A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Blaise sits up, gasping for air and clutching his head. There's a tingle that rushes down his spine, taking the pain of his nightmare away, along with any recollection of it. He looks around, and then he jumps when a shadow rushes out of the corner and heads for the door.

He takes a moment to compose himself before he's dashing out of Ron's arms and into the dark hallway, chasing after the shadow with his wand clutched tightly in his hand.

The Gryffindor starts when his arm is thrown against him, snores himself to a sitting position and just barely catches Blaise's lithe form running out of the room.

He's confused when he hears feet rapidly hitting the stone floor.

"Blaise?"

He rubs his eyes quickly and pushes the blankets off, and as soon as his feet hit the rug under the bed, a flash of light and a pained shout comes from the hallway.

"Blaise!"

Ron sprints out, almost falling on the edge of the carpet as he curves toward the door, pushing against it and swinging his body around. He runs down the corridor, hastily lighting the tip of his wand with a shaky Lumos as he dashes around corners and past too many doors that he didn't even know existed.

He freezes as he comes to two bodies in the hall, one with their feet planted firmly in a defense stance and their wand steadily pointed at the other body, which is on the floor, clutching their shoulder with a grimace on their face.

"What the bloody hell," Ron hisses, walking past Blaise's pointed wand and hiking the twin up by his shirt. He slams him against the wall, silently praising himself when the boy winces and squeezes his hand around his shoulder tighter. "What's going on?"

"He was in the room," Blaise's voice does not match his confident stance. He's unsure, weirded out and the adrenaline in his body isn't helping. "I woke up and he just ran out. So, I followed him."

"Which one of them is it," Ron asks, his eyes moving all over the face of his captive, who gives him a scowl but stays quiet nonetheless. Ron's eyes move down to where he's holding his shoulder and turns to Blaise. "Nice shot, by the way."

Blaise ignores his praise, walking closer and lighting the surrounding torches with the flick of his wand. His eyes narrows as they study the face of the boy in Ron's strong grip. "Xabros."

Xabros' silence is enough confirmation.

"What were you doing in my room?"

"Listen to me," the boy breathes, his eyes dark but somehow sincere. "You are all in danger. Every single member of the colony..."

"How do you know about that," Ron interrupts, his knuckles whitening as his hold tightens on the twin's sleep shirt. "Who told you?"

"No one," Xabros assures hurriedly. "No one, I promise. I was eavesdropping the night Madame Pomfrey came into the Common Room."

"Are you a spy?"

"No!"

"Who do you work for?"

"No one! I..."

"Don't lie!"

"Ron," Blaise places a hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder, easing him back from the twin's face. He sees how Xabros' face is pinched with pain and concern. "Let him go."

The way Ron's whips his head to look at Blaise is almost comical, but Blaise has too many things running through his head to laugh. "What?"

"I hit him pretty bad. And hurting him further is not going to get you any answers."