A/N: I dedicate this Blaise chapter to Colubrina. E-heart.
Aca-demic Arrangements
Chapter 11
When Blaise made his way into the kitchen after his early Bowflex workout it was only 4:30 in the morning but his rapscallion of a roommate was already there, fixing herself a cup of something in a dandy looking travel mug with a "Lockhart's Java House" logo printed on its side.
"Don't you get enough of that at your job?"
Hermione jumped with a startled screech, not having expected anyone to be up and about that early. She spilled some creamer on her shirt and made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat, ripping it off immediately and rushing to the sink to blot at it. "Fucking dammit, Blaise! Make some noise or something before you sneak up on people. Fuck. What are you? A fucking cat?"
"Of all the names I've been called, not sure I've been called that before. And language." He scoffed and upon entering the kitchen, he got a glance at some small images inked onto her skin, sitting beneath her bra straps. Blaise couldn't be sure, but one looked like some sort of faded crest and the other a stylized set of music notes on a staff. Padding to the counter next to her clad only in his gym sweats and a tee with a couple of small hand towels draped over his shoulder, he peered around her to look at what sort of mess she'd been making.
"What do you want?" she groused and glared when he neared. She was clearly irate at simply existing in a conscious state at that hour of the day.
"Coffee or tea?" he asked and pointed to her cup.
"Tea, of course. It's a special blend made from dark roast coffee beans." She hissed out a "tosser" under her breath.
He rolled his eyes. "You're a bit of a bitch, aren't you?"
She scoffed. "I'd say 'a bit' is a dreadful underestimate if we're being frank."
Blaise chuckled and pulled a mug down from a nearby cabinet. "It's settled, I do like you."
"I thought you said I was a hoodlum." Hermione quirked a brow and watched him sift through a ceramic jar for some white and green sweetener packets.
"That doesn't mean I can't like you."
She gave a tired chuckle and shook her head. Hermione dabbed her shirt with a fresh towel to dry the creamer spot, groaning when she got a whiff of the sugary poncy shit that Tom used, making a mental note to bring something that wasn't so godawful home from work now that she had access to a fridge. Folding her arms over the edge of the sink and leaning over, resting her head on her forearms, she whined, "Why does four am even exist, Blaise? More importantly, why do people feel the need to go elsewhere for coffee at such an hour?"
Blaise picked up the metal carafe and swirled it around a little, estimating there was at least a cup, maybe two, left in it and poured himself his own drink. "Just to spite you, I'm sure."
Hermione cracked her lids and glared up at him from where she leaned, watching him empty his packets of powder into his beverage - deliberately foregoing the super sweet creamer - and waited until after he'd taken a sip to say, "That has sugar in it, you know?"
The dark man sputtered, coffee splattering onto what bare skin of hers was exposed but the appalled look on his face was worth it. Remembering himself in that moment, Blaise scrunched his nose and pursed his lips, picking up the torn packets of his sweetener.
"It doesn't! It's all natural, it's got—"
Hermione snatched one of his hand towels from his shoulder, wiped his spittle from her person, then reached past him into the cabinet where she'd discovered the box of the packets the other morning to hand it to him. "Natural sweeteners and a miscellany of additives." She pointed to the nutritional label and traced her finger over the short ingredient list, landing on one of them. "Not sure what you're attending classes for, love, but that right there is sugar."
The noise that escaped his mouth was a high pitched and strained sound resembling someone stepping on a dog toy.
Hermione patted him on the shoulder, tugged her shirt back on, and snatched up her hat and travel mug from the counter before making to leave. "Don't quit your day job, keep looking pretty, and have a good day, darling."
. . . . .
"MARCUS!"
"WHAT?"
"DISHES IN THE FUCKING DISHWASHER!"
"SCREW YOU!"
Blaise stomped to the edge of the kitchen to yell down the hall, raising his voice even more at the telltale sound of some sort of obnoxious explosions and gunfire coming from Marcus' room as he played one of those stupid war games on his computer. "ONE! You wish! And TWO! WATCH YOUR FUCKING LANGUAGE!"
In a huff, Blaise returned to his spot at the sink – stomping all the way back as well – and resumed clearing out the sink with his lips curled in a sneer. He'd fallen into his usual rhythm of fussing to himself at the slobs he lived with and being a bit neurotic about stopping every few minutes to make sure nothing had gotten under his fingernails because fuck, he hated it when shit got beneath his fingernails, and neglected to hear the side door open and shut.
The movement of the refrigerator door opening is what finally got his attention and he screamed.
"AHHHHHH!"
And Hermione screamed as well. "AHHHHH!" Clutching at her heart when it became obvious that he was just surprised, she ripped the dish scrubbing wand from his hands and started smacking him with it. "BLEEDIN' FUCKS! JESUS! STOP doing that whenever you see me!"
Dodging the smacks from the sudsy brush, Blaise calmed his own breathing and snatched the thing back, putting it back in its spot near the faucet and turning off the water. "NOW who's a fucking cat?!" He snapped at her, eyes still huge and also accusatory.
Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. "Language," she mocked.
Both of Blaise's eyebrows raised at the funny little piercing and he teasingly waggled a finger at her. "That's my thing."
She snorted and went back to pulling a few cartons of milk from her bag and depositing them into the fridge. "What? Are you the soddin' hall monitor too?"
He was watching her and counted a total of four cartons of milk of varying fat percentages and then observed as she took out some small interesting looking stainless steel pitchers next. "Are those from your job?"
Hermione sent a casual look over her shoulder at him, shrugged, then went back to what she was doing. "I could see how you would think that. We do have ones like this at work, after all."
Blaise narrowed his eyes and followed her around the kitchen as she tried to store the things from her bag in cabinets. He went behind her and extracted them all from the places she'd found, replacing them in more appropriate spots that clearly made more sense than where she was trying to put them.
"So you didn't steal these?" He asked holding what was most definitely a stack of tiny, clear espresso cups in one hand.
"Do you blokes always practice so late at night?"
"Well…no, usually we—HEY!" Blaise tromped around until he was in her line of vision again as she bustled around the kitchen putting more things away. "You're avoiding the question!"
"What question?"
"GRANGER!"
"Shhhhshhshh!" Hermione hissed at him and snatched the espresso cups away, putting them in a cabinet, scowling when Blaise plucked them back out to put into a different cabinet muttering 'cups are NOT mugs'. She rolled her eyes. "So I may have nicked them-"
"Nicked-what is nicked?"
"Forcibly relocated."
"So you stole these."
"'Stole' is such a harsh word…"
"HERMIONE!"
"OKAY! Goodness, don't get your knickers in a twist. It's like I'm the only barista they ever have working anyway. I highly doubt anyone will miss them—"
"Really not the point!"
"I do all the daily inventories, nobody will know-"
"My god, stop talking! Just stop talking!" Blaise covered his ears. "I'm an accessory to a crime! I'm a witness! I'M a criminal just by not turning you in!"
Hermione paused in emptying her bag, walking back over to the dining table where she'd placed an all too fancy looking 100% biodegradable multi-cup holder and wiggled one of the cold blended drinks she brought home from its clutches. Her shoes made unflattering squeaking and sticking noises on the tile, but Blaise was still too busy muttering about criminals to notice.
She peeled his hands from his ears. "Here. This one's for you."
Calming for a moment, he took the drink in both hands and eyed it warily. "What's this? These fancy things are Tom's deal, not mine. I don't—"
"Oh shut up and say thank you. Also, I made it, so I can assure you it is the lowest calorie item on the menu. I made sure. And it will still taste much, much better than that tripe you call coffee otherwise."
Hermione watched him as he brought the drink to eye level as if he could inspect each individual ingredient simply by staring hard at the murky liquid.
"Unless you're afraid of my girl criminal cooties, I suppose." She sighed heavily and made to grab it back but he snatched it away from her reach merely by holding it over his head.
"I'm not a child. I don't think you have cooties, Granger, though I'm still debating the criminal portion of that sentiment."
"Why Blaise," she cooed, "that's the sweetest thing anyone's said to me in a long time. BFFs?"
Blaise laughed lightly and nudged her away, bringing the drink back down and popping off the top so he could have a sip. When he visibly brightened, Hermione grinned and moved to put the rest of the drinks in the fridge.
"I got bored and made some new concoctions for the rest of the boys, if you see them, let them know, will you? Their names are on the cups."
At that, Blaise's brow furrowed. "I thought you worked this morning."
Hermione paused at the edge of the kitchen and the living room, leaning against the dividing wall to give him a sleepy smirk. "I did. And I worked this evening. Funny how that 'working' thing, well, works, innit?"
He frowned. "All day?"
"No. Morning shift, then classes—" She yawned, eyes watering, and arms coming up in a good, long, languid stretch that pulled a satisfying noise from her throat. "—then evening shift."
"And you do this often?"
Hermione was dozing off even in the midst of their conversation now that she'd stopped moving around.
Blaise blinked.
She'd started to snore and began slipping down the wall a bit.
"…Hermione?"
She jolted awake again, eyes wide and alternating between blinking rapidly and darting around. "Huh? Oh…uh, yeah. Often enough I s'pose."
He chuckled and padded over to her, scooting her off the wall and gently pushing her towards the stairs. "Jesus woman. Go the fuck to sleep."
Hermione nodded at the suggestion and had another nice stretch on her way up the stairs. "Language—" She said in a singsong voice.
Blaise just shook his head and smirked after her. "Crazy bitch."