Author's note: last chapter for today, unfortunately. I have school tomorrow. Anyway, as the title suggests, this entire chapter is one big Blaise/Ron moment. Hope you like it. (Since you're all smart people here, I'm going to stop telling you I'm not JK Rowling. It seems a bit repetitive.)

7: In which Blaise and Ron converse

After standing stunned for a long moment, Blaise put his own mug carefully down on the hearth and made his way slowly up the stairs. He paused in front of the door, wondering what in Hell he thought he was doing. Weasley certainly wouldn't want him right now, and, if Blaise was perfectly honest with himself, he wouldn't want him right now either. He'd had no business saying that to Weasley. With an angry sigh, he added yet another mark in his mental accounts book. Someway, somehow, all of this was Draco's fault, and Blaise intended to make him pay through the nose.

Unfortunately, making Draco suffer was a pleasure reserved for the far future. The near future held Blaise and Weasley locked together in a house that suddenly seemed much smaller than it had before with Weasley hating Blaise's guts and Blaise passionately in love with Weasley. It wasn't the kind of situation Blaise cared to get himself it, though there was no denying it would make a fabulous soap opera. His mouth twitched into a crookedly ironic grin. Who knew, maybe he would write it. Desperate Houseguests had a nice ring. He added it to his mental list of things that would be fun to do if and when he ever got the time, and returned to his present situation. The fact remained that he was standing outside his own room, too afraid of his roommate's reaction to go in. It was beyond ridiculous, and he pushed the door open.

Weasley sat there, of course, back turned towards the door and head in hands. His red hair, fashionably shaggy, tumbled down to cover his face, leaving his neck tantalizingly bare. Blaise pinched himself again, noting that his arm would probably be completely bruised over by the time the summer was over.

"Go away," Weasley said, not looking at Blaise, his voice muffled by his hands.

Blaise took a deep breath. Now or never, he told himself firmly. "I apologize," he said formally, hoping he sounded sincere. Apologizing wasn't something Slytherins normally did, especially not to Gryffindors. "It was wrong of me to say what I did."

After avery long, very uncomfortable moment of utter silence, Weasley turned to face Blaise. His eyes were red rimmed and there were tear streaks running down his face, but Blaise did him the courtesy of pretending not to notice. "What did you say?" Weasley demanded.

Blaise scowled. "I said, I apologize. It's not something I do often, so feel flattered."

Weasley shook his head in slow disbelief. "Did I hear this right? You are apologizing to me? Why is this not on tape?"

"Don't push your luck," Blaise warned acidly.

Weasley sighed. "Is that all you came to say?"

Blaise shrugged. "Unless you have something pressingly urgent to tell me, then yes."

Weasley turned away, and Blaise started to leave. Suddenly, Weasley's voice rang out, softer than a whisper yet perfectly audible to Blaise. "You were right, though."

Blaise blinked and slowly shifted so that he was once again facing Weasley's back. He let the door close behind him and crossed the room, lounging against the door to examine Weasley's profile. "I beg your pardon?"

Weasley raised his eyes to meet Blaise's, and they were filled with naked pain. "About my wanting Harry," he explained. "I do. I want him and I'll never have him."

"Join the club," Blaise muttered.

Weasley blinked, startled. "What?"

Blaise shook his head, but Weasley leaned forward, unyielding. "What do you mean? Are you…"

"I can't believe I'm telling you this," Blaise said, wondering if Draco had slipped something into the coffee. Something that made Blaise lose all his caution, perhaps. "But yes. I am currently in love with a person who loves another."

"And…?"

"And what?"

"And what do you do?" Weasley demanded, rolling his eyes. "How do you stand it?"

Blaise shrugged, uncomfortable beyond belief. "I have to," he said simply. "There's nothing I can do, so I deal with it."

"Wish I could do that," Weasley said bitterly. "But I watch him making puppy faces at Malfoy and…"

"And it hurts," Blaise finished softly. "It hurts your soul and there's nothing you can do. You close your eyes at night, praying he'll notice you, even though you know you don't have a chance." He laughed, a harsh, cynical sound. "Trust me Weasley. You're not alone."

Weasley stared at him. "How do you know?" he demanded.

"Weren't you listening?" Blaise burst out.

"It hurts you too?" Weasley whispered. Blaise contented himself with nodding.

"I… I guess I thought I was the only one," Weasley admitted.

Blaise snorted. "Forgive me for saying this, but that's the most self-centered thing I've ever heard. You think you're the only one with love troubles in the world?"

"Well, no, but…"

"But nothing. Talk to Potter: I'm sure he's had more than his fair share."

Weasley blinked. "But he and Malfoy…"

"…had to get together at some point," Blaise cut in. "And I don't know about Potter, but Draco certainly went through more than his fair share of pain and indecision before he confessed to your friend."

Weasley nodded slowly. "Harry did seem depressed before," he admitted. "But he's always that way, so none of us paid attention."

"Is he now?"

"No," Weasley admitted. "Not since he and Malfoy officially became a couple."

Blaise nodded, satisfied. "There you go. Trust me, everyone has romance troubles."

"I suppose."

They sat for another moment in silence. Finally, Weasley sighed. "Um, this is going to sound really awkward, but thanks."

Blaise inclined his head. "Any time," he said politely.