*sighs* It seems I've got a twisted sense of humour that no one
understands. Alright, explanation time; the wet cardboard box. Remember
when they were stuck in the Room of Requirement? He told her that
Gryffindors couldn't plot their way out of a wet cardboard box. Ergo,
Hermione's present.
Moving onto the book. That one is explained in the chapter. I shall quote it word for word; ´Wait; the book he'd read when she'd blown up and attacked Malfoy had a French title which translated into ´Alas, I have Transfigured my feet´ in English´. She made a joke of that. Ergo, the title of the book.
Now, since I've explained myself, and maybe a few of you understand, I'll move onto the story.
******'
The bags landed on the floor with a heavy thump, even though there wasn't much in them. Hermione stretched her arms over her head, yawning slightly; the trip to King's Cross had been tiring.
"Mum, Dad, I'm home!" She called.
The train had left Hogwarts just after breakfast, and she'd spent the hours the trip took planning ways to get revenge on Blaise. Thus far, she'd come up with twenty-something ways, including sending him and owl with a detailed account of her Christmas holidays and Transfigure his Slytherin tie onto the Gryffindor colours.
Her mother stuck out her head from the kitchen and smiled when she spotted her daughter. Hermione took the last few steps towards her and hugged her tightly.
"Hi Mum. It's so nice to be home again." She smiled.
"It's nice to have you home, sunshine. Go on up to your room, I'll bring you bags up." Her mother replied.
"Where's Dad?" Hermione queried, looking around the kitchen, which was where her father was more often than not found.
"Oh, he needed to pick something up before coming home." Her mother explained.
"Alright." Hermione smiled and started up the stairs.
However much she loved Hogwarts, it was always wonderful to come home again. And besides, she had much more privacy at home, which was good if she wanted to pull a few pranks on Blaise.
She sat down at her desk, and pulling out a parchment and a quill, she began to write. If she wanted it to be long and detailed, she would have to start now.
My Christmas holidays, by Hermione Granger
Dedicated to Blaise ´Baldrick´ Zabini.
She paused and looked down on her writing. Maybe calling him Bladrick was going a bit overboard, but the main objective of this little exercise was to annoy the hell out of him. She grinned evilly and launched into a horribly long and overly detailed account of her holidays.
*******'
Blaise plopped own in one of the chairs in his family's library, and closed his eyes. He was, frankly, exhausted. His father had been bothering him about Hermione every step of the way home, and it didn't look like he'd be let off the hook any time soon.
And if his father was bad, his mother and sister would be infinitely worse. He cracked open one eye and peered at the book in his lap, the one Hermione had given him, and couldn't help but smile a little. She'd actually gone through all the trouble of translating the title of a book he'd been reading, and then given him a gift which made a joke of it, solely to annoy him. It was almost Slytherin that was.
His train of thought was interrupted by a loud squeal and someone throwing their arms around him, nearly choking him in the process. He suffered through the rough treatment without a word, but when the same someone reached up to ruffle his hair, he decided he'd had enough.
"Adéle! Don't do that!" He whined.
"But little brother, it's so amusing to see you like that." Adéle chuckled. "Now tell me, what girl are you pining for now?"
"One student from Hogwarts. A girl, I'm given to understand." Their father commented from the doorway, before passing it and heading towards the stairs.
"Oooh! A girlfriend! Why haven't you told me about this earlier?" Adéle asked, eyes twinkling.
Blaise glared at his nosy sister, and wished, not for the first time, that he was an only child. Then he wouldn't have obnoxious older sisters who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.
"Stop being ludicrous. She is not my girlfriend, nor has she ever been my girlfriend, and the possibility of her becoming my girlfriend is so small that you could use a Muggle microscope to look at it and still don't see it." He said slowly, as if talking to a child.
"So you were thinking of her. Does this girl have a name?" Adéle sat down across from him, grinning.
"If I tell you, will you go away?" Blaise asked desperately.
"I'll think about it." His sister promised.
"Alright; Hermione Granger. There, now you can leave me alone; I've got revenge-plotting to do." He said, turning to look at the book in his lap.
"Revenge-plotting? Blaise, what did the poor girl do?" She asked, still smiling.
Blaise ignored her and started flipping through the book. He was getting Hermione back for that one, he would have the last word, if he so had to sell off the family estate to do it. There was no way he was letting a Gryffindor win over him. He'd get his revenge; that he swore on his Slytherin pride.
******'
The library was, by far, his favourite place, but the dining room wasn't far behind. History of Magic was his favourite subject at school, despite Binns, and in the dining room, history was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Ever since he was a child, he'd been fascinated by history, mainly because of his home. The estate was filled, floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, with nothing but history. Some of the portraits on the walls were of wizards' further back than Merlin, many of whom were in his family tree.
A family tradition was to have breakfast together at the first day of Christmas break, and today was no different. He was sitting in between his sister and his nephew, with his mother across from him. His father was next to her, while his niece and his sister's husband, Bastien, were seated on his sisters other side.
He was just picking through his scrambled eggs, refusing to look at his sister, when an owl came swooping in through a window. Blaise looked up along with the rest of his family, and stared confusedly at the white owl.
It flew over to Blaise, hovered for just a second before dropping a very thick letter in his lap. It the n took off again, but landed on one of the stuffed animal's heads that were hanging on the walls.
Blaise stared suspiciously at the heavy envelope in his lap, and then looked at the bird. There was something familiar about it..
"Potter's owl? What the heck is Potter's owl doing here?" He asked no one in particular.
He tested the envelope for hexes or curses before finally opening it. Inside was a letter which spanned over several sheets of parchment, written in a neat, precise script with dark blue ink. He read the title of it, and set his jaw.
"She's going down." He announced, before standing up abruptly and nearly knocking over his chair.
His sister took advantage of his distraction to pinch the letter and read the title. She giggled. And grinned, scant seconds away from laughing out loud. Blaise glared at her, and snatched the letter back.
"Don't." He hissed.
"She wrote to you? And not just a letter; it's a freaking novel!" She couldn't help herself; she laughed.
"Language, Adéle." Her mother warned.
"I'm sorry mother, but it was just so amusing." Adéle said, fighting to keep a straight face.
"I'm leaving." Blaise said and walked out of the dining room.
"But Blaise, you haven't finished your breakfast." His mother called after him.
He ignored her and kept on walking. Not only had she owled him a veritable essay about her Christmas holidays, she had dared to address him as Baldrick. He had to find out where she'd gotten that, and he was going to write back. He was going to employ every dirty trick in the book, and she was going down.
******'
Hermione stared at the letter in her hands, and promptly burst out laughing. Her parents gave her surprised and curious looks, wondering what could possibly be so funny. Hedwig had just delivered the letter, and Hermione had read through the short note.
Dear Pest.
Thank you the letter *cough*book*cough*. I appreciated it very much. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? It was highly annoying, and I would thank you ever so much if you never wrote to me again.
I realize it was part of your plan to annoy the hell out of me. Please abandon this futile attempt; I will win this game.
And never, ever call me Baldrick again. Ever.
Blaise.
"Hermione, what is so funny?" Her father asked.
"It's nothing; just this letter. It's from someone I met at school." She explained. "Apparently, he wants to kill me off slowly, using something along the lines of boiling pitch and white-hot iron."
"Hermione, dear, is this boy the one you've told us about? The Malfoy boy?" Her mother ventured.
"Oh no. It isn't Malfoy at all; it's one of his House-mates. Don't worry though; I don't think he's serious." She grinned. "And even if he is, I'm getting him back; there's no way he's winning this game. "
She got to her, feet and hugged her parents; she was going out, since she had some plotting to do, and she'd found that walking always helped her think. And she'd need a lot of help if she was going to beat a Slytherin at his own game.
*****'
The letters continued to pass between England and France, getting steadily more offending and insulting. It was all they could do until school started again; it's not very easy to kill someone per letter. Not that they didn't try.
Various death-threats were exchanged, but never acted upon. Hermione's parents were growing rapidly more worried about the frequent letters their daughter was receiving, and how she laughed over the threats to kill her.
Blaise was still being teased by is sister about Hermione, but he ignored her the best he could. Hedwig must have worn her feathers out flying back and forth that Christmas break, because the two of them wrote as soon as they could. Soon, Blaise's day seemed incomplete unless he had written and received a death-threat at least once.
When school was about to start again, Blaise still hadn't figured out a way to get back at Hermione, and it didn't look like he would anytime soon. It annoyed him, but he shrugged it off, knowing that he'd get her back one way or the other.
******'
Hermione was standing with Harry, Ron and Ginny in the entrance hall, just talking about Christmas, waiting for the feast to begin. Dumbledore had announced that the first meal back from the Christmas holidays would be one, and that the Great Hall needed to be decorated before they could come in. Thus, their present location.
Hermione was listening to Ron telling a joke about Fred and George, but noticed that he faltered slightly, looking over her shoulder. Curious, she turned to look as well, and saw Blaise walking up to them.
He had yet to change into his school uniform, and was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and the wind had ruffled his hair. He looked, in one word, gorgeous. She blinked. That was definitely not what she was supposed to think. In fact, that was as far from appropriate thoughts she could get.
"What do you want?" She asked, with emphasis on the ´you´.
"I just wanted to thank you for writing me a book; it was like a lecture." He smirked.
"Oh?"
"Yes," He nodded, "Long, boring and a waste of time."
"Really? Well, I would like to thank you for your adorable little letters; I didn't know you could kill someone in so many different ways." She smiled sweetly, inwardly a little stung at his words.
Blaise's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stepped closer. He leaned down so far that their noses were almost touching, and glared at her. She glared back, defiantly, and tilted her head up so she could look him directly in the eyes.
"This is war." He hissed.
"No, this is slaughter." She hissed back. "And you are going to be a bloody smear at the foot of the Astronomy Tower before graduation."
He smirked, and she glared at him again.
"You really think you can win this? Stop deluding yourself; Slytherins always win. It will be fun watching you break." He raised an eyebrow, and smirked at her furious expression.
Abruptly, almost making her stumble, he turned and walked away, leaving her to glare after him. Had he turned around, he might have seen her mouth something, but as he didn't, he missed her words, which could, or could not prove to be the biggest mistake he ever did.
"Just you wait. Just you wait." Hermione whispered darkly.
*******'
Ending Notes; I am incredibly sorry for the super short chapter, but I'm going away for a week, and then there won't be as many updates because school starts, so I wanted to give you a new chapter in advance.
And, before you ask, the Baldrick-thing has been taken from Blackadder. Just in case you missed it.
Moving onto the book. That one is explained in the chapter. I shall quote it word for word; ´Wait; the book he'd read when she'd blown up and attacked Malfoy had a French title which translated into ´Alas, I have Transfigured my feet´ in English´. She made a joke of that. Ergo, the title of the book.
Now, since I've explained myself, and maybe a few of you understand, I'll move onto the story.
******'
The bags landed on the floor with a heavy thump, even though there wasn't much in them. Hermione stretched her arms over her head, yawning slightly; the trip to King's Cross had been tiring.
"Mum, Dad, I'm home!" She called.
The train had left Hogwarts just after breakfast, and she'd spent the hours the trip took planning ways to get revenge on Blaise. Thus far, she'd come up with twenty-something ways, including sending him and owl with a detailed account of her Christmas holidays and Transfigure his Slytherin tie onto the Gryffindor colours.
Her mother stuck out her head from the kitchen and smiled when she spotted her daughter. Hermione took the last few steps towards her and hugged her tightly.
"Hi Mum. It's so nice to be home again." She smiled.
"It's nice to have you home, sunshine. Go on up to your room, I'll bring you bags up." Her mother replied.
"Where's Dad?" Hermione queried, looking around the kitchen, which was where her father was more often than not found.
"Oh, he needed to pick something up before coming home." Her mother explained.
"Alright." Hermione smiled and started up the stairs.
However much she loved Hogwarts, it was always wonderful to come home again. And besides, she had much more privacy at home, which was good if she wanted to pull a few pranks on Blaise.
She sat down at her desk, and pulling out a parchment and a quill, she began to write. If she wanted it to be long and detailed, she would have to start now.
My Christmas holidays, by Hermione Granger
Dedicated to Blaise ´Baldrick´ Zabini.
She paused and looked down on her writing. Maybe calling him Bladrick was going a bit overboard, but the main objective of this little exercise was to annoy the hell out of him. She grinned evilly and launched into a horribly long and overly detailed account of her holidays.
*******'
Blaise plopped own in one of the chairs in his family's library, and closed his eyes. He was, frankly, exhausted. His father had been bothering him about Hermione every step of the way home, and it didn't look like he'd be let off the hook any time soon.
And if his father was bad, his mother and sister would be infinitely worse. He cracked open one eye and peered at the book in his lap, the one Hermione had given him, and couldn't help but smile a little. She'd actually gone through all the trouble of translating the title of a book he'd been reading, and then given him a gift which made a joke of it, solely to annoy him. It was almost Slytherin that was.
His train of thought was interrupted by a loud squeal and someone throwing their arms around him, nearly choking him in the process. He suffered through the rough treatment without a word, but when the same someone reached up to ruffle his hair, he decided he'd had enough.
"Adéle! Don't do that!" He whined.
"But little brother, it's so amusing to see you like that." Adéle chuckled. "Now tell me, what girl are you pining for now?"
"One student from Hogwarts. A girl, I'm given to understand." Their father commented from the doorway, before passing it and heading towards the stairs.
"Oooh! A girlfriend! Why haven't you told me about this earlier?" Adéle asked, eyes twinkling.
Blaise glared at his nosy sister, and wished, not for the first time, that he was an only child. Then he wouldn't have obnoxious older sisters who didn't know when to keep their mouths shut.
"Stop being ludicrous. She is not my girlfriend, nor has she ever been my girlfriend, and the possibility of her becoming my girlfriend is so small that you could use a Muggle microscope to look at it and still don't see it." He said slowly, as if talking to a child.
"So you were thinking of her. Does this girl have a name?" Adéle sat down across from him, grinning.
"If I tell you, will you go away?" Blaise asked desperately.
"I'll think about it." His sister promised.
"Alright; Hermione Granger. There, now you can leave me alone; I've got revenge-plotting to do." He said, turning to look at the book in his lap.
"Revenge-plotting? Blaise, what did the poor girl do?" She asked, still smiling.
Blaise ignored her and started flipping through the book. He was getting Hermione back for that one, he would have the last word, if he so had to sell off the family estate to do it. There was no way he was letting a Gryffindor win over him. He'd get his revenge; that he swore on his Slytherin pride.
******'
The library was, by far, his favourite place, but the dining room wasn't far behind. History of Magic was his favourite subject at school, despite Binns, and in the dining room, history was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Ever since he was a child, he'd been fascinated by history, mainly because of his home. The estate was filled, floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall, with nothing but history. Some of the portraits on the walls were of wizards' further back than Merlin, many of whom were in his family tree.
A family tradition was to have breakfast together at the first day of Christmas break, and today was no different. He was sitting in between his sister and his nephew, with his mother across from him. His father was next to her, while his niece and his sister's husband, Bastien, were seated on his sisters other side.
He was just picking through his scrambled eggs, refusing to look at his sister, when an owl came swooping in through a window. Blaise looked up along with the rest of his family, and stared confusedly at the white owl.
It flew over to Blaise, hovered for just a second before dropping a very thick letter in his lap. It the n took off again, but landed on one of the stuffed animal's heads that were hanging on the walls.
Blaise stared suspiciously at the heavy envelope in his lap, and then looked at the bird. There was something familiar about it..
"Potter's owl? What the heck is Potter's owl doing here?" He asked no one in particular.
He tested the envelope for hexes or curses before finally opening it. Inside was a letter which spanned over several sheets of parchment, written in a neat, precise script with dark blue ink. He read the title of it, and set his jaw.
"She's going down." He announced, before standing up abruptly and nearly knocking over his chair.
His sister took advantage of his distraction to pinch the letter and read the title. She giggled. And grinned, scant seconds away from laughing out loud. Blaise glared at her, and snatched the letter back.
"Don't." He hissed.
"She wrote to you? And not just a letter; it's a freaking novel!" She couldn't help herself; she laughed.
"Language, Adéle." Her mother warned.
"I'm sorry mother, but it was just so amusing." Adéle said, fighting to keep a straight face.
"I'm leaving." Blaise said and walked out of the dining room.
"But Blaise, you haven't finished your breakfast." His mother called after him.
He ignored her and kept on walking. Not only had she owled him a veritable essay about her Christmas holidays, she had dared to address him as Baldrick. He had to find out where she'd gotten that, and he was going to write back. He was going to employ every dirty trick in the book, and she was going down.
******'
Hermione stared at the letter in her hands, and promptly burst out laughing. Her parents gave her surprised and curious looks, wondering what could possibly be so funny. Hedwig had just delivered the letter, and Hermione had read through the short note.
Dear Pest.
Thank you the letter *cough*book*cough*. I appreciated it very much. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? It was highly annoying, and I would thank you ever so much if you never wrote to me again.
I realize it was part of your plan to annoy the hell out of me. Please abandon this futile attempt; I will win this game.
And never, ever call me Baldrick again. Ever.
Blaise.
"Hermione, what is so funny?" Her father asked.
"It's nothing; just this letter. It's from someone I met at school." She explained. "Apparently, he wants to kill me off slowly, using something along the lines of boiling pitch and white-hot iron."
"Hermione, dear, is this boy the one you've told us about? The Malfoy boy?" Her mother ventured.
"Oh no. It isn't Malfoy at all; it's one of his House-mates. Don't worry though; I don't think he's serious." She grinned. "And even if he is, I'm getting him back; there's no way he's winning this game. "
She got to her, feet and hugged her parents; she was going out, since she had some plotting to do, and she'd found that walking always helped her think. And she'd need a lot of help if she was going to beat a Slytherin at his own game.
*****'
The letters continued to pass between England and France, getting steadily more offending and insulting. It was all they could do until school started again; it's not very easy to kill someone per letter. Not that they didn't try.
Various death-threats were exchanged, but never acted upon. Hermione's parents were growing rapidly more worried about the frequent letters their daughter was receiving, and how she laughed over the threats to kill her.
Blaise was still being teased by is sister about Hermione, but he ignored her the best he could. Hedwig must have worn her feathers out flying back and forth that Christmas break, because the two of them wrote as soon as they could. Soon, Blaise's day seemed incomplete unless he had written and received a death-threat at least once.
When school was about to start again, Blaise still hadn't figured out a way to get back at Hermione, and it didn't look like he would anytime soon. It annoyed him, but he shrugged it off, knowing that he'd get her back one way or the other.
******'
Hermione was standing with Harry, Ron and Ginny in the entrance hall, just talking about Christmas, waiting for the feast to begin. Dumbledore had announced that the first meal back from the Christmas holidays would be one, and that the Great Hall needed to be decorated before they could come in. Thus, their present location.
Hermione was listening to Ron telling a joke about Fred and George, but noticed that he faltered slightly, looking over her shoulder. Curious, she turned to look as well, and saw Blaise walking up to them.
He had yet to change into his school uniform, and was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and the wind had ruffled his hair. He looked, in one word, gorgeous. She blinked. That was definitely not what she was supposed to think. In fact, that was as far from appropriate thoughts she could get.
"What do you want?" She asked, with emphasis on the ´you´.
"I just wanted to thank you for writing me a book; it was like a lecture." He smirked.
"Oh?"
"Yes," He nodded, "Long, boring and a waste of time."
"Really? Well, I would like to thank you for your adorable little letters; I didn't know you could kill someone in so many different ways." She smiled sweetly, inwardly a little stung at his words.
Blaise's eyes narrowed dangerously, and he stepped closer. He leaned down so far that their noses were almost touching, and glared at her. She glared back, defiantly, and tilted her head up so she could look him directly in the eyes.
"This is war." He hissed.
"No, this is slaughter." She hissed back. "And you are going to be a bloody smear at the foot of the Astronomy Tower before graduation."
He smirked, and she glared at him again.
"You really think you can win this? Stop deluding yourself; Slytherins always win. It will be fun watching you break." He raised an eyebrow, and smirked at her furious expression.
Abruptly, almost making her stumble, he turned and walked away, leaving her to glare after him. Had he turned around, he might have seen her mouth something, but as he didn't, he missed her words, which could, or could not prove to be the biggest mistake he ever did.
"Just you wait. Just you wait." Hermione whispered darkly.
*******'
Ending Notes; I am incredibly sorry for the super short chapter, but I'm going away for a week, and then there won't be as many updates because school starts, so I wanted to give you a new chapter in advance.
And, before you ask, the Baldrick-thing has been taken from Blackadder. Just in case you missed it.
