Roommates

Two

Their Rooms And A Class

When the painting swung shut behind them, Dumbledore coughed discreetly. "Ahem. I'm afraid that there is still a little dust," he apologized. "After all, the original occupants haven't been here for quite some time. But the House-Elves have promised to have it clean by tomorrow morning. Unless you two would rather do it yourself." Hermione and Blaise quickly shook their heads. "All right then. Well," Dumbledore motioned to a door with a Gryffindor banner hanging on it, "that will be your room, Ms. Granger. And that one," he motioned to a Slytherin clad door, "is your room, Mr. Zabini. The rooms of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are open for inspection, should the need arise in you.

"Also, there are several other rooms besides the bedrooms and this common room. Somewhere around here there is a garden, a Potions lab, a library, and, if I'm not mistaken," his eyes twinkled, "a combination broomstick maintenance and old records room that Godric used and several others that I am not aware of, I'm sure. Now, please go into your rooms and make sure everything is put away properly. The House-Elves were able to clean the rooms this morning, but then they had to prepare dinner and clean the dormitories. They promised to get to everything else as soon as possible. Dobby, the Head House-Elf, has promised to supervise the cleaning of these rooms himself. I must say farewell now, and that I hope you enjoy your new rooms." He turned before leaving. "Also, there is a meeting room on your immediate left as you go down that hallway. Adieu!" And, with that, he left Hermione and Blaise standing in the Founders' chambers, amazed at what was around them.

They looked around at the walls and saw the tapestries of the Founder's achievements. One of them depicted the building of Hogwarts, how they had levitated giant block of stone after giant block of stone into the pattern that they had chosen. The room had candle chandeliers and skylights; the chandeliers were only lit at night, and during the day, the skylights were enough. There were several doors and a few branching hallways, but Blaise and Hermione stayed in the main room to look around.

"This," Blaise said, "is bloody brilliant."

"No," Hermione said, "it's sodding brilliant."

"Very true," Blaise agreed. "There's a garden!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I love to garden! And a broomstick maintenance room! And that library and those old records for you! This is going to be perfect!"

"YES!" Hermione yelled, jumping up and down like a little kid on the red-and-gold lion carpet. She stopped suddenly and turned to Blaise.

"I have to go see my room!" they said simultaneously. They both ran to the doorways to their respective rooms and opened the doors, excited to see what was inside.

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Hermione opened her door carefully. Inside this decades-undisturbed room were Godric Gryffindor's personal belongings.

The room, unsurprisingly, was a deep scarlet color. There was a huge mahogany sleigh four-poster to her right, and matching nightstand, dresser and armoires. She ran her fingers over the dresser.

"It's not really that impressive, is it?" said a deep voice. She jumped and swirled around. There was a portrait of the Founders over a desk on the far side of the room. "Hello," Godric said cheerily, waving.

"Godric!" the picture Rowena said, smacking his shoulder. "For heaven's sake! You scared the poor girl out of a years' growth!" Godric grinned sheepishly at Hermione.

"Really, Rowena," Salazar said superiorly, "how can you expect anything from Godric, especially maturity?"

Rowena gave him a snide look. "The pot calling the kettle black," she said, arching her eyebrows at Slytherin. She turned from a chastened Salazar and looked back at Hermione. "So, my dear, you're the new occupant. I'm glad that they reinstated the policy."

"Policy?" Hermione asked. "What policy?"

"Oh, you didn't know, dear?" Rowena said. She frowned and turned to her friends. "We really must speak to Albus about the briefing of Prefects and Heads, all right?" Turning back to Hermione, she smiled. "Well, there used to be a practice of having the Heads stay here. Some idiot named Armando Dippet cancelled it. Thank God for Albus, though. He may have taken a while to reinstate the policy, but everything he does has a reason."

"Can't you say anymore?" Hermione asked.

Helga smiled rather condescendingly. "I'm afraid we can't, my dear. Rules, you know. If Albus put you here, it's for a reason that you will have to figure out on your own."

"Humph," Hermione said. Suddenly, she smiled. Walking over to her trunk, she fished elbow-deep around in it for a few minutes before muttering, "Aha!" and walked over to the portrait. In her hands she was holding a black blanket, which she tucked all the way around the frame so that they couldn't see her.

"That's not fair!" Godric yelled, voice slightly muffled.

"Don't make me put a silencing spell on you!" Hermione threatened. There was muffled grumbling from behind the blanket, but otherwise there was silence.

She looked at the desk. It was a magnificent roller-top desk, with Gryffindor's crest carved everywhere. She tried to open it with every spell she knew, but none worked.

"Godric," she said, lifting the curtain, "how do I open your desk?"

"You can't," he said smugly, "because I am not going to tell you."

"And why not?" she snapped, losing her worn-out patience.

"Because," he said, his voice long-suffering, "you didn't say 'please'."

Hermione glared at him for a few minutes. "Please," she said. "It would be very nice of you."

"That's better," Godric said smugly. "Now, to open my desk, you have to use a very complex unlocking charm that you only learn in University level Charms. Luckily, I'm smart to have picked something that those nosy students here don't learn. The charm is this Facere cinnus, apertus!"

"Very clever," Hermione said dryly, replacing the blanket. "Thanks." She glanced at the desk, went over to her bag and got some parchment, a quill, and some ink out. She wrote the spell down for further reference, possibly for a test, and decided to take a nap.

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Meanwhile, Blaise was enjoying the dungeon-esque paradise that was Slytherin's room. He sat on the --interestingly enough-- black-satin sheet-covered bed. The duvet was emerald green velvet with a down comforter inside.

There were Potions books neatly organized on the shelves, and Blaise walked over and looked at them closely. He fingered a leather-bound book that read Thirteen Extremely Tricky Potions For The Inquisitive Mind, by Salazar Slytherin. This book had almost completely disappeared; there were only five known copies of it in England, and two in Scotland. He grinned. Now he had possession of one. There was a door to Slytherin's Potions lab, but Blaise thought he'd check out the communal bathroom that the Founders had shared.

He left his room and walked over to the door that had a sign that read 'Bathroom' on it, and opened it.

The bathroom was about twice the size of the Prefect's bathroom, with a large silver bathtub on the right side of the door that was, again, half as big as the one in the Prefect's bathroom. Along one end of the room there were four showers, each in a different set of House colors. Another remarkable thing about the bathroom were the four tapestries that hung on its four walls. The room was square, and on each wall was a huge House tapestry. The wall with the door in it was Hufflepuff. Behind the tub was Ravenclaw. The wall opposite to the doorway was Gryffindor, and the wall behind the showers was Slytherin.

"Whoa..." Blaise said, standing in the center of the room, looking at everything around him.

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The next day, Hermione and Blaise set out for the Great Hall earlier than they would when they were living in the House, as they weren't sure where they were.

They passed a window soon after leaving their quarters and Hermione saw the greenhouses below them.

"Zabini, look!" she said, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him over to the window. "We're just around the Castle from the greenhouses! The garden that is part of the rooms must be that garden that nobody can get to because of that spell!"

"I think you're right, Granger," Blaise said, tugging his sleeve out of her hand. "If you are, we're only about ten minutes away from the Great Hall."

"How would you know that?" Hermione asked.

"Because I had Herbology right after breakfast a few years ago. I don't remember when, exactly, but it might've been fourth or fifth."

"Oh." Hermione nodded. "Well, let's go and get there early, and avoid the rush of the oncoming hordes." She struggled to keep a straight face.

Blaise grinned. "Nice one. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Shut up," she said, laughing. For a moment, they forgot their Houses, and were simply standing laughing together.

Blaise stopped first and coughed. "D'you think we should go ahead and go down?" he asked, slightly nervous.

"Sure," Hermione said, smiling at him.

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They arrived at the Great Hall about ten minutes before everyone else and sat at the Hufflepuff table, which was the middle left table, talking.

The doors swung open, and Hermione saw Harry and Ron come through, shocked expressions on their faces as they saw whom Hermione was talking to.

"Bugger off, Zabini," Ron said, glaring at Blaise.

"Ron," Hermione started, "lay off. He's Head Boy, and I've got to work with him." Ron made a futile protest about Blaise being a Slytherin before Hermione glared at him and led him over to the Gryffindor table, looking apologetically at Blaise.

Instead of nodding at her, Blaise sneered and turned away abruptly. She saw him walk over to Malfoy and shake his hand, muttering something and pulling out a few Galleons, handing them to Malfoy. Hermione shook with rage. He had bet on her! Bastard.

She turned away and focused on what Ron was saying --which was something about the Quidditch line-up-- to Harry, who was patiently listening before he said "No."

McGonagall, not surprisingly, had named Harry Quidditch Captain. Ron had taken up the strategy, but Hermione could see Harry was going to end up vetoing some of his ideas. Even she could see they were stupid.

"Honestly, Ron," she said, putting some toast on her plate, "Harry doesn't have to do that Wonky Feint at every single game. Besides, seeing as how the Snitch isn't as controllable as, say, the Quaffle or the Bludgers, he couldn't even if he wanted to."

"Wronski," Ron muttered, eating a roll, "for once can you say it right?" He looked up and caught Hermione's eye and gulped.

"'Mione," Harry asked, sounding rather annoyed at Ron's harping, "why did Dumbledore put you and Zabini in separate chambers? From everyone else, I mean."

Hermione sighed. "I don't know, Harry," she said, now buttering her toast. "Why don't you ask him?"

After her breakfast of toast and some fruit, Hermione jumped up to make it to her first class.

Once in the hallway, she felt someone grab her elbow. About to smack whomever it was, she was whirled around to face Blaise Zabini.

"I'll meet you in the library for work on the Potions assignment tonight at seven," he said simply.

"Why not in the chambers?" she asked, voice rather nasty.

"Because." He turned and walked away.

"Blast him," she muttered, dashing to her Ancient Runes class, forgetting he was in it, that he conveniently knew a shortcut and that he sat in the chair right behind her.

Hermione arrived, and the professor looked up and brushed a wisp of her white-streaked blonde hair out of her eyes. "Ah, Ms. Granger. Do take a seat." She turned back to the board, humming something to herself, not minding the slightly snickering students behind her.

Hermione blushed, because she knew that this particular professor was not as out-there as she looked. She was a recent member of the Order, and her name was Myrtle Discon. A plain name, to be sure, but a rather powerful witch behind it.

"Late, are we?" asked the snide voice of Blaise Zabini behind her.

Hermione had had enough of his prattish behaviour. "Shove it, Zabini," she hissed, opening her textbook. She heard a slight intake of breath behind her and smiled smugly. However, she became smug too soon. An instant after the gasp, a pair of long legs moved to stretch themselves out underneath her chair. His toes pushed her feet forward.

"...And so, when you put the Celtic rune and the rune from the Viking slab together-- Yes, Ms. Granger?" Professor Discon said, pushing her spectacles up farther on the bridge of her nose.

"Excuse me, professor, but could I please change seats?" Hermione asked.

"Why?" the professor asked, slightly clueless.

"Because," Hermione said, stomping on Blaise's foot simply to hear the grunt of pain that issued from his mouth, "Zabini is stretching his legs out underneath my chair."

"Oh. Well, Mr. Zabini, don't do that, or I'm afraid I'll have to remove House points," Myrtle said sternly. "Back to runes. When you put those two runes together, and speak their Latin names, you get the name of an ingredient to the Endless Love potion..."

Hermione felt Blaise's hand on the back of her chair, so she quickly picked up her quill and poked his hand hard, but not enough to make more than a large ink spot.

Blaise pulled his hand back and blew on it. Pulling out his wand, he muttered a charm that would make it look like a long gash. "Bloody hell!" Blaise exclaimed, jumping up, waving his hand about.

"Mr. Zabini!" Myrtle said, frowning. "Please! This is a classroom, not a saloon, or a bar! Five points from Slytherin!"

"Professor, look at my hand!" Blaise said, walking over and showing her his hand.

She lifted her glasses up to have a closer look. "Oh, dear. That looks awful. You should go to the hospital wing."

"Professor," Blaise said, a slight twinge of malice glinting in his eyes, "Hermione Granger stabbed me with her letter-opener!"

"Ms. Granger!" Professor Discon said, scolding Hermione sternly. "Don't do that again in my classroom!"

Blaise's mouth dropped open. "But, professor, why doesn't she get detention or something?"

"Because, Mr. Zabini," Myrtle said, turning back to the chalkboard, "Ms. Granger is a first-time offender. She doesn't deserve detention, and I really don't have time to assign her one. I'll just give her more homework, if that makes you happy. And five points from Gryffindor. Now, everyone, if we can please get back to runes and leave stabbing and the like alone, you might learn something today."

Blaise smiled smugly at Hermione, who glared at him, as he left to go to the hospital wing, cupping his hand.

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Blaise was sitting on a bed, watching ruefully as Madame Pomfrey wrapped his hand in bandages.

"Really," she scolded, "how do you get into these accidents these days? Not something sensible, like stepping onto that one stair that sticks, trying to pull your foot off, and then having it let you go, and you fall down the stairs. No, you have to fight with someone and get stabbed with a letter-opener." She tsk-tsked at Blaise for a moment, and then walked away to find a salve for him to rub on his hand for the next few days.

Hermione entered the Infirmary quietly and passed the nurse, walking over to Blaise's bed where he was glaring at his hand. "It's not that bad, is it?" she asked, concerned.

"No," he said, "she just-- Oh, it's you. Go away. I don't want to talk to you."

"Well," she retorted, "you'll have to. I'm to escort you to Herbology, as Professor Discon has asked me to do, then run back inside and three floors and two moving staircases away to my Arithmancy class."

"Really?"

"Yes," Hermione answered, as Madam Pomfrey came back to instruct Blaise on what to do. Hermione paused while Pomfrey scolded and then dismissed Blaise. "So let's get going."