Chapter 21:

Prodding Bananas and Offers of Tea

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Blaise smirked on his way out of the Slytherin Common room; he was feeling extremely well rested, his sleep having been filled with lovely dreams of stomping on Terry Boot's lovely-better-than-his carpet while randomly stopping to snog Hermione, who was occupied at the time simultaneously knitting him a sweater and laughing at Boot's misfortune.

He adjusted his jumper and, for lack of better words, strutted down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Hermione sniffed loudly and painstakingly searched for evidence of either of her roommates in their beds. At last spotting a glimpse of dark hair strewn across Parvarti's pillow she groaned loudly.

"Parvarti," she wailed in a slightly nasal voice, "I-I need you to-"

"What is it now, Hermione? What? Shall I fluff your pillows, wash your feet, kill your Snape?" The girl paused breathing heavily from her upright position on her bed. Remembering the Snape dream, Parvarti muttered a hasty apology, and resigned her show of anger to glaring at the other bedridden girl.

"I just want a glass of water," Hermione paused and then added a hesitant "please" as if not sure whether the situation called for manners.

Parvarti sighed and conjured a glass, handing it to her in the process, "Now really, I know the dream was bad, but you are most certainly not dying. Out of bed with you then!"

She yanked Hermione from beneath her covers and over to the closet they shared, throwing pieces of clothing at her and finally pushing her into the bathroom and locking the door from the outside.

Hermione blinked and looked down at the pile of…something in her hands. Apart, the things could be considered clothing, but together? Together they were…

"Hideous," she remarked and proceeded to beat on the door, vowing to rejoin the world.

Blaise frowned and stared blankly at a portrait of a bowl of fruit. His stomach rumbled loudly and he looked down at it sympathetically, "I know, I know."

After prodding the banana to no avail he leaned against the wall wearily. How in the name of Merlin did he get lost on the way to the Great Hall?

'I suppose it was the strut that threw me off,' he decided while sinking to the floor and attempting to shrink into himself. Failing at that also, he scooted into the shadows in order to not be seen in his rather embarrassing situation, and to figure out how in the hell he could get back to familiar territory.

Hearing footsteps, Blaise cursed softly and attempted to shrink even more into the shadows.

A figure walked briskly down the hall, every so often throwing worried glances over their shoulder, and Blaise's eyes widened as the tell-tale hair of one Hermione Granger became recognizable.

Hermione shuffled down the corridor cursing and checking that Parvarti wasn't following her to ensure that she made good on her promise.

'After all,' she mused anxiously, 'I said I'd rejoin the world, but I never said I'd go to the Great Hall for breakfast.'

Reaching the end of the hall and coincidentally the portrait of fruit, she paused and threw another glance over her shoulder. Not seeing a vengeful Parvarti, she released a relieved sigh and reached a finger toward the painting. It may have been her imagination, but the pear looked as if it already knew its impending doom, coming in the form of being tickled.

Chuckling lightly at Hermione's antics, Blaise straightened and stepped out of the shadows. Laughing even louder at the sight of her face when she saw him appear, he placed a hand on the wall to keep himself steady.

He settled down a moment later, but at Hermione's indignant "Are you quite finished", one last snicker escaped his mouth.

"Sorry," he managed, still shaking slightly, "You just- It was," he sighed contently, "Classic."

He stepped over to where Hermione still had her hand outstretched to the painting, "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked conversationally.

Hermione blushed at the attention, and then chided herself, remembering that the love of his life currently resided in Ravenclaw and for all that she was aware of…was male. She could hardly live up to that standard, really.

"I'm getting food," she replied as unemotionally as possible, meaning of course that because it was to Blaise she was speaking, the words came out breathy and unsure.

At his skeptical nod she continued, "Yes, that is was people tend to do at this time of day, it being breakfast and all."

He eyed the portrait warily, "Ah silly me, I had forgotten the nutritional value of artwork for a moment…"

Hermione glowered at him and tickled the pear testily, "I'm going to the kitchens."

His eyebrows rose as he followed her through the portrait, "Are you now, well then maybe I'll accept that you aren't insane."

A sarcastic "Why, thank you ever so much" was his only answer, as afterwards she was occupied ordering food from the house elves.

"Would you like anything, Zabini?" At his reply she nodded and placed the order, greeting an enthusiastic Dobby and then sending him off for tea.

Blaise seated himself unceremoniously at the table, and stared avidly at the brunette, "So I'm Zabini then, am I?"

Hermione looked up from her tea, courtesy of Dobby, and blinked…twice.

"I beg your pardon?" She turned back to her tea and blew on the steamy surface.

Attempting to not focus on her lips, but her teacup- it was very flowery, he noted- he repeated himself.

"I had thought we were past that silly last names business."

"Why on earth would we be-"she broke off and slammed her teacup to the table, "Oh, I see. Who told you? Ernie, I'll bet."

Hermione threw herself down into the chair across from Blaise, "And now, you feel so bad that you want to be friends. Is that it?" She huffed and stabbed her scrambled eggs moodily.

Blaise watched a bit frightened at the demise of her breakfast, "Um, who's Ernie again?"

She sighed and looked up, "Listen, Blaise. It's very sweet of you, but you don't have to pretend anymore."

"Me? Pretend," he squeaked and suddenly found his food riveting.

Hermione nodded and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder, "That's right, I know all about Terry. So, no more hiding. It'll take me a little time to get used to the idea, though."

Blaise's eyes widened, 'How in the bloody hell does she know that I fancy her? Damn, she probably hates me for hurting Boot…'

He slumped in his seat wearily and ran a shaky hand through his hair, "How'd you find out?"

She left her now cold eggs in favor of her strawberry jam slathered toast, "To be honest, Colin."

"How the bloody hell does Colic know?"

"Colin," she admonished gently, "He ran into you in the hallway and-"

"But," he nearly shouted, causing several house elves to hid behind the stove, "I didn't tell him anything about-"

"Blaise, I know that this is awkward for you, but just deal with it. I know about you and Terry, now get over yourself long enough to listen to me."

She sighed and then inhaled sharply; did he think this was easy for her? The boy she fancies is not only gay, but has found out that she likes him and now out of pity wants to be friends. No bloody way was this easy.

"I know you and Terry are in love, and that I don't-"

"What in the blazes are you on about woman?" Blaise stood and paced the room nervously, "I'm most certainly not in love with Boot, I'm-" he stopped his walking abruptly and sat.

"Oh," Hermione tucked a strand of hair away behind her ear, "So you don't-"

"Know what you're going on about? No, I don't."

"Right then," Hermione blushed and exhaled, "So, you're not, well, you know…"

"No, I'm not gay."

"Ah," she cleared her throat embarrassedly, "Would you like a cup of tea then?"

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