A/N: For aloeart, the response to a prompt she gave me ages ago.
I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned here. Now stop rubbing it in.

Heart of Ice

Ever since the beginnings of this thing people called "relationship", Ron had been the cautious one. The one to make sure no one else was around, the one to want things to go slowly, the one who needed to be reassured about them.

The one to keep his heart out the other's reach.

Oh, Blaise understood, of course he did, he was a Slytherin, but what he didn't understand was why. The redhead was a Gryffindor and he couldn't possibly have deep, dark secrets to hide. Could he?

But Ron said he trusted him, would trust him with his life, even. So why not his heart?
And from there came the question that bothered Blaise the most.

Why did he care? He could not pretend any longer that he didn't.

Being a Slytherin, caring went against his better nature, yet he couldn't help but love the redhead.

Oh yes. Love. He didn't know when that had happened, just that it had.

It was driving him up the wall, round the bend and all the way back again, because he knew that if Ron asked him to hand over his heart and soul on a silver platter, Blaise would do it, seeing all the while what Ron could do to him.

He shuddered at the thought. The redhead, if he so chose, could break him into a million insignificant pieces of love and lust and despair, a million tiny shards of bruised, bleeding, broken heart.

And Blaise would just pick up the shiny fragments and hand them right back to him.

He sighed.

So this was what unrequited love felt like. Well, not exactly unrequited. They were seeing each other after all.

Ron just had shields around his heart that no spell could ever break down, a wall of ice that could be chipped at slowly, melted by time and trust, nothing else.

But Blaise didn't have time. He wanted Ron, now. And if Ron didn't want him, he did not have a choice. He would have to go to the Dark Lord.

Ron, in all his stupid, stupid, Gryffindor symbolism, was making him doubt his allegiances.

Ron, with his red hair, countless freckles – though he did so long to count them, all of them – his cheeky grin and undeniable sweetness, was making him consider going against his mother, against his future, against everything that had been planned for him.

Ron, with his pro-Muggle and Muggleborn attitude, with his surprisingly humble famous best mate Harry and Muggleborn witching wonder friend, confidante Hermione, Ron with his amusingly common favourite foods, with his adorable laugh, his expressive blue eyes.

Ron had slowly become the focus of his world, part of what made up his heart of ice.
And he longed to tell the redhead that.

Blaise shook his head. He shouldn't be having these thoughts. This, he mused, was the only thing that, if he could, he might change about Ron. His regular tardiness to meet him.

Suddenly, something touched him on the shoulder and Blaise jumped. There was nothing there.

Laughter echoed in his ear. Very familiar laughter.

Somewhat hesitantly, he touched the invisible creature that was laughing at him. With a small smile of relief, he pulled off a cloak from Ron's tall frame.

"I didn't know you had an invisibility cloak!" he breathed, turning the cloth over in his hands. "I don't – it's Harry's. He let me borrow it."

"I see. Well, now you're here, what shall we do?"

Ron shook his head, smiling widely, "No matter how long it's been, I'll never get used to that posh accent of yours. Shall we?" he mimicked the accent, holding out his elbow for the other to hold.

Blaise gave him a push, "Come on, you prat. Let's go to the Room of Requirement."

Ron nodded, gave Blaise a quick, completely unsatisfying peck on the lips and ran off - thankfully in the right direction.

Blaise just smiled, lost in the sweetness and softness of Ron's lips, even if just for a moment.

He understood now. Ron may not love him, but there is no allegiance that can surpass the bond of two hearts. He could never give himself to the Dark Lord knowing that he might have to fight this beautiful, elusive creature, his Ron, on the battlefield.

His decision was instantaneous and instinctive.

It wasn't until later that he realised what he'd decided.

By the time Blaise had pulled himself out of his daze, Ron was already halfway to the Room of Requirement. He shook his head to clear it, and ran off after his boyfriend.

He saw the redhead on the stairs and lunged at him.

Ron laughed as they rolled down the steps, play fighting.

They raced to the Room, oblivious to the portraits' disapproving stares, amused smiles or loud snores.

Panting and grinning like fools, even Blaise – though he would never admit it – they crossed in front of that ugly tapestry of trolls in tutus and finally entered the Room.

"Ah," exhaled Ron, as he almost disappeared inside a comfy, squishy chair, "much better. Never knew you were a good tickler… Learn something new every day."

Blaise shook his head and chose to sit in a slightly more dignified position in his own chair, "We are at a school. You remember, with classrooms and teachers? A place of culture and learning?"

Ron laughed, "Git." He said fondly, "If I weren't stuck in this thing I'd come over there and smack you."

Blaise grinned evilly, "But you're stuck…"

As Ron's eyes widened in either shock, horror or glee, Blaise stood up and began to undress.
First, his school robes as he walked towards the redhead. Then, slowly, he loosened his tie, leaving it on, as he remembered Ron's fondness of pulling Blaise towards him by the strip of cloth. Buttons came undone under nimble fingers, and he stood in front of his boyfriend, just out of reach.

The Gryffindor whined pitifully, but the snake was in his element. Music started out of nowhere and the dark boy started swaying to the rhythm, teasing.

Ron was struggling to get out of the chair, but had only succeeded in sinking further.
Blaise moved that fraction more out of reach, now just in trousers, socks and tie, all else had disappeared.

Ron, with great effort, finally heaved himself off of the armchair and caught Blaise by the hand.
"Where do you think you're going?"

"Aw," sighed Blaise, "and just when I was starting to have fun."

A grin slowly spread on Ron's face, "The fun is just beginning…"

Blaise, ebony skin, eyes of copper,
You know him, he's a real show stopper!
He met in the end,
With his gentleman friend
And the rest of the story's improper!

The next morning, Blaise was poking at his eggs with disinterest, waiting for the post and ignoring the 6th year girls on his right who were twittering on about the next Hogsmeade weekend.

It was only Wednesday, for Merlin's sake. Why did girls go on about these things?
In front of him, Pansy was brandishing a spoon whilst discussing a Transfiguration essay with Draco, who was on his left.

Adding more milk to her cereal, she went on, "No, no! She said, last lesson. It was swish towards the right first, then left."

"That was last week's one, Pansy. Sand to parchment. I was talking about blackberries to black ink."

Blaise zoned out, sure that he would know as soon as his boyfriend walked into the room.

Right on cue, the buzzing noise on his left disappeared and Draco tensed.

"Ah, the Holy Trio had arrived."

Blaise, who was about to put a piece of egg in his mouth, had to put down the fork and bite his tongue to stop anything resembling a giggle from coming out.
He didn't know about the other two, but Ron was far from holy or innocent.

He just shook his head at Pansy's curious look.

"Err… burnt my tongue." He lied.

She nodded and went back to her own breakfast.

Blaise was usually good at Charms, but today he couldn't concentrate. The Professor had just walked out of class because he had to talk to Filch, so they were left to their own devices.

Draco was idly swishing his wand left and right, no doubt thinking of some plan to humiliate Potter. Pansy was paired with Millicent and they were off to one side, talking. Granger was flicking through a book, so no intelligent conversation from the other side of the room either.
And if Ron didn't stop squirming under Potter's charm, he would just have to go over there and make him squirm more – only under slightly different circumstances.

A smile tugged at Blaise's lips. Only – how many? – four hours left until he could talk to Ron again.

Beautiful Ron, with his beautiful hands, beautiful arms, beautiful chest, beautiful neck, beautiful freckles… Draco poked him in the side with his wand.

"Ow! Draco, was that necessary?"

"You were staring again."

"Staring at whom?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I will find out. One of the Gryffindors. Specifically, one of the Trio."

"I was just staring into space." He defended himself.

"I didn't know space looked like the Weasel." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco. Why would I be staring at Weasley?"

"Maybe it was Granger?" Blaise made a face, "Potter?" Draco's voice was slightly tense at the question, but again Blaise shook his head in disbelief, "Blaise, do you expect me to believe you were staring at Finnegan?"

Finnegan, who was currently flirting madly with a Ravenclaw girl who looked less than interested.

"Merlin, no!" cried Blaise, "What kind of a man do you take me for?"

"One who likes other men – oh hush." He interrupted, as Blaise had just opened his mouth to speak, "Of course I know. We've been friends for years. I probably knew before you did."

Blaise just laughed, shaking his head.

"So. Why were you staring at Weasel? And remember, if you like him, I may have to hex you."

"Why would you hex me?" Blaise asked.

"To make sure you were still sane. But please, do go on." He said, with a wicked grin.

"I wasn't staring at him! I was dozing off. I wasn't paying attention to anything – or anyone."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Alright. If you say so."

Blaise gave an exasperated sigh and waited for the bell to ring.

When it did, finally, he leapt to his feet and almost skipped towards the door. Only three and a half hours.

He and Potter collided trying to get out.

As the Gryffindor mumbled apologies, Blaise just nodded and stepped through, waiting for Pansy and Draco on the other side.

"But Ron, I want to know!"

"Hermione, I said stop it. I'm not going to tell you."

"But Ron-"

"I said no!"

Ron stormed out the door, Harry and Hermione close behind.

"Come on, mate, you know you can tell us anything!"

Draco glanced at Pansy, who nodded, and raised both eyebrows at Blaise once.

They would be trailing the Trio. Crabbe and Goyle followed.

"I just don't want to talk about it, ok?"

"Why? Are other people involved?"

Ron stopped in the middle of the passage, fists clenching and unclenching.

"Hermione," he said through gritted teeth, "do you not think I have a reason for sneaking out at night? Did it not occur to you that I would tell you if I wanted you to know?"

"Aha!" she poked him, "So there is someone else involved."

Ron gave a growl of frustration and stomped over to a window.

"I told you not to push him." Said Harry, watching his best friend.

"Nonsense," stated Hermione, "at least like this we know something! It's risky, going out at night, especially if he's out on his own. I just don't want anything to happen to him."

She frowned a little, concerned, but then a mischievous smile took over, "Besides, I want to know who he's going out to see!"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know. He'll tell us in his own time."

Draco poked Blaise in the side.

"Hear that? Weasel-boy's got a dirty little secret that he doesn't want his friends to find out.

Must be really bad, mustn't it?"

Blaise shrugged, "Maybe he's just not ready to tell them."

Draco stared at him incredulously.

"Are you mad? He's a Gryffindor! Of course he'd tell his friends! No, no, no, he's ashamed! Well, either that or he's not really seeing someone, just making it all up."

Blaise shook his head, "He's not making it up."

Pansy just looked from one boy to the other.

"Wait," said Draco, "is that why you were staring at hi-"

"I was not staring!"

"-in class?"

Blaise saw no other option but to lie.

"Yes, that's why. I saw him sneaking out."

"Oooh," giggled Pansy, "who was it?"

"I didn't see. It was dark."

"Well, vague shape? Girl or boy?"

Blaise bit his lip, pretending to concentrate, "I'm not sure."

Turning to tell Draco to forget it, he met nothing but air.

Draco was already on his way over to Ron to tease him. Oh Merlin, no. He rushed after the stupid blond git he called best mate.

"Well, well Weasel. What have we here?"

Ron barely even looked up, "Go away, Ferret."

His usually fiery temper was subdued.

"Oh," Draco pretended to be hurt, "Not even an attempt at a comeback? How pathetic."

"Let's go, Draco." Said Blaise, not wanting to choose between his best friend and his boyfriend.

"Yeah, leave him alone."

Draco swung round to come face to face with…

"Potter." He spat, "Can't even let your little pet do his own fighting?"

"I'm warning you, Malfoy, leave him be." Harry took a step closer.

"Or you'll do what?" Draco growled.

Blaise put a hand on Draco shoulder, "Leave it, Draco. They're not worth it."

Hermione looked surprised, as she had been about to do the same to Harry.

"They're not worth anything, Blaise."

Hermione glowered at him.

"What is it, Mudblood? Is it hard, hearing the truth? Your dirty blood makes you absolutely worthless, no matter how many teachers you have fooled."

"Death Eater scum."

It was the first time Ron had interrupted, but he did it with a fierceness and bitterness that surprised even Potter.

"What did you call me?" Draco's eyes narrowed.

"I said, Death Eater scum. For all your 'pure blood', you'll dirty your hands with innocent people's blood. Women's blood. Children's blood. You'll break your soul and there is no way it can be pieced back together. You'll watch people you once considered acquaintances, people you had class with, hell, even people you spent your childhood with, maybe roomed with, be murdered by your master, by your father, by your own hands. Slowly, you'll lose every last bit of humanity that you ever owned. And I'll just watch you suffer. Because, make no mistake, you will suffer. Even you must have a conscience."

He was still facing Draco, but his gaze went over to Blaise.

"Yet you do nothing to stop yourself falling into that trap. But one day you'll wake up and then you'll regret it. You'll suffer."

With one last long look at Blaise, Ron left.
Potter and Granger shared a look and walked towards the Hall. Ron has said all that needed to be said, and Blaise wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad.

Hours later, while Blaise was attempting to convince himself to do his reading in the Common Room, Draco was still fuming.

To tell the truth, Blaise hadn't stopped thinking about what Ron had said. He saw what Ron wanted him to see, but he couldn't acknowledge it, not properly, not openly, not yet.

"That clown! He doesn't even know what he's talking about! How dare he? How dare that insufferable idiot say-"

"Things that are true?" said Blaise softly.

"What?" said Draco, dangerously.

Blaise put his book to one side – he hadn't been concentrating on it anyway.

"Well, it's true. Why would these things sting so much if they weren't? All those issues we never discussed, but knew. Questions that we never asked, because we knew the answer to. Hexes we learnt without asking the purpose. We'll have to kill, Draco. Kill!"

"And?" Draco snapped.

"And I don't know if I can." Replied Blaise, looking up at his best friend truthfully.

"You're a Slytherin, of course you can." Said Draco dismissively.

Blaise snorted, "I couldn't any more than you could."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but the darker boy cut him off, "What if you were asked to kill Granger?"

Draco's mouth shut.

"What if you were asked to kill Pansy? Use Avada Kedavra on me? What if he asked you to kill your mother?"

Draco swallowed.

"He wouldn't."

"What if he did?"

Draco swallowed again, then bowed his head, "I wouldn't be able to do it."

"And even if you did, Weasley's right. We'd have blood on our hands; our nightmares would come true, we'd be just like our fathers, just as evil, just as ruthless, just as cruel. We'd break our souls. Shatter the only real precious thing we own. No, we don't even own those. Our souls belong to our hearts, and to the person we give those away to. I'm not ready to do that. I don't think I ever will be."

Draco let out a breath as he sat down onto the sofa next to Blaise.

"So that's it. You're in love."

"What?"

"Well, I knew you fancied someone; I just didn't think it was quite that bad."

Blaise shrugged and went back to his homework, avoiding any other questions.

But later that night, in bed, he went over his own words, and it hit him.

It hit him like a brick between the eyes and knocked him over with a feather.

He loved Ron, and that was all he had needed to know to realise his decision had already been made for him.

So there he was again, waiting for Ron in a dark corridor on a school night. How he was going to be awake for Herbology in the morning was a mystery.

He heard footsteps coming from his right and pushed himself into the shadows, but relaxed when he saw a familiar head of red hair.

"Hey!" he grinned.

"Hi." Replied Ron, a bit dully.

Blaise's brow furrowed, "What's wrong?"
"Can we take a walk?"

Blaise nodded, frowning at the empty look in Ron's eyes.

They walked silently down the halls of Hogwarts, the lights from the windows illuminating the pair from time to time.

Blaise was getting nervous, fidgeting with the sleeves of his robes and trying to find a decent conversation starter. What was making him even more nervous was the fact that this had never been a problem before.

He licked his lips once more before wordlessly turning to his boyfriend, almost pleading with him to say something.

Ron said nothing.

Blaise bit his lip and went back to playing with his sleeves, wondering why things had suddenly changed.

They had gone past the Transfigurations classroom, past the Room of Requirement and were somewhere on the second floor when Ron finally spoke.

"I'm not sure this is working."

Blaise stopped in front of an open window that gave onto the Black Lake. He'd known this would happen at some point, but he hadn't added his feelings into the equation because he was a Slytherin. Heart of ice. He didn't have any feelings. Or he shouldn't. But that was unimportant now.

"I've been thinking and we have no future together. We have to break up."

Blaise stared out onto the grounds, out onto the lake that didn't reflect moonlight.

"Why?"

The moon in the sky was barely there, but it was enough to give Ron a clear view of Blaise's face, a mask so perfectly Slytherin that it gave him the courage to continue with what he knew was right.

"We're just not," he hesitated, trying to find a suitable word, "right, together. We have fun, it's nice and I…" another hesitation, "I can't think of anyone I would rather have spent so much time with, but you know as much as I do that it's impossible."

Blaise didn't move. Silence was all that was required of him, and he could never have thought of something to say to him anyway. Heart of ice.

"I know you weren't expecting this," said Ron apologetically, "especially after the other night, but I wasn't sure, and I wanted to have a good night with you."

Blaise nodded slightly, "One last good night."

It had been a great night, one he would remember forever, simply because it was the last.

More silence enveloped the two, growing tenser by the minute.

"Look, this hurts me too. I thought about this for a long time and I went over every possibility and this can't survive. Not the way I'm going to go."

Blaise opened his mouth, but nothing came out. How could he find words for what he was feeling? Torn, disbelieving, relieved, but there was a lump in his chest that wouldn't go away and another in his throat that was choking him.

"Our being together goes against everything we were ever taught."

Blaise finally found his voice. He spoke quietly, "I was taught to believe in love."

Love. Ron closed his eyes for a moment as the word echoed between them in the stone corridor.

"Eventually you'll have to choose. And you won't choose me."

"How do you know that?" said Blaise suddenly, angrily, turning to face him "How do you know that I would choose anything?"

"Because you'll have to. It's not a decision we should have to make, but we do. And I know you, Blaise. You can't choose me."

Ron took a step back. He sounded defeated. He'd thought about it for a long time, and he knew there was no way it could ever work between them. Not now. Not until the war was over, and chances were at least one of them would be dead by then.

"Why not?" Blaise refused to back down. Ron couldn't do this to him. Not now. Not now that he had understood what the ache in his chest was.

"Because I have to!" exploded Ron, "Because you won't do it and it has to be this way!"

"It doesn't!"

"It does." Ron went to the window, breathing in the cool midnight air. Slowly, he closed his eyes. "Blaise, when will this end? It goes on and on, over and over and over again. And I won't be able to stand it forever."

Blaise struggled to find words, "It doesn't have to be this way."

"What would you have us do? Run away together? Elope, like in a fairytale?" Ron shook his head with a bitter laugh, "Real life isn't like that. I'm no princess and you're not my knight in shining armour. They are in love."

Blaise caught the unspoken end of his sentence. 'And we're not.'

He said nothing, bowing his head and giving a small, almost silent sigh.

"I… I'll see you again, right?" asked Ron, his blue eyes pleading. Blaise had never been able to resist those eyes. They gave too much emotion away.

"Of course," he answered, "every day, in class."

"Because I still want to see you. I can't just stop caring about you. I won't. You're my friend, let's keep it that way."

"That's funny," said Blaise, flatly, "up until recently I was something more."

Ron ducked his head, obviously trying not to say something.

"Goodbye."

He took Blaise's hand and gave it a squeeze, then walked down the corridor towards his future. Away from his now ex-boyfriend.

Blaise's nails were digging crescent moons into his skin, his teeth were biting down into his tongue, he could feel the ice, cold, where his heart was, but it was an entirely different type of pain that caused the one tear to slip down his cheek.

"But I love you." He whispered to the ghost of Ron's shadow.

And from the end of the corridor, a whisper was enough to reply.

"I love you too."

There was only one problem with Blaise's heart of ice. It shattered far too easily.