Woohoo! Finished this one earlier than I thought I would. Enjoy!

Written for Hogwarts Flying Lessons Assignment 3 - Task: Consider the speed of a relationship! Maybe one of our pairing is moving too fast in some regard and making the other uncomfortable. Prompt Used: (location) Hogsmeade

Word Count: 1, 936

It was already April, but Hogsmeade was still covered in a light blanket of snow. Through the window tinted with silvery frost, Hermione could see only a couple of people out on the streets - probably because it was already so late into the evening.

She turned away from the glass, cupping her mug of warm butterbeer as she shifted in her cushioned seat. Her eyes darted around the Three Broomsticks skeptically, but it, like outside, only housed a few other people here tonight, all adults who probably wouldn't recognize them without their school ties. Still -

"This is so illegal," she said under her breath.

"That's only the fiftieth time you've said that." Blaise, who was sitting directly across from her, sipping his own butterbeer, rolled his eyes. "It's not illegal, per say."

"It's against the rules." Hermione groaned. "Why are we here again? By the time we get back, it'll be past curfew."

Blaise looked unconcerned. "You're a prefect. You can make up an excuse."

"I can't lie to them." But Hermione momentarily let it go, leaning back in her seat as she observed the boy sitting across from her. "So exactly why are we here again?"

Blaise ran a hand through his hair. This made Hermione's eyes narrow as she watched him glance around the bar. The Slytherin had a habit of ruffling his hair when he was nervous or uncomfortable - not that either was a common emotion for him, which made her wonder even more about why he had, this morning, pulled her aside and practically demanded that they sneak out of the school for a "bit of relaxation time".

Honestly, Hermione didn't know why she had agreed. The only reason she could think of was that she had finished all her homework already and that lately Ron and Lavender had taken to kissing in the Gryffindor common room, and that was very annoying. It was more than annoying, actually, but now that she was here with Blaise, she did not feel like thinking about that or Ron like she often did.

Blaise put on a mischievous grin. "We're here because I wanted to get away from the school. And because you've been looking stressed lately."

She snorted, though pleased that he'd noticed something about her. "So basically we're only here because you wanted to break some rules. And I have not been that stressed. I've been doing really well with schoolwork, actually. If anything, it's Harry that's -"

Hermione stopped speaking abruptly, and bit down on her lip, hard.

"Potter, eh?" Blaise leaned in conspiratorially. "And about Weasley? How is he doing with the Brown girl?"

Hermione's stomach dropped and she shot a deathly glare him.

"Thought so." Blaise added casually, "You know, you're always fidgety when you mention him."

She blushed. "Am not!"

"Are too," Blaise smirked.

"I'm not!"

"You are."

For a moment, they stared defiantly at each other from across the table, Hermione's cheeks flushing still (damn her cheeks for being so pale) and Blaise's hand inching toward his hair again. Then suddenly, they broke eye contact and reached for their butterbeers at the exact same time.

Hermione rapidly withdrew her hands and changed the subject. "So why did you want to escape the castle? And," she added deliberately, "couldn't have you gotten one of your friends to come with you instead of me?"

Blaise shrugged behind his cup. "They were busy," he said nonchalantly when he had finished drinking and set down his cup with a clang. "Plus, I needed to tell you something."

She arched an eyebrow, going for her cup now that he was finished. "About what? Is this about the Arithmancy final, because I talked to Professor Vector and she said she's doing something different before N.E.W.T.s this year. So no partners."

"Really?" Blaise frowned. "I was so looking forward to being partners again."

"Me too," Hermione said, surprised that he felt the same.

"But no, that's not what I was going to tell you about." Blaise sat forward, and his face grew serious. Hermione leaned toward him, arms crossed and flat on the table. His eyes traced around the bar as he continued, "But you cannot tell a soul that you were here with me, Granger. Swear it."

She frowned at him defiantly. "I will promise no such thing, Zabini, until I know what you're talking about."

"Swear it," he repeated stubbornly.

"What is it about?"

"You'll find out after."

"I'm not going to promise anything until you say what it is!"

Blaise muttered under his breath in Italian. When she didn't relent, he glared. "Fine. It's about You-Know-Who. Now will you promise not to say anything?"

Hermione stilled, chills rushing across her skin as her lips parted in shock. Blaise apparently took her wide-eyed silence as a yes because he exhaled and said, "Good. Now don't speak until I'm done."

The noises from the bar seemed to fade fast away, Blaise's steady voice carrying all the sounds Hermione trepidatiously focused on. "I'm only telling you this because you get in so much trouble all the time, and knowing Potter, he'll drag you into this and you'll follow him whatever the circumstances." He gave a short laugh. "You'd follow him anywhere, even if it meant your lives. Anyway, it doesn't matter that much this time. They won't go after Potter unless he goes after them, which is pretty likely. But they aren't too concerned about you, either. If you keep on the lookout, nothing will happen to you or your precious friends."

"They, Blaise?" Hermione, frozen with the sudden cold creeping into her heart, fought to harden her voice. "Who exactly are they?"

"You know who I'm talking about." He kept his composure even as she slowly stood, hardly aware of the pounding in her ears. She did know who he was talking about, or at least she thought she knew, and for once she hoped she was wrong.

"How do you know this?" She searched his face but she could not see any overwhelming emotion in his eyes, just the reflections of the golden lights in the bar in his dark irises. "They aren't a threat right now, t-they can't get here to Hogwarts, the Apparition wards -"

"Clever, Granger, like always," Blaise muttered, making no indication that he was going to burst into a grin and declare it all a joke like she desperately wanted him to. Hermione's expression hardened; she stepped back from him.

"How do you know this?" she repeated then shook her head, setting her jaw. "Are you one of them?"

Her shoulders sagged in brief relief when he said simply, "No."

They stayed there, silent, Blaise staring at her and she at him and the yellow room spinning in circles. She looked at their mugs of golden, sweet butterbeer on the table and wondered how it was possible that five minutes ago, they had been sitting here and acting normally, and that it had now come to this.

This. She did not want this.

She did not want this kind of information from Blaise. Since when had they gotten close enough to talk about the world outside of theirs? Usually they only worked together on homework and studies, with the exception of her occasional slip about Harry or Ron. But she had never said anything personal about them or herself, and Godric knew that Blaise never mentioned any of his friends or anything big about himself. That was the kind of relationship they usually had - one completely unique and separate from the real world around them.

But now that they had escaped the castle - did that make the reality of their lives more prominent? Did that make it alright for Blaise to tell her about Death Eaters and their impending force, as if she could simply accept his confession that he was friends with people who were threats to Harry and all the Order members she loved? And why did it seem like he was warning her of something happening at the castle, when it would take a massive force before anything bad could happen at Hogwarts?

If she could have time to think, perhaps she could think it through and could understand more, why he was telling her this.

But the room was still spinning and Hermione's vision was growing blurry. She took a deep breath, and said stiffly, "It's late. I'm going to go back to the castle."

Blaise rose. His eyes watched her with stunning clarity and she felt exposed, another factor adding to her present discomfort.

Hermione felt herself moving backwards, toward the door. "If I get caught on the way back..." she started, for the sole sake of saying something so she would not scream, "it's your fault."

And then she spun on her heel stalked out of the Three Broomsticks into the welcoming arms of the chill outside.

Granger, Blaise had long ago decided but now could confirm, was one of the most unpredictable human beings he had ever met, and was ever likely to meet. Usually Blaise was good at figuring people out, to the point where he could predict their reactions before they themselves could, and it was especially easy with girls his age because they were all mostly similar to one another.

But Hermione Granger was different.

She was always different, from her bookworm persona to the way she didn't seem to care that three-quarters of their class called her a bookworm behind her back (even the Ravenclaws), and that a quarter of that called her much worse things. He used to think that she was just plain ignorant and too stuck in her teacher's-pet fantasy world to notice, but after that first Arithmancy final project, he'd wondered why he could have ever associated "ignorant" with Granger. She was anything but, which made her actions and feelings all the more difficult to decipher.

For instance, he hadn't known how she was going to take his little speech tonight.

In fact, he still wasn't exactly sure how Hermione had reacted. He didn't try to make sense of it now, either. Granger had listened to him speak and then she had left because something made her uncomfortable or agitated or angry, or all three. But she had listened and sort of believed him, and that was all he had risked tonight for.

Blaise exhaled then stood. Well, he thought, that should be enough time for Granger to escape.

He headed toward the door, shivering at the rush of cold air that met him. He briefly wondered whether Granger had been cold on the way back to the castle; she hadn't brought a hat or her pink mittens with her, although he supposed her monstrous mane of hair would be enough to warm her ears and neck. He thought of the way she had stormed away from him, brown eyes ablaze in gold, frosty with the silver reflections of the windows behind him, of how clearly she was not yet ready to trust him.

He did not regret trusting her. Maybe he should have known she wouldn't take his affiliation with the Death Eaters lightly, that that was too personal to put between them. They were never supposed to be more than enemies, after all. But he still didn't regret telling Granger what little he'd discovered from listening in on Pansy and Goyle.

He only wished he understood why it had felt so important for him to warn her of the Death-Eaters' impending arrival - for him to be assured that she would be on the lookout in the weeks to come.

So this is taking on a darker turn that I didn't expect would come so early. Keep an eye out for the next one, because that's the last one that will be written in this whole sixth book setting ;)