A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Seven

"Wait, you're ditching me?"

Draco almost sighs but he keeps shuffling through his book bag in search of the book he took from the library earlier. "I told him I would meet him today but something has come up. You know where they sit, no one will find you."

Blaise made a sour face. "Just because they have a hidden alcove does not mean I want to spend time with him!"

"It will only be for a few minutes, Blaise."

"You scheduled a two hour session! To shuffle through books! That you would have most likely looked through by yourself! Which now you're leaving me to do."

Draco inwardly cheers when he pulls out his hunt, passing the blue hard cover between his hands. "Yes. Which means you will not have to interact with him. Problem solved."

"This isn't safe," Blaise stresses. "You running off alone all the time, how am I supposed to protect you? Your wand can't even preform harmful spells, Draco! We need to stay under the radar, just do what we're supposed to."

The blond purses his lips at the book but doesn't look up at his best friend.

"Where will you be going?"

Draco finally turns to Blaise, tries to give him a small smile but he fails. He fails miserably. "To the Room of Requirement. I will be fine, see you at Dinner."

Blaise huffs when Draco turns around and climbs the stairs in haste.

Salazar, that idiot, he thinks. Good thing I have nothing better to do.

The trek to the library takes no time at all and soon enough Blaise finds the bright head of hair that belongs to Ron Weasley. He already has a stack of books to his right, which leaves the spot to his left open and then in front. Blaise takes the seat in front.

Ron doesn't seem to notice him at all, though, his nose buried in a large red leather tome that takes up more than half the width of the table.

Blaise takes this time to observe the boy, the way Ron's hair is cut short and uneven, most likely at the hands of Molly Weasley. He has freckles absolutely everywhere across his skin and there seems to be a permanent pink dusting his face. He's wearing one of those Hideous Weasley sweaters, and this one looks old and worn, with the neck curling lazily under his left collarbone. Blaise spots a pink welt curling around his neck, and he has the sudden urge to touch it, to ask where he got it, to hear the story behind it.

But Blaise knows he has a killing curiosity that gets him in trouble, so he boxes up his observations and raises his eyes back to Ron's face.

"I didn't know you could read."

Ron starts at the deep voice, jumping and hitting his knee on the edge of the table.

"Blast!"

"It's Blaise, actually," Blaise drawls, amused.

"No, no," Ron groans, pushing away from the table. "I know. I hit a rogue nail, it just hurts."

Blaise stands and walks around the table, he squats in front of Ron and takes out his wand.

"Woah!"

"I'm not going to harm you, imbecile. I doubt you can preform a simple Healing Charm without hexing your nostrils off."

Ron studies him curiously, and very slowly uncurls his fingers from his knee. There's a moment of silence where Blaise just studies the wound, swishing his wand elegantly and making sure there's no chance of infection or swelling.