Where Were You In The Morning?

Without A Warning

It really wasn't supposed to end up like this.

Blaise doesn't really remember who threw the first punch, but in less than a second his jaw was on fire and he tasted the coppery tang of blood on his tongue. He vaguely registered the numbing ache on the back of his skull where he landed on the floor, but the pressure of a whole body on his hips was ever-present, and when he'd come to after pushing past the black spots in his vision, a very angry Ron Weasley was glaring down at him.

He had Blaise's shirt clenched in one fist and lifting him while the other was reeled back and ready to strike again. Blaise rolled his eyes over his assailant's features, impressed at the lack of redness on his face.

"Well," Blaise's mouth hurt as he spoke, but if it got Ron riled up again then he deemed it worthy. "That's unfortunate. You've ruined my Brazilian blouse."

"Shut up," Ron's held fist tightened so much it looked like he was capable of splitting his knuckles himself. "I'll ruin your face, next, if you say something like that again."

Blaise fought through the fog in his brain, trying to remember what he had said to upset Ron Weasley, as he figured there wasn't much that didn't set him off.

He had a reputation for a short fuse, if Ron Weasley had a reputation at all.

A break through the cloudy mist of surprise and confusion brought an article to the front of his mind.

THIRD OF GOLDEN TRIO SCANDALIZING AFFAIR WITH RIVAL SCHOOL STUDENT

He can picture the entire article in his head, the photograph snapped Ron Weasley kneeling over Viktor Krum, much like he was right now over Blaise, pummeling his face while Hermione watched in the background with her hands over her mouth. The article was even worse than the picture, and Blaise had read every word like they were water and he was parched.

"Heh," Blaise breathes, remembering what he had said just a few moments before finding himself in this predicament.

"Can't even keep a girl," he'd snickered as Ron walked past the shop he was coming out of, following him to the mouth of an alley. "Should try blokes, I reckon."

Which, that prompted Ron to turn and toss him into the alley where he landed a punch right on his jaw, all in the span of half a minute.

Blaise tried to push Ron off, roll away, do something to get off the grimy stone of the alley, but all it does is make Ron pull him closer and reel his fist farther.

"Think that's funny, do you," Ron shakes him by his shirt, and all the thoughts Blaise had arranged in his head are scattered again.

"The only thing I find amusing is the way your arse is sitting on my dick at the moment."

The blow hits him square on the nose, and Blaise groans when Ron drops him, letting his head wound fizzle with pain. "Ah," he chuckles, reaching to touch the tender skin of his scalp. His hand comes away bloody. "Fuck."

Ron is standing over him, looking down with disgust as Blaise sits up with much difficulty. "Shameless prick. And you think I'm the abomination."

"Are you disgusted at the fact that it's me, or the fact that I'm a man?"

Any clouded thoughts clear away when Ron hesitates to answer, a flash of curious confusion passing over his face before it's gone. It's all Blaise needs.

He chokes in surprise, eyes widening at Ron. "Are you telling me you've thought about being a pillow biter? By Morgana, my day keeps getting better and better."

He's being hauled up by his shirt again and tossed against the wall, and his head bangs against the brick harshly. "Shut up."

Blaise finds strength from somewhere, though, because he recovers enough to pull Ron and throw him against the wall, slitting his leg between both of his and pushing his forearm against his throat.

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop assaulting me. Now," he presses his arm down against the pale throat and watches Ron's eyes narrow. He turns to spit before grinning. "Uncontrolled anger is best put to use physically, preferably not aggressively. Tell me, Weasley, why are you angry?"

"What is this, therapy?" Ron tries to shove him off, but it only makes Blaise press his body harder against him.

"Is it because the mudblood ditched you?"

"Don't call her that," the redhead grits out, struggling between pushing Blaise's shoulders or pushing his arm.

"What," Blaise whispers, running his nose across Ron's jawline. "Mudblood? She is. She's nowhere near the ideal candidate for a wizard of your caliber."

Ron's breath stutters in his chest at the soft touch, and instead of pushing against Blaise, he tries to dig himself into the stone wall. "What would you know?"

"Let me show you what she can't, Weasley. The connection between two pure-blood wizards is something you won't find with her."

The arm from his throat slides off, which gives Blaise the opportunity to run his nose down Ron's neck despite the fact that it's most likely broken. Ron, who still seems to be between curiosity and confusion, panics when he feels Blaise's hands on his wrists.

"Don't touch me," Ron's voice breaks as he shoves Blaise off, and he reaches up to touch where Blaise has managed to mark the skin of his neck. His eyes blaze as they meet the golden brown of the Slytherin. "Stay away from me."

"Oh, don't worry," Blaise is running a finger across the plumpness of his bottom lip, and he turns to walk away, fitting his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "I will."