Disclaimer: Once again, nothing is mine.
Author Notes: Well, here is the third chapter of the story! I'm thinking about updating every Friday, although it might change to Sundays... I can't be sure. I have final exams coming up in a few weeks time, so I might not be very consistent for a while.

Thanks for my first three reviews- Mat Glue, Snickerdoodles4u, and Mio Granger. It made my day to get your opinions on my story and to know that people are reading it! Anybody that hasn't reviewed, please do!

Enjoy!

Finding Gray

"These are not men like us, strange beasts with bodies that shine like the sun and weapons that spout fire and thunder. They prowl the earth like ravenous wolves, consuming everything in their path."

-From the Disney movie Pocahontas

Chapter Three: Crushes and Potions

Ron chanced a glance behind him as he stalked off awkwardly. The Slytherin he recognized as Blaise was still kneeling on the floor retrieving her scattered school books.

Ron almost felt guilty for not helping her. He should have been looking where he was going- then he could've just walked by her without sparing her a glance. Instead he had been reading over his Care of Magical Creatures assignment, wondering whether or not he would even be able to read about so many animals within the course of 24 hours. Anyways, Ron felt slightly guilt-ridden. After all, he had knocked her down- even if it was accidentally. But even if he had wanted to help her up, something in her eyes had told him that if he came any closer she might hex him into oblivion, so Ron had kept his distance. Besides, Blaise was a Slytherin. She wouldn't have accepted his help in the first place.

Even though Ron had not missed the look of fear that filled her eyes for a fraction of a second when they realized who the other was, but thatlook had shifted into one of defiance. Also, she acted sarcastic and superior. Ron would not have expected anymore from a Slytherin. It was in their nature.

Blaise was left winded by her run-in with Ron Weasley, because no sooner had he departed that she noticed his bright red-hair, similar in shade to the hair on the red-headed boy in her dream. Were they the same two people? She had no clue, and this discovery took her to the point of exhaustion.

What did everything mean? Why were her dreams always so symbolic? Couldn't she have those nice, normal dreams about swimming in cauldrons or strolling into class naked? Of course, the latter would be humiliating in reality, but everybody had those kinds of dreams. Why was she so different?

Blaise made her way down to the Great Hall for dinner. The halls were deserted for the most part, since everyone was downstairs filling their empty stomachs.

Upon her arrival at the Slytherin table, she noticed that both Millicent and Pansy were absent. Raising an inquiring eyebrow at Draco, whom she had sat across from, she dished up some delicious looking pot roast and mashed potatoes.

"Millicent is in bed, she's not feeling so well," Draco informed her. "And Pansy is in detention."

"Detention? Already?" Blaise was surprised.

"Yep. The girl works fast, what else can I say?" He said, with a hint of pride.

"What teacher did she torment today?"

"McGonagall," Draco replied with a grin. "Apparently, she said something to Mudblood Granger, and McGonagall overheard. Everyone knows that Granger is her favorite, so… hence the reason Pansy isn't here."

Blaise didn't say anything and tried to block out the annoying, persistent voice inside her that blatantly screamed "You're a mudblood too, just the same as her!"

As much as Blaise thought Draco was unfair to her when he used thelabel "mudblood", she was tired of chastising him and making her friends feel guilty. It made them feel bad and her singled out, so why did she even attempt correcting them? Sometimes, that irrational, rude part of herself got angry with her because she was supposed to be used to the term by now. Seven years Blaise, seven. You should know they don't mean to hurt you.

But it still reminded her of who she really was.

"So, how were your first classes?" Draco asked, changing the topic.

"Fine, for the most part," Blaise said as nonchalantly as she could manage.

He knew her better than that. "But…?" He pressed.

Blaise sighed and wished she possessed the ability to wipe the emotions off her face the way Draco could. He saw right through her, and now she felt like a baby pouring out her worries and anticipations.

"But… I'm nervous about Potions."

When she didn't elaborate on anything, he gestured for her to go on.

"I'm just…I'm just nervous about working with a Gryffindor for this project he's assigning us."

Draco nodded. "I thought you would be."

Blaise looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

"Blaise, don't take it the wrong way. I meant that it's just part of your personality. Whereas I would be looking forward to pairing up witha measly Gryffindor because of the general deriding and torturing that would ensue, you would be more likely to be apprehensive about it because of those exact reasons."

"Well, you thought right. As sad as it is, I'm scared out of my mind. A whole year Draco! And I have to spend time alone with a Gryffindor!" Now Blaise was gushing out every worry. "I mean, you know how I am… and they're going to judge me the wrong way, of course. I'm just so nervous and…" She was wringing her hands now and fidgeting with her napkin.

Draco looked at her steadily for a second or two.

"Don't worry. I'll kill whoever your partner is if they threaten or hurt you in any form," he declared boldly.

Blaise cracked a weak smile.

"Let's see..." he said, and ran through a list of things he could do to a Gryffindor, many of which were bloody, crude, or evil in general.

"You remind me of a big brother, you know," she remarked after he was finished listing his plans and ideas for creative Gryffindor hexing.

He stopped smiling at her and gave a short laugh that sounded forced. "I've got to go," he muttered abruptly. "Just remembered I need to get a book from the library before I forget." He stood up and strode away from the table.

Blaise frowned. Draco was so confusing. She recalled the days when she thought she was in love with him. Third year, thirteen years old, when boys and girls started discovering that the opposite sex wasn't inflicted with those imaginary monsters commonly referred to as "cooties". Blaise remembered the nervousness eating away at her stomach, interfering with her ability to speak to him. She recalled glancing at Draco about every two seconds. She had thought she was in love, fully and completely, except that she wasn't. Draco never returned the feelings. Instead, he shot them down.

Blaise would never forget the day she and Draco had been strolling back down to the Slytherin common room. She had been so ecstatic that she had him all to herself, all alone, and felt a surge of confidence. This wash of self-assurance was what compelled her to profess her feelings to him, something so uncharacteristic for sweet, shy Blaise. She told him, and he stopped walking, turned towards her sharply, and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Excuse me?" He asked her.

All of a sudden, a flood of embarrassment washed away all of Blaise's previous confidence. Draco's eyes suddenly seemed like daggers, they were piercing her and peering into her soul. She didn't like the tone of his voice either, harsh and ragged. Why did he sound angry? This wasn't going the way she had anticipated. What had she been thinking, pouring out her whole bloody heart like this to him? Did he actually want her to repeat her entire love soliloquy again? And when he had that expression on his face? All of these thoughts were popping up in Blaise's head from nowhere. They jumbled together and jostled each other, confusing her so much that her mind was wiped blank. She felt like screaming. She was going to start crying. Any minute, an ugly, hurtful lump was going to appear in her throat.

Draco must have noticed this. "Look," he said, this time softening his voice a little. "Look Blaise, I'll just tell you straightforward. I can't feel the same way for you. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to love you like that."

Blaise wasn't exactly sure what emotion was displayed on her face, but she knew it betrayed her.

Draco probably noticed this also. "Blaise, I can't feel that way for you… I mean, I know you don't understand why, but please believe me, and…" For once, he was struggling to find the right words. "Someday you'll know why, I promise you, but not now."

Right then, she felt it- the lump made it's presence known in her throat. She had two options: swallow it (very painful) or allow it bring tears (embarrassing her further and forcing a loss of self-composure). 'Come on Blaise,' she had thought to herself. 'Pretend you're Millicent. She would never make herself look weak in front of a boy.'

But nothing worked, and Blaise's eyes welled up.

Draco looked awkward now. "Please, Blaise, please don't cry. I… I love you, just… in a different way. I really care for you, it's just- it's not in the way you imagine."

A tear slid down her cheek. It was so sweet, Draco breaking down all of his well-constructed layers just to show her he cared, but she couldn't handle it then, not on top of the rejection.

He tried to touch her arm, but Blaise backed away. He stood there awkwardly for one moment, then turned around and walked towards the common room.

When she was sure he was gone, she let a thousand tears streak down her face,they welled up from her bitter embarrassment and her utter shame in herself. The dungeon corridor was suddenly cold, and Blaise shrank down against a wall and cried till her head hurt. When she was done, she walked back to the common room to her dormitory, crawled into bed, and fell into a sleep, dreaming of nothing.

It took months after that to reestablish a normal relationship with Draco again. Rejection is like removing a single block from the bottom of a toy block building. A small concept, but the effects are strong and long-lasting.

"Class! There is no need to talk once you enter my classroom. Immediately take your seats, we have much to do today."

Blaise had the feeling that Snape had been eagerly and evilly anticipating this day from the moment this formidable project idea took root in his brain.

Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous beyond all belief. Blaise wished she had feigned sick this morning rather than stepped foot in this Potions classroom and receive what she was positive would be her death sentence.

Snape's mouth curved upward into what one could only deem a wickedly joyous smile. Blaise felt sick. All around her, fellow Slytherins were putting on their game faces, sporting uniform, evil smirks. Pansy, Millicent, Draco- every single one looked relatively excited. Blaise felt like a giraffe in a room of dwarves.

Snape continued his speech.

"You all know that you will be assigned your year-long Potions project partners this class period. I have ensured that each of you is paired with a classmate you are not very well acquainted with." He flashed a sarcastically kind smile to both ends of the room- Slytherin and Gryffindor. "I do hope that this project will help to eliminate some of the hostility between two extremely competitive Houses such as yourselves. If you are not able to work together agreeably, then this certainly will be a long year," he finished slowly, accenting every syllable, just in case someone missed his meaning.

Which was, basically, Gryffindors would be paired with Slytherins and vice-versa. The little flicker of hope Blaise once had of being partnered with a fellow Slytherin dwindled away.

"So without further ado," Snape said, conjuring a parchment from his desk with a flourish, "Here are the pairings."

They proved to be as terrible as Blaise had imagined. Millicent was stuck with Neville Longbottom ("So much from raising my Potions grade," she grumbled before stomping off to a terrified looking Longbottom), Pansy was paired up with Potter, and Draco was partnered with Hermione Granger (at this announcement, Draco let off a series of expletives under his breath).

"Ms. Zabini," Snape called, at last arriving to the last name on the list. "You will work with Mr. Weasley," Snape proclaimed in a tone full of spite.

Blaise's heart pounded in her chest, and the feeling of sickness in her stomach did not abate in the least. She watched him stand up with his bookbag and walk over to Blaise's table. She noticed he was slightly red in the face, though not red enough to match the vivid color that was his unruly mess of hair.

He sat down awkwardly and looked at her defiantly, as if she had said something offensive to him, although neither had uttered a single word to the other.

After the pairs were assigned and seated, Snape came around to every pair and gave them a sheet of parchment that contained the details of the project and the potion each group was to make.

When Blaise looked at the sheet, she saw the name of the potion- Aestifer. She had no idea what that was. She silently handed the sheet to Weasley, who looked at it with unrestrained bewilderment.

"Do you know what it means?" He asked her indignantly, without reference to what the "it" was.

"You mean, do I know what the name of the potion means?" Blaise was impressed with how cool her voice sounded.

"Yes, that would be what I asked," he replied haughtily, as if she were stupidnot tounderstand.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Blaise retorted, her frustration mounting. "I couldn't understand your question." She wasn't at all sorry and she said it with fake sincerity.

Ron just raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. "So, do you know what the potion is or not?" He asked again.

"No. I don't," Blaise said in defensive tones. "Why? Do you?"

This had to be the most immature conversation she had had in a long while, but Weasley was making her irritated.

He glared. "No."

"Well, then one of us had better look it up. And another should find an appropriate counter-potion."

"Um, we have a slight problem there," he pointed out in a smart-aleck tone. "Until we can figure out what our potion is, exactly."

Blaise glared at him. Do I look stupid to him? Why is he treating me like I'm a five-year-old? I know what to do, I'm a big girl, I can figure out the obvious. That's the problem with Gryffindors. They always assume things about you, they judge you before they get to know you.

She decided to make a move towards getting something done. "Alright, when do you want to meet?" She asked him.

"Don't know," he said. Might as well have said "I would rather not," but that would be impossible. "How about 7:00 on Wednesday nights."

It wasn't much of a question, more like a statement.

"Well, we're going to need more time to work on this than just once a week," Blaise stated matter-of-factly. "What about Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at seven in the library?"

She then realized what she had said. Three days a week? Was she out of her mind? She just digged her own grave.

Weasley once again raised his eyebrows. "Alright, but let's make it as quick as possible. Seven to eight, would you say?"

"Sounds good," Blaise finished quickly. Anything to get this over with.

The rest of their time was spent in an agonizing silence. When Potions ended, Blaise felt relief wash over her like water quenching the thirst of a man who has wandered through a desert for a few weeks.

But she didn't know how she was going to survive the next year.

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