches him nod his head in respect and walk off, silently shutting the door behind him. She sighs again and slumps in her chair, takes her spectacles and rubs her temple.
"Time has done you well, Minerva."
The Headmistress chuckles behind her hand, peeks through it to see Albus Dumbledore grinning at her boyishly. "Good to see you know your way back from the kitchens, Albus."
The previous Headmaster sighs longingly. "The new elves do know how to whip up a good batch of caramel crunch fingers."
The aged lady stands and walks to the front of the portrait, shaking her head with a fond smile. "Always with a sweet tooth, you."
"What can I say," he grins toothily at her, steps back and lowers himself into the chair behind him. "How are our students?"
Minerva McGonagall's smile drops to a frown. "Albus, I don't know what to do to make those two boys feel any safer. I thought we were past this, why are they still in danger?"
"My dear friend," Albus's eyes twinkle sadly. "A world without dangers is a world without wonders. You'd be surprised the things that arise in the face of danger."
"What more should I do," she asks desperately. "I've done everything! I have safeguards at the border, the entrance, every Portkey and Apparition landing. I've added alarms to the wards in every doorway to detect Dark Magic and the walls have been reconstructed with bouncing charms and protective shields so no one gets harmed. Should I be doing something else? Have I done enough?"
"You have done all you can to keep them safe, Minerva. All you need to do now is teach these young adults how alike they are. We have no differences," Albus looks away to his right and lowers his eyes. "There is no room for differences. They need to understand that we all fought in the same war. That they all saw the same loss, the same tragedy.
"Teach them how to stand together, to believe in one another. Teach them that, and I promise what ever comes your way with the intention to harm, you will be prepared."
"Oh, Albus," Minerva clutches her chest. "We miss you dearly."
"I know," the old man smiles kindly. "I see it everyday. I will always be here, you can count on it. And I do also hope you keep bringing those delectable looking biscuits for dinner every night."
Minerva McGonagall can only laugh.
*******
Draco is standing by the tall window, looking at the Thestrals running into the Forbidden Forest when he hears the rustle of bed sheets.
He snaps his neck to see Harry Potter lifting a hand to his head and pressing it to his forehead, hissing.
"Potter?"
Harry tries to sit up, wobbles on his arm and falls back down. "Ouch."
"Potter," Draco sounds distressed. "You just...lay back down, for Merlin's sake."
"Malfoy?" Harry rasps, groans and clutches his throat.
Draco huffs and takes the glass of water he filled earlier that day, hands it to the Gryffindor. "Well, you were not out for very long."
He watches as Harry gulps down half of the glass, takes a breath and downs the rest of it before absently moving it somewhere behind him. Draco takes the glass when he lets it go before it drops and shatters. "Where am I?"
"The Infirmary."
"The Infirmary? What happened? What am I doing here? What time is it?"
Draco wants to snort before he remembers he's a Slytherin. He chuckles. "More like what month."
"What?" Harry squints at him.
"Nothing. I will let Madame Pomfrey explain that to you. She should arrive any minute now."
"What are you doing here?"
The Slytherin stares at Harry's narrowed eyes, makes a face and goes to snap at him before he remembers he probably can't see very well. He walks around the bed to the other night table and takes Harry's spectacles. "Aiding your recovery, apparently."
Harry tries to sit up again and manages to catch himself on the metal headrest. "Aiding my recovery?"
"Yes," Draco answers impatiently. "Keep up."
He opens the legs and mumbles a don't move, settles Harry's glasses on his nose. Harry blinks and then frowns. "Thanks."
"Mr. Potter?"
Both boys turn to a sleepy Madame Pomfrey in her night hat with a robe wrapped around her. Her eyes widen when she sees Harry.
"Mr. Potter!"
"Ah," Harry winces, clutching his side and smiles awkwardly. "Harry will do."
"Harry will most certainly not do," Madame Pomfrey says indignantly. "Do you understand the danger you put yourself through, young man? Using that Room! After what happened? And your friends. Had them worried sick!"
Usually, Draco would sit back and enjoy the show with a sneer plastered on his face, seeing as Harry isn't necessarily his friend. But seeing the plump Medi-Witch reprimand Harry just sets him off, for some inexplicable reason.
Which is with great confusion that he feels himself suddenly speaking up.
"I believe there is a more gentle way to express your concern, Madame Pomfrey."
The woman turns to him, frozen with her accusing finger pointed in the air and her eyes wide.
"He clearly remembers nothing, woman. And he is ill, see. He keeps fumbling for his head. You can reprimand him after he has been thoroughly examined."
Draco doesn't know why he feels a surge of pride at her speechlessness. He does not like, however, the way Harry is looking at him with suspicious confusion.
He lifts a brow at the witch. "Your patient is in dire need of a pain potion, Madame."
"Right, yes," Madame Pomfrey scurries off towards the potion stock room.
"You are welcome," Draco murmurs loud enough so Harry can hear it and settles back into his position by the window.
"Thanks," Harry says again. He sounds cautiously apprehensive, and Draco doesn't like it one bit.
He feels Harry's eyes on him as he's looking at the moonlight washing over the trees that line the southwest border of the castle, but he finds he doesn't mind much. In fact, he feels like staying like that so he can bathe in Harry's attention.
And then he decides that's not what he wants.
"If you take a picture, it will last longer," Draco rolls his eyes to look at Harry, catches him with furrowed eyebrows.
"What happened?"
"I told you I will let Madame Pomfrey explain that to you."
"Why won't you do it?"
"I do not think it wise."
"Did something bad happen?"
"No," Draco frowns. "Why would you think..."
"Is someone hurt? Did someone get hurt because of me? Did someone die?"
"Merlin, Potter! No!" Draco fully turns to face him and squats next to the bed to look up at Harry. This is good, Harry has more leverage like this, doesn't have to act defensive. "What is it with you and death, man?"
"I...I just...You were acting weird with not telling me what's going on and I just thought someone got hurt."
"No. Everyone is safe. Very alive and completely unharmed."
"Are you sure?"
Draco nods, patting the bed. "I am. You can always talk to Professor McGonagall, though."
He sees Harry sigh and slide back down on the bed, awkwardly angled with his head folded sideways. "I don't want to talk to Professor McGonagall. All she'll do is convince me to come back to term."
Draco frowns, feels he's been doing that a lot lately. He distinctly remembers having this conversation with that...thing that wasn't Harry in the Room. "You honestly remember nothing?"
Harry shakes his head. "I was coming from talking to Dumbledore. And Professor McGonagall asked me something that ticked me off so I walked away. That's...all I remember."