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hey, i took just under two weeks this time, soooo...
title has a double meaning — thank u guys so fucking much for two million reads. never thought i'd get here, but here we are. i love you all to pieces <3
13365 words so pls comment NFNDJDJ
anyway yeah can we get to 800 votes and 5k comments?
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Blaise hasn't once questioned why I'm in his home.
I'm not even fully sure why I am. I Apparated here with Celeste days back, and since, I've simply stayed. When Mother finally had to leave me, she'd told me to stay. And so far, I haven't been summoned, nor has Celeste, so I remain in the Zabini manor.
He was there when I finally woke up for good. It had been nightfall, and Celeste was awake in my arms. I could tell she had been for a while, but she said nothing at all. We'd both showered in our own rooms, and when I managed to get downstairs for dinner, there was Blaise next to his mother. His expression revealed nothing when he saw me. Not malice, nor relief.
According to his mother, Pansy's safe at the Parkinson manor. I haven't heard from her yet.
Their silence is part of what keeps me up at night, along with my mind replaying my memories from the Astronomy Tower over and over again and the nightmares I'm trying to avoid. Their silence can only mean one thing, can it?
That they know. They know what I did, what I was supposed to do. They're not stupid. They had to have figured it out. Besides, word travels fast.
Blaise hasn't been fully silent. He asked me to pass him salt at breakfast one morning, and he had no qualms in answering me when I asked what the time was another time. He isn't ignoring me. But he isn't really talking to me either. Part of me wants to push him for more, and I often see in Celeste's eyes that she wants the same, but I stay away.
Until nearly a week passes, and nothing has changed from Pansy and Blaise. She hasn't sent me a single letter. I haven't written to her either, but mostly because I don't want to wait for a response that won't ever come. But days of cold looks and stiff nods from Blaise become frustrating, so much so that when he doesn't look at me as we pass each other in the hall, something in me snaps.
I'm quick to wrench open the very door he disappears behind. He looks over his shoulder, startled where he stands about to get into his bed. His eyebrows then narrow, black eyes blazing and jaw clenched.
"What do you want?" There's no emotion in his voice, and I can hardly hear it over the roaring rain. The weather hasn't lifted even since that night.
"What do I—?" I stare at him, stunned. His own startled expression washes away, and he looks at me with boredom before pulling the corner of his covers out from where it is tucked tightly. "What do I want? You're asking me what I want? What do you think I want?"
