I couldn't believe it.

After three years here he was standing here. Blaise Zabini was standing here on my porch like it was natural.

Oh my freaking gosh.

And here I was with Cormac McLaggen's arm wrapped around my waist.

"What can we do you for, Zabini?" Cormac said. "Come to see what you lost out on?"

Blaise took a step towards Cormac and I stepped between them both, holding up my arms. "Cormac, could you go back inside for a minute. Please?"

Cormac looked at me surprised for a minute before shooting a glare at Blaise and slamming the door behind them.

Finally, I turned to face Blaise, watching a whole mess load of emotions pass of his face. Anger, confusion, hurt, betrayal, all hit him at the same time it seemed like and I felt it. Oh boy. But then, those emotions were gone, leaving a blank expression.

I smiled at him. "Hello Bla –"

"McLaggen's?" he said.

"Oh, him. . . . He just lives here, really. We're sort of like . . . roommates."

"Your parents let you room with a guy?"

"Who says my parents know?"

A small smile appeared on his face for a moment. He hesitated before saying, "You stopped writing."

I crossed my arms across my chest. "You stopped responding."

"I've been busy."

"So have i."

There was an awkward pause before Blaise held out the flowers to me again. "Maybe we could explain more over dinner?"

I stared at him for a moment. In my mind, I was telling myself not to fall for this. I mean three years and no word? And he expected me to just drop my busy schedule and go out with him?

No way.

Absolutely not.

Think again.

"What day?" I said.

Damn.

I have absolutely no will power.

Blaise grinned. "Maybe this Friday? I'll pick you up from the clinic?"

The clinic is my job. Butterfield Magical Psychiatrics. Yep, I'm a Psychiatrist-in-training. Crazy when I have so many issues of my own.

Slowly I nodded, reaching out for the flowers. "Eight o' clock."

Our fingers brushed when I took the flowers and a chill ran up and down my spine. I felt like I was still in school.

It didn't help when he took my free hand and kissed it. It didn't help when he looked straight into my eyes. And it most certainly didn't help when he said, "Until then, Princess," in that deep, sultry voice of his.

. . . . Either we were having an earthquake or my knees were shaking.

He backed away from me, that sexy smile on his face, and Disapparated.

. . . . Whoa.

Can you have hot flashes at twenty?