'Draco-'
'Now you have forty-seven seconds.'
Blaise bit back her wrath. 'Your life's in danger,' she said.
This did not have the effect she was expecting. For a moment, Draco stared at her. Then he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he had to lean against one of the awning poles.
Blaise narrowed her eyes. 'I'm not joking.'
Draco was still laughing. 'I know — you're not,' he got out, between gasps.
'It's just — the look on your face. So concerned. You're worried about me -
that's awfully cute.'
'It is not cute! You're an idiot, Draco Malfoy, and if you don't listen to me then you're going to be a very dead idiot. And I won't be sorry, either.'
'No — ' he gasped out. 'No, you wouldn't be. You always — looked good in black.' His laughter had turned into a coughing spasm. He leaned back against the awning pole, catching his breath. 'You know,' he said, 'I have to congratulate you on your delivery, there. It's not often you get a chance to go up to someone and tell them 'Your life's in danger.' It's right up there with 'follow that flying carpet.''
Blaise stared in bewilderment. 'You've lost your mind,' she said.
'Among other things.' He had sobered now. She was glad. She had not liked that brittle laughter at all. 'Blaise,' he said. 'Blaise, darling — angel -
you're wasting your time.'
'Don't,' she said. He had always showered endearments on her, especially in public — baby, angel, darling, sweetest — always with a sarcastic edge that left her feeling somehow abused. 'I suppose you already know, then.
I don't see how — Pansy said you didn't. But there's no need to make me feel like more of a fool than I do.'
Her words had an odd effect on him. The faint smirk went from his face and his eyes narrowed. 'Pansy?' he said. 'Interesting. Perhaps you'd best explain after all.'
Hesitantly at first, she explained what she knew: about the protective charms they had all been given, all the children of those who were still part of the Dark Lord's circle. Barrettes in some cases, earrings, buttons -
each containing a bit of enchanted basilisk scale or skin. How Pansy had asked for an extra set of protective charms and been refused, and what Blaise suspected her of doing to remedy that lack. What Pansy had said when Blaise had gone to her, and how Blaise now knew for certain that Pansy would not stop at hurting Draco if it seemed necessary, and how Blaise had gone to Marcus afterward and he had explained, rather reluctantly but more thoroughly, what was in store.
That she had panicked subsequently and become quite abusive towards Marcus, she left out.
When she was done, Draco did not look grateful for the news. He did not look anything except, possibly, slightly interested. 'So if I'm not poisoned to death by Monday, Voldemort's death squad is going to off me along with everyone else on Tuesday,' he remarked. 'Relatively speaking, of course.'
'I don't know what you mean about being poisoned,' Blaise said. 'But you don't seem terribly afraid of dying.'
'I am,' he said. 'Horribly. But — it's rather freeing, this imminent death business. It creates a strangely consequence-free environment. One feels one could run through the Great Hall wearing only a pair of luminous shorts and shouting that Professor McGonagall has a shady relationship with the giant squid, and you wouldn't even get detention. Not that I'm planning to of course, and did you say that Pansy was the one who shot me with that arrow? Pansy?'
'That's what she said,' said Blaise.
'And how much of this did you know before?' he demanded.
Blaise slid her eyes away from his. 'Just a bit of what Pansy was up to.'
'And you never told me.' His lip curled at the corner. 'And here I thought you loved me.'
Blaise gaped at him in mingled consternation and fury. She had always wondered — half-hoped, half-hoped not — if he knew how she felt about him. She had assumed he didn't. That he did know was infuriating to her.
The fragile tether of her patience snapped, and she drew herself upright in a rage: 'Loved you?' she spat out. 'Of course I loved you. But just because you love someone doesn't mean you don't see what they are — and how they feel about you. You never loved me back.'
'No,' he said. 'I didn't.'
'You see, then,' she said. 'Maybe I wanted you punished. Maybe I hated you a little bit for not loving me enough or properly — haven't you ever felt that way, haven't you ever loved anyone who didn't love you? If you haven't then you don't know how it feels. It's not as if there weren't things you didn't tell me.'
Draco had gone quiet, the sort of quietness that was like a yell or an interruption. He looked away from her.
Blaise sighed, feeling defeated. 'You hate being blamed for anything,' she said, in a bitter tone. 'How could I forget that?'
'It's not that,' he said. He looked at her and she had the feeling that for the first time he actually saw her. 'It's just that it never occurred to me before that what I did to you was wrong. I'm sorry about that.'
For a moment she could not react. Part of her did not want to accept his apology. It seemed too little a thing in the face of how much he had made her love him and how angry she still was. On the other hand she had to accept that perhaps he had not made her love him. She had decided to love him, because he had saved her, because he was beautiful, because she was restless and wanted something and he seemed like a solution.
He said, 'Would you be willing to help my friends as well?'
She raised her chin. 'Don't insult me,' she said. 'I already have helped them.'
He nodded. 'True, so I know you know where the Burrow is. Can you go back?'
'If I have to.'
'I need you to talk to Ginny for me.'
Blaise winced inwardly. Hermione she had always disliked, but could grudgingly respect. At least she was brilliant. Ginny was a useless Weasley and the way she looked at Draco was sickening. 'And tell her what?'
'Everything you just told me.' He produced a quill from his pocket, wrote something quickly on a piece of parchment, and handed it to her, folded.
'And give this to her, as well, or she won't believe I sent you.'
Blaise took it with a dry look. 'What if I read it?'
'My father used to say that if you peep through a keyhole you may see what will vex you,' said Draco, with a slight lift to the corner of his mouth. 'Read it if you want.'
'You vex me already,' she said.
The slight lift became less slight and there was suddenly an odd softness in the way he was looking at her, a look of recognition. 'Look at you,' he said. 'Fighting the good fight. Saving the world. I'm surprised at you.'
'I don't care about the world,' she said. 'I care about you. I still do love you. I don't care if you love me back and I don't care if you don't deserve me loving you. You're selfish and you're spoilt and God do you not care about anyone but yourself, so you probably don't deserve it, but I do love you, and that matters to me because it's mine.'
He had ducked his head but he was still looking at her with that unnerving oblique look of recognition. His face was so familiar to her, but still a stranger's: she knew the funny little white scar under his eye, but not how he had gotten it.
'I always did tell you,' he said, 'that you were just like me.'
She tucked the note he had given her into her sleeve. 'I'll owl you, then,' she said, 'and tell you what Ginny says.'
He nodded. Then, to her surprise, he touched the side of her face lightly with his hand, lifting her hair away, and kissed her cheek. It wasn't a romantic gesture, really, but it surprised her all the same.
