Author's note: so we were wrong. this is the last chapter after all. sorry people. but we hope you liked it! let us know what you thought of the entire story, spread the word, tell people who've read it not to bother putting it on alert... whatever you want. thanks!
Disclaimer: look people. three very simple words prove that we are not JK Rowling: slash is king. do you think she'd agree with that statement? her books lead one to suspect not. -sigh- if only...
--kyra, tamara, and caroline

16. In which good things must come to an end

To his credit, Draco kept to his condition. He never ever spoke anything resembling those words, though he did appear to think them quite loudly. Blaise pretended not to notice. There was only so far Draco could go, after all.

Weasley, after the substance of Blaise's conversation with Draco had been explained, didn't seem to mind very much. True, his relationship with Draco hadn't improved much, but at least he didn't seem about to kill the other boy on a regular basis any longer. He stopped giving Potter puppy eyes as well, much to Blaise's relief.

Blaise and Weasley never finished their interrupted conversation, but they didn't need to. After all, what else was there to say? Both of them knew what the other had been wanting to say, so there was really no point in actually saying it. So they merely talked about other things, much as they had before, never mentioning the reason for their new closeness. Not even when they were in bed at night – a prospect somehow much more appealing now – they talked of innocent and generic topics. There were no declarations of passion, no displays of affection that Draco and Potter seemed to expect. Theirs was of a more subtle nature, so subtle that one who didn't know would have been hard pressed to see it.

And Blaise was happier than he'd ever been in his life. For the first time in his memory he didn't care what his mother thought, didn't care about public opinion, didn't care about anything but what he wanted. And he had what he wanted. He had everything he'd ever wanted.

For once, Draco seemed to understand, rather than to mock. Blaise suspected that his blond friend had undergone a similar revelation, though the topic was never discussed between them. Something about being newly in love with someone who loved you back brought contentment in and of itself. Not to mention, of course, the fact that, now that Potter was back, there was someone in the house who actually knew how to cook. He hadn't realize how much that had been lacking until it was suddenly returned to them. He vowed never to insult cooks again, a vow he promptly broke at the welcome feats at Hogwarts, when the potatoes were undercooked again. Apparently House-Elves didn't know how to cook potatoes.

Draco didn't vanish again, and he didn't even seem upset about the little slip-ups they had about using magic, such as the time Weasley challenged Blaise to a paper-airplane making and flying contest, which he promptly lost. Blaise said that it was because that was how he habitually communicated with his mother, and there was no one who could discredit that.

And so they continued, whiling away the summer days. They spent much of their time outside, watching Potter and Draco race, and Potter and Weasley, and, eventually, Draco and Weasley, though Weasley had no hope in either of the two. His broom was far too outclassed, and the other two were just better flyers than he was. Draco urged Blaise to join in, but Blaise declined, stating his complete lack of talent in that area as excuse for not competing. He had his pride, and losing continuously was not something he enjoyed doing.

For the first time in his life, Blaise felt that he was truly free, truly able to act like himself and not worry about the press or his mother. Like with the cooking, it was only when the freedom had been returned that he realized how much he'd missed it. He promised himself that he wouldn't forget to have fun once he got back to school. He had more success with that one, though, around about exam time, he forgot and required prodding to come out of the library and into the sun.

But even the best things cannot last forever, and the end of August came around at last. They packed up their bags, visited Diagon Alley for their school things, and said goodbye to their summer retreat. Blaise couldn't help being sorry that they were leaving. Normally he enjoyed school, but now he actually had something to leave behind. It had been completely different from his usual summer, and now he wanted desperately for it to continue forever.

If Weasley felt the same way, he never mentioned it. Instead, he seemed determined to be cheerful about it all, talking animatedly about what they would do during the year, and the friends he would see when he got back to school. Blaise listened, trying not to feel jealous. It didn't work very well, and he found himself disliking Granger and Longbottom on more than just principle.

Weasley, being Weasley, didn't notice, and, if Draco did, then he was too busy taking leave of his own love to say anything. Blaise didn't blame him. If he and Weasley had that kind of relationship, he would spend most of his time snogging the redhead as well.

The dreaded day finally arrived, and they wheeled their carts through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Blaise paused slightly, looking at Weasley for what he thought of as the last time. Surely things would be different at school, and Blaise wanted to remember. At least he would have memories, if not reality.

Weasley, finally noticing Blaise's preoccupation, frowned. "What?" he demanded.

Blaise shook his head. "Nothing. Go on. Your friends are waiting for you. You wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would you Weasley?"

Weasley grimaced. Then, very deliberately, for the first time ever, he leaned over and kissed Blaise. It was a short kiss, but that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Pulling away, Weasley grinned. "I'll see you on the train. Oh, and by the way? It's Ron." Then he was gone, off to talk to his own friends, leaving Blaise standing on the platform, suddenly far less pessimistic about the upcoming year than he had been only moments before.