Sorry for the ridiculously long delay! I had completely forgotten about developing the story, and was overwhelmed by the fact that i'd even got a few really kind reviews for my first chapter! Thank you so much to whoever read, reviewed and favourited my story, it means a lot!
Anyway, I hope the second chapter is to your satisfaction, and hopefully worth the wait. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of J.K Rowling's wonderful world or characters. It is but an impossible wish.
Hermione's eyes snapped open. Her mind reeling and her heart dropping, she subconsciously knew that she was late, and the dream she'd been so rudely awakened from faded from her mind, a dream of dark, laughing eyes. She whipped her head around wildly, towards her alarm clock.
Shit! Ten minutes until class starts!
She leaped up, grabbed her wash bag and make up bag and rushed to the bathroom door, wrenching it open and slamming the door shut behind her. She splashed her face with cold water, quickly brushing her teeth and haphazardly tying her hair up in a messy bun. A quick layer of mascara later and she was rushing back out the bathroom, and quickly got dressed. She checked her clock again, and sighed in relief when she realised that she now had three minutes to spare. Gathering up her books, her timetable and grabbing an apple from the common room table, she flew out of the head's dormitory, without noticing the same pair of dark brown eyes from her dream watching her flurried movements with amusement from the sofa.
Oh Granger, it's Sunday. Blaise thought to himself, chuckling and stretching himself out on the sofa, sighing and enjoying his unfamiliar, yet welcoming surroundings. He shut his eyes, a smirk on his face.
No more than 10 minutes later, he heard the dorm door slam shut, and footsteps stomping on the stone floor. He opened his eyes, and quirked an eyebrow, as Hermione strode towards her bedroom.
"Back to bed then Granger?" Blaise called, amusement evident in his voice.
He saw her stiffen. "...Yes." Hermione muttered, cheeks reddening, as she finally noticed Blaise, and guessed as such that he'd seen her frantic movements ten minutes earlier. Mustering up the little dignity she had left, she halfheartedly glared at him, and continued walking to her room.
He smirked, knowing that if she'd seen his expression just there, then angry words might've ensued. Blaise wasn't as stupid as Draco, who seemed to have pressed Granger's anger button so often the warning sign had evidently worn off. Blaise tried to avoid making her angry, instead enjoying watching the passion in her face, the angry blush, and the hair practically crackling with electricity whenever Draco pissed her off. Fortunately for Blaise, this seemed to happen almost every time the pair crossed paths, so he didn't have to resort to making her angry by himself. She really did look amazing when she was hazy with annoyance. Typical Gryffindor temper he thought to himself.
Hermione flopped onto her bed, cheeks blazing. That was so bloody embarrassing! She exclaimed to herself, face palming at the same time. She'd promised herself to appear dignified and aloof in front of Blaise after her reactions to him last night, and already her plans were failing. Hermione usually manages to follow a self-made plan, but Blaise just put her on edge. She sighed, irritated at the head boy but mainly at herself. She rolled over onto her back, not making an effort to change out of her uniform, and drifted back to sleep.
tap! tap! tap!
Hermione opened her eyes sleepily, and looked towards the window, where an owl was standing waiting for her impatiently to open the window. She recognised it as Hooter, Harry's new fluffy grey owl. She offered Hooter an owl snack, which he gobbled up quickly, affectionately nipping her finger and then lived up to his name by hooting loudly, before flying out of the still open window. She opened up the note, recognising Harry's scrawl immediately.
Hey 'Mione!
I know you're likely a bit hungover and tired today after last night, but seeing as it's Sunday and a lovely day Ginny, Ron and I were wondering if you'd like to come and play Quidditch with us! Or at least, if you really don't want to, go to the pitch with a book just to hang out!
Love, Harry x
Hermione smiled ruefully. Harry was indeed right about the hangover, it wasn't too bad but she was rather tired still. She figured that she'd get herself ready properly, and do as Harry suggested by bringing a book along. It would be nice to chill out with her friends, without Mrs Weasley fussing over them all, and without the pressure of everyone staring at them in the Great Hall, after all.
After sorting herself out, she spent a few minutes trying to choose a book. Her hand grazed over the extensive collection of books she owned, and she decided to choose a muggle classic, Pride and Prejudice. She was a big fan of most muggle classic novels, as they way of life in those days were strangely similar to the ways of the Purebloods. She smirked at the knowledge that Muggles were in fact, in matters of technology and fashion, way ahead of the Wizarding World, and she knew such a revelation would horrify the likes of Pansy and Draco.
Leaving her room, she heaved a sigh of relief on realising Blaise's absence from the common room. She didn't want to meet Harry, Ginny and Ron looking all frazzled. She meandered down to the Quidditch pitch, which was strange for her to look at when empty, as the only time she was ever at the pitch was when she was obliged to attend the Gryffindor matches. Seeing her friends hover above her, she waved and whistled for their attention, and on noticing her they all simultaneously flew down to greet her.
After exchanging words, she shooed them off, and settled herself down on one of the lower benches, ironically in the Slytherin zone. She opened her book and began to read, being sucked into the fictional world, occasionally glancing up whenever Harry, Ginny or Ron yelled, breaking her concentration. She felt really relaxed, the air was cold but it was sunny, her favourite kind of weather. Suddenly a shadow engulfed the page she was reading, and she looked up automatically, and was welcomed with the sight of a smiling Blaise.
She babbled, disarmed by the sight of him. "Oh, hi! How are you? Sorry about this morning, I must of looked like a right twa-"
"May I sit?" He cut in smoothly, interrupted what was sure to be a long and pointless tirade of awkward one sided conversation.
"Oh! Um, sure." She stuttered, moving her bag to clear the seat next to her. He settled down, and they sat in companionable, yet slightly awkward silence.
"I've never really seen the point in Quidditch really." He stated, his husky voice thankfully breaking the silence.
"Me too! I mean, I enjoy the team spirit of it, but the idea of being up there kind of terrifies me" She replied, with a light laugh, inwardly amazed at the fact that there was a wizard who didn't appreciate Quidditch! Who would've thought, she mused, smiling slightly.
"Can't really say I can imagine you flying Granger, you seem suited to the ground, and always armed with a book" He bantered back, indicating her current position with his own chuckle.
She smiled, nodding. "I'm much happier with my feet firmly planted on the ground. What about you though? I've rarely heard of a wizard who doesn't like Quidditch!"
He looked thoughtful for a moment, and took time to form an answer. Hesitantly, in a gruff kind of voice, he admitted something he'd never told anyone else before, because he knew that no one really understood...
"I'm scared of heights..." He murmured wincing and peeking at her to gauge her reaction. He saw no shocked expression, no mirth, just a thoughtful kind of look.
"How so? As in, do you know what caused your fear or is it simply an irrational fear?" She asked, genuinely curious.
Again, he took a little time to answer. This was something she'd noticed about Blaise, the fact that he always thought about what he was going to say, rather than blurting out things, a trait of Ron's which annoyed and often hurt her. She liked the idea that he took care to answer.
Breaking her out of her musing, Blaise finally answered the question. "It's rather silly really. My first stepfather thought it would be a good bonding experience to teach me how to fly when I was about eight years old. I was already quite uneasy about being high up, and the fact that he thought it would be fun to shoot past the clouds and back down again with me clinging on for dear life pretty much sealed the deal on my fear of heights." He laughed bitterly. "He was quite a prat, never really liked him. Mother wasn't very happy when I stumbled into the kitchen and threw up on her new shoes straight afterwards."
Hermione just stared at him throughout his anecdote. She was astounded at the fact that he'd shared quite intimate information with him, it presented a human quality to him that she'd never quite experienced before. A vulnerability that was never present in his standard aloof persona. This new development only served to make him appeal to her more.
Suddenly he cleared his throat, and stood up.
"Best be getting back, I have reading to do" He said gruffly, a slight pinkish tinge to his cheeks. She sensed that he was a bit embarrassed by what he'd just told her, so she simply smiled, nodded, and reached over to gently squeeze his hand. His eyes widened at her touch, as a feeling of warmth spread through both their fingers, and he squeezed back with a smile of his own. He turned around, and headed back to the castle, leaving Hermione lost in her thoughts on the bench stand.