Author's note: Wow, I'm writing these fast, aren't I? Well, my muse likes this story, so she's pushing me to write it. shrug What can I do? Anyway, at no point in this story will I pretend to be JK Rowling, which means that all the characters are hers. (The pairings are MINE, though. Well, mine and that of countless other fangirls, but they're not writing this story, I am…)

4: In which Blaise discovers the perils of sharing a bed

Dinner was a quiet affair. Potter was still openly contrite about the whole bed fiasco, and Draco was doing his very best to appear just as apologetic. Blaise saw right through him, though he doubted Weasley did. Weasley hadn't spent nearly enough time with Draco to be able to tell when the blond boy was lying and when he wasn't.

The food was decent, though Blaise could tell that neither Draco nor Harry were comfortable in the kitchen. Not, of course, that he was one to talk. He hadn't even known where the food he ate come from until he was nine, and then only because he'd accidentally stumbled into the kitchens while searching for his mother's husband of the time. Judging from what he knew of Draco, he suspected Draco had had a similar revelation at approximately the same age, so it was most likely Potter, the only one of them to live with muggles, who did the actual cooking.

Weasley was having trouble restraining his anticipation, and Blaise sighed. Unless he was more careful, the idiot would reveal them before Blaise had a chance to put his grand plan into action. Sure enough, Draco looked sharply at Weasley. "What's got you all excited, Weasel? Surely it's not the opportunity to sleep with Blaise tonight."

Blaise aimed a kick at Draco and missed.

Weasley, clearly doing some very quick thinking, shook his head. "It's more that there's no homework all summer and no Hermione to bug us about getting a head start for next year."

Draco looked at him suspiciously, but he couldn't see anything other than honesty on Weasley's face, and he turned to Blaise. "And you?" he asked. "Is it the lack of homework that has your eyes sparkling?"

His eyes were sparkling? Blast! Blaise shook his head. "It's more that I won't have to watch you and your exhibitionist lover over there try to strangle each other in public any longer."

Draco blinked, and Potter frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Blaise leaned back, his face a mask of cynical amusement. "You two are the embodiment of the phrase, 'get a room'," he informed them. "I would have though you, at least Draco, had better manners than to show off in front of others. Though, all things considered, perhaps it's not so unlike you after all."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Draco demanded, unconsciously echoing his partner.

"If you tell me you're a modest person, I shall be forced to disbelieve you," Blaise clarified lazily.

Potter snorted. Draco shot his lover a wounded look. "It crushes me that you think so little of me," he proclaimed, mock hurt seeping through his voice.

Potter merely grinned. Draco stood, exuding disdain and indignation. He looked even more like an offended feline than usual, and Blaise permitted himself a grin of anticipation. The next few days would be very interesting indeed. As Draco left the kitchen, Blaise pointed his wand at him under the table and muttered two words. Weasley, overhearing, grinned wildly. Potter didn't notice: he was too busy looking after Draco.

Blaise stood. "Not that this isn't pleasant," he said. "But I believe I shall retire." He nodded at Potter. "Until tomorrow." He left the kitchen and climbed up to the room he would be sharing with Weasley.

Weasley didn't join him for almost half an hour, during which time Blaise busied himself with storing his belongings in half of the enormous closet at his disposal. He'd just finished shoving the now empty trunk into the bottom of the wardrobe when Weasley came in. He barely glanced at Blaise, only got to work unpacking his own things. Blaise, doing his best to ignore the tingling feeling spreading through his body, grabbed a pair of pajamas and headed towards the bathroom. Draco and Potter might choose to sleep… clothing optional, but that didn't mean Blaise was about to follow their example. Not even when it was Weasley he was sharing a bed with. No, scratch that, especially not when it was Weasley he was sharing a bed with.

Weasley clearly had the same idea, because he too was fully clothed in hand-me-down sleepwear when Blaise returned from the bathroom. They didn't speak to each other, nor did they go out of their way to look at each other. Even so, Blaise couldn't help being acutely conscious of the other boy's presence. They got into the bed, each scooted as far as possible to the side, trying to leave as much space as humanly possible between them. To Blaise, it wasn't nearly enough. Still, he didn't have much of a choice, and he forced himself to relax, closing his eyes and visualizing anything but himself and Weasley. Unfortunately, the other boy's regular breathing, far too close for comfort, made that excruciatingly hard. Blaise finally gave up and allowed his imagination free reign. He drifted off into sleep eventually, his dreams colored red and populated by large brown eyes.

He woke suddenly, several hours later, feeling as though he were suffocating. He located the source of the feeling quickly enough: Weasley, unused to sharing a bed, had rolled almost completely on top of him. Blaise felt himself heat up and he wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now. If he tried to shove Weasley off him, he might wake the other boy, and that would be more than he was prepared to deal with at this hour. Speaking of time, what time was it, anyway? He had no way of knowing.

Weasley stirred, rolling away slightly. Blaise breathed a sigh of heartfelt relief, feeling himself relax. Slightly. He was still highly conscious that Weasley was a hair's breadth away from him; his own body wasn't about to let him forget that. Weasley uttered a soft snore, and Blaise felt himself respond. That settled matters. There was absolutely no way he was going to expose himself to Weasley, and that was exactly what would happen if this continued any longer. Being as careful as he could, he maneuvered Weasley completely off him and slipped out of the bed. A quick look told him that he would not be able to secure covers for himself without waking Weasley. He sighed and looked longingly at his wand. If only he were just allowed to cast a warming spell. Maybe a cushioning charm too, he added, as he lay down on the hard floor.

He lay there, trying to convince himself that it was all for the best, for a very long time. When he finally dozed off again, instead of dreaming about red hair and brown eyes, he dreamed of rocks and cold caves. On the whole, he decided that was preferable.