Broomsticks and Blossoms

"Guys, give him some room,"

"Is he okay?"

Blaise opened his eyes to seven heads watching him in various states of worry.

"You alright?" Ron asked, concern etched in the furrow of his brow. Draco's hand was on Blaise's shoulder, the other supporting his elbow. Ron had wrapped his callused hands around Blaise's free one. Blaise smiled tightly. Removing his hand from Ron's, he focused on clearing his head. He was face-up on the muddy ground, surrounded by crisp air. The mud was rough between his fingers. It smelled like rain, and Ron's red hair stood against the blue-grey sky.

He wasn't in the Manor. He wasn't in the woods. If anything, he could call himself surrounded by friends. Draco tugged him up by an arm. Blaise tumbled into him, inhaling shakily and squeezing his arm before forcing himself to let go. The blonde raised an eyebrow, letting go reluctantly. They stared at each other for a moment. He rolled his eyes and gestured for his friend to get on with it.

Blaise was vaguely aware of the group's dispersal. From the corner of his eye, they split off to retrieve anything not nailed down, like geese flying in formation.

"Where were you?" Draco murmured, dragging Blaise's focus away from where Ron was helping Charlie lift the chest of balls. Damn. If Ron looked good from up close, those back muscles were putting in the work. Blaise shook his head, sighing heavily. "Places I shouldn't," Gruffly, Blaise pulled Draco's hands away. "Exam 's over, I'm fine. Just a bit woozy,

"It was clear that the game wasn't to start up again, and for that, Blaise was grateful, not that he would have joined again regardless. They retreated to the Burrow as the grey sky turned to a drizzle and then a wall of rain. Blaise breathed a sigh of relief when the door swung shut behind the last of them.

The Burrow inside was nothing like Blaise had ever seen in a house. He heard the fire before he'd felt it and had been corralled into one of the many squashy armchairs that circled the room on top of mismatched rugs. It was like stepping into a hug.

Besides the armchairs, a pile of blankets and a mug or two had been left lopsided on the carpets. With a flick of her wand, Molly sent the mugs flying to the kitchen, where she retreated. Harry followed her like a shot. Within minutes, Blaise heard the cheerful clinking of dishware and the aroma of warm, rich chocolate. Blaise smiled gratefully as a mug was pushed into his hands.

The chittering of the group around him, coupled with the sound of the rain lulled Blaise into a sense of ease. He felt transported back to the calm nights in the common room when Slytherin students of all levels would gather for snacks and stories of the present and past.

Ron laughed at something Harry said, and Blaise was instantly captivated by the curve of his neck. He wanted so badly to bury his face in the steady crook between neck and collar bone. He wanted to taste the thin strips of skin between the collarbone and air.

Ron glanced in his direction, and Blaise averted his eyes, staring into the dregs of hot chocolate and uselessly swirling it to look busy. He knew he had failed when Ron's shadow entered his line of sight.

"Hi," Ron murmured.

"Hey," Blaise stared into his mug so hard, he was afraid it would crumble under the pressure. It was already halfway there, with cracks and a meaningful chip in the handle that only a younger child could have managed.

Ron joined him on the floor, managing to reign in his limbs to a proper crisscross enough for their knees to touch. He knew he was blushing like a schoolboy, based on how warm his face felt. He couldn't bring himself to look at Ron, not when he'd been thinking such things, and especially not after he'd been thinking such things after being at the bottom of an unintentional dogpile of downward spirals from yours truly. He needed to get himself together. And that meant controlling his heartbeat, for starters. Ron rapped gently on his thigh.

"You okay?" Blaise gave in to the pull of Ron's shoulder, sighing softly into the soft yarn.

"Can we-" Blaise responded tiredly. "-just," He couldn't wrap his head around much of anything. But he knew that Ron couldn't be anything less than sincere. He didn't think that the man had an unwholesome bone in his body

.Jealousy, yes. Stubbornness, yes. But dark? Never. But the directness, the invitations to weddings, the meeting the family. There was a structured timeline for this stuff, and it was almost streamlined.

"You're too much," If he hadn't looked straight at Ron, Blaise might've missed the flash of hurt across Ron's face. Or maybe he imagined it between the fuzziness of his head and the warmth permeating from his stomach. They sat in silence. Ron didn't move his hand. Blaise thought it better to soak in the feeling, burrowing into the other man's neck. Ron smelled of spring rain and dried mud.

The fireplace cracked merrily behind a wave of voices rising and falling over each other. Blaise noticed how easily Bill could clasp Harry's shoulder as he broke down in laughter. Luna leaned easily into Ginny, just as he did with Ron, but this was different somehow. The warm feeling rose from his stomach, making his heart race for a minute before he shushed it. He began to drift off, only to be startled awake with a shake.

"You probably shouldn't fall asleep yet, just in case it's a concussion," Ron whispered, an apologetic look flashing across his face."A what?" Blaise had to wait for his brain to catch up with the rest of him. Ron patted his head gently like one might handle a sleepy kitten.

***

Blaise blinked away the sun blearily. It wasn't bright enough for him to seriously consider getting up, enough for him to know he wouldn't be falling asleep again.

There were a few more blankets on him than he'd gone to sleep with, which was nice and explained why he was warmer now. Along with that, there was a stillness to the air that only comes out after large gatherings, the kind that those early riders get to bask in-- to reflect on the times had, and maybe recall a memory or two.

Around the room, it seemed the only people who'd made it to a proper bed were Molly and Arthur. The remaining Weasley children were spread out amongst the various blankets and chairs.

Luna had created a bit of a blanket fort with her fiancée, and they were cuddled up close under it. Harry seemed to have become the epidemy of a human burrito, to note, and everyone else appeared to be asleep like normal individuals.

Blaise rolled his eyes, turning back to his person. His legs had felt heavy, and he soon found out why. Ron had mushed a robe to pillow his head on Blaise's legs. With a fond smile, he reached to return Ron's favor from last night, brushing his hand along the crown of his head.

Even asleep, Ron had a hold over Blaise that he couldn't quite explain. Ron shifted, sighing at the whisper of his fingertips. Blaise softly ran his hands over the freckles on Ron's nose, counting them silently in his head.

One...seven...He brushed his hand down Ron's neck, continuing to count. Ron's eyes fluttered open, and bright eyes met his.

Ron shimmied up to lay his head in Blaise's lap. For the second time, a far too adorable action made Blaise's face hot. He couldn't look away as Ron sighed into his blanketed thigh.

"Um," Ron said softly, a few minutes later. "M' neck hurts."

"Okay," Blaise whispered, still petting at his hair. "D' you want to go upstairs?"

Upstairs turned into Ron and Blaise padding along the shiny wooden halls and up the stairs, zig zagging around haphazardly thrown bodies and bits and baubles that threatened a painful tumble back to the ground floor with a wrong step.

Ron expertly dodged invisible barriers, misstepping only once on a creaky floorboard that he silently cursed out. It was endearing, no more or less than before, but sneaking around was something Blaise was finding to enjoy after such a wildness the afternoon before.

When they reached Ron's bedroom, Blaise was ushered inside with a gentle sweep of Ron's hand. He smiled as he passed, making Ron blush a bit. He would have to do that more often.

It was a simple setup, the room. A single bed was pushed firmly against the wall beside a small nightstand. A well-loved copy of Quidditch Through the Ages perched just on the edge. On the opposite wall, a Chufly Cannons poster was plastered proudly on the wall.

The click of the door latch brought Blaise back to the man he'd come up with. It hit him that this had been the first time they had been truly alone. Ron made a beeline for the bed, nearly faceplanting into it. He looked at Blaise, his emotions a muddled mess that Blaise didn't think he could decipher if his head was all there.

"Come on, you look just as tired as I feel." Blaise had to admit, the patchwork quilt and oddly enormous amount of pillows did look comfy. His fingers brushed at the edge.

"Promise I don't bite," Ron's eyes sparkled. "Unless you want me to. Er, sorry." He cleared his throat, placing a few pillows in the middle of the open space of thrown-back covers.

"Only if I can bite back,"