Disclaimer: This universe and the characters within it are not my own. They belong to J.K. Rowling, and all other not aforementioned respective owners. This is a work of fan fiction that no one will be profiting off of. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Thank you so, so much for reading. I'm sorry it's taken me so painfully long, I had a lot of things going on and kept getting the chapter wrong. Thanks, also, to those of you who review. You're really the spiffiest sort of people. :)

A Bet To Regret: Chapter Seven, Tears

She had to know. She had to. This much she could admit. Why did she have to know who it was? She had to... put a stop to it, or something. Before they sent something else, or before people started taking notice. But who was it?

They'd said in the poem that they watched her during transfiguration. A Ravenclaw, then. A Ravenclaw? It sort of made sense, she supposed, as they valued intelligence and people said she had that... Or else... Perhaps they had specified Transfiguration simply to throw her off?

If they wanted to make known who they were, they would have done so, and they couldn't possibly be so stupid as to put in a class they actually had with her, right?

Or maybe they were stupid. Or maybe they knew that she'd know that it was a stupid thing to do, so they knew that she'd think that she knew what they knew, so she'd know what they wanted her to think... Or maybe she was going completely insane.

Perhaps she needed to start somewhere else. Not what house they were in, but what sort of person they were. Who would send her a poem and roses? Well, who would write her a poem, and send her roses... write her a poem... write... writing... hand writing! Hermione suppressed a grin, though there was no one else in the room to see it.

It was all so simple now. She'd get the letter, use that charm she'd learned in Chapter 7 of 'Quick And Tricksy Spells For Tricking Quickly.' Sure it was a spell normally used for forging signatures, but spells could be useful in unexpected ways sometimes. It was a simple charm, really, she'd just use it to write a new letter in the same hand writing that the poem had been written in, present the new letter to various teachers, and ask if they knew who the letter belonged to so she could return it.

Hermione's smile faded as she reviewed her plan in her head. She didn't have the poem. She'd left it... Where had she left it? It felt like ages ago. She'd just gotten up and left the table, and then she'd put the poem... The poem. She'd left it on the table. That meant Ron had probably read it, and then showed it to Harry and... Well, she was very proud of them for not mentioning it. But now what was she--

"Oof!"

Hermione collided with something. Or, rather, someone. In an instant, they were both on the ground, and except for the initial sound of shock, they remained silent for a few seconds while they each sorted things out in their head. They were walking, and then they crashed into someone and fell. Not exactly advanced transfiguration, but it's hard to get your wits about you when they've been scattered across a castle's hard floor. And then, they both seemed to sit up and make eye contact at about the same time.

"Blaise, right?"

"Yeah." The boy's response was mumbled.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright? I can't imagine how fast I was walking, I mean, I didn't see you, are—are you alright?" Hermione's words seemed to come out of her mouth faster than she could think them up. Blaise Zabini, the proud Slytherin, was crying. With just how much force had she knocked him down? Or maybe he'd been running?

"I'm... fine." He sniffled, and looked away. She noticed, then, that his eyes were red. He'd been crying before she knocked him over. She pretended not to notice and got to her feet.

"Can I help you up?" she offered him her hand. He glanced around hesitantly, and she wondered if he'd be more embarrassed about touching a muggleborn's hand or being seen crying. Whichever was worse, he ended up nodding, and she helped to pull him up.

"Thanks," he murmured. He glanced away from her again and another tear tread down his dark cheeks.

"Are you hurt?" she suggested, rather than asked, as he seemed to be searching the walls for a good explanation as to why he was crying. He didn't owe her one, of course, but then, at the same time, if he didn't offer one she'd come up with her own.

"No," he said automatically, regretting it soon after as he realized, too late, that she was trying to help him save face.

"Oh, well, er, good," she struggled for words. She wished she could just walk away, but that would be even worse. "Is-- is everything alright?"

"Yeah, um, I'm just in a hurry. Er, seeya later," the Slytherin muttered lamely, making to walk away.

"Yeah, seeya," Hermione said, and they both paused for another moment before parting ways. It was funny, she thought as she became aware that the boy's footsteps were becoming quieter, they'd probably never have a conversation as long as that one again, and yet they'd ended it with 'seeya.'

~x~x~x~x~x~

Blaise sniffled and wiped his eyes. "You are handsome," he murmured, scrutinizing the image in the mirror before him. He nodded, as if to reassure himself. "Yeah," he said, beginning to believe it a little as he eyed his cheekbones, "Yeah. I am. I'm really handsome. Yeah!"

"Yes, you are handsome, aren't you?" a wimpering sort of voice came from behind a nearby stall.

"I didn't—I thought this bathroom was—I'm not a pervert, I swear! I just—" for the second time that day, Blaise struggled to explain himself. This was the deserted bathroom, right? Had he really gone in the wrong one? He hoped to Merlin that it was a first or second year in the stall, so no one would find out.

"Oooh," the voice interrupted, "Come to spy on me, have you? Not that I mind."

Shivers ran down his spine as he searched for something to say, but his whole body turned to metaphoric ice when the stall door opened and revealed a ghost. The eerie reflection of a girl moved towards him and he sprinted out of the bathroom as fast as he could, running all the way back to the common room despite not being followed.

~x~