Disclaimer: I do not own anything. This should be apparent by now, shouldn't it?
A/N: Second in the Trapped Series. I hope it's interesting. Enjoy!
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She kept watching him from across the Great Hall. Every day, when she sat down to have breakfast and sipped her tea she watched him. Even when Harry or Ron asked her something, she watched him.
But he didn't watch her. He made a point of not watching her, in fact. He wouldn't look at the Gryffindor table at all, and made jokes to Draco Malfoy, pointing in her direction and laughing.
She didn't know that he watched her during lunch. He watched her in an understated way. He didn't stare, as she did and he certainly didn't try to catch her eye. He participated in conversations and was a master at looking away right when she glanced at him. His friends told him to get over it and just go over and talk to her, but he refused, saying it was the principle of the thing. She had allowed her friends to insult and walk all over him without saying a word. He would wait for her. He was waiting for her. He had been waiting for her for years.
He remembered when she went to sit up on the three-legged stool to be sorted. He remembered every strand of that bushy hair. He remembered when she came into his carriage, where he, Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott were sitting, talking about their summers. He'd known Millicent for years, but had only met Theodore the previous year.
He had watched her since second year. Watched her bear Malfoy's insults when she should've yelled back at him. Watched her be frozen by the basilisk. He'd visited her then, in the hospital. He'd gone when Potter and Weasley weren't there and sat by her bedside, stroking her hand and making sure no one saw him.
But he'd watched her closer since fourth year when she showed up at the Yule Ball and looked more beautiful than she ever had. Not that he hadn't thought she was attractive before then, of course not. But that night her beauty came out for all. He'd known it was there all along, but to see Weasley's mouth drop open, as well as Malfoy's… it was truly a sight to behold. But his pleasure was taken away later that week when she'd yelled for the whole school to know that if Ron Weasley wanted to take her to a ball, then he'd better ask her before someone else did next time.
Since then he had hated Weasley. He didn't publicize it. He wasn't that type. That was Malfoy who showed how much he despised people. Blaise's way was to quietly derail them, to eventually take what they loved. In this case, taking what Weasley wanted included him getting Hermione. So the results were win-win.
His most desperate measure was shoving her into that closet. He'd never thought about it, just did it. It was instinct, and a chance to get her on her own, to talk to her without her ever-present bodyguards at her side.
He sighed, and scooped up more mushy peas. His eyes flickered to her and he saw her excuse herself, but without her bag. His conclusion was that she was going to the bathroom. Waiting until she was out of the Great Hall, he got up and silently followed her. He snuck into the bathroom once he was sure she was in a stall and went to the stall next to hers. When she went to wash her hands, he stood up and exited his stall. Seeing her shocked face when he came and stood beside her and nonchalantly washed his hands in the sink beside hers was priceless.
"Fancy seeing you here, Granger," he remarked, keeping it cool.
Hermione couldn't form a good enough comeback, so, "This is a girls' toilet," slipped out.
Blaise glanced around, as if surprised. "Really, Granger? Is it? That would explain why when I normally come in here people run screaming from it and Snape gives me detention."
"I'm sure he just gives you something easy," Hermione said, squeezing more soap into her hands. "And I'm not surprised that he doesn't take points."
"Granger, he makes me reorganize his ingredients cabinet, which is not easy, I shall assure you." He shook his hands over the sink and started to walk to the towel dispenser. "However, Granger-"
Hermione exploded. "For Heaven's sake! Please, if you're going to talk to me at all call me Hermione! 'Granger' is just too- too- too… formal," she finished lamely.
He walked back to her and placed his hands on her shoulders and his chin in the center of her head, looking into her mirror-reflected eyes. "Are you sure there's no… other reason?" he asked hopefully.
A smile bloomed on her face. "Well," she said shyly, "there might be…"
"Tease," he said, grinning at her, twirling her around. "Tease!"
She grabbed his collar and pulled him down to her face. "Better a tease," she said against his lips, "that not interested."
They kissed for several minutes until they heard someone coughing by the doorway. Breaking apart quickly, their heads whipped to look at whoever was standing there.
Ginny Weasley was leaning against the door, laughing silently, and grinning at the flushed faces of Hermione and Blaise. "Zabini," she said, "you do realize this is a girls' toilet, don't you?"
Keeping a straight face, Blaise replied, "What, you'd rather it be a boys?"