Flame Thrower (Blairon)

Just In Case

I knocked on the door and waited. The handle turned and Blaise opened it not a minute later, grinning when he saw it was me. "Hey baby boy. What are you doing up, you have work in the morning?" He whispered tiredly as he let me into his bedroom. We sat on his bed and I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat. "Couldn't sleep.... Why didn't you tell me about Dobby sooner?" I asked him and he sighed, though I could tell he was still smiling. "I'm sure he told you about his father?" I nodded and Blaise continued. "Well, when Dobby would make mistakes,  he would lock him in the closet or hit him with lamps. Because of that, Dobby has serious claustrophobia and when he does something he thinks is out of line, he hurts himself. He began to have social anxiety due to that so, whenever I want him to meet someone, I make him introduce himself. I never used to live here you know. When I took Dobby in I had an apartment in Hailand. He couldnt deal with the small space so I moved here for him. He's come a long way from when he was younger." Blaise finished and I looked up at him, smiling thoughtfully. "Blaise. About what Lavender said earlier-"
"I don't want you to worry, but you'll have to speak to your father. Let him know you're okay," he cut me of and I sighed, closing my eyes. "I know. But how the hell am I supposed to explain having disappeared for three days. Only to come back having moved out of the apartment with a car!" I hissed and he chuckled, making my head bob against his chest. "Tell him you saved enough money to by the car. You could say you're staying with Draco, Pansy or Hermione, seeing as they have their own places." He suggested and I nodded, snuggling close to him as he put his hand in mine, the skin tone difference striking. "I haven't talked to him in months you know. I wonder why it's only now, when I'm with you again, that he cares?" I whispered and sniffed, closing my eyes again. "Arthur Weasley is a strange man, I'll tell you that. That's why I got you this,"
Blaise reached into his desk drawer and took out a box. He gave it to me and I stared at it before looking up at him. He grinned before nodding, obviously excited for me to see its contents. I opened it apprehensively before gasping. Inside the velvet box was a blade. It's handle was a dark, crimson red with intricate patterns embedded into it and the metal itself was so shiny I could clearly see my reflection. "It's for work tomorrow. Just in case," he whispered and I looked up at him hysterically. "You know, usually when someone likes you they'd get you flowers or something. But a knife?!"
"Oh shut up. Be grateful I didn't give you a gun." Ron snorted before a recurring thought flooded his mind. "You know, they call you the Flame Thrower, but never have I seen you, you know. Throw flame." He whispered and Blaise's lips pursed. "I haven't used my flame thrower since the bombing you were in." He whispered back and Ron's eyes widened. "Why not?" He asked, Blaise closed his eyes. "Everytime I saw the flames, it reminded me of you and at some point, I couldnt handle it. Now, if I need to burn something, I use the match you gave me. I also, have not killed anyone since that day. Until the day at the diner of course." He said and Ron's lips parted slightly. "Can you show me?"
"What?"
"The flame thrower?"
Ron could feel Blaise's heart pumping in his chest and he held his hand. "Of course."

The two left Blaise's bedroom and entered the elevator. Blaise pressed the B, going down to the basement and it descended gracefully. Ron felt Blaise's hand tighten around his and he looked up at him, confused. "You alright?" He chuckled and Blaise rolled his eyes, his cheeks heating up. "Everybody has a fear of something. Yours is of spiders. Mine? Elevators," he said and Ron laughed. He laughed so hard his cheeks were burning and his eyes were stinging. "Why the hell would you have one in your house then?!" He asked, tears cascading his red face. "It's quicker than walking. It's a necessary evil I guess." Blaise murmured, causing Ron to laugh even harder. The elevator doors slid open and they emerged in a dark, wood paneled hallway with a door at the end. "Not creepy at all." Ron muttered and Blaise pursed his lips in a forced smile. "I'm a murderer. I've got to have a few questionable things don't I?" He asked and Ron shrugged, knowing that Blaise had a point. They walked through the hallway and Blaise pressed his hand on a metal looking panel. Ron almost jumped when a voice sounded around the room. "Welcome Blaise," said the voice. It was Blaise's voice. "Thank you Artificial Blaise. Can you open the door please?" Blaise asked as Ron watched in shock and confusion. In all honesty, he was slightly amused. "Password?" Blaise's voice asked and the real Blaise cleared his throat. "Alohomora." The door in front of them clicked open and Blaise took Ron's hand is his own as they entered the dark room. "I didn't know you liked Danny Trotter?" He mused and Blaise's laugh rang through the room, echoing off the walls. "You don't know a lot about me baby boy. Lights on." Warm coloured lights immediately switched on at the sound of Blaise's voice and Ron gaped. The room was large and full of glass cases, surrounding the walls and a few dotted around. Like a museum except smaller and better looking. All types of glocks, machine guns, AK47's, rifles and tranquilizers organized neatly inside each case. Each with a label. On another shelf, there were at least more than twenty different types of bombs varying from gas to atomic. If possible, Ron's eyes widened. There were three, yes three shelves. Dedicated only for knives. From swords, to katanas, blades, axes, pocket knives, daggers. At the very end of the room, in the center, was a glass case. Ron slowly walked closer. Encased inside was a flame thrower. It was shiny and white, with the letter Z painted on it in a metallic silver. "Woah,"
Was all Ron managed to say. He was in complete awe. Everything in this room could kill him, including Blaise himself! "Don't touch the glass bambino." Blaise advised and Ron turned around, an amused eyebrow raised. "Why not?" 
Suddenly, Ron understood exactly why. An alarming, bird like screech ran in his ears and a wooshing sound flew past his face so quickly all he saw was a blur of dark brown.
Ron whipped around and gaped. Sitting on Blaise's arm was a magnificent eagle. It's feathers were a shiny, chocolate brown mixed with different shades of caramel and it's eyes were bright and piercing. Much like Blaise's. "This, is Sin." Blaise said proudly and Ron slowly stalked up to the two, watching the bird cautiously. "He takes care of this place for me. He's also my best friend. When I was still in jail before meeting you, he'd show up in the prison yard everyday and come to me. He's been with me all my life. My only friend," Blaise explained reminiscently as stared at the eagle, and then to Ron. "I didn't know eagles were the friendly type," he chortled, making Blaise snort. "They aren't. That's why he's perfect for the job." He muttered and Ron nodded, albeit slightly scared of the menacing creature. Suddenly an irritating realization came to him and he face palmed, startling Blaise. "What's the matter?" He asked and Ron groaned.
"I still have work tomorrow..."