He found Ron and Hermione two days later, coming out of Charms.
"Oi," he said, with no friendliness in his voice.
They both turned. Ron looked immediately defensive, and Hermione looked like she'd been expecting this.
"What you're doing to Harry," Blake stated, without preamble. "It needs to stop."
"We're not doing anything," Ron said, ready to argue.
"You're not talking to him. You're letting the whole school think he cheated, and you're not saying a word." Blake looked at him steadily. "I expected better from both of you. What happened to Gryffindor loyalty?"
"We never said he cheated," Hermione said quickly. "I still talk to him!"
"No," Blake agreed. "You just didn't say he didn't. Same thing."
"That's not-" Hermione started.
"You know what he's been through," Blake said. "You both do. And the one time it would actually matter to stand up for him, you're not. He's put his life on the line for both of you." He looked at Ron. "What's the reason? Jealousy?"
Ron went red. "That's a very Slytherin thing to say."
"I am a Slytherin," Blake said, nodding. "What's your excuse for not being loyal, Gryffindor?"
Ron opened his mouth, but no words came out. Blake just scoffed and walked away.
/
As he expected, they sorted it out soon - a week before the first task, Blake arrived at the library to find the three of them already there together, the tension between them gone, talking in low voices.
He sat down across from Harry without comment. There was an awkward silence for a moment, before Harry spoke.
"We've made up," Harry began.
"I can see that," Blake said, rolling his eyes, and opening his textbook.
A pause.
"Blake?"
"Mm?"
"Moody told me what the first task is. Dragons - we have to steal eggs from dragons."
Blake looked up.
"He came up with the idea that I use Accio to summon my broom," Harry continued. "Fly around it. Use my Seeker skills."
It was a good plan, and Blake was about to say so when his brain caught on the second sentence and stayed there.
Moody suggested it.
"That's smart," Blake said normally. "Good plan."
He said nothing else about it.
/
He went with Harry to find Cedric before the first task.
Harry explained about the dragon, and Cedric's face went through several things quickly before settling on genuine gratitude.
"Thank you," he said. "Seriously, Harry, that's - you didn't have to-"
"I know," Harry said. "It didn't feel right not to."
Cedric looked at Blake, who hadn't said anything yet.
"And you," Cedric said. "After the World Cup too - the papers said-"
"Forget the papers," Blake said. "Listen, if you actually want to pay Harry back-"
"Blake!" Harry said, going red. "It's fine - it's not his-"
"- telling people you're grateful is one thing. But they're not going to listen to that. What would actually help is if you actually made them stop - not asked them to, made them."
Cedric was quiet for a moment. "You're right," he said. "I'll sort it. I'm sorry, Harry."
"It's fine, Cedric," Harry said quickly, glaring at Blake, who was still looking at Cedric. "Really, don't worry about it."
"Good," Blake said.
/
Connor had asked Blake something, three weeks after the World Cup, while they were eating dinner.
"Teach me how to fight," he'd said simply.
"Teach you how to fight?" Blake said, raising his eyebrows.
"Don't be a bum, Blakey."
Blake had looked at him for a moment. Connor looked back, and his face was the same face it had been on the campsite - all the teasing gone, replaced by something quieter. Unfortunately, he could respect that.
"Room of Requirement," Blake had responded. "Saturday mornings."
They'd been going every week since.
Connor was better than Blake had expected, which was saying something because he'd expected a lot too. His little brother had genuinely good instincts and fast reactions, and the particular recklessness that came from genuinely not being afraid of getting hit - sometimes a flaw, but sometimes an asset too. Blake pushed him hard and Connor pushed back harder, and by the fourth session, he was landing spells that Blake had to actually block rather than dodge.
"Again," Blake commanded, after Connor almost got him with a Stinging Hex.
"You're smiling," Connor said smugly.
"I'm not."
"You are a little."
"Again, Connor."
/
The Yule Ball announcement came in November, soon after the First Task, and the awkwardness that Blake had mostly been managing at a functional level became immediately more pointed.
They were in the Potions lab - the Room of Requirement version, the one Daphne had found in third year - going through the stabiliser problem for the blood curse treatment, and Greengrass had been quiet in a way that Blake was, against his will, becoming more and more familiar with.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, without looking up from the concoction she was measuring.
Blake felt something catch in his throat. "No," he said. "Why?"
"You've been-" She paused, as if choosing her words carefully. "Distant."
"I'm fine," he said. "Just thinking about the stabiliser ratios."
She looked at him then, properly, and he looked back at her, and for a second, Blake thought she was going to ask again, not let it go.
"Alright," she said, and looked back at her work.
He looked back at his.
I am an idiot.
/
Blake had decided enough was enough. He stayed after Moody's lesson on a Tuesday, waiting for the others to file out until it was just the two of them.
"Renshaw," Moody said, not looking up from the papers on his desk.
"I had a couple of questions about being an Auror, Professor," he began. "I'm thinking of becoming one in the future."
"You do, do you?" Moody replied, grumbling always. "Well, you certainly have the talent for it, boy. Daresay you would probably beat some of them right now anyway."
"Thank you, sir," Blake responded, flattered despite himself.
"I wanted to ask about the World Cup attack," he continued. "The Death Eaters' tactics. What do you actually think they were trying to do?"
"Sit down then."
Moody talked about it directly and knowledgeably, and Blake responded in kind, asking questions and listening properly. Sketchy or not, Moody's information was genuinely useful, but Blake's main objective was to stall - to wait for a clue. Any clue.
This is such a bad plan, he thought, as he listened to Moody insult some low ranking Death Eater. But it's the only one I've got - if there's anything I can ascertain from his behaviour, or movements, or habits, I need to take it.
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