Dreams

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"Granger, wake up."

"Mphf," Hermione muttered sleepily as she rolled over on the couch.

Blaise sighed with exasperation. He reached out and grabbed her arm, trying to wake her with a rough shake. "You've had quite a kip, Granger. It's time for patrol."

She slept on blissfully, and Blaise swore under his breath. This is bloody ridiculous, he thought as his grip tightened on her arm. She's already missed dinner. Well, that was my fault, he conceded as he looked down at her.

When he had returned from his conversation with Malfoy, he had been surprised to find her asleep on the couch. Blaise would never admit it, but he was also slightly relieved that he wouldn't have to tell her how he felt - not yet, at least. Instead of rousing her, he had sat down on a nearby chair and watched her face in repose, entranced by the way the fire cast flickering shadows across her face.

As he kept his vigil, he naturally fell into thinking about the past twenty-four hours. In just that small span of time, he had discovered Hermione's dream occupation, become unlikely allies with Draco Malfoy, and finally decided to tell Hermione how he felt about her. Instead of relaxing in the aftermath of such stressful events, he felt even more anxious than he had been all day. After all, he had to keep an eye on Malfoy to make sure the git didn't do anything stupid. Well, he thought grudgingly, he may be a ponce, but he can definitely take care of himself. But I do need to keep an eye on the other Slytherins, so they don't suspect anything about him or... his thoughts returned to Hermione, us.

So sure she'll feel the same way, old boy? he had asked himself with a smirk. With that simple question, the day lost it's dream-like quality and the reality of the situation hit him. Quite honestly, he didn't know how she felt about him. Was she interested in him at all, or had she merely been tolerating his presence these past few months? Would she be able to see past his house, his family, and his blood, and like him for who he really was? He had easily been able to see her for who she was, and he loved every bit of her. Was it too much to ask that she do the same for him?

These doubts had plagued him so much that he had forgotten to wake her for dinner. He had been distracted all through the meal, barely downing a decent amount of food. Once, when he had stared around the room with a blank gaze, he had been startled to see Malfoy give him a concerned look.

Now, as he stood by her side, still gripping her arm, his doubts rose to the surface again. He stared down at her, drinking in her face as though he was a starving man presented with a feast. Am I worthy enough to call this intelligent and beautiful woman mine? She seemed pure and innocent in sleep, the worry lines and careworn expression gone. He moved his free arm and lowered his fingers to lightly caress her cheek... when he froze.

In the warm firelight, he spied a faint tear trail running down her cheek. She's been crying! Why? I certainly hope Weasley and Potter didn't say anything to hurt her... His thoughts trailed off as he gazed at her, puzzled as to the cause for her tears. Suddenly, he was struck with inspiration. Did she write about it in the journal I gave her? he wondered as he released his grip on her arm and searched around the room for her things.

There, on the low table before the fire, lay her books in a neat pile. On the top, Blaise saw the very same journal he had given her, glowing as it reflected the warm light. He immediately stepped forward and seized the book, hefting it in his hands as he looked it over closely. His conscience tinged a bit, for he didn't want to invade her privacy once again. But I need to know what happened to her, he told himself firmly.

With one last glance down at her to ensure that she was asleep, he quietly opened the book. He grinned stupidly when he saw her curly, neat handwriting on the first page. She's using it! he triumphed silently. He quickly flipped through the first half of the journal and was surprised to note that she had already written in about five pages. She really was dying to write, then, he marveled. Whatever it was, it must have been pretty bad. Reminding himself of the purpose of his snooping, he turned back to the first page and began reading.

Blaise's intent expression quickly became a frown as he finished the second paragraph. "Muggle customs and traditions?" She can't be serious! He skimmed the next two pages, and blurted out in a rage, "FELLY TONES?"

~*~

"Ugh," Hermione groaned as she awoke. She had been having quite a nice dream, complete with a dark, handsome prince and a fairy-tale wedding. And it seemed so realistic, too, Hermione thought petulantly. Even the prince looked familiar... actually, he looked an awful lot like-

"Zabini?" she croaked as she sat up and blinked at him owlishly. What in Merlin's name is he doing here? And... she stilled her befuddled mind for a moment, is that my diary in his hands? HA! I knew he'd look at it the first moment he got the chance. That evil slime... she fumed as she struggled to her feet. Hermione looked down at her legs, and was startled to see that they were entwined in a unfamiliar blanket. Whose blanket is this? she wondered. I never thought Crooks could actually carry things... Hermione swiveled her head around, searching for her cat.

"Granger!" Zabini barked so loudly that she yelped and jumped a bit.

"Don't do that!" she muttered plaintively, holding her forehead with her hand. "I feel like I've been chewed up and spit out by a quintaped."

"Unless said quintaped could read and write," Zabini sneered, waving around her red leather journal angrily, "I'm rather inclined to believe that you've only been drinking Firewhiskey or taking some illegal Muggle substance."

Catching sight of the journal in his hand, Hermione snorted. "Couldn't wait to get your hands on it, eh, Zabini?"

He shot her a startled look before he recovered his wits again. With an accusing glare, he stalked towards her, looking like a panther ready to strike. "You said that you wanted to write more!" Zabini pointed at her accusingly. "So I got you this journal for your thoughts. I did not intend for you to," he gestured wildly, "drone on about Muggles and the Weasleys and tel- telly..."

"Telephones," Hermione finished for him, laughing inwardly.

"Right," Zabini replied, unfazed. Hermione merely stared back with an innocent look, while he sighed and tossed the book down on the floor. "Here I was, thinking that you would jump at the chance to follow your dreams. Instead, you were a stupid Gryffindor, wasting a perfectly useful opportunity."

Of all the nerve! Hermione raged inwardly. "And here I was," she replied angrily as she once again struggled to her feet, "thinking that you were different from the other Slytherins!" He looked surprised look, but she continued ranting, "I never thought you'd give me an enchanted diary! What were you planning on doing, Zabini? Find out more of my secrets, then use them to exploit or hurt me? I'm not stupid, you know!"

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Zabini was gazing at her incredulously, but Hermione's face was stony. I'm not going to be fooled. Suddenly, she felt her knees go weak and her legs tremble. Oh bother... I stood up a bit too quickly...

As Hermione plopped down onto the couch, Zabini rushed to her side with concern. "Are you all right?"

Even though she felt weak, Hermione sneered at him and moved away. "Get away from me, you Slytherin," she said, spitting out his House's name as though it were a curse.

Zabini visibly flinched and sat on the couch beside her. "It's not enchanted, you know," he muttered, staring at her earnestly. "I never intended to look at it. I was only checking to see if you wrote... er, something that would explain why the Head Girl was taking such a long nap."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. She was startled by the disappointment in his eyes and thin line of his lips. The firelight illuminated his dusky skin, but he seemed paler. Are those shadows under his eyes? she wondered. Out loud, Hermione replied flatly, "Prove it."

He looked at her then, and Hermione was shocked at the intensity of his eyes. He was visibly upset from her accusations. "I never lie to the people I love, Hermione. But if you don't believe me, I'll give you money to buy your own journal in Hogsmeade."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. Not only did he call me by my first name, she marveled, he also said he loved me! Instead of asking him about it, she coldly replied, "I may be a Muggleborn, but I'm not poor as well. I can buy my own journal, you know."

He waved one of his hands negligently and answered, "That hardly matters. I'm merely saying that you can trust me."

Perhaps I was wrong, after all... Hermione squashed that thought immediately. He's a Slytherin, you fool! With a devious smirk, she asked innocently, "You love me?"

Zabini blushed; I never thought I'd be able to see pink on his skin, she grinned inwardly, but I can see that I was mistaken. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and stammered, "I only said that I never lie."

Hermione gave him one of her patented skeptical looks. "Are you sure of that, Zabini? I was sure I heard you say you never lied to people you love. Since you've been trying to prove your innocence to me, I naturally assumed..." her voice trailed off as she watched him.

His eyes hardened and he stood up. "Fine, then!" he sneered. "Yes, you heard me correctly the first time. And I can see, Miss Granger, that it was a complete waste of emotion. You're obviously never going to see me as anyone other than a Slytherin." He took a deep breath and looked at her sorrowfully. "I don't know why I even bothered seeing you as more than a Gryffindor." With that, he turned and stormed out of their common room, into the hallway outside.

She stared at the closed portrait hole, numb with disbelief. After a few moments, she finally registered all that he had said. When she thought of his parting words, she dropped her eyes to the floor in shame, knowing that he was completely right. She couldn't see past the green and silver of his house. Yet, she scolded herself, he was able to see you, Hermione. He saw past the fact that you were a Gryffindor, Head Girl, and Harry Potter's best friend. He saw you, underneath that bushy brown hair of yours, and cared enough to give you a journal when he discovered that you liked to write.

She stood up and paced around the room as she continued to brow-beat herself. Finally, she stopped before a window, and looked out at the lake. The rain spattering against the window lulled her inner turmoil to peace, like it had just a few hours earlier. Her eyes roved the landscape before her, basking in the beauty of the quiet, cloudy night. She was roused from her reverie when she saw a blur of white near the water.

Hermione tried to peer out of the glass, but her breath began to fog her view. Running over to the couch to pick up her wand, she returned to the window and cast the Impervius charm on it. Now that the window was free of raindrops, she looked out again... and realized that the blur of white was Zabini.

She watched him intently, with a freedom that she had never allowed herself before. As she sized him up, she found that he was quite pleasing to the eye. He was robe-less and cloak-less, so the rain had plastered his hair, jumper, oxford shirt, and slacks down, making him look like a wetter version of one of the trendy Muggle boys that she had admired during the summer. So, Granger, she thought, he's good-looking and he's in love with you - the real you, not the one everyone thinks you are. What more could you want?

Even as she asked herself that question, she knew exactly what was holding her back. And I have to know, she insisted to herself, before I make any decisions.

Well, go on then! an inner voice, that sounded suspiciously like her mother, urged her.

Following her intuition, she raced out of the common room and down the various staircases, not caring if she would be caught by Filch. Once she reached the doorway that was the closest to the lake, she ran out onto the grounds towards him. She slipped once and fell flat on her face, but she merely stood up and brushed herself off. I just have to know... she chanted to herself in an effort to convince herself that this was right. Casting another Impervius charm on her robes, she continued on her way.

"Zabini!" she cried out against the furious rain, trying to catch his attention.

His back was initially towards her, but he cautiously turned around and looked at her. Hermione approached him slowly, stopping only when her nose was inches away from him. They stared at each other for a moment, until she finally got up the courage to ask, "You won't lie to me?"

Zabini shook his head, his expression confused but his eyes hopeful. Hermione took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. "Then tell me what you were discussing with Malfoy today, out here," she demanded. His eyes widened slightly in shock, but she merely shook her head, "Never mind how I know. Just answer the question."

He gave her a regretful look, then replied hoarsely, "I can't tell you."

Hermione snorted and backed away from him. I knew it, I just knew it! There was no-

"But," he continued as he reached out to grab her arm, forcing her to stay with him, "I can tell you this: not everyone is what they seem, Hermione." His eyes were boring into hers with complete seriousness. "Not even Malfoy."

"I know that," she whispered back, mesmerized by the intense meaning behind his dark eyes. "Why can't you tell me?" she asked with a slight pout.

"An oath," he replied with a rueful grin.

Oh, Hermione thought with disappointment. But that still doesn't mean I can-

"Won't you take a risk, Hermione?" Zabini asked her softly, as though he was hearing her thoughts. "Is it really that hard to trust me? Maybe the one step that you take out on a limb is just one more step closer to you dream."

Hermione stared at him, completely speechless. He's right, she thought grudgingly. There were so many other risks that I took with Harry and Ron before, and they were mostly right- Thinking about her two best friends brought her back to the situation at hand. "Will you be civil to Harry and Ron?"

He looked confused. "What do you mean? Aren't I, already?"

He's right again, Hermione realized. "All right then. Will you respect me, despite the fact that I'm a Muggleborn and Head Girl?"

"Hermione," he began hesitantly.

I like hearing my name from his lips... she mused. And such nice lips they are, too... control yourself, Hermione! "Well?" she replied.

Zabini gave her a playful smile; obviously he had become more confident after realizing where the questioning was headed. "Do you really think I would have told you how I felt if I hadn't already thought this out?"

"Then how will we deal with this when everyone else finds out?"

He smiled and said, "I say we just keep to one reply."

"Which is?" she asked imperiously.

"That we love each other," he murmured.

"Oh," Hermione stated, blinking in surprise. I didn't think of that, she grinned inwardly. Leave it to a Slytherin to want to tell the truth for once!

"So?" Zabini asked hesitantly.

Hermione looked back at him steadily. Will I be able to deal with the pressure from everyone else? Can I handle the Gryffindors? Most importantly, do I love him? As she gazed into his blue eyes, she knew her answer. I may not love him now, but I'm certainly attracted to him. It's a better place than any, to start. She smiled at him, and said, "Sorry, but I didn't know there was a question that I had to answer."

He grinned back and asked, "Will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Hermione's smile grew wider, "Why, of course, Mr. Zabini."

Zabini let out a loud whoop and drew her into a huge hug. He cares all that much for me? Hermione wondered, pleasantly surprised. Instead, she asked, "Shouldn't we go back in... Blaise?" her voice muffled by his chest.

His smirk was audible when he answered, "Why, Miss Granger, you only had to demand that I let you go if you wanted to get away from me."

Hermione laughed and pulled away slightly, looking up at him. "That wasn't it, and you know it. I just don't want Filch to catch us. Besides, you'll catch cold if we're out here any longer."

He looked down at her and grinned impishly. "Would it bother you if I was sick?"

She smirked back. "Of course. After all," she dropped her eyes to his lips, "that'll mean that I'll catch a cold, too."

They both paused, then tipped their heads back, laughing out to the heavens as the rain continued to drench them. At that moment, Hermione was sure that she had made the right decision. She had only agreed to Hogsmeade a minute ago, yet she already felt more carefree and happy than she ever had since she entered Hogwarts.

Once their merriment had died down, they settled into each other's arms comfortably. Hermione sighed contentedly against his chest, "I never thought I could be this happy while I was at Hogwarts."

Blaise pulled away a bit to look down at her. "Believe it, Hermione," he whispered as he smiled at her warmly, "this isn't a dream." To prove his point, he leaned down and captured her lips with his.

Finite Incantatem