Chapter Six: Well he definitely isn't female.

The next day, Thursday, Hermione sat at a library desk, writing up the last of her History of Magic essay. She smiled proudly with the last full stop and dropped her quill, taking a few moments to breathe. She smiled once more and rolled up her parchment before standing up to return the book she'd taken from one of the library shelves. It was her free period during noon and the sun shone brilliantly over the books it could reach through the tall windows. She slid the large book into the slot vacated by its absence and turned to walk back just as Blaise Zabini entered the aisle.

"Hey," he greeted her warmly.

"Hi," she smiled shyly back as they met in the middle of the aisle.

"What're you up to?" he asked softly, the silence of the library getting to them. "Do you have a free period now too?"

"Yeah," she smiled. "I just finished my History of Magic essay."

Blaise softly clapped, mockingly congratulating her. "Well done," he commended, "a feat I've yet to achieve."

Hermione grinned and shifted onto her other foot, anxiously awaiting the question that was bound to surface any moment now. Blaise smiled too, and tucked his hands casually in his pockets.

"Alright, so I've given you what, two days to think about our friendly dinner?" he teased, but not so effectively that Hermione missed the way his dark eyes probed hers for an answer.

"Blaise –" she began, her eyes only meeting his for a brief apologetic moment before he cut in.

"Wait," he said softly, and this time it wasn't because of the library rules. "Before you say no, I just want to say two words: Friendly dinner."

Hermione knew he was being patient with her. She had a feeling any other boy would have tired by her now. Except maybe... the warm, freckled face of George Weasley filled Hermione's mind's eye. She blinked and was staring once more at Blaise's patient face. Although his expression was lightly teasing, she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

Hermione sighed inwardly. "It's just," she chewed the inside of her cheek. "I just don't think a friendly dinner is what you really want."

Blaise looked surprised for a moment, caught off guard. Then he took a step back, turning away to run a hand through his hair before he turned back to her, eyes blazing with determination.

"Listen," he said firmly. "I know that when that Chete dude or whoever broke up with you, it broke your heart. I know that, and I respect that."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest that this had nothing to do with him but Blaise kept talking. "But I like you. And I think this," he gestured between them, "we, could work. So I want to give it a try. I know I'm a Slytherin and you're a Gryffindor, but I don't really care. And I now that deep down, you don't either; otherwise you wouldn't have agreed to tutor me." Blaise's hands held Hermione's arms now, his eyes caring as they searched hers. "Tomorrow, if you agree to go on this friendly dinner with me, I promise I will keep it strictly G-Rated. Apart from perhaps a few jokes I might let slip that won't even include you and me."

Hermione laughed softly, earning an appreciative smile from Blaise.

"And then afterwards, if you think you want to give dating a try, just tell me and I will make it happen. But if you don't, that's cool too. I know a relationship has to be mutual."

Blaise's face had truth and solemnity etched all over it and Hermione knew she could trust him to keep his word. He was right, she didn't mind he was a Slytherin and she did enjoy his company. So, knowing she wasn't committing to anything but a friendly dinner, Hermione smiled and nodded.

"Okay."

Hermione took her seat between Ginny and Harry, noticing only too late that George was seated directly opposite. She found her gaze instantly being drawn to the empty plate before her.

"Just in time," observed Ginny with a smile and right on cue, dinner materialised before them. After the table congratulated her on her god-like divination, Ginny asked, "Where have you been?"

"I had to find Professor Binns," Hermione replied as she took a bite out of some garlic bread. "To hand in my essay."

"But that's due tomorrow!" exclaimed Ron from beside Ginny as he grabbed a drumstick.

"I know," Hermione replied. "But I handed it in today so he could mark it tonight and give it back to me tomorrow."

The group all gave various groans and moans of pity.

"And she states she has a life," muttered Ron.

"I do!" Hermione cried indignantly, looking around at the group defensively as they tucked into their dinner.

"Hermione, what you need is a man," George stated matter-of-factly and Fred waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. Hermione shuddered at Fred's pervy expression before devoting herself to the food before her.

But it seemed the conversation wasn't over.

"No she doesn't!" snapped Ginny, wrapping an arm around Hermione protectively. "No girl ever needs a man!"

Hermione realised this was another one of those Tyler-related protective moments and rolled her eyes. Then Ginny smiled at Harry apologetically.

"Except me," she told the group, whilst looking romantically at her boyfriend. "I need Harry."

Hermione, Ron and the twins all groaned and rolled their eyes as the couple exchanged a quick kiss over Hermione's shoulder.

"Well if you don't need a man, you at least need some toys to spice up your life," George informed Hermione, ever the business man.

Fred sniggered. "That's what she said." He and Ron slapped hi-fives.

Hermione rolled her eyes for the third time that evening. "Not this again, George," she told him tiredly, still finding it hard to meet his eyes for longer than a second. "I don't want your lipstick."

"Oh, but it's not just the lipstick I'm talking about," he countered smoothly. "We have a whole new range out!"

"Anything for the blokes?" asked Harry, his eyes mischievous behind the glasses.

"Of course," Fred nodded courteously. As the twins engrossed the teenagers in their many inventions, Hermione zoned out, gently nibbling at her pasta, her mind moving on to accompany thoughts about homework, subjects, random aspects of her life and when she eventually looked up to see him staring back at her, his blue eyes distant but focused all at once, she thought about George.

"Merlin, I can't wait to go the store tomorrow!" Ron suddenly cried, waving a chicken bone in the air enthusiastically and snapping Hermione out of her thoughts, "I have got to get my hands on a tub of those expanding cockroaches."

Hermione stared at Ron, disgusted.

"We'll all go!" Ginny joined in the excitement, "I want to check out that cosmetics range a bit more."

"Brilliant," said the twins.

"And, how's about we treat you lot to some butterbeer afterwards?" George settled the plans, his gaze sweeping over the group. "That is, if you hand in enough cash for the merchandise."

Everyone chuckled at the cheesy joke.

"Actually," said Hermione nervously, placing her fork down on the plate, "I can't make it."

All five pairs of eyes snapped onto her and Hermione instantly resented Blaise Zabini.

Ron was the first to speak. "Why not?" he demanded, as if it were Pigwideon's funeral she wasn't attending.

"Because I have plans," she said indignantly, feeling cross already.

"What kind of plans?"

Hermione glared. "Dinner plans!"

"With who?" Now Ginny joined in the heated conversation, leaning forward with eager eyes.

("You have other friends?..." This was Fred.)

"Someone..." Hermione felt her palms go clammy under the interrogation.

"A male someone? Ginny was smiling smugly. Hermione blushed a deep red.

"Well he definitely isn't female," she mumbled stiffly. A sudden series of violent coughs and wheezes erupted from the other side of the table. Hermione's head snapped up to look at a purple George, his hand clutching his throat, back hunched over. Her eyes widened in alarm as Fred whacked his back repeatedly until a piece of partially saliva-coated bread roll dropped out of George's gaping mouth. It landed with a wet plop on the porcelain plate.

"Eeurgh!" cried Ginny and Ron.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione, eying George's half-digested food warily and then looking up to see him wiping the spittle off his lower lip.

"Sorry," he panted, and then pointing jerkily at his plate. "That – that was unplanned."

"That was uncalled for!" exclaimed Ron.

"Shut up Ronald!" George told him before directing a suddenly intense gaze on Hermione, who quickly got caught in it. "Who are you dating and where and when would he like to arrange the bashing in of his skull?"

Hermione flushed, except this time it was a mixture of embarrassment and anger, because once again, she was being treated like a little girl who couldn't look after herself. But she wasn't. She was a mature woman, why couldn't he – they – get that?

"His name's Blaise, and we're not dating. It's a friendly dinner," she told them all haughtily, folding her arms over her chest stubbornly.

"BLAISE ZABINI?"

Hermione couldn't really tell if it had been only the selection of people around her who shouted the name or the whole bloody hall, because she was sure they all heard it.

"Will you lot shut up?" She hissed viciously and both Fred and Harry held up their hands in innocence. "Yes, Blaise Zabini."

"But he's a Slytherin!" Ron stated, as if sure that once Hermione knew this, she'd run to McGonagall and request the whole Hogsmeade trip be cancelled.

"I know that," she told him icily. "What's the big deal? We're not dating!"

She eyed them all questioningly, daringly, but no one spoke. She frowned, exceptionally cross at all their assumptions and the stupid over-enthusiasm they all held to begin with. It was ridiculous; she shouldn't have to defend herself like this. She'd have thought they'd be over the whole Tyler fiasco by now.

"I have a question." It was Harry.

"What is it, Harry?" snapped Hermione, unable to help herself.

He pushed his glasses further up his nose. "So, what's the difference between a friendly dinner and a first date? I mean, if you do start dating – if, I said," he reassured the whole table, "Won't the friendly dinner count as a date, anyway?"

Everyone was silent.

Harry scratched his head. "Am I making sense, here?"

A moments more silence, and then everyone but Hermione erupted into various statements of understanding and agreement.

All attention was turned back to Hermione as they awaited her defence.

"Oh, this is such bullshit," Hermione exclaimed. "You don't even know him! Just the other day, Ginny, you were saying how –"

"Let's not get into what I was saying the other day, yeah?" Ginny shot Hermione a look that was both pleading and threatening. Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny continued. "All we're trying to say is –"

"Be careful, Hermione."

George was looking at her with something in his eyes that made the blood rush to her head and her stomach do back flips. His voice had been soft yet firm, compassionate yet blank, protective yet careless, deep and husky yet completely normal, cold but warm, threatening yet welcoming. Everything, but nothing.

Hermione tried to nod but nothing happened. She wanted to ask him to stop staring at her, stop talking to her if he didn't mind, but all she could do was look at her plate.

"I will."