Carol looked at her son long and hard.
"Blake… those few days after - after James passed, you were… robotic, to say the least. It took a long, long time for you to get back to normal. I even remember one morning you woke up and forgot that James was gone," she chuckled humourlessly.
"Actually, now that I think of it, there were lots of moments when your memory about him seemed… distorted, to say the least. Remember when you thought he'd come with us to Bournemouth Beach, even though it had been 2 years since he passed?"
Blake's headache grew. "Yeah…"
"Or when you went to visit the shop that he'd worked at before the mines - except the shop had never even existed? If I remember correctly, you made it up out of nowhere, didn't you? Rexshaw Stores?" she prodded with a gentle smile.
Her son's eyes twitched and winced. Has that happened? Yeah, it definitely did - it's all coming back to me now. But how did I forget - why did I forget?
"Y'know, Blake, everyone always said you took your dad's passing very well, especially for your age," Carol began, watching her eldest closely, "but I always disagreed with them. I thought that actually, you were the one suffering the most. You have a nasty little habit of not letting anyone see your problems, you see. You like taking all the responsibility on yourself, and y'know what? With your brains and wit, normally, it works out for you, doesn't it?"
Carol smirked.
"I remember that one time you came home boasting about how you'd gotten your school friend - what was his name again? Barney? Anyway, you'd gotten him to steal the prize chocolate biscuits from the teacher's desk while she wasn't looking, and then shared them! When I tried to yell at you, y'know what you said? "Ms Fothering is fat, and me and Barney were hungry! I did everyone a favour!" Then you gave some long-winded, in depth explanation of how you worked out exactly when you could get Barney to steal the biscuits while you distracted the teacher, and when your dad asked what if you'd been caught you said, "That's impossible!" You were only 5 years old!"
Blake's cheeks reddened despite the pounding headache.
"Anyway, I think you're so convinced that everything that happens will work out the way you wanted it to work that when things don't go to plan, you feel… well, you feel guilty. Especially with James," she said, her voice quiet but serious. "I've told you so many times now, Blake, but I'll tell you once again. You asked to go into the mines, yes. You didn't ask for that to happen. You are not responsible for that. Your father died for you, not because of you. Learn the difference. Once you understand that difference - once you understand what that means - I think your problems will sort themselves out. But remember, Blake - no matter what, magic or not, you can't control everything. You can't have everything. That's why wizards and normal people are still both humans. We choose, and we sacrifice. Your father decided that sacrificing his life to ensure we lived was a worthy choice. Don't dishonour that with your guilt."
With a kiss on the cheek, she got up and left to go to sleep, leaving Blake alone with his thoughts, and those words.
"Your father died for you, not because of you. Learn the difference."
But I'm failing to see it, Mum, he thought miserably. What is the difference?
/
In the first lesson back from the Christmas holidays, Blake could see something was up. They're not talking much to her, he noted, looking at the odd dynamic between the Golden Trio. Harry and Ron seemed to be avoiding Hermione. As such, he decided to ask her directly.
"What happened?" he asked with a frown, nodding sideways to the two boys.
"They're being fools!" Hermione said adamantly, but Blake definitely heard a quiver in her voice. "Harry got a Firebolt for Christmas, and-"
"A Firebolt?" Blake said, eyes wide. "Like the broom?"
"Yes," Hermione responded, exasperated.
"Those are ridiculously expensive! I mean, who-"
Blake suddenly faltered. Who would buy Harry such an expensive gift, and why?
Dumbledore? No - even though Harry was his obvious favourite, he couldn't show it so brazenly. The teachers? Again, no. Perhaps Lupin, considering his relationship to James Potter, but the poor man was… well, poor, and a Firebolt was well outside his pay grade. The Dursleys? Chances are as fat as Dudley, Blake thought, sniggering mentally.
But despite the jokes, there was one blindingly obvious person and reason.
That family's one of the richest of the Sacred 28 - at least in the same league as the Greengrasses and the Malfoys, probably richer. And I remember Quirrell hexing Harry's broom in the first year - it wasn't that hard at all.
Blake narrowed his eyes at Hermione.
"I see. And I suppose you told the teachers that Sirius Black could've sent it?"
Hermione's eyes lit up.
"Exactly! And now, they won't talk to me! They've barely said a word to me since Christmas!" she said shrilly, and Blake felt pity for the girl. Really, Harry? I thought you of all people would know what it's like to be ostracized during Christmas?
"Don't worry, Hermione," Blake said with as convincing of a grin as he could. "I'll talk to them."
Hermione looked relieved, as if she'd been expecting it, before wrapping him in a tight hug.
"Thanks, Blake! I knew you would!" she said gratefully, and Blake was half-sure the girl had tears in her eyes. Suddenly, however, she let her go and cleared her throat.
"Anyway - I'll see you around!" she said abruptly, before turning and leaving. What's that all about? Blake wondered, as he turned around. Standing right in front of him was Greengrass, trying to look as uncaring as ever. To the average Hogwarts student, she did too, but Blake knew different. The right corner of her lip is curled - why's she mad?
"I didn't know you and Granger were close," she commented offhandedly. Oh. That's why? But wait - does that mean-
"Isn't third year a bit early to be courting?"
"Huh?" Blake said incredulously. "Yuck! Hermione's like my sister! I would never-"
"Well, if you insist on your… shenanigans, I hope you'll be able to leave time for our objective," she said, smirking now, the anger seemingly gone from her face as she mocked him.
I'm actually so confused. Is she angry, or is she not? I could've sworn she was acting like she was jealous, but now she doesn't care?
"You look confused, Renshaw," she said, her smirk wider than ever and her tone mocking. Blake decided he'd had enough. If she wants to take the piss, so can I…
He stalked over to her, and lowered his head down to hers, wearing a smirk that matched her own and his voice low and mocking.
"Don't worry, Greengrass. I'll always make time for you."
Without looking back, he sauntered off, satisfaction growing at Greengrass's lack of response.
That's what she gets for being annoying, Blake thought, pushing down the blush that threatened to adorn his cheeks.
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