(a/n - so the next one is Blaise and Hermione with the prompt of mountain.)

Number 7 - Mountain.

Blaise gazed at her longingly. She was beautiful. No, she wasn't. She was horrible, a horrible, stinking, useless mudblood. No , she wasn't. She was talented, caring, a witch. A very special witch. No, she wasn't!

Inside him, 2 voices were arguing over the Slytherin's feelings towards the Gryffindor girl. One part of him screamed with desire, screamed with want when she tossed her hair or smiled when she knew an answer. Which was nearly all the time, luckily for him. Another part of him, however, tried to put him back into perspective. Blaise was a pure blood. He didn't need anything to do with muggle borns. Muggle borns were imbeciles, inferior to those who had a good heritage like he did.

But she was a witch. And she was everything Blaise wanted. She was clever: hell, she was the top student in their year, even beating Draco Malfoy. She was classy: it wasn't every person who could socialise with the likes of Harry Potter. And, most importantly, she was claimable. Blaise sighed. He wanted to be the one who could make her smile everyday. He wanted to be the one whose arm she was happy to hang off. He wanted to be the one who was strong enough to approach her. But he couldn't. For standing between him and her was a huge mountain of his pride. And Blaise wasn't sure he could to climb it. He sure as hell wanted to, but he couldn't. For he was scared of the reaction when people saw him with her. Blaise sighed. She would probably never know of his love for her.

He had to climb that mountain.