Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Question – I'm starting a new story soon with Charlie and I was wondering . . . if Ron is seventeen how old does that make Charlie. I'd be very grateful if someone could let me know. Oh, and I apologize for this chapter being so short. Enjoy.
A few hours later, there was a knock on my door. Though I didn't really feel like talking to anyone, I moved out of the way, getting up to open the door.
"Hey," Blaise said, giving me a small smile. I turned my back on him saying, "Hey."
He closed the door behind him and locked it to give us some privacy, though, technically, this was Hermione and Ginny's room too and I felt really bad for locking them out, but I didn't say anything. "What was all that about?" he said. "Downstairs?"
"Me throwing a fit?" I suggested. "Don't ask."
"But I really want to know. I mean, I know you're stubborn." I turned to face him, a glare in place on my face but a smile on his. "In a good way," he continued. "But the way you acted downstairs was completely unexpected. What's the matter?"
"I just – I just hate being so useless! Here you are, rushing off into battle, head held high, standing with my friends, while I'll be here, wondering and worrying because there won't be anything else I can do without a wand!"
"Is that all that's bugging you?" I looked up at him again. He looked amused.
"No," I admitted. "I'm mad because you're taking this too . . . I don't know, easily! You act as if walking into Voldemort's hideout is nothing! As if these people don't want to kill you! And I'm scared because how am I supposed to know that I'll see you again after you go on this insane mission! How am I supposed to know that you won't get – get –"
I sat down on my bed, angry tears coming to my eyes. Blaise sat down next to me, pulling me into his arms. His voice was soothing as he murmured comforts in my ear (that still gets to me).
"There's no way of knowing if any of us will make it through this," he said. "I'm not really planning on it."
My stomach gave a sick jolt. He was planning on dying?
"But I love you Rea. Always have. And I'll do my best to come back to you again, all right?"
Needless to say, I was shocked. We'd never gotten so far as to say the 'L' word and now that he said it, I was worried for a moment that I wouldn't be able to say it back. But the words slipped past my lips as easy as my own name.
I loved Blaise Zabini.
I woke up.
I remembered lying next to Blaise, but I didn't remember falling asleep after . . . let's just stop at me not remembering falling asleep all right?
Blaise was gone though, his (hmm, hmm) clothes gone too. Hermione and Ginny weren't there either (not that I expected them to be; that would just be weird).
It was dark through the window and a note was stuck to the bedside table, but I didn't need to read it. They were gone. They'd gone ahead and left without tearful goodbyes.
Quickly, I took a shower and got dressed in all black, pulling a black jumper over my head, lifting the hood. And then I headed out the front door, not exactly sure where I was going but going to get there no matter what.
So I was stubborn. Sue me.