Author's note: we're going to concentrate on this story, mostly because we need something happy to work on right now. therapy by writing is one thing, but the best therapy is just writing happy things. or at least things that aren't angst. anyway, this is the closest we have and, anyway, we like it. so we're going to go on a posting spree and post lots and lots in a short period of time. have fun reading!
Disclaimer: if i were jk rowling, then harry and draco would be together, ron wouldn't hate slytherins, and dumbledore would have come out a lot sooner than this.

10. In which Blaise and Ron get one step closer

Weasley stared at Blaise for a long moment, his mouth slightly agog. "So you spent years hating each other, and then became friends just like that?"

Blaise inclined his head in agreement.

"There's something mildly disturbing about that."

"Is there? I fail to see what."

Weasley shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe I just don't get it. The whole thing between your mothers confuses me too."

Blaise refrained from saying that her suspected many things confused Weasley, and shrugged instead. "You are obviously not a Slytherin."

"We've established that," Weasley reminded him.

"So we have."

There was a moment of silence, then Weasley frowned again. "So you and Malfoy are now best friends. Do your mothers still pretend to hate each other?"

"They try to, yes."

"Then how do they react to knowing the two of you are friends."

Blaise winced, completely unintentionally. He tried to make up for it by scowling, but it didn't work and he knew it.

"She is angry, isn't she?"

Blaise sighed. Might as well get it over with. "My mother regards me as little more than a nuisance and a disappointment. I doubt there is anything I could do that would make her change her mind."

Weasley blinked. "Why?"

Blaise shrugged. "Who knows? That's just the way she is."

"Oh." He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "I'm sorry."

Blaise blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

Weasley shrugged, his ears turning a fairly vivid shade of crimson. "I'm sorry that she hates you."

"She doesn't hate me. I don't think she thinks about me enough to properly hate me." It was surprisingly easy to talk about this with Weasley. He'd expected any conversations at all, much less ones involving such touchy subjects, to be awkward and full of embarrassing stutters and blushes for them both, but he was completely comfortable. More comfortable, in fact, than he'd ever been with Draco. Something about Weasley's open, honest face combined with the call of the brown eyes opened Blaise's tongue and allowed him to spout out the most amazing things.

"Oh."

Despite the ease of the conversation, Blaise didn't particularly want to stay on this same topic. Searching at random for something else to talk about, he asked, "So what about your family?"

"What do you want to know?"

He shrugged. "What's it like? I've always been an only child, so I wouldn't know anything about having siblings. I imagine it must be fairly maddening to have no privacy, but I could be wrong."

Weasley began to talk and, as he talked, Blaise felt himself begin to fill with an unfamiliar emotion. It couldn't be… jealousy, could it? What did Weasley have that he, Blaise, didn't? Yet, as Weasley continued to talk, Blaise began to see. The redheaded Gryffindor had had all the things Blaise lacked: company, friendship, love… a general sense of being wanted. It wasn't any of the factors alone, but, when they were all combined, they painted a compelling picture, one that Blaise would be hard-pressed to despise. He almost began to admire the family… almost. He still had his pride, after all, and it would be death to truly admire a family like the Weasleys, regardless of their closeness and/or contentment.

When Weasley finally slowed to a stop, Blaise was silent for a long moment. Finally, searching for something to say, he remarked, "I can see why the Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor."

Weasley blinked, clearly thrown off. "What do you mean?"

Blaise smirked slightly, more to prove to himself that he was still the cynical, sarcastic Slytherin everyone thought he was than because he actually wanted to smirk at Weasley, though that was a part of it. "No one but a Gryffindor would treat such a simple question as a personal affront and then do everything they could to win the perceived argument."

"Sounds like a Slytherin thing to me."

Blaise shook his head. "We wouldn't bother. If we see it as an affront, there's no point in arguing. We go straight to duels."

Weasley snorted. "This would explain why Slytherin has such a bad reputation, wouldn't it?"

"Would it? Being from Slytherin, I wouldn't know."

"Biased opinion?"

"Exactly."

"Fair enough. So take it from me, and my very unbiased opinion," he ignored Blaise's snort of disbelief, "that this is why you have a bad reputation."

"I will take your word for it. I am sure your opinion is far less biased than mine could ever be."

Weasley completely failed to notice the sarcasm, and nodded in agreement. Blaise sighed slightly. Whatever had possessed his heart to pin itself on a boy with such little understanding of the finer arts of conversation. He really would never have survived in Slytherin.

Changing the subject again, more to save himself from frustration than to save Weasley from embarrassment, Blaise changed the subject again.

"So what about you and Potter? You've been joined at the hip for most of your careers here, as far as I can tell, but when did you actually meet?"

Weasley explained about meeting on the train and the confrontation with Draco. Blaise nodded. That explained a lot of things. He glanced at his watch, noting with surprise that they'd been talking for several hours already. That had to be some kind of record. Apart from Draco and Potter – and Blaise didn't choose speculate on how much time the happy couple actually spent talking – no Slytherin had talked to a Gryffindor for that long since the founding of the school. He found that he was glad it had been him who'd changed the dynamics.