A/N: Posting today for missing yesterday. I'm not making you all wait another week after how long you waited. I'll try to get back on track, sorry. Enjoy!

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Blaise walked into the defense against the dark arts classroom the next morning with a frown. He'd stayed up the entire night trying to come up with an idea to boost the school's moral and didn't have a single good one to show for it.

Not. One.

Eventually he'd switched from that project to homework he had to do for a few different classes, but it was bugging him that he didn't even have a small idea of what to do.

He'd finally looked at his clock to see it was 7 in the morning, and got through breakfast, history of magic, and ancient runes distracted and stressed out. It was infuriating.

When he'd gotten to Defense Against the Dark Arts, he saw the room was lined out with desks all around instead of an open floor, an indication that they would be taking notes instead of doing anything interactive. He let out a sigh and lifted his bag on his shoulder, taking a step into the room.

Blaise searched the room as he entered, until he found the mess of brown hair he was looking for and walked over. Hermione looked up and gave him a scathing gaze when she recognized who it was, then proceeded to ignore him.

"What ideas do you have for the project McGonagall gave us?" He asked her. "I am as a matter of fact, talking to you, Granger." He addded when she said nothing.

"Go find your seat Zabini." She said dismissively, her tone annoyed.

Blaise closed his eyes for a moment and tried to let go of his irritation before he sat in the chair directly next to her, neither Harry nor Ron being there yet.

Hermione scowled at him in disbelief as he pushed his bag under the chair and then turned back to her. "What ideas do you have for the project McGonagall gave us?" He repeated.

She stared at him with disdain for a second longer before she took a breath and sighed. Then she glowered at him again. "A ball okay? With masks. Where everyone is encouraged to not bring a date."

He looked at her for a moment and she rolled her eyes when he didn't say anything and looked forward.

He had already considered a dance for the project, but he'd been paranoid that it might've seemed deceptive. Being in a war and then having to go to a dance after looking around the school for a possible date that may or may not be found seemed like a hoax. Like everything that happened in the war was a joke.

This was different though. You didn't have to go through the trouble of bringing a date, there was just the mystery of dancing with a familiar stranger and hopefully having a good time.

"A masquerade?" He questioned, wondering if she was sure.

"If you were just going to shoot down the idea than you shouldn't have asked me!" Hermione turned back to him to snap.

"I wasn't shooting it down." Blaise frowned at her. "I was just . . ."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him doubtfully. He sighed.

"You were in the war last year." He stated. "I wasn't. I have ideas, but I don't know which to pick. You seem sure." He hated this, telling her this. It seemed like weakness. And it was. He didn't know which of his ideas were terrible. This seemed too close to admitting that. It seemed like too much of a confession.

"Are you?" He asked, trying to project a careless boredom that hid his uncertainty.

She looked at him cautiously, her disbelief swept from her face by surprise in the direction he took. Her eyes scanned his face and he held the expression he wanted her to see. "I'm sure." She told him.

He nodded after a second, and then picked up his things and moved to a different chair, just as Harry, Ron and the teacher were coming through the door.

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