Disclaimer: Still own nothing....
Author Notes: Sorry for the slight delay... These semester exams are starting to worry me... for my World History class there is so much information I don't even know where to start studying! Sighs Ah well, hope you guys are having lovely, stress-free lives right now. HOpefully I'll be more efficient in posting the chapters.. I have a lot written, but typing them up just makes me late, because I have a chronic Five Minutes Late syndrom. I'm five minutes late for everything, and it's no joke. But anyways, enough about me, onto the story!

Sidenote: Also, I have decided to change the category of this story from Romance to Romance/Tragedy. Because of the end I have planned, it's sad, but happy at the same time.

Enjoy!

Finding Gray

"Are we moving in the motion of the crowd now
Slowly losing everything we were about now
Is it time to draw a line in the sand now
And take a stand now"

-"Numb" by Tait

Chapter Four: The Aestifer

That night at quarter to seven, Blaise packed up her Potions books and set out for the library. Students were mulling through the hallways and corridors, chatting incessantly and heading towards different common rooms. Blaise walked slowly to the library, wanting to prolong the time till she had to meet Weasley.

The red-headed boy was so enigmatic, always hidden in the shadow of famous Harry Potter, always intellectually shaded by brainy Hermione Granger. Blaise asserted that it must be difficult to have friends like that, who were naturally shoved into the spotlight, though by no fault of their own. Blaise also knew, from certain sources (Draco) that the Weasley boy was only one of a numerous amount of Weasley kin, all of which having red hair and some special skill they were well-recognized for.

For indeed, how could Blaise have forgotten that one stuck-up Weasley who became Head Boy and strolled through Hogwarts as if he were Merlin himself? Then there were those two devilish pranksters, who constantly engendered chaos in the school with their practical jokes and their infamous departure two years ago. Blaise had never really noticed Ron actually existed until this year- bumping into him and becoming his partner for Potions. It was interesting, in a disconcerting kind of way, to open your eyes and discover people who have been in class with you your entire life- or so it seems- yet you never notice them.

There are some human beings who draw attention towards themselves by just breathing. They attract this attention unintentionally, it happens because nature deems it so, just like it's natural that water turns to ice at freezing temperatures. Then, opposite these extroverts are the quiet, sensible, often smart, and shadowed by the people they surround themselves with. Blaise could relate to this category, and she had a fair guess that Ron could too.

Upon finding Weasley in the library, she went off in search of a book that would tell them exactly what their potion was. Once this was done, they could go off in search of the appropriate counterpotion.

Blaise found an entry on the Aestifer Potion in Advanced Potions and Concoctions for Magical Healing. She brought it back to the table where Ron was scribbling something on a piece of parchment.

"Alright," she announced. "I've found a book that has it's description, even though it doesn't have the instructions for making it."

Blaise proceeded to read:

Aestifer Potion- This concoction can be a marvelous mixture for providing warmth to the human body or to liquid. It is very practical; however, this potion can be dangerous, torturous, and fatal if not properly administered.

One drop of Aestifer is all that is needed to accomplish a moderate warmth.

Two drops: Best used only in critical conditions or extreme cases. If used improperly, two drops can lead to heat exhaustion. This amount of potion will make water begin boiling.

Three-Four drops: Can result in moderate to extreme heat exhaustion.

Five of more is usually too much, and can be brutal torture and lead to death.

"Ugh! This sounds terribly gruesome!" Blaise said aloud when she was finished reading the text.

"I think it's kind of interesting," Weasley commented, although this tone was slightly accusing.

"Interesting, yes, but it sounds completely dangerous. If I were a healer I would be positively frightened to feed this to any patient for fear of killing them!"

"It's almost like poisoning," Weasley agreed. "Only with better torture capacity."

Blaise thought this was slightly barbaric. But then she studied him. He seemed agreeable enough to have a pleasant conversation with when she took away the fact that he was a Gryffindor.

And the two had almost had a pleasant discourse; actually approached that barrier of difference that restrained them from conversing together with a general sense of kindness. But then centuries of hate and prejudice reared it's ugly head and the world as it was fell back into place and they both remembered exactly who they were: Slytherin and Gryffindor.

There was a silence.

"Uh…" Ron said charmingly.

"Well…" Blaise said at the same time, with no lack of wittiness.

Even Slytherins and Gryffindors alike hate that dreadful occurrence called The Awkward Silence.

"Uhm… I suppose that we should get the instructions on how to make the Potion, then…" Ron said.

"Except for I highly doubt that the recipe will be anywhere but the Restricted Section, this being a deadly potion and all," Blaise stated.

"You're probably right."

"I think so."

"But, uh… who do you suppose should ask Snape for the signature?" Ron asked carefully. "Because I really don't think he'd want to give it to- well… me."

Blaise raised her eyebrows.

"What makes you think he would be willing to give it to me?" Blaise knew the reason perfectly, but there was something alluring about making Weasley state the obvious; just to make him uncomfortable.

"You know why," Ron retorted. "Everybody knows why."

"I don't," Blaise said, just to aggravate him.

"Oh, I think you, of all people, know," he scowled.

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Fine!" Blaise yelled angrily and stood up. "You look for the counterpotion, and I'll get the stupid signature."

"Deal," Ron said harshly.

Blaise sat down again, slightly calmer now, pulled out the book again, took a piece of parchment, and began taking notes of the Aestifer. Ron stood up and began his quest for a counterpotion.

'He could have looked in this book,' Blaise thought. 'After all, it does have suggested counters right underneath the description.' Out of the kindness of her heart, she was about to tell him, when she realized she didn't know what to call him: Ron or Weasley? The former sounded too casual, like they were friends or actually liked each other. No, Slytherins and Gryffindors definitely did not maintain first-name relationships. But Weasley? That always seemed like a thing guys did- call each other by their surnames. Why was this so confusing? Blaise decided not to call him anything.

"Um, there are counter potions in here," Blaise managed to get out before Ron had stravaged out of sight.

He turned around and slowly walked back to their table. "Oh… um. Alright," he said, sitting down again.

They worked in uneasy silence for a few minutes, when Blaise tried talking to him again.

"Look. I'm sorry I was being annoying earlier," she began. "But it's going to be a very long year if we keep concentrating on the fact that we're enemies."

Ron raised his eyebrows as if saying "Duh".

She continued anyways. "So I think that we should try not to fight, at least not when we have to be together to work on this."

He looked at her for a while, as if gauging the sincerity behind her proposal. After a while, he seemed to come to a conclusion. "Alright," he said. "I can handle that."

"Good," Blaise said, then took a breath and focused again on her work.

And like that, The Awkward Silence disappeared and they worked in quiet, taking notes and occasionally asking a question until the library closed at 8:30.

With all of the changes and fluctuations of life, Ron depended on one thing to remain constant. This was the ability of Slytherins to be as malicious as possible and full of taunting remarks at all times, alone or in groups.

So why didn't Blaise Zabini live up to this expectation?

It was useless to pretend she didn't know about his dirt poor family- after all, there were six of them, and all with red hair. Nor was she unaware of the fact that his best friend was Harry. Blaise hung out with Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson- that crowd- and they made sure that Ron's life was as close to Hell as possible.

But she never made any comments. Zero. She acted defensive though, as if he had said something assaulting to her, and she was just protecting herself. Ron supposed this was plausible; she obviously thought that he was going to do or say something cruel, and without her friends around, she wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it.

Just like a typical Slytherin.

Friday morning dawned clear and cold, the sun showing it's face but not radiating her heat for the world to feel. The weekend was held suspended in the air. One more day of classes and the first week of Blaise's last year at Hogwarts would come to a close.

Breakfast was the same as usual: Pansy grumbling about a hideous pimple that had sprung up on the tip of her nose overnight. She was constantly asking Millicent and Blaise if it really looked beastly, to which they adamantly repeated that "No, it was not beastly" (it was), and that she looked "perfectly fine" (the pimple made her look like Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer). Millicent was talking endlessly about how Theo Nott had agreed to go to the first Hogsmeade trip with her, and Draco was sullenly glaring at the Gryffindor table. It was, in all aspects, an ordinary morning.

"Honestly," Pansy continued her pitiful questioning of everyone in sight. " Honestly, I don't think you guys are telling me the straight truth," she whined. "I need a guy's opinion." She turned to Draco. "I really need you to tell it to me straight. Is this pimple completely hideous?"

Pansy was pointing to the big, ugly, red splotch that was currently taking up her entire nose, but Draco was still shooting dagger glares at the Gryffindor table.

"Uh, Draco?" Pansy tapped his shoulder, taking his eyes away from it's target. "What's the matter with you this morning?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and looked back at the enemy's lair. "Mudblood," he growled.

"What?" Pansy asked. "Isn't she always bothering you?"

"She's my partner for Potions," he said, as if they didn't already know. "And I have to meet her tonight to work on the project. I mean, Friday night! Of all the nights in the world, she has to pick Friday! Who does schoolwork on Friday nights?" He was close to shouting. "Bloody Granger," he muttered.

"At least you aren't paired up with Longbottom," Millicent complained. "At least Granger has brains, she can do all the work and you'll still get a perfect score. Longbottom can't brew a potion if his life depended on it. Now I've got to do all the work," she grumbled.

"Well, you're a lazy slob anyways Mill," Pansy drawled in a teasing tone. "But we still love you."

"At least Longbottom isn't an insufferable know-it-all who questions your superiority as a Pureblood," Draco shot back with vehemence. "She's going to lord all of her ugly brains over me- it'll be bloody war. She can't go a minute without telling someone what to do. Look at Potter and the Weasel. She's got them eating out of the filthy palm of her Mudblood hand."

Blaise flushed at Draco's biting words. He continued his rant.

"Well, if she wants to play cat and mouse, I'm game," he said, still glaring at Granger, who was busy in a conversation with Weasley. "I'll show her who is boss," Draco finished stubbornly.

They continued complaining about their Potions partners, everyone except for Blaise speaking up.

"What about you Blaise? You got stuck with Weasley," Pansy pointed out in a disgusted voice. "That's just as bad as Potter and Granger."

"Not likely," Draco muttered moodily.

What about Weasley? Blaise truthfully didn't know what to say about him, besides the obvious fact that he was a Gryffindor. She didn't feel like saying that being around Ron evoked only a climate of awkwardness, nothing more, nothing less. Blaise realized that she didn't hate him, per se; at least she didn't experience this vaulted degree of dislike that her friends always illuminated when describing Gryffindors. There wasn't hatred, she knew, and was fairly certain Weasley knew also. Blaise was only aware of the awkwardness between them.

"Um, it's pretty bad," she tossed in an detached manner.

"Weasley's a fool," Draco commented, for good measure.

"Well, I've only had one meeting with him so far," Blaise stated. "We're going to meet three times a week from here on out."

"Three times?" Millicent spluttered.

"I'll probably be meeting Granger every day of the week," Draco mumbled.

"Merlin Blaise, you're an angel," Pansy said with awe. "How can you handle being around him?"

"She didn't choose to be his partner, Pan," Millicent pointed out. "I guess you are right- I am lazy. Longbottom and I haven't even decided when to meet."

"Join the club," Pansy threw right back. "And I'm expecting Potter to make the first move. Draco, will you please stop glaring at Granger like that? It's starting to creep me out."

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