"You got me a turtle?" asked Blaise, somewhat in fear for his friend's mental health.
"Yes!" said Pansy beaming.
"You got me a turtle," Blaise repeated, not sure if he was hearing correctly.
"His name is Samson and he loves lettuce and fire whiskey. Just not a lot of fire whiskey, alright?" She glanced down at her watch.
"I have to go. But I left you his collar and leash. Oh, and some other accessories he might need."
She handed him a green velvet bag. Blaise was terrified to look into it. She pecked his cheeks and bent down to give Samson a kiss on his shell.
"Be good. I'll be back later to see how Samson is doing," she said as she closed the door behind her.
"Samson the turtle," he said blankly. He wasn't sure there was a turtle. All he saw was a huge shell. He crouched down and saw two glittering eyes looking back at him.
"Why would she get me a turtle?" Scratch that, he thought, Pansy's line of thinking was usually very disturbing. He scooped Samson up.
"So Samson, where's Delilah?" Samson poked his head out of his shell and glared.
"I kid, I kid," Blaise said trying to muffle his laughter. This whole situation was very odd.
"Do you want some lettuce? Because I am starving." Blaise lived in a huge flat but it was somewhat lacking in the food department. It actually needed to be furnished as well, but that was a more ongoing operation. He had been trying to convince Hermione to live with him, but she kept turning him down. He didn't understand why she kept doing so. It could have been the fact that he only had one bedroom. But he had tons of closet space. She was just stubborn, he glanced down at Samson. Maybe Samson could help. It's not like he knew how to take of another living thing.
Yes, he would go to Hermione's and ask for help with Samson. He peered into the bag--maybe there was an instruction manual. Pansy had lost her mind; it must have been Potter's fault. Ever since they'd married, she had been acting more and more irrational. Pansy had given Samson a leather collar studded with diamonds with a matching leash. Samson gave them a wary look.
"It gets better," Blaise told him. I hope, anyways, he thought. There were three Samson-sized sweaters in the bag. They all had pansies on them. They were all horrifically ugly.
"You poor, poor thing," Blaise told him trying to suppress his laughter. He really shouldn't laugh but Samson looked terrified at wearing the sweaters, "we might have to do some shopping." And have a serious talk with Pansy about her fashion sense, he thought privately.
"But just to be on the safe side, you'll have to wear a sweater. Pansy's feelings might be hurt if she sees you not wearing it." Blaise smirked when he saw Samson glare at him. He pulled a green knitted sweater over Samson's head. Samson was most likely plotting his revenge, like any good Slytherin would be.
"Besides you might find a Delilah in this outfit. Hey!" The bugger had bitten him! Blaise took a swipe at him and Samson tucked back into his shell.
"Just you wait. You'll come out eventually," he sucked on his finger. That bugger had drawn blood. Blaise absolutely hated blood.
"See if you get any fire whiskey," he said, tucking Samson under his arm and struggling to open the door.
"Is that a turtle?" He glanced over and saw the brunette vixen herself. Maybe she would take this turtle from him.
"It would look like, yes," he said blandly.
"Why is it wearing a sweater . . . and diamonds?" Hermione was nonplused. It wasn't every day that she saw Blaise with a turtle.
"Wait, do I really want to know?" she asked, with an eyebrow raised. Her unruly hair was pulled back much to Blaise's dismay. He always liked to imagine her curly hair spread out across his silk pillows. That sounded very good at the moment, actually.
"Well, I'm too sure myself," he said slowly trying to make sense of this situation.
"What are you doing here, anyways?" he asked her with a devilish grin. "Last time you were here, you said you were never coming back. I think your exact words were 'You damn Slytherin, enough is enough.'" He tried to raise his hand to his heart in mock agony but Samson kept getting in the way.
"Well, yes, I was annoyed. It gets tiresome after the millionth time of someone trying to get in your pants. You aren't even original anymore. I've heard all your lines."
"That hurts, Hermione. Look, I even got you a turtle for Valentine's Day!"
"That's not for me. Pansy flooed me and told me that she got you a turtle. I wanted to see how you were handling it." She smirked when she saw Blaise's face. "Not very well from what I can tell." That man couldn't even take care of a plant if he tried. Oh, and believe her, he had tried.
"He hates me," Blaise moaned setting Samson down, "I don't know what I did to him." Samson only glared at Blaise.
"Oh poor Samson," cooed Hermione picking him up, "was Blaise mean to you." She shook her head in mock disgust at Blaise. Blaise could only watch in horror as Samson licked Hermione's lips.
"See Blaise," Hermione wiping her lips, "he's not that bad."
"He just licked your lips. That is disgusting. I think I am going to be sick." Blaise put his head between his knees and tried to suppress the nauseas feeling in his stomach.
"Didn't you have pets growing up, Blaise?"
"No! Why would you even ask me that? I had an owl, but owls can take of themselves. And they most certainly do not lick your lips." Blaise was breathing erratically. This turtle was trying to take his not-yet roommate from him. He knew it. Blaise did not tolerate competition very well. Least of all from a turtle. He didn't care that the turtle had Slytherin tendencies. That just made him more dangerous in Blaise's' eye. He was glaring daggers at Samson, when he turned and winked at Blaise. That turtle just winked him. He stood up glowering at Samson. Oh sweets, he thought, this game has just begun.
"Come on, silly," teased Hermione grinning at Samson, "let's get some lunch." She was cuddling with the turtle. Blaise could not believe this. He was going to kill Pansy for her "gift."
"Hey!" And now they were leaving him.
-------------------------
That had been the worst lunch Blaise had ever taken part in. Well, no, the worst was in his last year at Hogwarts and Draco had too much to drink. They both swore they would never talk about that again. But that turtle had been flirting with Hermione. That was no ordinary turtle; it gloated and never let Blaise get in a word edgewise. Then it sat there and drank fire whiskey. Hisfire whiskey. The only good thing about that lunch was that Samson got tipsy. But that was for more for his amusement. He savored the memory of the drunken turtle. Too bad he didn't get that on camera.
"Samson," he said sternly when Hermione had made her goodbyes, "we need to have a serious talk." Samson looked up at him nervously. Yes, he knew what he had done was wrong. Samson tried to pull back into his shell but Blaise grabbed his shell and started shaking him out.
"I understand we just met. Hell, this is only your first day here. But listen turtle; if you want to stay we need to have some ground rules." Samson did nothing. He just stared blankly at Blaise.
"First off, Hermione is my almost-roommate. I have been working on her since school. This means she is off-limits. Fuck! She shouldn't even be on limits to you. Different species and all that jazz. Alright? Alright."
"Now, go to your room," Blaise paused and looked around his flat, "Okay, I still need to work on sleeping arrangements. But, uh, you can sleep in my closet for now. And no funny business either." Samson glared evenly at Blaise and crawled toward his closet.
"Oh, Hermione," he murmured, "What am I going to do with you."
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It was nearing morning and Blaise had already drunk himself into a stupor. He hated this time of year. First it was Christmas when everyone was with their families. He was lucky if he saw his mum twice a year. He didn't mind New Years. The parties were usually good. Draco always did throw the best ones. But Valentine's Day…Valentine's Day killed him. Usually someone would fix him up for the day and he would have an okay time. But then he would see her. Usually with some pretty boy. Or some Quidditch player. He growled and grabbed the bottle. Then he would usually see them kissing or some other activity. He hated how she thought that he just wanted to get in her pants. When all he really wanted was her.
He heard Samson clamber into the living room.
"Here to mock me, are you?" Samson just sat there with a lonely expression on his face.
"I'm twenty-three years old. I have nothing to show for it either. I don't have to work. I don't really want to work. I just want her. But I can't have her. Because she wants you. But she can't because you're an animal and she's not," He took a swig from his bottle and coughed at the burning liquid.
"I love the fact that she is so smart. That she is so stubborn. That she is so ambitious. If she was even a half-blood she would have been sorted into Slytherin. But this isn't school anymore and houses shouldn't matter. But they do. Sometimes, she will call me Slytherin-bastard. She means it as a joke but it's true. Just as I call her the Gryffindor Princess, but she isn't one. But it's true nonetheless."
"Everyone has someone. I just wish someone would have me." He felt a lick on his hand. Samson was looking at him with tears in his eyes.
"What happened to you? How did you end up here?" Samson said nothing. Not that he could anyways.
"Maybe you'll find your Delilah one day. Maybe one day she'll come back to you. Or maybe some people are better left alone." He poured some whiskey onto a plate for Samson. They sat together in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Drink up. Today's Valentine's Day. A terrible day for lovesick fools," he furrowed his brow trying to think past his alcohol-induced thoughts.
"Maybe I am just going about this the wrong way. Maybe today I just need to start again. Maybe all she's wanted was for me to ask."
He cast a sobering charm on him and winced at the painful burning in his veins.
"I hate that charm. But it works. Come on, Samson we have a lot to do."
He Apparated Samson and himself to the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The Manor loomed against the dusky sky. It looked very gothic and very Malfoy. He ran up the steps to the back door.
"Wake up, Draco!" He hollered pounding the door.
"What the fuck?" The door opened and revealed a half-dressed Draco with a bleary-eyed Ron next to him.
"This had better be good, Blaise," warned Draco trying to suppress a yawn. "It's five thirty in the fucking morning."
"Yes, I know. I need you to take Samson. It's an emergency," Blaise said quickly thrusting Samson and his green bag towards Ron.
"Wait a second," said Ron looking perplexed, "did Pansy give you a turtle too?"
"Wait, she gave you a turtle?"
"Yeah, her name's Delilah. Pansy even gave us a silver bag too."
"See, Samson, I told you, you would find your Delilah," Blaise paused and looked at Draco and Ron, who were leaning against each other for support, "Actually, we all need to have a serious talk with Pansy and her idea of good gifts. But later. Now I have to go." He ran down the steps before either one could say anything.
"Well, that was odd," yawned Ron. He set Samson down in the room they set up for Delilah.
"Do you think he finally got the nerve to tell Hermione?"
"I'd say so…hey turtles! No funny business. Or at least wait till we are out of this room," said Ron covering his eyes.
"You know, I'm not feeling tired anymore…I'm kind of feeling restless."
"Really? I think I can help you with that."
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Hermione awoke to someone pounding on her door. She stumbled blindly around until she found the door.
"Who the…"
"Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione."