Author's note: so yeah. we really don't have much to say about this chapter, except that it's dedicated to D0nQuix0te for waiting so patiently for her fluff, being an amazing person, and having no clue where to start her story. well, actually, that last isn't actually a good thing, but hopefully this will inspire her to write more. and yes, we know that it's probably not fluff in the best sense of the word, but it's sweet and light and there is no angst. well, only a little. is it our fault if we like that kind of thing??
Disclaimer: JK Rowling's books are longer than ours, but we write faster than she does.
--kyra

14. In which Ron breaks the truce

And so things continued, and Blaise tried to pretend to himself that he enjoyed the solitude. After all, he was used to it. The only person who really talked to him was Draco, and even Draco spent most of his time with Potter these days. Not that Blaise blamed his supposed friend in the least. If the love of his life loved him back, he wouldn't have much time for his friends either.

He winced away from the thought of the love of his life. That was a touchy subject right now, and he didn't want to have to think about. At least they didn't hate each other, right? After their conversation about Draco and the Dark Lord, Weasley had continued to avoid Blaise, but it was a different kind of avoiding: more of an "I don't understand you and am afraid your point of view might be contagious" state than a "You love me and I don't love you and this is exceedingly awkward" one. Disregarding the fact that Weasley probably didn't use words like "exceedingly" in his daily conversation.

But, when it came down to it, Blaise was lonely. He couldn't help it. He wasn't used to be completely alone. Even as a child, there had been House-Elves and various husbands. Not that either of them were good conversationalists, but even so! They were better than nothing. This was worse. It wasn't like there wasn't anyone in the house to talk to, just that the only other denizen didn't want to talk to him. It hurt. It hurt far more than Blaise wanted to admit to anyone, especially himself. Draco would have cursed his eyebrows off and made him talk, but Draco was still off with Potter doing whatever it was they were doing. Blaise had the feeling that he really didn't want to know.

The days continued to pass, and the two's routine of avoiding each other became more a matter of habit than anything else. Weasley still didn't want to talk to Blaise, but Blaise suspected it was more to prove a point than because of any actual animosity on Weasley's part. Not that that changed much. It was nice to know that Weasley probably wouldn't hate him forever, but that didn't alter his immediate situation.

And then everything changed. It wasn't gradual, like Blaise falling for Weasley had been. It was brutal and sudden, a crack in a dam giving way to a torrent of water. Weasley started talking again. He didn't talk about anything important, just talked, and Blaise talked back. It wasn't anything like intimacy or even friendship, but it was far better than what they'd had before. Blaise didn't understand it, but he didn't question too hard. After all, no point pulling the bristles of a gift broom, right?

Apparently, though, Weasley had other plans. He took his time about revealing them, but he did, eventually. They were sitting in their room, both of them on opposite sides of the bed, when Weasley suddenly remarked, "You do realize that I know you're lying, right?"

Blaise blinked. "What?"

"About Malfoy. I know perfectly well that it's not him."

Blaise stared at Weasley blankly, wondering what on Earth to say in response to that. He didn't want to lie, but neither did he want to tell the truth. It was the worst kind of impasse.

"I'm not mad, or anything."

"Well that's good." His brain had almost kicked in again, though he still had no clue how to go about responding. "What, may I ask, brought this up?"

Weasley shrugged, and Blaise got the distinct impression that he wasn't too sure himself. "I don't like being lied to."

"Well, now you have the truth."

"And… and I didn't want it to be Malfoy."

Blaise blinked. "Explain, please."

Weasley sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I… I'm not sure I can," he admitted. "I mean, it's been Harry for so long, and…" He trailed off, looking helplessly at Blaise. Blaise said nothing, waiting for him to continue. When he showed no signs of doing so, the black-haired Slytherin crossed his arms.

"Do you believe yourself to be falling out of love with Potter?" Weasley nodded. "Such things do happen, you know."

"Yes, but…"

"Is there someone else?" A small portion of Blaise's brain kicked him, demanding to know just what he thought he was doing. Blaise ignored it.

Weasley shrugged pathetically. "I don't know!" It came out almost as a wail. "That's just the problem, don't you see? I don't know what I feel."

Blaise resisted the urge to run his hands through his own hair, settling for closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Without opening them, he asked, "What makes you think you like this person?"

"Oh, maybe that I can't stop thinking about them… him. Or that I keep dreaming about him. Or…"

Blaise lifted a hand. "I get the picture," he said acidly. It was harder than he would have imagined, to sit here talking about Weasley's love problems. "So what makes you unsure?"

"I've loved Harry forever," Weasley said simply. "Even from the very first. I've always wanted him to love me back, and… well, not much chance of that now, is there?"

"I doubt it," Blaise agreed. Now what? There was an obvious question to ask, of course, but he didn't really think he wanted to know the answer.

"It's not like I even ever thought I had a chance," Weasley continued bitterly, saving Blaise the need to ask the question. "I mean, it was perfectly obvious that he didn't like me, but even so… I let myself hope, and I should never have done that."

Privately, Blaise agreed. Whoever had said that hope was the only good thing in Pandora's Box clearly hadn't had their heart broken.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Finally, Blaise sighed. He really shouldn't put it off any longer. "So who is it?"

Weasley looked at him with wide brown eyes. He looked so vulnerable that Blaise wanted to do nothing more than reach over and give him a hug, something that was clearly out of the question.

"Haven't you guessed yet?" Weasley's voice was a mere whisper. "It's you."