Attraction, Bar None
Friday was Bar Night. The dimly lit room buzzed with the low hum of conversation and the thumping of bass from the creaky speakers. Blaise had found himself half-sticking to the seat of a booth. He had tucked himself into the corner, hidden from onlookers, sipping on a ginger ale. Draco sat across from him, leaving the ever-extroverted Pansy on the outside to babble about her latest obsession: Muggle crime fiction.Luckily for Blaise, the steady bass line had found a permanent place in the back of his skull, drowning out most of her rant with a playful beat. Pansy was halfway through a rant about the misgivings of poison when they were interrupted by a familiar group."Mind if we join you?" Ginny, Luna, Ron, and Harry were clustered at the end of the booth's table. Blaise shot a look at Pansy, who had cut off her rant and was looking far too smug for this to be a situation plucked out of the blue. "By all means. There's always room for our favorite bridal party, right Blaise?" Pansy's sickeningly sweet planning voice shot through Blaise. Infuriatingly enough, she tipped her martini in his direction with a knowing look. Her mischievousness could rival Peeves, should the poltergeist wish to be a matchmaker.
Draco shot back his whiskey, grimacing as a flush crept up his neck, clashing with his light hair. Blaise stared grumpily at his ginger ale. Now he had to be the attentive one of the evening.
Ginny corralled Ron into the spot next to him, to Blaise's mortification. His corner was no longer safe. Luckily, Draco seemed to be facing a similar conundrum, though he had the life buoy of alcohol.
"No Granger tonight?" Pansy asked."
"She told me she was too busy," Ginny laughed, waving her hand noncommittally. "Single-handedly fixing the government and all that."
"So did I," grumbled Harry, earning a laugh from the girls. Draco sucked at the dregs of whiskey in his glass, his face akin to if one had swallowed a shot of lemon. The group settled, somehow, into the comfortable buzz of conversation. All Blaise could think of was how close Ron was to him. The redhead's arms were practically wrapped around him, for Merlin's sake, and their ankles could have won a knot-tying contest.
Ron himself didn't seem too unhappy with the turn of events, especially as Pansy bought round after round. Around the fourth round, Draco had excused himself. Halfway through, Harry had done the same. They hadn't returned.
Ron's hand brushed the length of Blaise's thigh, his touches feather-light and sneaking closer and closer to his crotch. It was all Blaise could do to suppress a shiver as fingertips brushed against pulse points. Blaise sucked in a breath, trying his best to school his expression. This was a challenge. He was being challenged. And Merlin's fucking balls, he would win.
"First comes love," Ginny teased, eyes locking on her brother. "Then comes marriage." Freckled face turning nearly as red as his hair, Ron fumbled a twenty to the table, sliding it in front of Blaise. "How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?" Pansy made a triumphant noise across the table.
"Geraniums," Blaise blurted, "Foxgloves and orange lilies," Painstakingly, he listed every flower in the headache-inducing nightmare of a bouquet that was still sitting, somehow, on display.
When he finished, Ron was gazing at him as if he'd just revealed the cure for a dark curse. His pupils were blown, face flushed and highlighting those gorgeous freckles that lined his nose, cheeks, chin, everywhere. And then Ron was moving closer, breath tickling the tip of Blaise's nose. Then his fingers were tracing Blaise's lips. Blaise wanted to bite them. Wait, he needed to pull back. Recuperate. He needed to somehow locate the common sense that had abandoned him in his hour of need.
"You're like a constellation," Blaise heard his voice from somewhere above his head, each word scratching his throat. With each second that passed, the room around them faded and his face rose another degree. He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was with what happened next, given the situation. Rough lips pressed against his jawline, peppering his cheek until slotting perfectly onto his lips.
And then, it was a few broken heartbeats of pure bliss before Ron pulled away, lightly tugging on Blaise's lips. He fought the urge to chase Ron's mouth, taking a deep breath as his eyes fluttered open to the dim room. When had he closed his eyes? The small amount of self-control he still held was nearly undone by the redhead's heavy gaze under his eyelashes.
Blaise felt like he was floating. Did that just happen? Was it possible he'd actually started drinking and he had somehow entered a dreamworld, while his physical body rotted away fully drunk? He pinched the skin just under his wrist. Nope. Not a dream. When he looked back up, it was to direct eye contact with Pansy, who had a Cheshire-esque smile etched on her face. Her eyebrows were raised, as if to say, 'well done, then.
'Shut up, Blaise mouthed over to Pansy as his brain rebooted. Pulling back. That was what he was going to do. He shook his head, nestling his nose in Ron's hair, and forced himself to breathe. Okay, so he half-pulled back. He still had mostly succeeded in his book. This was fine.
Ron had begun to trace small patterns on his harm, and the tickling sensation lulled Blaise down from his high. The air added a touch more intimacy to the night. It was as if someone had put a damn candle in the middle of a not-date. It didn't help that Ron had somehow maneuvered himself onto Blaise's lap, and his sister was trying very hard to act like everything was normal.
Because everything was certainly not that.
When the group managed to exit the bar, Ginny had cajoled Ron into standing on his own. Granted, the man was about as balanced as a toddler attempting their first steps. Blaise only found it amusing because Draco often became much of the same for Pansy and himself. Usually. When they could find him. Draco and the Golden Boy had successfully escaped the group a long while back.
"Guess we'll have to take a Muggle cab," Ginny laughed. Ron muttered something noncommittal.
Blaise smiled tightly. He wouldn't be quite as nice to Pansy, but the woman could endure a lot. While she wouldn't appreciate the squeeze of magic on every side, quick was always better after a night of drinking, and Blaise was entirely too sober to tough out Muggle transportation. Especially with how loose-lipped Pansy was likely to be.
With a crack, Blaise Disapparated with Pansy, pushing her to the couch with the promise of a hearty breakfast in the three hours till morning.
Blaise stayed up a little longer, tracing his veins.