Author's Note: FINALS ARE OVER! You have no idea how ecstatic I am right now. I'm not sure how well I did because both exams were pretty difficult, so it'll really depend on the curve. But I'm DONE! Which is good news for you guys too, because I won't have class for two weeks. This means more writing time, which translates into more updates! Yay (:

That said, hope you like the chapter!

Oh and by the way, there's a Fight Club reference in this chapter! I was rather surprised that I could work in a quote from it, haha. (Yes I know, it's completely not in the same genre as Harry Potter, but it is one of my favorite books. The movie was fantastic, too. Brad Pitt…yum.)

Chapter 52

When I enter the living room, Harry looks up at me.

"Hermione," he says with a smile.

Blaise follows me out of the kitchen.

"Malfoy brought this," Harry says, gesturing toward an ornate dagger that's sitting on the coffee table. It looks like a priceless antique.

"Do you know if it's really a Horcrux?" I ask.

"I don't know," Harry says. "It doesn't seem all that remarkable. But I'll take it to Shacklebolt and McGonagall so they can check it, just to be safe."

"How you do destroy a Horcrux, anyway?" Blaise asks.

"They're almost impossible to destroy, but venom from a basilisk works—when we retake Hogwarts, we can go down to the Chamber of Secrets and get some," I say.

Harry nods. "Yes, like last time."

"Last time as in, during the Battle of Hogwarts?" Blaise asks.

I nod.

"Well, if it worked last time, it shouldn't fail this time. We'll just have to keep the dagger in a safe place until then," Blaise says.

"Yeah," Harry agrees. "How's the potion coming along?"

"I screwed it up—sorry," Blaise says before I can speak up. "We'll start over, and I won't touch anything this time."

He exits to the backyard to get more roots, and I look over at Harry. It stings a little that Draco came back but didn't bother to even tell me that he'd dropped by.

"Did Malfoy look okay?" I ask.

Harry looks up at me, frowning. "Yeah, sure. Why, is there supposed to be something wrong with him?"

I just shake my head. Harry's usually pretty observant, but I don't know if he noticed that there was something wrong with Draco last night—in fact, I don't know if even Blaise noticed. I hope that Draco's better. If it's overexertion, then a good night's sleep should have fixed the problem.

"You and Ron are… way over, right?" Harry asks me.

Well, that was a sharp change in subject. I laugh. "Yes, we are. If you're interested in him, feel free."

He joins me in laughter. "I think Blaise is rubbing off on you," he says.

"Maybe he is," I say, smiling.

Harry glances at the door that leads to the backyard as he says, "Are you into him?"

"Who, Blaise?"

Harry nods.

"No," I say. "He's just a friend. I'm as interested in him as I am in you."

"Gee thanks, Hermione."

I walk over and lean down to give him a hug. "Aw, Harry, you know you're my favorite friend."

"I wasn't aware that you played favorites, Hermione," he says, smiling.

I let him go. "Oh, doesn't everyone?"

"I guess so. It's great to have you around—you keep me honest."

Then Blaise reenters the room and holds up two gnarly white clumps.

"Well, we should get to work on that potion," I say. "Bye, Harry."

I move into the kitchen and Blaise follows me inside, shutting the door behind him. He puts the roots down on the same cutting board as before, and I rummage through the drawers, collecting the same array of herbs that had been in the cauldron on our botched attempt at the potion. I Vanish the thick liquid and clean the cauldron with a quick Scouring Charm before adding the water and herbs.

Meanwhile, Blaise crushes the new roots with methodical, forceful strikes.

We work in silence, and while I usually feel comfortable in silence with Blaise, there's something different about the atmosphere in the room. I just can't shake the feeling that although he said he was joking before and laughed it off, it's actually really bothering him.

It slowly seems to become more and more obvious to me that something's wrong with him. I haven't looked at him once, but I feel like he's as uncomfortable as I am.

Then I hear him chuckling and glance to the side to see that he's looking at me with a very amused expression.

"Go on, don't let me interrupt you," he says.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"You were clearly deep in thought. I didn't mean to interrupt you," he says.

I roll my eyes at him. "Shut up, Blaise."

He passes me the newly crushed powdered roots and hoists himself up to sit on the counter.

"Honestly, Hermione. What's on your mind? I'm very curious," he says.

I light the fire beneath the cauldron. "Nothing," I reply.

He just shakes his head, and I start to pour the powdered root in, very slowly.

"Blaise, I'm being honest with you. There's nothing on my mind. Why are you so curious?"

"Mm, no reason," he says, shrugging. "Don't screw up the potion again. I won't take the blame this time."

"No one told you to take the blame last time," I point out.

"Yeah, but it sort of was my fault, for distracting you."

"Then stop distracting me."

"Can't do that."

"Why not?"

"I think I'd die of boredom."

I stir in some more of the powder. "Such a drama queen, you are," I say.

Blaise hops off the counter. "Yes, I know."

He walks around to stand behind me. He looks over my shoulder at the potion, leaning into me as he does so.

"Can't you just watch from the side?" I say.

I can practically hear the grin in his reply, "Sorry, love. Can't do that either."

"Don't call me that, Blaise."

"What, love? Don't call you what?" he asks innocently.

I briefly let go of the stirring spoon to elbow him in the ribs. Then I quickly return to stirring the potion.

His hands graze my hips and then slide around to my front, and when his body presses against my back, I feel surrounded by him.

"Blaise… what are you doing?" I ask stiffly.

"Shh…" he says instead of answering me.

I start to step back to make him back away from me.

"Hey, hey, hey—don't stop stirring. We don't want to ruin another batch, do we?"

"Blaise, let go of me," I say calmly, continuing to stir carefully.

Blaise isn't a threat, and I know that. He's just teasing me. As inappropriate as it is sometimes, I've gotten used to his touchiness. But then again, he's never held me like this when it was just the two of us.

"I really like you, Hermione," he whispers in my ear.

There's suddenly a lump in my throat, and I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what to say, or how to react. He must be joking.

"Did you know that?" he continues, still in a whisper. "You're different from any other girl I've known. I really, really like you."

"Did you tell this to all the girls you slept with, to get them into bed?" I blurt. "Were they all special? Were they all beautiful and unique snowflakes?"

"That hurts, Hermione."

"Sorry," I say, frowning.

I don't know what came over me—that was something so very Ron to do. It was a low blow, and I feel extremely guilty for taking a swing at him.

Then his lips lightly caress my neck, and shivers run down my spine.

"Blaise, get off me," I say.

He backs away, and I feel relieved.

"I'm not joking this time, Hermione," he says from behind me. "I know you already know how Draco feels about you, and it's about time I came clean, too."

I extinguish the fire below the cauldron and pour three dewdrops, collected from a fire lily at dawn, into the mixture. The liquid sizzles and then turns salmon pink. Perfect.

"I just… thought you should know," he says.

I hear his footsteps as he moves toward the door.

"You don't have to give me an answer. As long as you know that I'm here for you, it's enough."

With that, he leaves the room.

I'm nearly overwhelmed by guilt. I feel awful for not responding in a way that would have made him feel better, but I honestly don't have those types of feelings toward him. And I'm a little bit dazed…

He always joked about liking me, or wanting me, but I'd never thought that he actually meant it when he said things like that—that was just playful, flirtatious Blaise, the same Blaise who'd always been around at Hogwarts.

But it'd be wrong to simply brush this time off as another joke. I haven't heard him speak so seriously before, not when it's just between the two of us. And I certainly have never heard him discuss romantic feelings before.

I ladle some of the potion into a goblet and go into the living room.

Harry and Blaise, both sitting on the couch, stop speaking when I enter.

"The erm, potion's done," I say, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. "I'll take it to Ginny."

Neither says a word as I cross the living room and escape into the bedroom.

"Hello, Hermione," Ron says when I enter. "Is that the potion?"

I nod. "Has Ginny woken up yet?"

He shakes his head.

"Well, this is for her when she does," I say. "I'm pretty sure she'll be in pain soon."

Ron looks at his sister with such a sympathetic expression that I feel the need to comfort him. I pat his back gently.

"Do you want me to wait with her?"

"Yeah, I was actually getting a little hungry," he says, getting to his feet. "I'll go make something to eat. Do you want anything?"

I shake my head. "No, I'm fine. Thanks, though."

Ron leaves the room, and I sit down on my bed with a sigh.

Just a few weeks ago, I'd been convinced that no one could ever really want or love me, not in times like these, and it made me sad. But now, Draco and Blaise both… I had to have been dreaming. Why would they want me? All I've got is… bookish knowledge, a bit of common sense, and… uncontrollable hair.

I glance over at Ginny's unconscious figure and envy her relationship with Harry.

They had their conflicts about being together, simply because Harry was too heroic to allow Ginny to endanger herself by being near him, but at least they were sure of themselves. There was no doubt that they'd always have each other.

I feel like I'll never have that.

I love Blaise the way that I love Harry—as a close friend, a best friend, a confidant. And Draco… I know that he does care for me. He's made that clear. But on my side? Anything concerning him just turns into a mess of complicated emotions.

What if I do only feel gratitude? I would never want to lead him on just because I wasn't sure of myself.

I can't classify him.

Author's Note: I doubt many of my readers have actually read Fight Club, so I'm not really expecting you guys to pick up the phrase (plus it was only like, three words...) But if you did catch it, let me know! I'd be super duper excited :D

I'll be updating again soon!