Razorblade Romance

Three days later, Hermione awoke to the sound of a loud crash on the floor below her. Instantly, she was out of bed with a wand in hand. Her bare feet crept across the floorboards, Mad-Eye Moody's voice running through her head. Constant vigilance! Keep your eyes open, and your wand ready!

Hermione tiptoed down the corridor; her wand held out in front of her in what she hoped was an intimidating way. She peered around the wall into the living room, where the sound had seemed to occur. A dark shape was picking itself up off the ground, swearing loudly and brushing soot off itself.

"Who the hell are you?" Hermione barked, leaping around the corner. The figure jumped in surprise, whipping out its own wand. "Lumos!"

The light from her wand illuminated a stunned Blaise Zabini, who was holding his hands over his eyes in an attempt to block the light.

"Blaise!" Hermione exclaimed, dropping her wand. "What are you doing here?"

"You said that you kept your Floo open," Blaise answered. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, shivering. "Merlin, Granger, have you ever heard of a Heating Charm?"

"Are we leaving now?" Hermione demanded, suddenly aware that she was only wearing a faded blue nightgown. Jesus. She hoped that the light from her wand didn't show more than she wanted to be showing.

"Yup," said Blaise simply. "Are you packed?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted. She had packed a suitcase the minute she got home three days ago. "But an owl would have been nice! I could have been more prepared if you'd informed me, you know."

"I needed an excuse to see you in your night clothes," Blaise replied, his eyes flicking from her face to drift down her body. She flushed, crossing her arms over her breasts. Blaise returned his eyes to hers, smiling broadly. "Now, why don't you go get dressed properly and get your trunk. Our...erm...plane leaves soon."

"Where to?"

"Naples, Italy."

Hermione nodded (That must be where his uncle lived) and left her living room to return to her bedroom.

After spending far too much time getting dressed, Hermione flicked her wand at her suitcase. It rose into the air, hanging eerily as she strode back to the living room. Blaise sat in an armchair, twiddling his thumbs. He stood when she entered the room.

"Should we go to the nearest Cylinder station?" Blaise asked. Hermione stared at him quizzically. "You know, that machine the Muggles go on. You have to have a ticket...?"

"Oh!" Hermione suppressed a giggle. "You mean a Tube station?"

"Yes!" Blaise agreed, nodding. "That's the one! Should we take one of those...things that go out from the Tube stations?"

"Wouldn't it be easier to Apparate?

Blaise shrugged. "If you insist. I thought you'd prefer to do things the Muggle way, but very well. I'll be just outside Heathrow Airport."

He disappeared with a faint pop! Sighing, Hermione followed.

* * *

Watching Blaise walk through security at Heathrow Airport was enough to fill Hermione's craving for amusement. He had looked bewildered as he stepped through the metal detector, and he had jumped in surprise as a voice spoke over the intercom. Hermione refrained from giggling when he shot her a dirty look.

"How long is the flight going to be?" Blaise asked her as they queued up to get onto the aeroplane. He was munching on a chocolate chip muffin Hermione had bought him--a reward for not hexing the Muggle security guard when she had asked to see his carry-on bag.

"Two hours," Hermione answered. She showed the man her ticket. Blaise followed suit. "We'll be served a meal, of course."

"Good." Blaise brushed the crumbs off his lips, and adjusted his bag. "So. What will I do for two hours?"

"Read a book. Do some work. Write the great American novel."

"Hermione, we're British."

Hermione sighed. "Never mind."

The line shuffled along. Blaise gripped his bag tighter, leaning against the wall. He flinched as a small girl bumped into his leg. The girl's mother made a clicking sound with her tongue.

"Now, now, Elizabeth," she chastised, catching her hand. The girl hid her face in her mother's dress. "What do we say?"

"Oh, sod off," Blaise snapped. The woman looked startled, and tugged the girl's hand to pull her away. Hermione gave him a reproachful glare.

"What was that for?" she hissed. "The girl only bumped into you! She's not a day over five!"

"I don't like people touching my legs," Blaise said stubbornly. Hermione waited, hoping for more, but he didn't speak again until they were seated.

"These are pretty comfortable," Blaise commented, wiggling into the seat.

"Just wait an hour," Hermione said all-knowingly. "You'll be screaming to get out."

"You've been on these before?" Blaise asked. Hermione nodded.

"It's how Mug--I mean, it's how my family travels. Blaise, put your bag under your seat."

He stared at her unblinkingly. "Why would I want to do that? Isn't the point of having a bag to carry things you'll need? How am I to get the things I want if they're under my seat?"

"You just need to put them under your seat when we take off," Hermione explained. "So, in case of an emergency, there aren't things to trip over."

"But--"

"No buts, Blaise. Put it under the seat."

Grumbling to himself, Blaise tucked his bag under his seat. Hermione, having already done that, crossed her legs and waited.

"What, now we just wait?" Blaise inquired.

"Yes."

"That's no fun."

"Flying isn't supposed to be fun."

* * *

"Thank you for flying British Airways," the stewardess finished, "and we hope you enjoy your flight."

"Finally," Blaise moaned exasperatedly, stretching out his legs. "Took 'em long enough. Can we really use our seats at flotation devices? And if we're crashing, how is this" --he gestured to the seatbelt-- "little strip of nylon going to save me?"

"It's safety," Hermione reminded him. "It's somewhat comforting to know that there is protection."

"It's silly," Blaise protested. "I mean--"

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," the captain's voice crackled over the intercom. Blaise recoiled back, looking around nervously. "Our flight from Heathrow Airport to Naples, Italy will take approximately two hours and fifteen minutes. You'll be served breakfast once we are in the air, as well as a short snack shortly before we land. Thank you for flying British Airways, and we hope you enjoy your flight."

The intercom was shut off. The low murmur of voices in the aeroplane started up again as the engines started. Blaise was gripping the arms of his chair tightly, staring straight ahead. He jerked as the plane began to move down the runway.

"It's like riding the Knight Bus," Hermione murmured, keeping her voice subtle and quiet. Blaise whipped his head to look at her, eyes open wide in fear.

"We're going to be thrown around, and the chairs will move?" Blaise hissed.

"No! I mean, it seems scary at first, but it'll get you to the place you want to be."

Blaise relaxed visibly. "Whew..."

The plane was picking up speed. Hermione could feel the little tremble in her belly at the pace. Blaise's teeth were clenched tight, and there was a muscle twitching in his jaw. The plane began to shake slightly as they pulled up into the air, and Blaise's fingers were white on the arms of his chair.

The feeling of someone yanking her brain out of the top of his head reached Hermione as they took off, and she wished that she had some gum to chew or a piece of hard candy to suck on. She swallowed, making her ears pop. Wincing, she chanced another glance at Blaise, who was still looking faintly terrified.

The captain's voice came over the intercom again. "We're currently flying at..."

Hermione turned her head to glance at Blaise. His face was pale, and he hadn't let go of the arms of his chair. She could see his upper arms tensing.

"You okay?" she whispered.

It was awhile before he answered. "I...I suppose so."

"A woman will come around later with drinks," Hermione continued, her voice still low. "A soft drink will help."

"I'm fine," Blaise insisted. He seemed to realise that he was still clutching the arms, for he released them hastily. He flexed his fingers, wincing. "Really, I'm fine. Just a little surprise, is all."

Hermione bit back a retort. Honestly, did all wizards have to be masculine and in charge? It was all rather silly...

"Would you care for a drink?" asked the stewardess as she pulled the cart along the aisle.

"Yes, please. A Coke, with ice," Hermione answered. She turned to Blaise, who was looking out the window. "What do you want?"

He waved his hand in a manner that could mean anything, then returned to gazing out the window.

"Same thing," Hermione told the stewardess, who was looking at Blaise with concern. "It's all right, it's his first time flying."

"Oh, yes," the stewardess said cheerfully, handing over the two drinks and pasting on a wide grin as she continued down the aisle. "Ma'am, would you care for anything?"

* * *

"Hermione?" An elbow was nudging her side. "Hermione, are you awake?"

She cracked open one eyelid to see Blaise peering at her from the other seat. "What is it, Blaise?"

"Where's the bathroom?" he whispered.

"Over there," Hermione murmured, pointing lazily to the door at the end of the aisle. "No smoking, though."

"I didn't bring any fags with me," Blaise said haughtily, ducking under the overhead compartment and climbing over her legs. She immediately pretended to have drifted off to sleep again so that he wouldn't see her blush.

A few minutes later, an angry Blaise was marching down the aisle towards her. He was mumbling to himself as he got back into his seat, crossing his arms and glaring at a couple a couple seats in front of them.

"What is it, Blaise?" Hermione muttered as he continued to glare.

"First of all, that bathroom is the size of a broom closet!" Blaise growled. Hermione yawned and sat up, grinning. She could tell that this was the beginning of a rant. "The first bathroom I tried was busy! The girl was on the sink, and the bloke had his foot in the toilet for leverage! I don't know how one person can fit in there, never mind two!"

"The Mile High Club," Hermione explained. "A lot of couples find it...erm...arousing to have sex in strange places."

Blaise seemed to be ignoring her, for he went on, "And when I actually got to use the bathroom, there wasn't much room to piss! And the soap smells like something out of St. Mungo's! And there's another funny smell that I don't even want to know about."

"Blaise. Aeroplane bathrooms are always small and cramped."

"They shouldn't be," Blaise retorted stubbornly. Hermione sighed and tried to get back to sleep.

* * *

"Was that a landing, or were we shot down?" Blaise grumbled as they exited the plane. He clutched his bag, giving the door to the cockpit a nasty look.

"All landings are bad," Hermione told him as they walked down the stairs to the bus that would take them to the airport. "Aeroplanes aren't supposed to be fun. I don't think you've realised this yet."

"Whatever. Let's just get some food. I think that crap they served us has made me ill."