Although Blaise Zabini survived his Herbology and Diviniation NEWTs, he
was much relieved by the knowledge that he didn't actually need them to
secure his future career. Yes, they were over but his
concentration was still completely shot. His palms were
sweaty. And his stupid hair wouldn't stay out of his eyes.
It wasn't long enough to tie back and he fairly certain his mother
would disown him if he so much as visualized shears near it, but he had
limits and was close to doing something /irrevocable/.
His practical final in Blindfolded Flying at Obscene and Well-Nigh Fatally High Velocities was in two hours and he refused to take it with stupid hair. Really, Madam Hooch was barely allowed to teach the course at all and his death would definitely remove it from the curriculum. Clearly, if only for Madam Hooch and future generations of broomstick enthusiasts everywhere, something had to be done.
Dear god. He never suspected himself capable of melodrama of Draco proportions. Next, he'd be threatening to 'tell his /father/ about this.'
Blaise sighed loudly and heads snapped audibly to watch him angst.
Everything was wrong. People were not supposed to watch him. That was /his/ job. He was supposed to coolly watch people from a safe distance and then offer his penetratingly accurate observations at rare opportunities that would further the myth of Blaise Zabini, the Silent but Dangerous Slytherin.
Seven years of image work was shattered because he had finally gotten Hermione Granger's attention. And, to think, it wasn't because she was Gryffindor or even Muggleborn, but because she made his palms sweat.
Unbelievable.
Why had he suggested to delay their talk until after exams? Sure, the delay of heartfelt emotional confrontation was inherent in the male of the species, but shouldn't his utter Slytherin-ness preclude the sweatiness and stupid hair? The idea was that delaying the Talk (clearly, capitalization was needed) would let him concentrate on his exams but instead it merely served to prolong the agony.
He should seek her out and finish this once and for all.
Decisively, he slammed his book shut and glared at his offended Housemates before leaving the common room with haughty dignity. He would track down Hermione Granger, who was still his girlfriend even if he sometimes was unsure whether they actually had broken up during that disastrous day, and kiss her until his insecurities melted away and they had established a standing date for Friday nights after graduation.
Unless, of course, he ran into her best friends in the dungeons.
Ron had the look of someone fresh from Snape's detention and ready to take out his frustrations on the nearest available Slytherin. Harry looked slightly less hostile, but only because looked exhausted. When Ron elbowed his friend, though, his eyes brightened and Blaise flinched.
They homed in on him in an eerily unpracticed yet synchronized pincer movement worthy of Crabbe and Goyle. Each took an elbow and Harry said, "We were just looking for you."
Blaise looked back towards the entrances of the common room and Snape's office.
Ron caught his eye, "We've only got four days of school left. Snape can't do anything in that time that wouldn't be worth it."
"So let's go have a little talk, shall we, Zabini," Harry didn't wait for a response but only led Blaise into the dark shadows of the castle.
By the time they reached their destination, Blaise had come to a decision. Hermione made his palms sweat; her friends did not. It was time to act like it.
He opened the door to the tapestry-hidden room after they unlocked it. Then he took the largest, most comfortable seat and warded the room for silence and safety.
The two Gryffindors exchanged a measuring glance before taking their own seats across from him.
Blaise held out his wand, "I assume none of us wants Hermione to know about this little conference."
Ron and Harry nodded and they took the wand oath.
Blaise firmly retained the lead; he knew if he allowed the other boys any control, interaction would soon be reduced to violence and yelling. "Go on and ask your questions. I'll decide what I can answer and in what detail."
"Fair enough," Harry nodded. "What are your intentions towards Hermione Jane Granger?"
Blaise could see this was going to be fairly predictable as interrogations went. Having seen the post-interrogation carcasses of boyfriends past, he'd been prepared for far worse. "Currently, to smooth over any conflicts between us so that we can continue our romantic relationship."
"And what would those conflicts be?"
"Personal."
Ron made vague snort of disapproval but let it go. "If you're so intent on 'smoothing' things over, where have you been for the last two days?"
"Giving her personal space and the opportunity to study."
Harry seemed to pause at the second half of his answer. "How long have you and Hermione Jane Granger been romantically involved?"
"Three weeks."
"And how long have you had romantic intentions towards Hermione Jane Granger?"
"Five years. And I think you can just use her first name. I'm not going to get her confused with all the other Hermiones you caught me snogging."
"So there are others!"
Harry ignored his friend's outburst. "Hey, that's longer than you, Ron."
"Shut up, Harry." The Weasley looked at Blaise speculatively, "Do you love her?"
"No."
"Oh, not good enough for you? Too Muggleborn, maybe?"
"I didn't say that," Blaise said. "We've only been dating for three weeks, wouldn't you be worried if I claimed to love her after so short a time? Don't you think that's a little fast?"
"We're the ones asking the questions here," Harry crossed his arms. "She's worth ten of you."
"I never said she wasn't. That's why I'm being so careful of her. I don't want to make any premature declarations only to find I can't make good. And if I were to make a declaration, I'd certainly tell her /first/."
Ron grumbled and Harry kept giving Blaise dirty looks, but they both had to concede the point.
"How come we didn't know you two were dating if you care so much?"
"She thought you were being uncharacteristically mature."
"What?"
"I couldn't believe it either but that's Hermione for you. Clever girl, but she lets her faith interfere with her logic. She thought you knew, it's not like we were hiding it."
"Mental," Ron muttered beneath his breath.
Harry interrupted, "So, the Slytherins know?"
"It's not like I took out an ad in the Prophet, but I assume Draco noticed my daily presence in their common room."
"Huh. Why hasn't a riot broken out?"
Blaise sighed. "I'm frightening by Slytherin standards. I haven't survived seven years in my house without reason. Then there's the blackmail, of course."
"But what about Malfoy," Harry pressed on. "He hates Hermione. I can't see why he hasn't set Goyle and Crabbe on you."
Blaise smirked. "See reasons one and two."
"But I don't get it. If you have something over Malfoy, why haven't we seen you-"
"Terrorizing him? Not my style."
Ron shook his head, "No, really-"
"Look, I'm not telling you. If I told anyone, it'd be Hermione and seeing as how she's not currently speaking to me, it might be awhile."
"Right, about Hermione. What did you do?" Ron took a menacing stance. Blaise could tell it took of Weasley's restraint not to thrust a menacing fist in the air between them.
Blaise paused. Had he managed to affect Hermione enough for the Oblivious Twins to notice? Maybe there was hope...
"Again, I'll need to speak with her first."
"What makes you think we'll let you?"
"Because she'll do what she wants. She probably remembers how to erase your faces."
"You heard about that?"
The three were quiet. Blaise could practically see the thinking process going on in their heads as they decided he might not be so bad after all. Ha, as if they had a choice. If (if!) Hermione still wanted him, she'd have him.
"Hey, Blaise? Do you know what she's doing after graduation?"
He gave them a swift look, "No. Don't you?"
Harry and Ron exchanged another glance before turning to him decisively. "She's having tea at Hagrid's and revising for her Endangered Fantastic Beasts NEWT. We'll take you there. Maybe you can get something out of her...she's never dated anyone as long as you..."
"Can't," Blaise shook his head. "I've got my flying practical in half an hour."
Harry's eyes lit up, "Blindfolded Flying at Obscene and Well-Nigh Fatally High Velocities?"
Ron looked similarly excited, "Mum wouldn't let me sign up and the Ministry practically banned Harry. You're taking that? Brilliant, can we watch? What do you fly?"
Blaise smirked.
Harry tried to frown and elbowed his friend, "Just to make sure you get to Hermione okay afterwards, of course."
"Of course," Blaise stood and moved towards the door.
As the three boys left the room, Ron patted Blaise's shoulder with manly pressure. "We'll still break your head if you make her cry, of course. Or hold her down while she hexes you; she doesn't like it when they run."
"Of course," Blaise smirked, knowing that was as close as he was going to get to their approval. Now all he had to do was survive his practical, speak to Hermione , and maybe solve the mystery of exactly what she was going to do after graduation. Was there a reason it was so important for her to learn how to fly?
"Hey, uh, Blaise?"
"Yes?" Blaise turned towards Ron, who was looking at his hand in disgust.
"Are you always this sweaty or are you just really scared or us?"
His practical final in Blindfolded Flying at Obscene and Well-Nigh Fatally High Velocities was in two hours and he refused to take it with stupid hair. Really, Madam Hooch was barely allowed to teach the course at all and his death would definitely remove it from the curriculum. Clearly, if only for Madam Hooch and future generations of broomstick enthusiasts everywhere, something had to be done.
Dear god. He never suspected himself capable of melodrama of Draco proportions. Next, he'd be threatening to 'tell his /father/ about this.'
Blaise sighed loudly and heads snapped audibly to watch him angst.
Everything was wrong. People were not supposed to watch him. That was /his/ job. He was supposed to coolly watch people from a safe distance and then offer his penetratingly accurate observations at rare opportunities that would further the myth of Blaise Zabini, the Silent but Dangerous Slytherin.
Seven years of image work was shattered because he had finally gotten Hermione Granger's attention. And, to think, it wasn't because she was Gryffindor or even Muggleborn, but because she made his palms sweat.
Unbelievable.
Why had he suggested to delay their talk until after exams? Sure, the delay of heartfelt emotional confrontation was inherent in the male of the species, but shouldn't his utter Slytherin-ness preclude the sweatiness and stupid hair? The idea was that delaying the Talk (clearly, capitalization was needed) would let him concentrate on his exams but instead it merely served to prolong the agony.
He should seek her out and finish this once and for all.
Decisively, he slammed his book shut and glared at his offended Housemates before leaving the common room with haughty dignity. He would track down Hermione Granger, who was still his girlfriend even if he sometimes was unsure whether they actually had broken up during that disastrous day, and kiss her until his insecurities melted away and they had established a standing date for Friday nights after graduation.
Unless, of course, he ran into her best friends in the dungeons.
Ron had the look of someone fresh from Snape's detention and ready to take out his frustrations on the nearest available Slytherin. Harry looked slightly less hostile, but only because looked exhausted. When Ron elbowed his friend, though, his eyes brightened and Blaise flinched.
They homed in on him in an eerily unpracticed yet synchronized pincer movement worthy of Crabbe and Goyle. Each took an elbow and Harry said, "We were just looking for you."
Blaise looked back towards the entrances of the common room and Snape's office.
Ron caught his eye, "We've only got four days of school left. Snape can't do anything in that time that wouldn't be worth it."
"So let's go have a little talk, shall we, Zabini," Harry didn't wait for a response but only led Blaise into the dark shadows of the castle.
By the time they reached their destination, Blaise had come to a decision. Hermione made his palms sweat; her friends did not. It was time to act like it.
He opened the door to the tapestry-hidden room after they unlocked it. Then he took the largest, most comfortable seat and warded the room for silence and safety.
The two Gryffindors exchanged a measuring glance before taking their own seats across from him.
Blaise held out his wand, "I assume none of us wants Hermione to know about this little conference."
Ron and Harry nodded and they took the wand oath.
Blaise firmly retained the lead; he knew if he allowed the other boys any control, interaction would soon be reduced to violence and yelling. "Go on and ask your questions. I'll decide what I can answer and in what detail."
"Fair enough," Harry nodded. "What are your intentions towards Hermione Jane Granger?"
Blaise could see this was going to be fairly predictable as interrogations went. Having seen the post-interrogation carcasses of boyfriends past, he'd been prepared for far worse. "Currently, to smooth over any conflicts between us so that we can continue our romantic relationship."
"And what would those conflicts be?"
"Personal."
Ron made vague snort of disapproval but let it go. "If you're so intent on 'smoothing' things over, where have you been for the last two days?"
"Giving her personal space and the opportunity to study."
Harry seemed to pause at the second half of his answer. "How long have you and Hermione Jane Granger been romantically involved?"
"Three weeks."
"And how long have you had romantic intentions towards Hermione Jane Granger?"
"Five years. And I think you can just use her first name. I'm not going to get her confused with all the other Hermiones you caught me snogging."
"So there are others!"
Harry ignored his friend's outburst. "Hey, that's longer than you, Ron."
"Shut up, Harry." The Weasley looked at Blaise speculatively, "Do you love her?"
"No."
"Oh, not good enough for you? Too Muggleborn, maybe?"
"I didn't say that," Blaise said. "We've only been dating for three weeks, wouldn't you be worried if I claimed to love her after so short a time? Don't you think that's a little fast?"
"We're the ones asking the questions here," Harry crossed his arms. "She's worth ten of you."
"I never said she wasn't. That's why I'm being so careful of her. I don't want to make any premature declarations only to find I can't make good. And if I were to make a declaration, I'd certainly tell her /first/."
Ron grumbled and Harry kept giving Blaise dirty looks, but they both had to concede the point.
"How come we didn't know you two were dating if you care so much?"
"She thought you were being uncharacteristically mature."
"What?"
"I couldn't believe it either but that's Hermione for you. Clever girl, but she lets her faith interfere with her logic. She thought you knew, it's not like we were hiding it."
"Mental," Ron muttered beneath his breath.
Harry interrupted, "So, the Slytherins know?"
"It's not like I took out an ad in the Prophet, but I assume Draco noticed my daily presence in their common room."
"Huh. Why hasn't a riot broken out?"
Blaise sighed. "I'm frightening by Slytherin standards. I haven't survived seven years in my house without reason. Then there's the blackmail, of course."
"But what about Malfoy," Harry pressed on. "He hates Hermione. I can't see why he hasn't set Goyle and Crabbe on you."
Blaise smirked. "See reasons one and two."
"But I don't get it. If you have something over Malfoy, why haven't we seen you-"
"Terrorizing him? Not my style."
Ron shook his head, "No, really-"
"Look, I'm not telling you. If I told anyone, it'd be Hermione and seeing as how she's not currently speaking to me, it might be awhile."
"Right, about Hermione. What did you do?" Ron took a menacing stance. Blaise could tell it took of Weasley's restraint not to thrust a menacing fist in the air between them.
Blaise paused. Had he managed to affect Hermione enough for the Oblivious Twins to notice? Maybe there was hope...
"Again, I'll need to speak with her first."
"What makes you think we'll let you?"
"Because she'll do what she wants. She probably remembers how to erase your faces."
"You heard about that?"
The three were quiet. Blaise could practically see the thinking process going on in their heads as they decided he might not be so bad after all. Ha, as if they had a choice. If (if!) Hermione still wanted him, she'd have him.
"Hey, Blaise? Do you know what she's doing after graduation?"
He gave them a swift look, "No. Don't you?"
Harry and Ron exchanged another glance before turning to him decisively. "She's having tea at Hagrid's and revising for her Endangered Fantastic Beasts NEWT. We'll take you there. Maybe you can get something out of her...she's never dated anyone as long as you..."
"Can't," Blaise shook his head. "I've got my flying practical in half an hour."
Harry's eyes lit up, "Blindfolded Flying at Obscene and Well-Nigh Fatally High Velocities?"
Ron looked similarly excited, "Mum wouldn't let me sign up and the Ministry practically banned Harry. You're taking that? Brilliant, can we watch? What do you fly?"
Blaise smirked.
Harry tried to frown and elbowed his friend, "Just to make sure you get to Hermione okay afterwards, of course."
"Of course," Blaise stood and moved towards the door.
As the three boys left the room, Ron patted Blaise's shoulder with manly pressure. "We'll still break your head if you make her cry, of course. Or hold her down while she hexes you; she doesn't like it when they run."
"Of course," Blaise smirked, knowing that was as close as he was going to get to their approval. Now all he had to do was survive his practical, speak to Hermione , and maybe solve the mystery of exactly what she was going to do after graduation. Was there a reason it was so important for her to learn how to fly?
"Hey, uh, Blaise?"
"Yes?" Blaise turned towards Ron, who was looking at his hand in disgust.
"Are you always this sweaty or are you just really scared or us?"