Chapter number two is finally here! Sorry about the long wait, but school just ended for me. I promise that the next chapter will come much sooner, give me two weeks and I assure you a new chapter will be up by then. See you at the bottom!

Career Choices

Chapter Two: The Choosing

"So Harry, what do you want to be?"

Harry was languidly twirling a lock of Hermione's hair in his hands, smoothing it out gently. He exhaled softly, pulling his hand away to grasp hers, and then turned his head, which happened to be in her lap, to face Ron's.

"Well, I suppose I've always wanted to be an Auror." Harry responded. "You know, considering how I've got that hero complex and everything." It was supposed to be a joke, but Ron only smiled weakly and Hermione could feel Harry's grip on her hand tighten slightly. He tugged his hand away and she obliged, and a few moments later could feel him playing with the hem of her skirt. "Although I'd also really like to be a Quidditch player. Go pro and all that good stuff."

"Sounds good. Quidditch players make good money, especially seekers. Not to mention you're bloody amazing at Quidditch. Though your name alone will rake in enough money to last me a lifetime, not to mention a couple mansions and other cool trinkets anyone would die for." Jokes like these had come slowly, Ron still unsure of whether he could say them, even though Harry was now encouraging it.

Hermione couldn't tell from her viewpoint, but she was sure he was giving Ron that perfected, fake grin that she had grown to hate. "If my name did all that, then I'd never have to work!" He sighed exaggeratedly, bringing a hand to his chest, "But alas, that wasn't meant to be." He shifted so that he was looking up, and now could see both Hermione and Ron. "So Hermione, what about you? Any thoughts?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, chuckling. Of course she had had thoughts. Actually, she had formulated a precise career plan with Professor McGonagall last year that she hadn't mentioned to them yet. It was sort of embarrassing. "Harry, you're talking to me, Hermione Granger. Of course I've thought about it. In great detail, no less."

Ron smiled, "That's our girl." He leaned forward. "So, Miss Granger, what are your thoughts on your future career?"

Hermione flushed, looking away. She had never admitted to them that she had always wanted to be a doctor when she was little, playing with plastic stethoscopes and healing doll patients and the like. She had read her first medical textbook at eight, a text on the anatomical structure of the heart. She had loved it, how everything fit together, how perfectly the heart had been assembled, how this seemingly small muscle kept them all alive. It was fascinating, and she knew that beyond the technical awesomeness of the human body, there was a deep desire in her that wanted to fix those whose bodily instruments weren't working correctly. She wanted to help people that couldn't help themselves. It was no secret, even as a toddler, that she was a bright girl, so if there was something in her power as well, she wanted to do something to help.

Hermione had something of a hero complex as well.

She knew she had no reason to be embarrassed, but she always felt a little odd when it was perfectly clear how she'd planned her life from the get go and her two friends hadn't even really considered it until the meeting earlier. She shrugged, "I thought it might be nice to be a healer. I've always wanted to do it."

It was as if the two were expecting such an answer. Ron grinned broadly, "Of course, a smart job for a smart girl. I should've known from the start." Hermione was beginning to think it was an insult, but Ron quickly clapped a hand to her shoulder, effectively squelching her worries, "You'll be a great mediwitch. I'd surely go to you." Then he winked.

Harry laughed and Hermoine rolled her eyes. Harry's hand found Hermione's once more and squeezed gently. He shook his head at Ron, "Ron, I'm ashamed of you. Get your kicks elsewhere, Hermione is our friend." He then turned to her, smiling with amusement. "I always expected you to be, oh, I don't know, a librarian or professor or something. But a mediwitch, that's great! The Order could do with a healer or two; it'd be perfect." His eyes were hallow for a minute before he shook his head lightly, and the warmth came flooding back. It always managed to give her a chill.

Ron sat back, stretching his arms languidly, "So let me get this straight. Harry and I want to be Aurors and Quidditch players, and Hermione wants to be a healer." Harry and Hermione nodded in response. Ron snorted, "We're like the perfect crime-fighting team. Us three, we're going to save the world."

Harry's eyes darkened, "Let's hope so." His grip on Hermione's hand was much tighter. Then the pressure was gone and Harry was raking the hand through his hair. "So, should we go to McGonogall now?"

Hermione stretched her legs out painfully; they always felt so weird and stiff after something rested on them too long. Ron shrugged, "I'm fine with it, that is, if you are." He directed the last statement to Hermione, who nodded in response. "Excellent!" They all stood, "Let's go."

The headmaster gazed at the group of teenagers solemnly, hands calmly clasped in front of him. His eyes peeked out under the rim of his hat, and after a long, calculated pause he spoke. His voice was barely a whisper, raspy, and though those factors were all due to age, his eyes still contained that resonant youth that always managed to shock them all. Today was no exception. They were like flashing lights, and it was obvious he was eager to begin this project. He opened his mouth to speak, and all attention has steadfastly focused on him.

"Welcome again. I expect your break yesterday was well spent in choosing your future path." His eyes were dancing again, and were almost distracting. Hermione blinked, pay attention! "Yesterday the four Heads of House and myself met to construct groups of three based on career choice. Take heed, it was a difficult decision, and many sacrifices were made for this project." Here the professor's voice became lower and stronger. "I will say this only once, and do not even think about it, but these are your groups. You will not be able to change them in any way, shape or form. Don't even ask, the Heads and I will be very upset if you do." Hermione's eyes narrowed, that didn't sound good. It sounded almost as if he had purposely made them the worst groups possible. He smiled, as if to alleviate the tension that had quickly built, "And now we will announce your groups and hand you your brand new schedules."

He hummed lightly as he accio'd a thin roll of parchment, then opened it deftly and held it in front of him. His mouth quirked into a smile. "Group number one- Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, and Pansy Parkinson, who all wish to be fashion designers." A couple of the Ravenclaws snorted at what appeared to be a ridiculous career. Meanwhile, Padma and Lavender absolutely beamed, until they realized who their third member was. They shot glares at the Slytherin, who was only too eager to glare back. Meanwhile, Hermione was aghast; these were actually careers? People actually wanted them?

And the list went on.

"Group number two- Terry Boot, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas, Aurors." The three boys grinned with relief. At last their group wasn't totally awful. Ron clapped a hand on Dean's shoulder and Harry grinned at Neville.

"Parvati Patil, Hannah Abbot, Lisa Turpin- Gynecolowitch." All the boys winced as soon as they heard this. That was surely an uncomfortable profession they didn't want to be. Hermione smirked at Harry's widened eyes and Ron's coughing. Sometimes it was such fun antagonizing guys.

"Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley- Auror and Professional Quidditch Player." The reactions were interesting, to say the least. Ron turned bright red, Harry choked and started coughing, and Draco's face contorted to the point where Hermione could almost say he looked good. She reached out a sympathetic hand to pat Ron's arm gently and rubbed Harry's arm with the other. Poor them. She knew she'd feel awful if she was placed with the prat.

"Susan Bones, Mandy Brocklehurst, Ernie Macmillan-" Dumbledore's mouth twitched, "Professors."

"Hermione Granger, Seamus Finnigan, and Blaise Zabini- Healers." Seamus turned around to beam that Irish smile of his and Hermione grinned back. Thank God at least one person she didn't mind was on her team, but then, and Seamus was looking around too, who was Blaise Zabini? She glanced at the Slytherin table as Malfoy turned to the dark-haired boy she had run into earlier.

Inadvertently, she tuned out what Dumbledore was saying to hear, and she would never admit this, what Malfoy was saying.

"You? A mediwizard?" Malfoy clapped his shoulder.

The boy whose name she now knew was Zabini shrugged. "Why not? The pay is more than decent."

Malfoy snorted. "Like you need it. Why work when you don't have to?"

"Playing Quidditch takes work," Zabini pointed out.

Malfoy leaned back in his chair, "That's different. Quidditch is fun. Healing is not. Besides, I had originally signed up to be a rich playboy, but Snape wouldn't allow it." Zabini looked at him, and then scoffed in amusement before turning to look towards Dumbledore. With a start, Hermione realized she hadn't been paying attention either and turned to the Headmaster. Unfortunately for her, he had already finished the groups and was now discussing what they were to do next.

"Please congregate with your new groups. Introduce yourselves, for you are stuck with each other for the next two years." His voice was cheery and sparkly, and Hermione could see Ron turn a lovely shade of green. He clapped his hands together, and immediately the groups that liked each other joined up and chatted with joy. Hermione could see Harry send looks of envy towards those groups before dragging Ron along to find Malfoy.

She felt a tapping on her shoulder and spun around to find Seamus, whose expression was now one of worry. "I'm glad you're in my group, but I don't know about this Zabini character. I haven't seen much of him, and if Malfoy's actions indicated otherwise, they seem to be pretty tight. Slytherin pals, I bet." Hermione smiled shortly. Seamus looked away, "He's coming over. Let's hope he's decent for a Slytherin." The words came out harshly and bitingly. Hermione exhaled; prejudice of any form was never good, and Seamus wasn't known for keeping his temper in check. Hermione lay a comforting hand on his forearm before turning to face the boy.

She didn't know how, but somehow she managed to keep her gaze level and focused on the boy in front of her. Merlin, she thought, he really was better looking than all the boys their year combined. It was actually pretty sad. She opened her mouth to speak, but found it didn't work. Seamus' suspicious behavior only raised the tension bar, and for a few moments the three just stood there, assessing each other.

Finally, Hermione couldn't take it anymore and shoved her hand out. "Hermione Granger," she said simply. Zabini looked at her thoughtfully and carefully before reaching out to grasp her hand in his lightly. He gave it a firm shake and then dropped it gently. Hermione willed herself not to blush. His hand was so warm and firm, it was almost sinful. She could feel his muscles rippling beneath his uniform shirt, and she barely stopped herself from shuddering.

Seamus glare only magnified as he too stuck out a hand. "Seamus Finnigan," he growled. "Sorry if I'm a little tense, what with you being good friends with Malfoy and all." Hermione snapped her head at Seamus' to stare incredulously. Not only was that rude, but what a great way to start the two year span. She would've expected that out of Harry or Ron, but Seamus? Then again, if it was the same for Harry and Ron, why couldn't it be the same for the others?

To both their surprise, Zabini cracked a half-smile of amusement. "Blaise Zabini." He grabbed Seamus' outstretched hand and shook it. "And no, I'm not remotely close to Malfoy."

Seamus' glare faltered, and soon his face melted into a sheepish smile, raking his hair back nervously. "Ah…I see. Sorry about that." Hermione exhaled; at least he didn't make a scene of Seamus' comment. Seamus cleared his throat, "So, um, introductions." He looked around, then sighed. "What's there to say? Let's see. Seamus Finnigan, seventeen this December, Irish all the way, and, um, I like Quidditch."

Hermione grinned. "I don't think that was what Professor Dumbledore meant by introductions, though you gave a very pretty one." Seamus flushed, and Hermione laughed, patting his shoulder gently. "Well, if that's how we are going to do this, then Hermione Granger at your service. I turn seventeen later this month; I'm a Gryffindor, and I can't stand Quidditch." Her smile was bright and teasing as she made the last comment.

Seamus laughed, "You don't mean that." Before Hermione could object, he cut in, "You just don't like it when your friends are playing and could get themselves killed." Hermione flushed and slapped Seamus gently. She turned to look at Zabini expectantly.

Zabini nodded, "Blaise Zabini. Turned seventeen last August," he smirked slightly, "Slytherin, and I'm a boy, so of course I love Quidditch."

Seamus whistled, "Wow, seventeen already? That's early. You must be the oldest in our year." Then he smirked, turning to Hermione, "See, Hermione. You can't run away from Quidditch. Every guy in his right mind loves the game. You're never going to win."

Hermione clucked, "We'll see." She turned to glimpse Harry, Ron and Malfoy, who all looked ready to vomit. She shook her head, "I feel so bad for the three of them."

Seamus and Zabini followed her gaze and Seamus chuckled. "I can see how you're sorry for Harry and Ron, but why Malfoy?" He stopped and looked at Zabini as if he just realized a Slytherin was with them.

Zabini waved it off, "Do not worry about it. I really do not care."

Seamus looked at him a second longer before returning his attention to Hermione. Hermione sighed, "Yes, well of course I feel bad for Harry and Ron, they're with the guy they hate the most. But the thing is, so is Malfoy. Malfoy hates them just as much, you have to admit that if you were Malfoy, you'd hate to be there too."

Zabini glanced at her with an assessing eye, and Seamus grimaced. "Yeah, but still. Malfoy, ugh." He shuddered, then exhaled. "Oh joy. A list of our classes. I hope we have good ones." They each picked up their own and looked it over.

Hermione glance at her own and then at the boys'. They had scheduled two hour meetings with the main teachers during the week mornings, but where were her NEWTS? All of her hard-earned NEWTS classes weren't on the list, but why? The afternoons were left open for extra classes, and Hermione was pleased to see that at least her Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes were NEWT level. Before any of them could comment, Dumbledore spoke.

"This year, many things will be different. For instance, I'm sure many of you noticed that the classes you wanted at NEWT level do not have the NEWT marking." Dumbledore's eyes flickered briefly towards Hermione's and she could've sworn that he winked before continuing, "You all did well on your OWLS, so we decided to push you all a little further. Let me assure you that the morning sessions are indeed NEWT level. In fact, they are probably more difficult than the NEWTS, because these instruction periods integrate not only the regular material but material that applies to your career choice."

Seamus sniggered, "That's perfect! Can't you just picture Snape teaching the fashion girls how to make sleakeasy potions?" Zabini raised an eyebrow and Hermione chuckled.

Dumbledore persisted, "Then of course, the afternoon is free for your extra classes and extracurriculars. It has been thought out with careful precision, and you are allowed to be paired with one group during these morning sessions. Choose wisely, and once you have decided, you may come up to me and we will make real timetables for you."

As soon as Dumbledore was finished, chaos ensued. All the groups split up to find their friends

Harry and Ron had to practically drag Malfoy to where Seamus, Zabini and Hermione were standing. Malfoy was rather reluctant at first, but once he got over the initial shock of being with four Gryffindors and realized that Zabini was there as well, he got over it and agreed. The six of them walked up to Dumbledore, told him of their decision, and with bright, sparkly eyes, Dumbledore handed them their timetables.

Now the lists they were given earlier were organized into a schedule, and Hermione was dismayed to see that Potions was the first morning session of the week. Harry and Ron were obviously upset too, and Harry almost lunged at Malfoy when he burst out laughing at their upset expressions.

Once everyone was settled, Dumbledore graced them with a brilliant smile. "Well, that's it now. You're a little late for your first session, so I suggest you hurry!" And with robes cascading behind him, walked out.

It first there was a surprised pause, and then Hermione could hear Harry curse. They hadn't expected to start lessons so soon. Harry and Ron quickly started packing when Malfoy held up a hand. "What's the rush?"

They both turned to look at Malfoy incredulously. "Are you mad? We have Snape first. It doesn't take much for him to take points off.

Malfoy cackled, "But you forget o wise one. We-" He clapped a hand on Zabini's shoulder, who didn't seem as if he cared. "-are Slytherins. Therefore, if we're late, well," he shrugged in that annoying bastard way of his, "then we're late."

Hermione could see the telltale signs of an apoplectic fit. A vein was beginning to throb in Ron's forehead, and Harry's hands kept clenching in and out. Even Seamus didn't seem too pleased, glaring at the blond with unfiltered hate. Hermione sighed; this would be a very long two years. She glanced at Zabini, but when it was obvious he wasn't going to do anything to help, grabbed Harry and Ron's hand. They both looked at her blankly, and Hermione rolled her eyes. She tugged at their hands. "I hate to admit this, but he's probably right. Let's just walk down there and not get into a fight the first day of lessons, okay?" Ron pulled his hand away with a huff but Harry smiled, squeezing reassuringly before letting go.

It would be a very long two years.

It was decided. The Hogwarts professors were definitely out to kill them. Blaise had always thought that he was decently in shape, but just this morning alone proved him very wrong.

Blaise rolled his shoulder back in an attempt to stretch the muscle. Finnigan had his head in his hands and Granger had just conjured a bowl and was now washing her hands in it. After glancing at Finnigan she flicked a few drops of water at Finnigan's head, and even then Finnigan barely stirred, merely waving a hand in her general direction.

It had been a trying day.

Potions was exhausting, to say the least. Snape had spent the first hour with the six students grilling them on facts they might've forgotten over the summer, and of course while Malfoy, Granger and Blaise remembered most of them (or in Granger's case, all of them), the other Gryffindors had a little more difficulty in placing some of the facts and resulted in a decent loss of points for the Gryffindors.

Once that interlude was over, the Hell began. He split them up into their groups and started their group out on a pain-alleviating potion, an extremely exacting potion that usually took a good couple of hours to complete, but he had only given them one to finish. They were barely able to complete it in time, and even then it wasn't correctly done. Their assignment was to study the potion together sometime before the next session in order to have it perfected. According to Snape, time was of the essence, and while that was true, it was, well, Hellish seemed a good word to describe it.

While Potions had been mentally taxing, with Herbology it was all physical. Professor Sprout first had the six wrestle with an interesting looking vine which emitted a very eerie iridescent glow when they went near it. After that, the Auror group went off to pluck fruit off their trees to check whether they were edible or not (apparently this was for survival in the wild should they be in some sort of trouble and cannot apparate or the like). Meanwhile, Sprout made the healers dig five feet underground with three shovels to find all the different roots they could. Once they were done, they were asked to examine them and research their properties before the next session.

Needless to say, Blaise thought it was a little unfair.

Granger groaned as she absentmindedly rubbed her shoulder, "This is why I hate manual labor." Finnigan grunted in response. Blaise felt that someone should at least respond decently to her, so he replied.

"I agree." Granger looked up at him in surprise. Blaise almost smirked; true, it wasn't everyday Blaise spoke of his own volition. "The Malfoy and his group got off way too easily."

Hermione furrowed her brow in astonishment for a split second before she laughed. "Yeah, you're right." Her eyes softened. "The lucky prats. They get to pick and eat fruit." She chuckled to herself as she picked up a floppy tendril root. "And us? We're stuck digging for these."

Blaise cracked a smile before returning to examining the roots they had collected. It had been their luck that apparently there were more than twenty different root types they were going to have to examine. He distinctly hoped that they were actually one root type that somehow mutated to look totally different. Unfortunately, he doubted it.

The door to the greenhouse slammed open to let in a beaming Potter and Weasley, arms laden with apples. Malfoy came in shortly after, munching on a bright red apple. Without a word he placed one in front of Blaise, and he took it with a slight nod.

While Weasley was prodding a conked out Finnigan, Potter waved an apple invitingly in front of Hermione's face. "Come now, take a bite!" Granger started to smile but then hissed quickly as her hand came once again to rest on the junction between her neck and shoulder. Potter's joyous expression quickly morphed to one of worry. "Are you okay?" He reached out a hand but Granger weakly swatted it away.

Granger smiled sheepishly smiled. "It feels like I pulled something." Blaise turned to look at her in the middle of biting his apple. Granger had gotten so worn that she had been injured? Potter opened his mouth to help but Granger immediately continued, "But I'm sure that's not it. Don't worry, Harry. I'm fine."

Potter didn't look much convinced but didn't object. He watched her rub her shoulder for a few seconds more before handing her an apple. She took it with a smile and he moved to the other side of the table. He glanced at his watch before setting himself behind her. "Eat your apple," he commanded gently, and when Granger did so, Potter began to massage her shoulders.

Blaise could see her stiffen slightly before allowing him to, and soon she was laying her head down on the desk so that Potter could get better access to her sore shoulders and back. But there was something odd in the way she was biting her lip, as if she sorely didn't want to be there. Blaise watched as Weasley smirked and continued to poke at Finnigan. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy making a lewd gesture with his fingers and mouth, "They're obviously doing it."

Once Potter was convinced that she was okay, he stopped massaging Granger and made sure she ate the apple he had picked. A few minutes later, Professor Sprout dismissed them and they were finally able to eat.

Blaise could barely move, and it took all his willpower to lug himself to the Great Hall, with Malfoy laughing at him every step of the way. It seemed it would be a very long two years.

"May I sit here?"

Blaise looked up with wonder. No one had ever asked to sit beside him before. The fact that it was Granger made it even weirder. He looked around the Ancient Runes classroom, and once he realized that all the desks were full save theirs, he nodded and returned to his textbook. She sat down with a sigh, and out of the corner of his eye, Blaise could see her put her bookbag with a wince. She was breathing heavily and kept shifting her shoulder and cringing. It was obvious something wasn't right.

Normally he would let her go on with whatever she had to do, but she was his partner. There was no where she was going to permanently mess up her shoulder and leave Finnigan and himself to deal with all the work. He was a pragmatist, and that was just not going to happen. He paused for a few seconds, before closing his book firmly. He turned to face her, "That shoulder isn't all right, is it?"

She stared at him blinkingly before flushing. "Don't worry about it."

"Do not evade my question," he retorted. "Something is wrong, go to Madam Pomfrey after class, see what is up with that."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sure it's fine. Besides, I don't want the guys to worry." The guys being Potter and Weasley, of course.

Blaise exhaled, "If you put any more strain on that shoulder, it could be permanently damaged. I could tell, during Potter's massage. You were ready to cry out in pain and barely restrained yourself." If possible, Hermione's skin flushed a deeper crimson. "It would be ridiculous if a member of the Healer group got injured during lessons."

Granger smiled amusedly, "I suppose it would be rather crazy." She sighed in defeat. "Okay, I promise I'll go after class." And at that moment, the Professor walked in so all conversation ceased.

It was a very interesting lesson, and thankfully very pain free. When class dismissed Granger quickly packed her bag, put it on her shoulder and walked out. Blaise started in surprise; she better not have been lying. He quickly walked out after her and to his disappointment of the girl, saw her walk towards the Gryffindor Tower. He strode towards and in six fast steps reached her side.

He barely gave her time to react. He swiftly took the bag from her shoulder and pulled her from her good arm down the opposite way with her spluttering the whole time. Blaise clucked admonishingly, "Honestly Granger. Madame Pomfrey's office is this way." And with a determined step, Blaise brought Granger to the Hospital Wing.

Pomfrey immediately set to work, giving Granger the same pain-alleviating potion they had been working on earlier that morning, and was about to wrap her shoulder when Pomfrey turned to Blaise. "Aren't you in the healer group as well?" Blaise nodded. "Well then, come here. Hermione can be your first patient." Blaise paused. What? Pomfrey gestured him over. "Come boy. I have to teach you these skills eventually, might as well start now." Blaise was getting a little anxious now. Did that mean he had to actually wrap the bandage around her shoulder? Madame Pomfrey seemed to understand his misgivings, because she gave him a toothy smile. "Don't worry boy. You don't have to physically do it. All you have to is take off her top and say the incantation." She turned to Granger, who was now looking thoroughly shocked. "You are wearing something underneath that, aren't you?" In bewilderment, Granger nodded. "Great, come here. Make sure you don't touch the injury too much." Blaise forced himself to move forward.

Blaise stood in front of Granger, who was flushing bright crimson. He kept his eyes on her face, which was now turned away in embarrassment, as he deftly unbuttoned her shirt, and before he could open it, he walked behind her to slip it off her shoulders from behind. He could barely hear Pomfrey's praise of his efficiency. Granger's right shoulder was a deep hue of red that wasn't natural on skin. It was swollen and looked ready to burst, and Blaise felt almost bad for her. Pomfrey was now right next to him, and after assessing it, she smiled.

"Just a simple sprain. That should be easy to fix. Boy, this is the incantation. Get it right the first time: Medicor corporis."

Blaise repeated her words, and immediately the bandage started wrapping itself around her shoulder. Meanwhile, Pomfrey gave Granger another potion, this one supposedly reduced swelling and worked to heal sprains. Soon she was ready to leave, and Pomfrey congratulated Blaise on a job well done before shoving the two out of her office.

A rather thick silence ensued before Blaise remembered to give Hermione her bag back. She took it with a small smile and Blaise turned to walk to the Slytherin dormitories when he was stopped by Granger's voice.

"Thank you."

Blaise turned slightly to meet her gaze. She kept averting her gaze, as if ashamed of what had happened. And perhaps she had reason to be. She wasn't exactly the prettiest girl around. Charming, certainly, but pretty? Not quite. Average, really. With a quick nod in response, he left with Granger staring at his receding back.

Hermione forced herself not to blush the moment her eyes came into contact with Blaise Zabini's the next day at breakfast. Instead she pointedly looked forward and focused on her friends.

At first she felt pure fury. She couldn't believe he actually forced her to go to Madame Pomfrey's. What on earth possessed him to do that? It was her decision to make, not his! If she didn't want to go, she shouldn't have. Yet did Zabini give a care as to what she wanted? Obviously not. She still could remember her surprise when he took her bag and hauled her to the office.

Then her fury was quickly replaced with a deep, deep embarrassment. One that made her want to bury herself six feet under and lock herself in a coffin, but then she remembered that digging was the reason she was in this mess at all. Didn't matter, there were plenty of other ways to commit suicide at this rate.

He saw her in her bra. That alone made her want to crawl into a hole and never come out. He had taken off her shirt like it was an everyday occurrence. He had just done it with a straight face, and Hermione had the feeling that he didn't even peek. It was just absurd.

Then her embarrassment died out and shame took its place. God, the whole thing was hot.

She could barely breath when Blaise efficiently unbuttoned each one of her buttons with ease. She could feel his gaze on her face the whole time, as if it was to reassure her that he wasn't looking. The thing is, she sort of wanted him to. Would he be as attracted to her as she was to him? Probably not, but damn, the way he made it no big deal was just so bloody sexy. Hermione didn't know what to do.

Later in Transfiguration, Hermione noticed a small slip of paper by her elbow and picked it up very carefully. When she was sure Professor McGonagall wasn't looking, she opened it carefully, and almost dropped it in shock when she the contents. In a neat scrawl she had never seen until the other day, were the words clearly imprinted:

How is your shoulder? Are you feeling better?

Hermione gulped deeply before responding:

I feel loads better. Thank you for asking.

And the next time McGonagall turned to board, she slipped it to Zabini. She watched out of the corner of her eye as his eyes flickered over it briefly before writing something very short underneath her response.

Good.

And after that, they somehow came to a mutual agreement that no one found shocking. Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger were two people who believed in the art of practicality; it was only natural these two people got along. They weren't friends by any means, for that would have been heresy, but they were okay with each other. And in such a time of war as these, sometimes that was all one could ask for.

Author's Notes:

The next chapter is finally complete:does a happy dance: The great part is, it should get a tad more interesting now that stage is set and the ball is rolling. Whee, I'm excited.

Now, I know I didn't mention all the students in their year, but I had some trouble placing a few of them (does anyone know who Morag Macdougal is?), so in the end I decided to leave some people out. Later on I may bring some left out characters when they're needed, so they're not completely gone from this story.

So, what do you think? Please, review and let me know. It would do me a world of good. Once again, I promise my chapter intervals will from now on be regulated. See you (and I mean it) in two week's time.

Translations-

Medicor-to heal

Corporis-the body