Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Note: Here's chapter fout for you, my lovelies. Someone asked if my!Blaise has curly black hair; I think that this Blaise has lind of lank, black hair. It gets a bit curly in damp weather though, I think. Enjoy the chapter.
THE IMPORTANCE OF ANCIENT RUNES
Chapter Four: In Which Blaise and Hermione Indulge in Gossip
The purple bag at her feet was a clear indication that Hermione had paid a visit to Quigley's Quills. The book resting on her lap was a confirmation of this, and Blaise noted that she was well over halfway through it.
"Either that's a very good book or you're a very fast reader," he commented, sitting on the wall beside her. She looked up, pushing a piece of hair from her face.
"A little of both," she admitted, surprised to see him. "I've been here for about an hour, though."
"Any particular reason why you're sat on a wall in Hogsmeade at the beginning of December?" There was a definite chill in the air, and Blaise could see his breath rising as he spoke. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself.
"I'm meeting someone." She pulled a small paper bag from the pocket of her green cloak. "Cough candy?" she asked, offering the bag to him. He shook his head. Shrugging, she pulled a piece free from where the sweets had stuck together. "I thought you didn't like Hogsmeade."
Shoving his hands in his pockets to try to keep them worn - he wished that he had brought his gloves with him - Blaise said, "I don't, but the house elves cut off my supply of coffee after the seventh cup." He shivered involuntarily. Why did Hermione not seem to feel the cold? "Who are you meeting?"
"I'm supposed to be meeting Viktor for coffee, but I get the feeling he's not going to show up."
"You've been waiting here for an hour and you've only just figured that Krum's not going to show?"
"No. I worked that out ten minutes ago." Hermione sighed and closed her book. "I might as well go back to Hogwarts." She slipped the book back into the purple bag and stood up. Blaise noticed that her fingers were starting to turn blue; she was not wearing gloves either.
"Coffee," he found himself barking.
"Excuse me?" Her cheeks were pink from the cold and her eyes oddly bright. "I know you like the stuff, Zabini, but if you start shouting about it randomly people are going to think you're a little bit strange."
"Coffee," he repeated, the word, for once, feeling odd on his tongue. "You came to Hogsmeade for a coffee, so you might as well get one."
She did not seem to take him entirely seriously. "With you?" she asked uncertainly.
I suppose that's what it sounded like, Blaise thought, realising the implication of what he had said. "Um, I suppose so."
"With you?" she repeated.
"If you want," Blaise said with a shrug, sounding as though it did not bother him. To his surprise, he found that it did not. Once you looked past the bossiness, and the fact that her eyes were entirely too brown, she could actually hold a fairly decent conversation. Whenever he tried to have a conversation with Slytherins, their egos inevitably got in the way. Blaise did not exclude himself from this - there was something about other Slytherins that boosted his feeling of self-importance.
"But you're a Slytherin."
"I suppose I am."
"And I'm a Gryffindor."
"Really?" He tried to sound surprised and was rewarded with a smile from Hermione.
"It's not exactly orthodox for Slytherins and Gryffindors to socialise."
"Ah," Blaise pointed out, "but it has been known for Gryffindors and Slytherins to work together on schoolwork if needs be. God, Granger, it's not like I'm asking you out, or anything. I just wanted to discuss our coursework." After six years, he had finally perfected the sly, Slytherin smile. "We are doing the same Ancient Runes coursework, are we not?"
Hermione pursed her lips and began to walk to back into the village.
"Where are you going?" he found himself calling after her.
"To get a coffee," she replied over her shoulder. "Are you coming?"
Considering himself something of a connoisseur of coffee, Blaise took Hermione to The Hog's Head, which, he said, if you could ignore the smell of goats for long enough, made the best coffee in Hogsmeade.
"So do you think that you'll get your coursework finished in time?" she asked, sipping her coffee delicately. After being outside in the cold for so long, the liquid felt practically scalding. The goat-smell was not quite as strong as it had been the last time she had been here.
"Hopefully. D'you think that Mayfair was serious when she said she'd kick us out of Ancient Runes if we don't get it handed in on time?"
"I hope not," Hermione confessed. "I've just started researching the Muggle events of the time, and I think I'm going to end up rewriting my entire essay to include the Nazis."
"I thought about doing that, but I think it's too late. I'll just end up confusing myself."
She giggled, then immediately looked sheepish. "Sorry," she apologised. "I didn't mean to laugh. It's just… well; this is ridiculous, isn't it?"
"The smell's getting stronger, isn't it?" Blaise nodded towards the barkeeper who was polishing a glass behind the bar. "I think it's him," he added in a conspiratorial whisper.
"No! Well, yes, but that's not what I meant."
Blaise looked sceptically at the Gryffindor. "What then?"
"I think that I talk more to you than I do to Harry and Ron. And I don't even call you by your first name!"
"Trouble in paradise?"
"If you want to call it that," Hermione said slowly, taking another sip of her coffee. "Harry's so preoccupied, and Ron… Ron's been so distant lately. It's like his mind's somewhere else."
"Or on someone else," Blaise added. She peered at him over the rim of her mug.
"Do you know something I don't, Zabini?"
"Maybe," he said, attempting to sound innocent. "I never pictured you as a gossip, Granger."
"I never pictured you as someone to know gossip, Zabini," she teased. "You can call me Hermione, if you want," she added.
"I didn't think we'd progressed that far into our relationship," he joked.
"Well, I'm up for taking a leap." She leant across the table. "So what do you know about Ron?"
Good Lord, is that cleavage? Blaise thought weakly. Hermione Granger was not supposed to have cleavage: she was supposed to be asexual; half-book, half-human. "I, er, I have it on good authority that King Weasley may have found himself a Queen."
Hermione's eyes widened. Too brown, Blaise thought. "Really?" Her eyes went from wide to suspiciously narrow. "But how would you know? You do know who it is, don't you?"
The Slytherin nodded. "Yes, and let's just say that if he gets on her wrong side he'll lose that lovely mane of red hair."
"No!" Astonishment was written across her face. "Parkinson? Pansy?" Blaise's smile was one of pure smugness.
"So do you have any gossip about the Gryffindors?" Blaise asked, trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the window. Since when had he become so vain? I really need to get a haircut, he decided, pushing his fringe from his eyes.
"Erm… Lavender Brown snores?"
"Is that the best you can do?"
She rolled her eyes. "Um, if the rumours are to be believed, Seamus and Dean are more than 'just friends'."
"Seriously?"
"Yes. What about Crabbe and Goyle? Are the rumours about them true?"
At this, Blaise laughed, attracting the attention of some of the other patrons. "Crabbe and Goyle? No! Although that would explain the looks Goyle has been giving Crabbe," he mused.
"Any truth to that one about you and Daphne Greengrass?"
"She got tipsy and stuck her tongue down my throat."
"So no kinky sex sessions with handcuffs, then?"
"No. Speaking of kinky sex sessions…"
Hermione groaned, knowing what was coming next.
"…any truth behind the one about you, Potter and Weasley?"
"Definitely not!" Her face was a bright crimson now, and she sat back in her seat, laughing weakly. "I heard that rumour and I couldn't stop laughing for half an hour."
Blaise began to drum his fingers against the battered tabletop; if the pub had been green, it would have reminded him strongly of the Slytherin common room. However, the company was infinitely better than any he could find in the Slytherin common room. Not that he would ever admit that to her, of course.
Over the course of the afternoon, he learnt that Hermione was an only child and glad of it, unlike himself; Blaise was the eldest of five and would have given anything to be an only child. He also learnt that her parents were blissfully unaware of the goings on at their daughter's school and that she had purposely chosen to keep them in the dark about all things concerning Voldemort.
"You're like a book," Hermione announced, finishing her third cup of coffee. If it were possible, Blaise thought that the drink was going to her head.
The Slytherin considered this. "Seeing as you like books, I'll take that as a compliment."
"I s'pose. I can't quite read you, though."
"Do you want to read me?" Blaise almost hit himself. Was he flirting with her?
"I think I'd like to. Would you recommend it?"
Blaise gulped. He hoped it was not audible. Was she flirting with him? Or had the coffee gone to her head?
"Do you think we should be getting back to the castle?" She looked startled, possibly because he had not answered her question, but also because his voice had been somewhat higher than normal when he had said this. Hermione glanced at the window; it was starting to get dark outside.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," she agreed. She sounded slightly disappointed and reached for her purse. She placed a galleon on the table, as did Blaise, and they stood. Just as they opened the door to the pub, a shower of purple dust covered them, making Blaise cough and Hermione sneeze.
Looking up at Blaise to apologise - she was sure that she had sneezed over him - Hermione found herself staring into a pair of intoxicatingly blue eyes. Her breath caught in her chest and she realised that he had started to lean forwards. Yes, that seems like a good idea, Hermione found herself thinking as she tilted her head upwards.
A glass smashed.
Hermione and Blaise sprang apart, the trance broken.
"We'd better get going," Hermione said hurriedly. Blaise nodded wordlessly and they set off in silence at a fast pace back towards the castle.
"Reparo." The broken glass mended itself, and the barkeeper picked it up from the floor.
"What'd you go and do that for?" a woman at the bar asked. She stirred her drink with a cocktail onion, frowning. "They were so close!
"Because you shouldn't be interfering with other people's love lives," he told her, flipping his long, grey beard over his shoulder. "You're a married woman, Elizabeth. I'd have thought you'd have grown out of this sort of thing by now."
"I prefer to think of age as more of a guideline," Elizabeth Quigley said airily, before biting into her onion with a satisfying crunch.
"You've been spending too much time in your uncle's company," he said in a somewhat amused tone.
"Is that a bad thing?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Besides, those two would be so perfect together - I've thought so since the first time they came into my shop." Elizabeth pulled a few coins from the pocket of her crimson robes and picked a few of them out. She placed them on the bar, but the barkeeper pushed them back, shaking his head. She smiled brightly.
"They're still only children," he warned.
"It's never too early to find love," she retorted jovially. "Send my love to Mummy."
She left The Hog's Head in a swirl of crimson fabric, and the barkeeper smiled to himself behind his beard. His daughter could be so much like her uncle sometimes that it was uncanny.
On the day that the other students were to return home for Christmas, Hermione found herself sat in the library, organising her Charms notes. She had decided that putting them in the order that the subjects came in the textbook would make things easier when it came to revision. With this and the variety of coloured inks that Hermione had amassed to colour-code everything, she felt sure that she would be unstoppable at the end of year exams.
"Hermione Granger," a voice behind her barked, just as she was starting on chapter two. Hermione turned around to find Millicent Bulstrode stood behind her, a grim expression on her face. Her travelling cloak suggested that she was about to leave to catch the train.
"Millicent Bulstrode?" she asked uncertainly.
"What," Millicent said sharply, "are your intentions towards Blaise Zabini?"
"Intentions?" Hermione repeated, feeling somewhat intimidated by the Slytherin girl who was towering over her. In reality, there was little difference in the girls' heights, but as Hermione was sitting and Millicent was standing, the Slytherin seemed all the more imposing.
Millicent rolled her eyes. "Yes. Towards Blaise Zabini. I believe you're acquainted with him. Slytherin, dark hair, about this tall," she said, holding her hand a good three inches or so above her head.
"Of Italian descent?" Hermione asked. "Yes, I know him. However, I'm still not quite sure what you mean by 'intentions'. I suppose friendship, but that's about it really."
Narrowing her eyes, the Slytherin girl regarded Hermione carefully. "So you have no romantic interest in my friend?"
"God, no." Hermione could not believe that Millicent was asking her this. "I mean… he's Blaise. Not really my type." Hermione looked up at Millicent with a small smile, hoping she had not offended her. "You're welcome to him," she added, although once she had said this, she realised that it made Blaise sound like the last piece of cake or the sweet that is at the bottom of the bag and is stuck to the paper.
"Welcome to him?" Millicent echoed. "Why would I want him? He's Blaise." Both of the girls smiled. "Well, um, merry Christmas, Granger." The Slytherin girl seemed appeased by Hermione's answer.
"Yeah, merry Christmas, Busltrode," Hermione said, turning back to her Charms notes.
Millicent turned to leave, but paused to say, "By the way, he's staying for Christmas. Got an owl from his parents this morning; they're taking the little ones to Italy for Christmas and Blaise has to stay at Hogwarts."
Hermione nodded. "Merry Christmas, Millicent." Surprised at being addressed by her first name, Millicent gave her a small smile before hurrying out of the library; she had a train to catch.
Turning back to her notes and flipping over the page of her textbook, Hermione could not help but feel a pang of jealously; Harry and Ron never showed that much interest in her life any more, and it hurt. Slytherins were not supposed to care for each other - they were supposed to be greedy, ruthless, and self-obsessed. Or was that just Malfoy?
After getting to know Blaise better - although she had to admit that he was still something of a mystery - she could honestly say that not all Slytherins were like that. Even Millicent, despite the headlock incident in second year, seemed quite pleasant. And she cared about her friend and with whom he might be involved. It scared Hermione slightly when she realised that Harry and Ron could learn a lesson from the Slytherins.
There were fewer than twenty students at Hogwarts for the Christmas holiday and so the house tables in the Great Hall had been replaced by just one table, where the students and the professors sat together.
Hermione was rather surprised to find Blaise sitting next to her at breakfast the next morning, even though she had known he was still at Hogwarts.
"Mornin'," he mumbled, reaching blindly for a cup of coffee, eyes still half-closed. He practically inhaled the first cup and reached for another. Clearly, Hermione noted with amusement, he was not interested in solid food at this time of day. Finishing the last bite of her toast, Hermione handed him an envelope.
He looked at it blankly. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's a Christmas card."
He prodded it with his finger. "Why?"
"Because it's traditional to give them at this time of year." He looked at her suspiciously before saying:
"I know what a Christmas card is, Hermione. But why are you giving one to me?"
Hermione sighed. Perhaps she should have given it to him at a time of day when he was more coherent. Obviously, there was too much blood in his caffeine system. "Because, Merlin help me, I'm starting to consider you a friend. This is what friends do; they give each other cards."
Eyes still narrowed suspiciously, Blaise slid a finger under the flap of the envelope, easing it open with the minimum of tearing. He pulled the card out and looked at the image on the front. "Not very Christmassy," he commented.
"I didn't picture you as a holly and robins sort of person." She looked at the picture, a cup of steaming coffee. On the side of the cup was a picture of a lion, a snake in its mouth.
"Did you draw it?"
"Me? No, I can draw stick men, but that's about it. Dean drew it - two sickles a card, three if you want it to move." He nodded in interest, opening the card.
Coffee should be black as Hell, strong as death and sweet as love, he read, Turkish proverb written underneath it in smaller letters. I saw this and thought of you, Hermione had added in a green ink. The rest of the writing inside was just a standard Christmas greeting.
"Do you like it?" Hermione asked, feeling more nervous than she should have.
"It's… very personalised," Blaise commented with a grin. Coffee was infinitely more interesting than a pretty picture of a bird. If only it was a real cup of coffee… "Thank you."
"Are you upset that you didn't get to go to Italy?"
"How did you know about that?" Blaise was surprised about that: was she turning into some sort of stalker?
"Millicent Bulstrode paid me a visit yesterday."
"Oh, right." This seemed to be news to Blaise. "I'm not really bothered about Italy - I go there every summer, anyway. This is only the second time I've spent Christmas here, so I'm trying to enjoy it."
"Are there many Slytherins staying?" Hermione asked, trying to make conversation.
"Half a dozen or so. Apart from Pansy and Daphne they're all younger than me."
Blaise did not seem very talkative this morning, and Hermione was tempted to give up trying to make him talk. However, there was no one else to talk to, and so she said, "Your brothers aren't at Hogwarts, then?"
"Pascal is going to start in September," was the dull reply.
"Do you think he'll be a Slytherin?"
"Ravenclaw." Monosyllables were easier on the brain at this time of the day.
"Are you alright, Blaise?" Hermione was starting to get concerned.
He gave her a weak smile before explaining. "I'm not used to conversation this early in the morning. The other Slytherins usually just see me coming, hand me my coffee and leave me be."
"Do you want me to leave you alone?"
"It's up to you."
Hermione pulled another piece of toast towards her and began to spread it with butter. Just as her hand clasped around the jam jar, an owl dropped that morning's copy of the Daily Prophet onto her plate. It landed on her arm and Hermione tucked a couple of sickles into the pouch on its leg. She nearly choked on her toast when she saw the headline KRUM KIDNAPPED? staring up at her. The picture of the Bulgarian Seeker blinked and scowled before disappearing out of view. Brushing crumbs from the side of her mouth and ignoring Blaise's concerned, "You alright?" Hermione quickly read the article.
Bulgarian national Seeker, Viktor Krum, has been missing for over a week the Daily Prophet can reveal.
Krum, 20, recently signed to the French Quidditch team the Quiberon Quafflepunchers. He has not been seen since he left France to visit former girlfriend Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger is currently in the middle of her sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the two met when Krum represented Durmstrang Academy in the Triwizard tournament two years ago.
Team mate and Captain of the Quafflepunchers, Leon Marche, said, "Excuse moi, mais je ne parle l'anglais." The other member of the Quafflepunchers have declined to comment, but an official spokeswitch for the team has told us that they are looking into his disappearance.
"He's probably just decided to go to Hawaii or something," she said. "The weather over here is not great at this time of year. He'll probably come back in a couple of weeks with a suntan," she added.
However, with You-Know-Who's presence once again casting its shadow over the country, could this be part of some bigger plot? When we enquired into the situation, the Auror we spoke to told us to "Naff off."
Turn to page seven for more about this story.
"Hermione," Blaise said, peering over her shoulder, "are you alright?" She wordlessly passed him the Prophet, taking a bite of her now-cold toast. She chewed it slowly. This explained why Viktor had not shown up at Hogsmeade. But where was he? He was not in Hawaii or anywhere like that - Viktor had once told her that he could not stand holidays in the sun. Instead, he preferred going skiing or just going home to stay with his parents.
Beside her, Blaise let out a low whistle. "Any ideas where he is?" he asked quietly.
"No." Hermione buried her face in her hands, another thought occurred to her. "I'm going to start getting hate mail again!" she wailed.
"Hate mail?" Blaise repeated. Hermione nodded, raising her head and taking a deep breath.
"Yes. Like that time in fourth year when Rita Skeeter said I was breaking Harry's heart by going out with Viktor." She hammered her fist on the table, attracting the attention of two Hufflepuff first years that giggled and went back to their breakfast. "Why did they have to bring me into this? Those Daily Prophet reporters don't know when to keep their bloody noses out of other people's private lives."
"I'm sure it won't be that bad," Blaise said, pouring himself his third cup of coffee. The Gryffindor raised her eyebrows at this.
"Won't be that bad? You've never had some random witch send you Bubotuber puss in the post because a paper said you've broken the heart of Harry Potter."
"I see your point." He paused and took a sip of his coffee. "What are you doing today?"
"Studying. You?"
He seemed to consider this carefully. "I'm thinking about flooding the dungeons and telling Snape that Peeves did it. Care to join me?" he asked in a lazy drawl.
"Are you being serious?" Hermione another question internally: are you trying to sound like Draco Malfoy?
"Deadly. I've wanted to do it for years and now I have nothing better to do, so it seems like the perfect opportunity." He gave her another of his crooked grins. "We could even get some bubble bath and mix it with the water - Snape would love that. Lavender scented, I think. Perfect."
"We? Blaise, I'm a prefect," she pointed out. He seemed surprised to hear this.
"Oh, so that's what that badge is for."
"I'm not going to flood the dungeons," she told him sternly. She had a strange feeling that, if she were not firm, she would end up being pulled into Blaise's dungeon-flooding plot.
"Pity." Downing the rest of his coffee, he stood. "Are we still meeting tonight?" Blaise grabbed a dry piece of toast, and took a bite of it.
"Same time, same place."
"See you then."
Blaise was sat eating his lunch on New Years Eve, leafing through the book that Hermione had given him for Christmas. He had laughed when he had woken up to find it with the rest of his presents on Christmas morning, thinking it typical that Hermione Granger had given him a book.
Pansy and Daphne had pestered him, wanting to know why she had given him a Christmas present, and he had been forced to go through how they had grown to know each other through working together for their Ancient Runes; Tickling Charms could be very persuasive. He had obviously left out the matter of their 'deal', feeling that, even if he did mention his teaching of Italian, he would have had to explain what he was getting in return.
The book was about everything and anything, and was full of seemingly random fact. Blaise was currently reading the 'Bizarre Muggle Laws' section, having just finished 'Oddities in the Animal Kingdom'.
His fellow Slytherin sixth years joined him, discussing Pansy's Divination coursework. "Now, I don't think that I'm a true Libra," Daphne was saying, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder.
"I'm going to disagree," Pansy said, taking a seat next to Blaise. "You aren't on the surface, but when you dig beneath the surface you are." The Slytherin prefect grinned at Blaise. "Afternoon, Blaisiekins."
"Don't call me that," he growled, turning the page. Pansy rolled her eyes and pulled Blaise's almost-untouched plate of food towards her. She scooped the carrots off his plate and pushed her broccoli onto his before returning the plate to its original position. This had been going on since first year: Blaise could not stand carrots - apparently, he had been involved in an accident regarding the vegetable at a young age - and Pansy hated broccoli with a passion.
"Do you want to sit with us, Granger? Hermione?" Daphne called, waving at the Gryffindor girl who had just entered the Great Hall. Blaise looked up to see Hermione's surprised expression at being asked to sit with the Slytherins. She seemed to look to him, her asking what she should do. He gave an almost unperceivable nod, and she took a seat next to Daphne.
"Erm, thanks," she said, uncertainly.
"How are you getting on with that Gnomish translation?" the blonde girl asked.
Hermione groaned. "It's murder!" she moaned. "All that going around in spirals from the centre of the page? I feel like I'm going round in circles." Daphne nodded sympathetically.
"So what's your star sign, then, Hermione?" Pansy asked.
"Pardon?"
"It's for my Divination coursework," explained Pansy slowly.
"But why would you want to know my…"
"Just tell her your star sign, Hermione," Blaise said, spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork.
Slightly begrudgingly, Hermione admitted that she was a Virgo. This earned giggles from Daphne; Pansy looked at her fellow Slytherin as if to say 'shut up that's getting annoying'.
"Did I say something funny?" Hermione was somewhat perplexed by the giggling from Daphne.
"It's just that Blaise is a Virgo as well," Pansy said in a bored tone. She cast Daphne a somewhat scathing look. "It's not like her birthday's the nineteenth of September, Daffy."
"Um, well, actually…" Hermione got no further in this sentence, however, as all three Slytherins were staring at her: even Blaise had looked up from his book.
Blaise was the first to speak. "We have the same birthday?" he asked.
"Only if yours is the nineteenth of September."
"Well, apparently we do, then."
After pushing the food around on her plate as she thought, Hermione looked up at Pansy. "What's your star sign?"
"Taurus," Pansy said carefully.
Hermione seemed to consider this, and Blaise watched her carefully over the top of his book. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to say.
"I didn't do much Divination, but isn't that supposed to be a good match for Pisces?"
Aha! That was almost exactly what Blaise had been expecting. Almost, because he had not known Ron Weasley's astrological sign. Pansy's cheeks flushed and she muttered something in the affirmative. Daphne looked rather blank, wondering why Pansy was having such a strange reaction to such a seemingly innocent question. Blaise was tempted to say something, but held his tongue. He had not always been on the best of terms with Pansy, but since she had confided in him about her relationship with Weasley, she had mellowed considerably towards him, and he could see the two of them being as good friends as he was with Millicent; she had already started to call him 'Blaisiekins', much to his chagrin.
Trying to change the conversation and relieve Pansy of her discomfort, Blaise said, "This book's actually quite good." Hermione smiled at this.
"Glad you like it."
"Did you know that a cockroach can live for nine days after you cut off its head before it starves to death?"
"Blaise!" Daphne scolded. "I'm trying to eat! I don't want to hear about cockroaches."
He apologised and said, "It got me thinking, and I reckon that, if there was an apocalypse tomorrow, the only living creatures left on the planet would be cockroaches, Blast-Ended Skrewts and Draco Malfoy."
Pansy snorted in a rather unladylike fashion, and Daphne's giggles were renewed. Even Hermione was laughing at this, and Blaise grinned.
"I actually think you might be right," Pansy agreed, as she scooped up a carrot with her fork.
"Has Justin spoken to you about tonight yet?" Hermione asked when she had recovered from her laughing. Pansy and Daphne nodded, but Blaise just looked confused.
"It sounds great!" Daphne enthused. "I hope Dumbledore lets us go."
"Have I missed something?" Blaise enquired, closing his book; his meal was starting to get cold.
"Finch-Fletchley is going to ask Dumbledore if the sixth and seventh years that are still here can go to Hogsmeade tonight," Pansy supplied.
"New Years Eve in the castle is deadly boring," Hermione agreed. Almost on cue, the Hufflepuff bounded over to them, reminding Blaise of an overexcited puppy. He seemed astonished to find Hermione sat with Slytherins, but did not ask why.
"We're allowed to go!" he announced. "Dumbledore said some of the professors were going to the Three Broomsticks, so we're allowed to 'tag along', or something like that."
Pansy pulled a face. "Urgh. So we're going to have teachers watching us all evening." Blaise shook his head.
"Of course not. All we have to do is get them drunk."
Thank Yous: Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter three - Sw33t Vi3t, IsLaNdMoChAgUrL, mydream, Tabii, Lousie, JeanB, ShimmeringEvil, merryday, fire goddess, SkoosiePants and Procella Nox-noctis.
Love and hugs and coffee,
silverphoenix