Giant Squids Have Feelings, Too

It's not very often a normal student at Hogwarts gets to use the nicest bathrooms in school. It's often a granted privilege. One, when deemed with such a privilege, used it to the full extent and usually spent a fair amount of time soaking in the warmth of the bath tub.

On this particular night, there were two students lucky enough to use the bathrooms. One, a Slytherin, using the secondary prefect's bathroom on the other side of school, near the Gryffindor tower, with an overlooking large picture window of the sky and grounds, but enchanted so no one can look in. Yeah, it wasn't as nice as the first bathroom, but it did the job and still looked pretty. The baths are made of green and black marble and the floor of the same color. The taps are sterling silver and fine and unscratched or damaged. The paintings on the walls are bewitched to stop peeping. A large serpent statue stands in the corner, spurting warm water from it's mouth into the bath at a slow, steady pace, creating a perfect setting for a relaxing soak.

The other, a Gryffindor, using the nicest bathroom in school, made for the Gryffindor prefects, with floor made of polished natural red stone. The room is covered in gold and the monogrammed Gryffindor towels are made fresh for you by a small pixie who sleeps the entire day, waking only to stitch you a towel when you enter the bathroom. The pair of complementary slippers, much like found in nice hotels in exotic places like Paris, made of the finest plush and faux fur, sit by the sinks, waiting for you to step in once you've dried off. There are elegant statues that danced for your entertainment while you bathed. Large paintings that show worthy subjects of portraits hang in all corners of the room, chatting in an amicable tone with you as you dress, without the discomfort of being watched or peeped on.

The two students worthy of the luxury were none other than Blaise Zabini, the copper-eyed "flex" of Slytherin, and Harry Potter, the "hero" of Gryffindor.

They both did their respective actions in sync. Stripped of their clothes, set their clean clothes to the side, turned on the taps, stepped into the warm baths. Everything matched as they washed their hair, their bodies, their faces. Neither of them figured that they'd both be fearing for their lives while they held each other tight as they watched a giant squid rise from it's depths to scream at them.

It all started out regularly.

*~*

Harry set his clothes down on the polished counter and with a sigh, he took off his shirt and examined his latest scars. It wasn't his fault. He'd been flying in the Forbidden Forest when, as luck would have it, he flew into some brambles when someone called his name. His shirt had been torn and his robes tattered. He'd been bleeding madly, but he'd quickly managed to heal them. His spell didn't work out as he hoped though, and temporary scars marked his latest escapade in the forest.

He took off his trousers then, followed by his boxers. He turned on the taps and sat idly on the edge of the tub, listening to the water rushing silently into the bath. It was midnight, after hours, but he needed to clean himself. He was caked in dirt from rolling around by the lake that day as instructed by Dean, who was teaching them the Muggle sport rugby.

The bath filled and he turned off the water and climbed in quietly. One of the paintings, a beautiful witch dressed in Victorian clothes, winked at him as he did so.

"My, my," she cooed, her smile turning seductive and sexy all at the same time. "It's not often we get such a fine looking young man in here."

"Now, now, Liessa," said a wise looking wizard next to her as he pointed a finger and shook it lazily at her, "we're not to get flirty with the patrons." He turned to face Harry. "Don't mind her. She's had a problem lately."

"I have not!" responded the witch called Liessa. "Please, darling, you really are quite a Marilyn."

Harry grinned. The paintings were picking up on the Cockney rhyming slang. He'd heard someone use the term 'Marilyn'. It meant 'handsome'.

"I'm flattered," Harry said politely, "but I'd really like to just bathe and think alone."

"Well," Liessa said with a sensual wink, "if you want to talk, you know where to find me!" Then she left the painting to go off somewhere. Harry leaned back in the tub and settled in deep. He took the silence of the water sloshing and the peaceful music of the humming pixie in the corner, singing an old faerie hymn to herself as she stitched Harry's towel. She had a lovely voice, and he tried to remind himself to ask her name when she came over.

Until that moment, he leaned back and thought to himself.

Often times, he didn't know where to start. He'd start about some random thing, and slowly, the thoughts would go in a circle and the cycle would repeat without Harry even realizing it. That's how his mind worked. Repeating thoughts without his knowledge... but in a way, it was his own, and he liked it.

Slowly, his mind drifted to the students of Hogwarts, who he'd go out with. He remembered dating Ron a week back, just for experimental purposes, and figured out that he was bi. He'd dated the Patil sisters, as well as a Ravenclaw and two Hufflepuffs. Yeah, he'd pretty much dated one person from each house. Except, of course, Gryffindor's blood enemies, the Slytherins.

To be completely honest, he wanted to date a Slytherin of either gender. You know, to get the feel of it. He'd never really considered who he'd kiss, though. To tell the truth, it hadn't really ever crossed his mind. He had, at a point, drawn out a large list of Slytherins, both male and female, that he would date. The male list went quite a ways longer, considering that the best of the female Slytherins was Pansy Parkinson, and she wasn't a looker to begin with.

He washed his hair under the spray of an attached shower nozzle and began to wrap up his bath when his mind suddenly remembered someone he hadn't put on the Slytherin List.

Zabini. Blaise Zabini.

But it would mar Zabini's perfect name if he dared put his name on the "list".

*~*

Blaise admired the bathroom as he stepped inside, admiring the large statues and the quiet paintings dozing peacefully in their gilded frames. He enjoyed this place. The marble was cool on his feet, soothing, almost. He took off his shirt and stood in the mirror to comb his hair before he washed it. It became unbelievably and horribly tangled when he washed it without combing it first.

He stared at his skin as he idly pulled the comb through his hair. It was a dark tan, matching perfectly to his copper eyes and his black hair. He took off what remained of his clothes and turned on the taps, waiting in silence. When the bath was full, he climbed in quietly and leaned back against the tub. Something called his name quietly.

"Oh please, Marissa," Blaise said annoyedly, "can't you just leave me alone?"

From behind the wall a ghost wearing royal clothing floated, supported on a cloud of golden dust. She gave an indignant sniff.

"I was only checking the bath water, Blaise, dear!" she said, tearfully. "Your mother wanted me to take care of you!"

"She relies too much on a floating apparition," Blaise commented. "Now, can you let me soak in peace?!"

"No one cares for poor Marissaaaa!" moaned the ghost as she floated off at a great speed, wailing.

"Good show, chum!" said an elderly wizard from one of the paintings. "She's been quite emotional lately, hasn't she, Mark?"

A painting of a man dressed in modern clothes was jolted from his sleep. He turned.

"Shut up! Is it SO hard to get a little shut-eye with that stupid ghost coming around every five minutes?" From his crude accent and odd pronunciation, it was only obvious that the man named Mark was an American.

"Don't mind Mark," the chatty wizard said, continuing merrily. "Lady Marissa has taken quite a fancy to him. Poor, poor, disillusioned girl." He tutted and then turned his attention back to Blaise. "So, how're things?"

"Uh, look," Blaise said nervously, "I'm not really comfortable talking to an older male painting when I'm stark naked in a tub full of translucent water" -he moved the water to demonstrate- "so I'd really like it if I could continue this on a later affair, perchance?"

"Oh, yes, quite alright!" chuckled the wizard as he snuggled into his frame. "Just looking for a chat. All these paintings are so unsocial." That elicited some indignant cries from neighboring paintings. "Well, each to his own, I guess!" He laughed merrily. "Enjoy your soak. I'm going to take a nap!" Then, within an instant, his eyes were closed and he was snoring loudly.

Blaise settled back lazily. He rested in peace. His mind was blank and relaxed, he felt nothing.

But then, a shiver ran down his spine. Someone's thinking about me... he thought as he started to lather his hair.

He began to think about all the people he thought about. His mind went to previous lovers, ex-girlfriends, hot moments, sex. But then, his mind drifted to a significant being, someone he dreamed about but could never have.

Potter. Harry Potter.

But his mind refused to go there, otherwise, Blaise would drown in his fantasies.

*~*

"Gah, this castle is so cold!" Harry muttered as he dried himself off, tying the towel around his waist to try to tame his hair. He picked up the brush and, shivering, commenced to pull his scalp. He made a couple of pained noises, then just threw the brush down on the counter with a loud swear, startling the humming pixie. She flitted over quickly.

"Master Potter, is something wrong?" she asked, resting her clasped hands on her fat stomach.

"Oh, no," Harry said distractedly, looking around for his clothes, but soon giving up. "Nothing's wrong, Mabel."

Mabel looked discontentedly at him. "Now, now," she said gently, "you can always tell Mabel what's wrong." She sat down on the counter next to him, sighing as she settled her plump frame into a comfortably supporting position. "Well?"

Harry sighed and smiled at the pixie. She was... well... large, to put it politely. Plump, like an opera singer. She had long flowing red hair, bright and thick, which rolled down her shoulders. She had a pink, friendly face that always seemed to want to chuckle. She had wide, large eyes that were very shiny and bright blue. She had plump, pink lips always in a smile, and she was wearing a purple slip night-dress, considering that Harry had woken her from her sleep. She didn't seem the least bit bothered.

Harry looked down at his hands that rested on the counter. Mabel sat there patiently. "Come, dear," she said kindly, resting her very small hand on Harry's shoulder. "You can tell me anything."

Harry nodded. "I guess so," he said, smiling. "Mabel, you can't tell anyone what I'm about to tell you. My rep will be ruined. I'll become a social pariah."

"Oh, honey," Mabel said, smiling kindly, "there really is no need to worry. I will keep my lips sealed and forever, and then some. Harry," she continued, her eyes glittering kindly, "whatever it is you need to tell me, I know it's bothering you, and who better to tell than old modest Mabe?"

Harry sighed. "Well, the thing is, I like someone."

"Oh, Harry, darling!" Mabel cooed excitedly. "Everyone, at one point, gets a little crush? Who's the lucky girl?"

"That's the thing," Harry said cautiously. "It's... it's not a girl."

Mabel stopped in mid chuckle. "Er, sorry, Harry, dear, I appear to have had some bananas in me ears." At this, Mabel almost fell of the counter laughing so hard. When the giggles subsided, she began, "Could-could-could you repeat that? I seem to have heard that your crush wasn't a girl?"

"You... you heard correct," Harry said, blushing furiously.

"Oh, Master Potter, that's alright. Who's the lucky g- boy?" Mabel smiled again.

"He's a Slytherin..." Harry trailed off, unsure of Mabel's response.

The response was Mabel turning very pale. "Harry, are you mistaken? Delusional to the point that you've forgotten that Gryffindors and Slytherins are... are enemies?" She regained composure and color. "Never the less, love is love. Who is the Slytherin your heart fancies, dear?"

"Zabini. Blaise Zabini." Harry blushed violently.

"Ah, what a choice!" Mabel said with a smile that appeared almost dreamy. "He's quite handsome, if I do so remember. The cute one, right? Tan skin, dark hair, big copper-colored eyes?"

"Yes..." Harry turned to look at the sink.

"Oh, he's a darling." Mabel looked almost like she was going to go romance with Blaise at that moment, when she stopped. "Well, why don't you go talk to him?"

"ARE YOU MAD?!" cried Harry, jumping so much that Mabel made an audible gasp of surprise and fell over onto her large back. "I'll get slaughtered! I doubt Mr. Zabini is bisexual, much escaping that he could be even REMOTELY gay!"

"How do you know?" Mabel squeaked as she rolled over to fly again. She hovered in the air, opened her mouth as if to speak, and then yelled, "MINXIE! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!"

Harry turned to see a house-elf, dressed in a tatty pink slip much like Mabel's. In her hands were Harry's clean and dirty clothes. Her wide orange eyes expressed pure fear.

"B-b-b-but Mistress!" Minxie attempted to say. "Minxie needs it s-s-s-so she can... well... can fulfill an or-or-order so as th-thrust upon her!" She looked at Harry wildly. "M-minxie mus-must leave now, Master P-p-p-potter. I-I'll return your clothes when... when my orders have been comple-completed..." She scurried off quickly, followed by a towel-clad Harry.

"Screw the orders! I need my clothes!"

*~*

Blaise heard the yelling much before he actually saw the source. He forgot everything as he barreled into the hallways to catch the offender who had ruined his quiet. His breath caught short when he saw a partially dry, scantly-clad Harry Potter chasing a sobbing house-elf. He was amusing himself fantasizing about Harry when he heard a door slam shut. He turned, bewilderedly, to find the door of the bathroom shut. He ran forward, tugging at the handles.

Useless, they were locked.

He heard Potter scream, "Stupid house-elf! I wish you guys were regular elves so as you couldn't follow such trivial orders, like stealing my fucking clothes!" He grinned to himself, before realizing the real dilemma he was in. The same one as Potter.

Stranded in the middle of school, stark-naked, save for a tightly wrapped towel covering what needed to be covered.

Blaise began to shiver violently. It was damned well drafty in the castle! He then remembered the horrifying facts, one after the other.

It was after hours, was the first. He would surely be caught, due to Potter's yelling. (Stupid, sexy, towel-wearing Potter! his mind screamed.) The second was that he was very far from his dorm and couldn't possibly make it down without running into Filch or some other stupid problem. The third, the staircases moved and one minute, he'd be close to his dorm, the next, he'd be farther than he was to begin with.

He swore under his breath. No choice, then. He'd have to risk crossing paths with the one person he wished he never would, for fear of making himself look like an idiot.

He began to descend the cold staircase, wearing a pair of slippers he'd found in the bathroom. He was making his descent when he heard Potter cursing nearby. He tried to hide his blush and the pull at his stomach when he realized Potter was traveling the same way that Blaise was.

Down.

"Dammit," Potter was saying. Blaise could see him in front of him. "The dorm is probably locked, not to mention the prefects skulking around up there... may as well go to the kitchens and see if Dobby's got anything I can throw on until I can get out of the way of the prefects."

Blaise figured it a good time to suggest he get some clothes from his dorm. He jogged down to meet Potter before realizing his hair was still wet. He was still wet. No matter..

"Potter!"

Harry turned to see Blaise coming for him. Blaise couldn't help seeing the blush creeping onto his neck.

"Zabini," Potter said unstably. "What do you want?"

"I couldn't help overhearing," Blaise said, trying to hide the nervous quiver in his voice, "that the Tower is swarming with prefects."

"Correct," Harry mumbled, eyes ahead of him as they went down the stairs, both only wearing colorful striped towels.

"Well, it just so happens that there're few prefects in the dungeons," Blaise said nervously. "I was going to suggest that maybe you might want to borrow some of my clothes?"

Potter turned quickly and Blaise saw the unfiltered, pure joy in his eyes. "You're not... well... joking, are you, Zabini?"

"No!" Blaise said indignantly.

"I accept." Potter looked down the stairs as they descended the long walk down to the first floor, then down the stairs to the dungeon. They walked in silence, both unaware of their mutual excitement of being in the company of the other.

They reached the dungeon stairs when Harry started to get nervous.

"Look, Blaise," he said uneasily, "I don't think I should go into the Slytherin common room."

"Why?" Blaise said, barely managing to cover the disappointment in his voice and eyes.

"I'm not comfortable with it." Harry struggled to keep the blush from spreading.

"It's okay, I'll check to see if it's clear," Blaise said reassuringly, smiling at Harry as he ran down the stairs, his feet making pattering noises as he went down. Harry followed slowly.

Blaise decided, as he said the password in a mumble while Harry stood fidgeting in a dark corner, that he really was in love with Harry Potter.

*~*

"Come on, Harry," Blaise whispered. "Quickly!"

Harry stepped in and realized Blaise's hurry. Draco Malfoy was sitting by the fire, speculating. His goons were sleeping on either side of him. Malfoy looked up and Blaise leapt in front of Harry, standing there, arms out spread, guarding him. Malfoy cocked his head. Harry watched from behind him, peeking just barely out of the slender frame of Blaise Zabini.

"Zabini," Malfoy drawled. "Where're your clothes?"

"Got locked out of the bathroom near Gryffindor Tower. Came down here for some clothes." Blaise's voice was cool and steady.

Malfoy seemed satisfied with the answer. "Very well," he said icily. "On your way."

"Thanks." Blaise was close enough to the door of his room that Harry and him backed up. Blaise opened it and backed in, trying not to trip over Harry. Harry leapt out as soon as he heard the door close.

"Does he always check like that?" Harry whispered.

"Yeah, but it's not as bad as you think," Blaise responded, going to the closet to take out some clothes. Harry sat down on the bed, watching Blaise pick out clothes. Harry watched distantly, looking Blaise up and down.

Blaise was tan, and slim. He had an athletic build, but Harry had never seen him run or do anything athletic. His legs were muscular and toned. His hair was wavy and cut to the nape of his neck, staying close to the form of his slender neck. His face was that of what Harry speculated a handsome Greek god looked like. His copper eyes were what stood out. They were emotional and swirling with constant feeling. Harry was hypnotized by the fact that the towel fitted him and went around his hips and thighs.

Blaise turned around. "I got some clothes."

Harry looked at Blaise's front. He stood elegantly, holding himself high, despite the fact that he was looking down. He had a flat stomach and traces of abs. He was, quite simply, the most perfect being Harry had known.

He stood and took the clothes from Blaise and went to a corner of the room, dropping the towel and changing quickly into a long-sleeved striped green and silver shirt and matching scarf, with black pants. Only after he had put them on did he realize the colors. He groaned inwardly and was about to point it out, when he remembered that Blaise... he loved Blaise, and, well, Blaise was volunteering to lend his clothes, the clothes he wore often (thinking about this made Harry shiver excitedly), and he was giving them to Harry to wear.

He turned to see Blaise, in the nude, back to him, putting on a pair of boxer shorts. Harry was momentarily hypnotized by the sight before him, but he snapped out of it quickly and looked away, blushing.

"Ready?" came Blaise's voice. Harry turned to see Blaise in a black shirt with a green long-sleeved shirt under it. "I'll walk you back to your dorm."

"Okay," Harry said quietly. Blaise peeked his head out the door and nodded excitedly.

"Malfoy's gone." Blaise grinned.

"Great." Harry followed Blaise out the portrait hole. They were heading out of the dungeons and into the Entrance Hall when Harry felt the urge to spend more time with Blaise. As much time as he could.

"Blaise?"

Blaise turned and looked over at him. "What?"

"I... I don't want to go to the dorms just yet. Can we... go outside for a while?"

Blaise smiled. "I'd love to."

*~*

Outside it was dark and cold. Blaise wrapped his arms around himself and shivered noticeably. He was glad Harry had invited him for a walk around the lake. Though it was much below negative ten degrees outside, Blaise couldn't be more happy.

They were walking closely, and in silence. Blaise's heart skipped like a rabbit, full of joy of being next to Harry. They hadn't spoken since walking out onto the snowy grounds. It was almost too perfect, the white, unspoiled light of the moon on the freshly fallen powder. It crunched under their feet.

Blaise had so many questions to ask Harry, but he didn't want to ruin it. Harry looked like an angel in the moonlight, the way the moon fell on his skin only a few shades lighter than Blaise's own. His jet-black hair was lit with the white moon, and his eyes glittered in the light like fresh polished emeralds of the deepest green color. Blaise longed to just stare into those eyes for so long, forever, if possible. He wasn't expecting Harry to break the silence.

"Blaise, why did you offer your clothes to me?" he asked, looking over at him.

Blaise felt himself blushing. "Oh, well, see," he started, "I... well, I just kind of felt sorry for you?"

Harry chuckled. "Slytherins aren't supposed to feel sorry for Gryffindors."

"Is it okay if I feel more than sorry for you?" Blaise asked cautiously.

Harry looked at him with those deep green eyes, and Blaise's heart stopped as he said, "Of course."

*~*

Harry and Blaise continued walking, again in silence. Harry knew the nervousness Blaise felt, and, to be honest, he was nervous too. Blaise was... well... Blaise was Blaise, and Harry loved him. Blaise was handsome, the most fancied Slytherin in all of the school, besides Malfoy. He was supposed to be an enemy, but why couldn't Harry stop his fleeting heart? If he was an enemy, why did he feel this way?

"Potter?" came Blaise's voice, almost in a whisper. Harry turned.

"Yes?" He tried to sound cool.

Blaise looked like he was trying to think about what to say. Harry wished he would. His voice was smooth, like verbal silk, and Harry longed to hear it come out of his soft lips. Blaise opened his mouth again. "I don't know how to put it."

Harry flung an arm involuntarily over Blaise's shoulder. "Let's go sit by the lake," he said, feeling Blaise shiver under his arm. They walked like that to the lake, and sat down, leaning against a large willow tree.

Harry couldn't help the great sigh of contentment that escaped his mouth.

*~*

This is a dream, thought Blaise, the breath coming out of his throat in shallow, hard gasps. I'm under a tree with the only one who matters, Harry Potter. It's too good to be true, way too good to be true... this isn't as it seems. I'm going to wake up disappointed.

On his left, Harry was talking about something. Blaise had been trying to pay attention, but he was too nervous. He was fidgeting madly. He'd often played a scenario familiar to this in his mind as he had watched Harry at breakfast. Only, by this time, they'd be either making love or snogging, not talking or having Blaise make a total fool of himself.

Harry stood then. "Want to throw rocks in the lake with me?"

Blaise shrugged and stood, trying to remain as calm and pulled-together as possible, but he was touching Harry's arm, and it was making it hard to concentrate. Harry picked up a stone and threw it into the lake. The hollow plunk sound it made was like music, only ten times better. Harry handed Blaise a stone.

"Here, try it." Harry's warm expression made Blaise's heart flutter wildly. He turned, backed up a little, then ran forward and pitched the rock forward. It landed square in the middle of the lake with a plunk and seemed to have lost no momentum upon hitting the water. He watched it zip down through the lake quicker than anything he'd seen like it.

"Nice!" Harry exclaimed, smiling. "I've never seen anything like that before!"

Blaise opened his mouth to say something, but closed it for fear of sounding like a dolt. Harry picked up a rock and threw it straight down into the water with a cry. He turned to look at Blaise.

"There's something I want to say," he began, but just then, something very odd happened.

*~*

The water shifted, and both boys turned to watch it. Out of the water rose something pink... wait, no. Something pink and HUGE. Harry grasped Blaise's hand without thinking, gripping tightly, as if to protect him. He watched in between horror and excitement.

Out of the water the creature rose. The tentacles were coming up now, and they were long and thick. They flopped over every area of the shore of the lake, groping madly, hitting everywhere but Harry and Blaise. The tips were getting closer, and Harry gripped Blaise tightly, grabbing him into an embrace to keep him protected, but all the while not really aware he was doing it. He didn't feel Blaise gasp in his arms, or go stiff and tense when he realized what was happening.

Further it rose, until the squid's eyes, inky black and shiny, emerged from the depths of the dark water, the droplets dripping down it's textured skin. It stared at Blaise and Harry for a moment, it's "eyebrows" lowering to create an angry image. Harry gasped and his grip tightened, hoping, praying, that it didn't take Blaise from him. The squid pulled itself up so it's mouth, which was located on the bottom, was visible. It turned it to Harry and Blaise. Harry closed his eyes. This is it. This is how I'm going to die. In love with someone who doesn't love me, outside by the lake at Hogwarts, being eaten by a giant squid. He felt Blaise shaking in fear and he instinctively gave him a gentle squeeze of attempted comfort. He opened his eyes when he didn't feel pain. The squid simply let out a loud, scream-like roar and disappeared into the water.

They stayed frozen for a minute, scared, shaking. Then, Harry released him.

"H-Holy cr-crap!" he panted. "Dih-did the rest of the school hear that?"

"I duh-duh-dunno," Blaise responded, equally as breathless. "I doh-don't think so... I think the lake is be-be-bewih... bewiiih... you know."

"Bewitched?"

"Yeh-yeah."

They stood panting for a minute, when Blaise suddenly turned to Harry.

"Cou-could you hold me... again?"

*~*

Blaise suddenly knew the mistake of his words the minute they came out his mouth. He froze in terror. I've done it now, he thought. I've screwed it up. He'll never love me now. He felt awful. He turned and was about to run off when he felt arms coming around him.

"Of course," came a voice. He looked up and turned around. Harry was looking at him, eyes clouded with... emotion. What emotion? Blaise had never seen anything like that in his eyes. Or, had he?

The halls, the Quidditch games, the meals... it was all there. That look. That look saved just for Blaise, just for him, here it was now. Here it was, in front of him, up close. His heart was beating.

"Is that all?" Harry asked, looking into Blaise's own eyes. Blaise was finding it hard to breathe, he was sure that at any moment, he would pass out from lack of air, but it didn't happen.

"What do you mean?" Blaise responded quietly, tightening himself into a smaller form, even though Harry was taller than him to begin with.

"Didn't you want something else?" Blaise caught the small traces of disappointment in Harry's eyes.

"Doesn't everyone?" Blaise asked with a slight smile.

Harry grinned in response. "Of course." And then he lowered his head and took Blaise's lips in his. It was unlike any kiss Blaise had ever experienced. It was perfect. The feel of Harry's warm mouth against his made him feel almost unworthy of Harry's love. It was sublime, like being kissed by a god. Blaise wanted it to continue forever, but Harry slowly pulled away, breaking the kiss, the bond, the warmth. Blaise's eyes opened slowly to see Harry smiling back.

"I love you," he said simply.

Blaise stood on his toes to reach Harry's mouth. "I love you, too." Then he returned Harry's favor and kissed him back.

*~*

Hermione's eyes twinkled when she saw the sight by the lake. She smiled brightly and was going to break away from the adorable picture when she heard someone enter the room.

"Missus?" came a small voice, and Hermione turned. Minxie stood there, holding out the clothing bundle, ungracefully rumpled into a ball. "I-I got Ma-master Potter's clothes." She handed the clothes to Hermione, who took them graciously.

"Thank you, Minxie," she said with a grin. "You're such a good little helper, even if it is wrong to enslave elves."

"Th-thank you, Mih-missus!" Minxie cried, then she turned and scurried out of the room.

Hermione walked out of her room and went to the boy's dorms. She edged open the door, finding Ron, Seamus, Dean, and the like sitting on their beds, following her with their heads visibly. They watched her open Harry's trunk and drop the clothes in. She turned and walked towards the door. She'd reached it when Ron called after her.

"Wait, Herm!" he called.

Hermione turned. "What?" she asked with a smile.

"How did it... how did it go? You know... the meeting?" Ron queried, looking nervous. The rest of the boys looked eager to know as well.

Hermione grinned. "Couldn't have gone better. I trust you'll return his clothes to him."

End