Blaise wrapped one arm around Dean's waist and Dean tossed an arm over his shoulders. Their walk to a decent Apparition point was slow and Blaise did not force conversation. Once they found a tree large enough to hide behind, Blaise said,

"I have to take you Sidealong."

"'s fine," Dean mumbled.

"Are you ready?"

Dean nodded slightly and felt Blaise's arm tighten around him. Before Dean could enjoy the proximity, however, the world squished in around him. Everything went dark and at some point he lost the feeling of Blaise around him.

Next thing he knew, Dean fell to his knees and retched up the contents of his stomach onto Blaise's trainers.

"Oh, God, so sorry …" Dean mumbled.

Blaise hoisted him up and placed an arm around his back. Dean sagged into him, grateful for the support as they slowly made their way into their building.

"Everything hurts," Dean muttered.

Blaise rubbed soothing circles into his lower back as they waited for the lift.

"Sorry about your fancy trainers," Dean said. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You have a head injury and you are worried about my shoes?"

"Wasn't sexy," Dean admitted as they staggered into the lift.

"I would rather have you vomit on my trainers than you have to make your way home on your own," Blaise said. He pressed the four and sighed as the doors closed.

There was no focal point for Dean's pain. He felt everything down to the blisters on his toes. The doors opened, so the pair made their way to and then past the door to Dean's flat.

"Where are we going?"

"Since you do not have so much as an ice pack in your flat, we are going to mine."

Dean did not have the energy to argue.

Blaise toed off his soiled trainers in the entryway and said, "You need to shower. Bathroom is at the end of the hall on the left. I have to run to Mr. Mulpepper's so give me fifteen minutes. You will have clothes on the sink and I will leave an ice pack in the ice chest for your shoulder."

"My shoulder is fine," Dean insisted. It didn't hurt any more than the rest of him.

"You landed on it, Dean!" Blaise shouted. He closed his eyes for a moment. Finally, he said, "You just crumbled right there on the grass. One moment you were standing and the next … I've never felt anything like that. Thinking that something awful had happened to you … You were just lying on the ground, not moving, and … Seamus was there glaring holes into the side of my head."

Then Dean remembered why he was angry in the first place.

"He shouldn't have been there."

"And you should be resting," Blaise countered. "Fifteen minutes and I will be back. If you get dizzy or fall or—"

"I'm concussed, Blaise, not Confunded."

"I just want you to be safe, alright?" he admitted. "If something happened to you …" Blaise couldn't finish the thought. He shook his head and said, "Shower and wait for me to get back."

"Okay."

He didn't understand what Blaise needed to do, but Dean found it nice not to think for himself right then. Blaise left and Dean carefully made his way to the bathroom.

The moment Dean stepped beneath the hot shower spray, the tension left his body. He glanced at the alarmingly vast selection of products in shelves along the back wall. Most had Italian labels so Dean screwed off the cap of a bottle that looked like soap. He sniffed and smiled because it smelled like wheat and honey … Like Blaise. Dean quickly scrubbed the dirt off his body as the dizziness sat in again. He made sure to get the dried blood off his forehead and the cut there seemed small enough.

He stepped out of the shower and saw that his pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt had been placed on the side of the sink. Dean winced as he puled the shirt over his head. His shoulder throbbed as he was finally able to pinpoint the source of his pain. He wished he hadn't. Once dressed, Dean made for the kitchen, found the ice pack, then collapsed onto Blaise's sofa. He put the ice against his shoulder and wished he had another for his head.

Blaise did not have a lot of furniture, but the space did not feel empty. The sofa was a beautiful emerald green and Dean kicked his feet up onto the marble coffee table. Everything about the flat, or as much as Dean had seen, was just enough to be comfortable. There was a lot of room to breathe, but, it felt thought-out and lived-in. Simple and classic, exactly what he would expect from Blaise.

Except for the kitchen. The fridge was organized but practically overflowing. There were more spices lining the walls and pantry door than Dean could have imagined. If the rest of Blaise's home was comfy, his kitchen was controlled chaos.

"Dean?!" Blaise shouted from the front door.

"In here!" he shouted back.

Blaise sped into the living area holding a bottle of blue liquid. He exhaled heavily when he caught sight of Dean.

"Good, you found the ice pack."

"You have a nice flat."

"Thank you," Blaise replied with a smile. "Oh! Here, swallow some of this."

Dean hesitantly accepted the potion bottle.

"What is it?"

"Calming Drought. Bastien says you will be more sensitive to stress and socializing for a couple days, so other than rest, this is the best I can do for you."

Dean laughed and said, "'Stress and socializing' is literally my job description. It is just me and Romilda at the shop so I have to be there tomorrow."

"Dean Thomas, I will tape you to my bed if I must. You are not going anywhere for the next couple of days."

"Blaise—"

"Romilda will take care of it. She has never run into a problem she cannot solve. Sip some of the Calming Drought and I will do up the bed so you can rest."

"Bed?" Dean asked, downing more of the potion than was likely recommended. "I'm fine on the sofa."

"Tell me that again in half an hour," Blaise challenged.

The effects of the potion were immediate. The pain in Dean's shoulder lessened considerably, as did the throbbing of his brain against his skull. It sort of felt like he was melting into the sofa. He smiled and Blaise chuckled.

"Feels good?"

"Feels very good," Dean said, a little punch-drunk. "If I'd've known living next to you would be this nice I would have moved in sooner."

"You said you and Seamus separated over two months ago," Blaise said. "If I may ask, where were you before you moved here?"

Dean groaned and shifted so he was lying on some of the pillows. He tossed his feet up onto the other end and wriggled his shoulders until he was comfortable. He stared at the ceiling as he answered.

"The first couple of weeks I thought it would blow over. He'd shag Zacharias, get it out of his system, then come back to me. I'd yell at him and everything would be fine again. I convinced Gin and Harry to let me stay with them until he came to his senses. After two weeks, they forced me to realize my relationship had ended and I needed to find some place to live.

"After that, I bounced around for a few weeks, sulking. Stayed with Luna for a few days, but really, you can only stay with Luna about three days before she drives you mad. Then I was at Angelina's for about four days. I stayed with Hermione for about four weeks before I landed at Ron's. He helped me scrounge up some basic furniture and even went over to the house to get my personal shit back from Seamus so I wouldn't have to see him. That's why I let him keep the furniture and the house and all our stuff; so I wouldn't have to think about him anymore."

"You are fortunate to have so many good friends," Blaise said.

"I am. The same cannot be said of my boyfriend."

Blaise laughed and said, "No, I suppose not."

"I just don't understand how it happened. How was I blind for so long? Is it going to be like this every time I trust someone to love me? My sisters always liked Seamus but my mum never did. My mum's right about most things; I should've listened to her."

"My mother was the opposite," Blaise admitted. "She married men then killed them for their money. I suppose it is a good thing I never listened to her."

Dean didn't really know what to say to that. The ache in his head had disappeared in favour of his brain sort of floating inside his skull. Dean tilted his body so he could look at Blaise, and waited for him to speak.

"My mother was a whore," he admitted. "She left me with whomever would take me while she left to be with that year's target. It is something I have never been able to shake off."

"Is that why you thought I would care that you shag different people?" Dean asked.

Blaise nodded.

"Do you like being unattached?" Dean asked. If he wasn't high on Calming Drought he would have kicked himself, but Blaise did not seem offended by the question.

"I …" Blaise trailed off. He slid back on the coffee table and crossed his legs. He shrugged and said, "I don't hate it. I suppose I never learned to do anything else."

"D'you want to?"

"No one has ever been willing to try."

"Hmm …" Dean trailed off. His eyelids were suddenly very heavy. "Doesn't seem like you answered the question."

Blaise admitted, "I don't like when people cancel." He frowned. "I think I would like to have someone who could not cancel on me. Because at the end of the day they come home to me, I mean."

"Perfectly sensible," Dean said with a yawn.

Blaise laughed.

"Go to sleep, zuccherino."

The way he said it made Dean think there were no other options. His eyes were half-closed already, anyhow, it was so easy to just fall further down into the pillows …

.oOo.

Dean woke up in a bed that was definitely not his own. He pried his eyes open because while all he wanted to do was go back to sleep, he had woken up in enough unfamiliar places during the war to know the importance of understanding his surroundings.

The ceiling looked like the one in his flat. He ran his fingers across the duvet, thick enough that hardly any of Dean's body heat could escape. The sheets were unbelievably soft and his head had sunk just the right amount into the pillow. He turned his head to the side to see the only light was coming from a small reading lamp in the far corner of the room.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Dean said.

Blaise leapt up from his chair and walked to Dean's side. He placed a hand on Dean's good shoulder and said,

"Sleep a few more hours."

"You're just trying to keep me in your bed, aren't you?" Dean teased. He leaned back into the pillows, pulled the duvet up to his neck, and sighed contentedly.

"You've figured me out, Dean Thomas," Blaise replied cheekily. He paused, got a curious look on his face, then laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"It's just …" Blaise laughed and said, "You smell like me."

.oOo.

Blaise made eggs and bacon the following morning. It roused Dean out of bed and he stumbled to the kitchen. He watched Blaise casually flip some bacon in a pan and smiled. This was much better than takeaway.

Without turning around, Blaise asked, "Are you just going to stand there and stare at my ass?"

Dean collapsed into a chair and yawned, so Blaise didn't press him for an answer. They ate together in comfortable silence. He liked those moments because Blaise was more like himself in the quiet. He was not rigid and he was no longer afraid to smile. Not to say Blaise didn't smile when he was speaking. He could be flirtatious or coy, but Blaise's smile was different when no one was looking. It was softer, like someone had told a stupid joke he didn't want to laugh at but couldn't help himself.

"I am going to work," Dean revealed.

Blaise put down his cutlery and glared at him.

"Just to check in on things. You can come with me."

"Fine," Blaise conceded.

Dean raised an eyebrow and asked, "That's it? No fighting me about getting rest or shoving more Calming Draught down my throat?"

"No." Blaise shook his head. "I am not kidnapping you."

"Good then."

Later, when they walked down Diagon Alley side-by-side, Dean had to stop himself from taking Blaise's hand. He swung open the door to the Silver Snitch and held it open for Blaise to walk through.

Romilda caught sight of them, gave them a quick wave, and Dean did the only thing he could think to do: he got in line. It grew quickly behind them but moved just as fast. The elderly witch behind them patted Dean's side so he turned to face her.

"How are you today, dear?"

"Very well, thank you," Dean replied. He recognized her immediately and grinned. "Your usual tea today?"

"I would try something new, but your valerian tea always makes me feel better when I have a tough morning. And who is this lovely young man with you?"

Blaise blushed and Dean could not hold back a grin. It was the first time Dean had actually seen him embarrassed.

"This is Blaise Zabini, Mrs. Steckenrider. Blaise, Mrs. Steckenrider was one of my first customers."

He held out his hand but she pulled Blaise into a hug.

"Oh, it is so nice to meet you!"

"The same to you," Blaise said, patting her awkwardly on the back.

She pulled away and said, "Dean, you have a very handsome man, here. It is about time you found a new boyfriend."

"Oh, no, I am not—" Blaise began, but Dean interrupted him.

"It is, isn't it?" he agreed.

Before Blaise could say anything else, it was their turn at the counter. Romilda grinned and pointed to the three people running around the back making various drinks.

"Hi, boss! Blaise!"

"Who are these people?" Dean asked.

"Recruits!" Romilda said excitedly. "I picked my top five, and these are the three I was going to interview today. Figured I would give them a trial run since you are out for a bit. Working out quite well. Except I can't trust Josh back there to take the register. Bastard can't tell his Sickles from his nuts."

"Knuts?" Dean asked.

"Sure, that's what I said," Romilda dismissed. "Anyhow, what can I get you?" She held her Sharpie prone against the cup, ready for an order.

"One vanilla latte. Bludger-sized, please," Blaise ordered. Dean scoffed and Blaise said, "What? Draco likes them so I figure I should give one a go."

"I will have an asphodel tea, Snitch-sized," Dean said.

"You got it, boss!"

Dean watched as the potential trainees completed their orders. Blaise watched with rapt attention, so he tried to narrate.

"That machine there," he pointed, "does the lattes and espressos. That clear container is the water tank, the round part up top holds the coffee beans, and that lever there grinds the beans. As for the tea, well, I make it all here at the shop."

"That is … amazing," Blaise said. He seemed genuinely impressed and Dean's heart did a little jump. "How are your recruits doing so far?"

"Surprisingly well. I should have asked for an egg bite to see how well they bake."

When Romilda handed over their beverages, he asked,

"What do you think of them?"

"Well, two just graduated from Hogwarts, then Alice's husband died suddenly. She can't say why, so I think he was a hitwizard. She's got to work to support her child. He's ten, so he's got a year before he goes off to school. I like them all well enough, trust them not to steal from the register, and let me tell you, Alice made these egg bites with bacon bits that just melt in your mouth!"

"You like all three of them?" Dean confirmed.

"I owled them all this morning, told them to come in, and these were the three that showed up. So hell yes, Dean, I like all three of them."

"Great, they're hired."

"Wait, what?" Romilda asked.

"You can set up a shift schedule. Ten Galleons a week to start, four weeks vacation, obviously the schedule is flexible—"

"You'd hire them just like that?" Blaise asked, dumbfounded.

"They came at a moment's notice, didn't they?" Dean said. "Romi says they won't steal from the register and it's got a protective spell around it anyhow. They can pull levers and make tea, and that is all I need to know."

"Right, well, I'm going to make them sweat it a bit anyway," Romilda teased. She looked up at Dean and said, "You really are the best boss."

"You make it easy, Romi," Dean said. He placed a Galleon in the YES jar before they left and Blaise's blush deepened. Once the doors shut behind them, Dean took Blaise's hand. Blaise threaded their fingers together like it was second nature and neither of them said a word.

"This is quite delicious," Blaise admitted, looking down at his latte. He licked some foam from his lips.

"Tomorrow you should try the tea."

"Am I coming with you tomorrow?" Blaise asked.

"I'd like that."

"Then it's a date."

They strolled down the cobblestone street for a bit, each of them with a slightly dopey grin on their face. Blaise didn't feel safe the way Seamus had. In fact, Dean was fucking terrified just holding hands with him. He had not said anything along the lines of "exclusive" or "boyfriend" or even "Can I kiss you?" But on the other side of that fear was something oddly freeing. Nothing to be labeled yet, but Blaise made Dean feel good in a way Seamus had not.

They passed by the new stores on the west end and Dean paused to glance into the window of a furniture shop. There, right in the window display, was a large wooden table. Dean squinted to read the tag describing it.

"The top is made from recycled Quidditch brooms."

"Inventive," Blaise commented. He rubbed circles into the back of Dean's hand.

"I haven't bought any new furniture since …" Dean admitted. He didn't have to say it all aloud for Blaise to understand.

"Do you want the table, Dean?" he asked.

Dean stared at it through the window for several moments. It would easily sit eight people and was just the right size for the dining area in his flat. Maybe that was the first step to making the new flat feel like home. However, buying furniture meant he was moving on. There was no way to return to the past once he embraced life after Seamus. Was he ready for that?

"I can't afford it."

Blaise squeezed his hand reassuringly and asked, "But do you want it?"

The table legs were shaped like a Snitch's wings. It was everything Dean didn't know he needed until he saw it in front of him. He turned to Blaise and said,

"I want the table."