Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers

It's simple, really. I love J.K. Rowling, and I would never attempt to take any credit for her beautiful characters or stories. I'm just borrowing them, so please don't take offense.

Chapter 8: Red Roses and Bleeding Hearts

The next day during breakfast, Harry broke up with Blaise. It was messy and haunting because Draco could see his friend's heart being smeared across the wall. In his mind, blood dripped out of the hole that had just been torn in his dorm mate's chest as he watched. Blaise didn't even make it to his their first class before he broke down. He left at a run for Slytherin and stayed in bed the whole day. He refused to talk to anyone, and for the most part, he was left alone. Draco stayed with him, sitting on his own bed and listening to his friend's incoherent sobs as he cried his heart out. It was the blonde Slytherin's self-imposed punishment for the damage he, himself, had caused.

Around lunch time, a younger student stepped nervously into the room, and deposited a long rectangular box on the floor before scampering back out. Draco went over to it and read the attached card.

"Blaise, there's a package here for you."

"I don't care, Draco. Open it if you want."

"No, I really think you should open this yourself." Draco left the room to give his friend some privacy while he opened the gift from his ex-lover.

He knew what the card would read.

Dear Blaise,

I'm so sorry I hurt you. I do love you, you know. I'm sorry that it wasn't enough. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, and I think we've both realized that I can't do that. I'm still here for you, and I hope that one day, you'll look back on the memory of us and see how beautiful it was. If you want, maybe we can be friends. I don't want to lose you, but I understand that you may need some time. I know I will.

Still yours,

Harry

Draco heard Blaise's renewed sobs and stepped back into the room, moving to comfort his distraught friend. On the floor was the opened box. In the box was a bouquet of flowers. Red roses and bleeding hearts.

* * *

Blaise stayed in bed for days. There was no magical cure for a broken heart, so he had to heal the Muggle way. The human way. He cried for hours, alternating between cursing Harry and wanting him back. He wouldn't let Draco touch him, even though he didn't know the awful truth that would make it impossible for the two of them to remain friends. Potter still hadn't told him everything, apparently. When he had finished crying for the day, Blaise would sink into an exhausted and restless sleep. Some of the Slytherins sneered at Zabini's behavoir. Weak, they called it. Spineless, they hissed. None of them had ever been in love and had consequently never had their hearts broken. Secretly, they, along with Draco, never wanted to learn how Blaise felt.

One day, it was suddenly over. The dark-haired Slytherin got out of bed and showered. He waited for Draco, and the two of them made their way to breakfast. Potter glanced up as they came in. He was calm and cool as usual, but when he looked at Zabini, his mask slipped, and anyone who cared to look could see the pain sketched so exquisitely on his pale features. Then he would recover and go back to his cereal. Blaise ignored Harry throughout the meal, but when he had finished eating, he walked straight over to the Gryffindor table. Expecting screaming or a fit, the Gryffindor cringed and closed his eyes. Blaise simply touched the side of his face. He leaned down and whispered something in Harry's ear. Draco, standing a few paces away, was trembling with jealousy, and his skin was turning pink with anger. But instead of leading Harry out of the Great Hall, Blaise pulled him up and wrapped his arms around him. Harry's face was filled with happiness. The Slytherin stood there holding him while he repeated the whispered words over and over.

I forgive you.

* * *

Draco's heart still leapt in excitement when Harry walked by him in the corridor. He knew that the Gryffindor still smelled like sunshine and grass. But he couldn't bring himself to tell his best friend's ex-boyfriend how he felt. He couldn't admit it to himself, either. He spent hours looking at him in classes, seeking out his just-been-shagged hair and his pretty eyes. He wanted to be with him, but every time he thought about Blaise's broken heart, the guilt crawled back up and strangled him again. Although his friend was no longer a sobbing mess, he was still fragile. His red silk sheets would put him in a depressive mood for days. The bleeding hearts blossoms around the school grounds would dissolve him to tears.

One day, he would get over him. "One day" wasn't here yet. So Draco waited for Blaise to fall out of love. He waited for months, and Blaise did, but he was still hurt. Draco knew that it would take time; he accepted that, and he was patient. So, day after day, he waited.

* * *

"There's someone else," Blaise stated. "There was someone else."

The words felt like ice water being poured over Draco's head.

"I could feel it. He thought I couldn't tell, but I knew. Before we broke up, when he stopped touching me. I knew it was over before he ended it. That didn't make it any easier, though. I wonder who it was. Who it is," Blaise mused.

If Blaise hadn't already figured it out, he would soon; of that, Draco had no doubt. Blaise was a Slytherin. He was a Slytherin before being Draco's friend, so if he knew, he would never come out and say it. The knowledge would poison their friendship, and the guilt would creep up Draco's throat, trying to deny his lungs air again. Blaise would want to hurt Draco like Draco had hurt him.

They were friends, for now. But they were both Slytherins, first. Always.