Chapter 1
The celebrations for the start of the new year continued around him, but every laugh, every toast, every smile felt like a personal insult for Ron. The war was over, yes, but there was nothing that drove him to be happy.
Fred was dead, and George hadn't been the same since it happened, yet he had managed to move on. Why couldn't Ron do the same?
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Fred's body lying lifeless on the ground. He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye, to tell him everything would be okay. As if that wasn't enough, he never expected that after everything they had been through together, Hermione would leave him. There was no reason for it. No clear explanation, no discussion. Just a guilty whisper of 'It's not working anymore' as he stared at her in disbelief. Not working anymore? And when would he get a say in the matter?
His anger simmered just beneath the surface, and the presence of Blaise Zabini so close to him didn’t help. He hadn’t invited the Slytherin to sit or even talk with him. Yet there he was, right beside him.
'Maybe you should ease up on that glass, Weasley,' Blaise commented, breaking the silence with that insufferably calm tone.
Ron stared at him for a few seconds before releasing the glass. 'I don’t understand why you’re trying to talk to me, Zabini. We’re not friends. We’ve never been friends and we never will be.' He didn’t know why he said it; after all, Blaise had only made a small comment, and at the moment, his company wasn’t entirely unbearable. Maybe it was the cold, impassive tone that irked him.
Blaise raised an eyebrow, as if the response was exactly what he expected. 'I never said I wanted to be your friend, Weasley. I don’t care, to be honest. You just look... so lonely, I thought you might want some company.'
'You have a strange idea of company,' Ron growled. 'I don’t see why a Slytherin would suddenly care about how I’m doing.'
Blaise shrugged. 'I don’t care. But your negative energy is ruining the evening. I was curious.'
'Curious about what?'
'Why you’re so damn angry.'
Ron stiffened. He didn’t owe him an explanation, he didn’t owe anyone an explanation, least of all Zabini. He intended to stay silent, but something about the boy’s smirk annoyed him enough to respond. 'None of your business.'
'Figured as much.' Blaise leaned against the table, as if the conversation was a game he was winning. 'Let me guess: Hermione Granger?'
Ron flinched, his jaw clenched. 'What’s it to you?'
'Nothing, really,' Blaise replied, but his tone held a hint of satisfaction. 'Just noticed how she’s been avoiding you all evening. Quite obvious, even to a casual observer.'
'You know nothing,' Ron snapped, feeling his ears burn.
'No, but I can recognize someone who’s been dumped,' Blaise continued, his tone unusually light.
'I don’t need your theories, Zabini. And I don’t need your pity.'
'It wasn’t pity.' Blaise stood up, adjusting his jacket with a fluid motion. 'Just an observation. But if you want to sit here and stew in your bitterness, be my guest. My offer of company still stands.'
'I’m not interested in your Slytherin company,' Ron shot back, his tone harsh.
Blaise laughed, a short, humorless sound. 'Maybe that’s the problem, Weasley. Maybe you need to step out of your comfort zone.'
Ron didn’t respond, and Blaise walked away, leaving him alone once again.