A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Forty-Five

"Are you feeling alright?"

Draco burrows his hands further into the pockets of his cloak and looks forward. The snow is falling scarcely, but the wind is unforgiving, biting at Draco's nose, his cheeks and ears and making them turn a lovely shade of pink.

"Yes. Quite well. Why?"

"I don't know. I feel...blocked? Does that sound right? Like there's something holding you from me."

"Do you know how difficult your life is about to become?"

From the corner of his eye, he sees Harry whip his head to look at him. He can also see his dark tresses flipping in the wind. "When has my life not been difficult?"

"From the moment you were born, you," Draco sighs, shaking his head. "You were meant to be something grand, something people have always looked up to. You are this...exemplary symbol of all that is good in the world, Harry. You are the embodiment of good.

"And I...I do not fit anywhere in your world. I have been the exact opposite, all this time. I am a terrible person. I have insulted your friends, your parents, your friend's parents. I am vile. How can you be willing to taint your name for me?"

It's silent for some time. The only thing Draco hears is their shoes crunching the snow and the wind whistling past his ears.

"Do you know how long Ron has been pining over Blaise?"

That really isn't the answer he's expecting, but he's interest is piqued nonetheless. He turns to Harry and shakes his head.

"A long time. I don't even think he knew what he was doing. It was quite entertaining, actually. He called it observation."

"Is that why I would catch him looking over the Slytherin table?"

"Most likely," Harry says, amused. "You don't know this, but before last year, I was pretty adamant that you were up to something, which is why I followed you, as you know. Well, Ron actually thought Blaise was in on it, too, even though you guys kept your friendship to a minimum at the time."

Draco lifts a brow. "And you know that, how?"

"You weren't as discreet as you thought you were. Whenever Goyle would say something, I'm assuming it was stupid, you'd look down the table to Blaise and roll your eyes. Never failed."

"That is slightly terrifying."

The Gryffindor shrugs. "Anyway. Ron kept a pretty close tab on Blaise. A lot more often than I bothered with you. Only when Hermione started noticing he was becoming a little too invested in him, did he back off. But he was always watching him."

"When did he come to the conclusion that he actually fancied Blaise?"

"Never," Harry grins at the flurries looping around him. "Ron isn't clever, doesn't mean he isn't smart. But, boy, if he is slow. And clueless. Ron can go weeks wondering why his stomach is making a weird noise before he concludes he's hungry, you know."

A surprised laugh bubbles out of Draco's throat, and he reaches his hand up to cover it. He blushes when Harry turns to him with a soft smile.

"He, uh," a chuckle escapes Harry. "He's not very good with figuring things out. He just wakes up and knows things. It's weird. Like he figures things out in his sleep. And he just rolls with them."

"So he just woke up one day and thought to himself, 'Yes, Blaise is the one.' And that was it?"

Harry splutters out a laugh. "Pretty much, yeah."