Roommates

Three

Study, Conversations, And An Appointment

That evening, Hermione left Gryffindor tower, where she had been hanging out with Harry and Ron, to go to the library for her study session with Blaise.

She managed to get there five minutes early, so she pulled the signature of Professor McGonagall out of her bag and went over to the check out desk.

"Madam Pince?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Yes, Ms. Granger?" Pince said, a tight smile appearing on her lips. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if I could get Moste Potente Potions," Hermione said, handing the librarian the parchment holding her permission.

"Ms. Granger," Madam Pince said, handing the parchment back to Hermione, "when you are Head Girl, you don't need permission to get a book from the Restricted Section. Go ahead and get what you need, but don't remove anything from the library."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled at the woman and walked back to the table she and Blaise had sat at the night before, put her bag on a chair, and went into the Restricted Section to find the text she was looking for.

Blaise arrived ten minutes late to find a hastily scribbled note from Hermione telling him where she was and that she'd be back "soon."

He walked over to the librarian's desk. "Madam Pince? How long ago did Granger go into the Restricted Section?"

Madam Pince checked her watch. "About five minutes ago."

"Thanks," he replied, walking back to the table.

Madam Pince looked up from her book. "You're welcome," she said, surprised that he thanked her.

He nodded and went back to his chair to look for some Potions texts there.

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Hermione came back when Blaise had been sitting at the table for about half an hour. She smiled, as his head was tipped back, mouth open, breathing audibly.

In her arms, she held several large Potions texts. She dropped them on the table.

"No more tuna fish!" Blaise said, jumping.

"Tuna fish?" Hermione asked, amused. "Get reading, Zabini." She handed him a book and he glared at her.

"How'd you get into the Restricted Section?" he asked, disgruntled.

"Madame Pince let me," she said, flipping through a Love Potions text. "Aha!"

"What?"

She pointed to a section in the page. "Here's something on the Endless Love potion," she said. "The Endless Love potion requires immensely delicate treatment when preparing or it will become ineffective. When preparing, the maker must only use the exact ingredients listed, or the effects will be drastic. It is an extremely difficult and curmudgeonly potion that should only be attempted by the most skilled of youngsters, as it can only be made by someone under the age of twenty-five."

Blaise looked at Hermione, completely disgusted. "Now I see why Snape gave us this potion," he said. Hermione glanced at him. "'Cause we're the most talented potion students, and he's too old."

"But why would Snape want two vials of the Endless Love potion?" Hermione asked Blaise.

"'Ours is not to reason why; ours is but to do and die'," Blaise quoted.

"The Charge of the Light Brigade by Alfred Lord Tennyson," Hermione responded, hiding a smile.

"Yup," Blaise said, digging back into a book.

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They had finished studying, and had written five pages of notes each before they left, separately, to spend time with their friends.

Blaise headed off to the Slytherin common room. He stood in front of the stonewall and glared at it for a moment before speaking the password, "Mahogany slicer," and stepping through the doorway, brushing a curl off his forehead.

"So, Draco," Blaise said, flopping down on a leather-covered couch near his friend, "I hear you have Longbottom for your partner."

Draco threw him an icy glare to rival one of Snape's. "Shut it, Blaise. Or," he said, inspiration coming to him, "you could fill it with something else."

"'S your turn to shut it, Draco," Blaise replied amiably. "At least my partner doesn't blow things up all the live-long day."

"Ha-bloody-ha," Draco muttered, going into a sulk and slouching in his couch.

"Have you heard from Gin lately?" Blaise asked, peering at his fingernails.

Draco perked up visibly. "I got an owl from her yesterday. We're going to get together during the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"Ah," Blaise said. "So, have you figured out what to tell the potential in-laws?"

Draco snorted. "Please. Gin and I have been discussing elopement. Father, of course, will be exceedingly angry. Thankfully, he's in prison." Lucius Malfoy had been arrested after escaping Azkaban and was now in a top-security prison that no one knew the location of. Draco wrote, and received, occasional letters to his imprisoned father. "Mother doesn't care, as long as I don't interrupt her Grand Tour of Europe." He paused, musing. "I think she's in Milan right now."

"Well," Blaise said, "my parents told me that I could invite you to stay with us this summer, since your mum won't be home." Blaise's family, though Slytherins, were consumed by research and ancient texts. They had neither the time nor the interest in Death Eater tendencies. Blaise flicked a glance at Draco.

Draco looked irritably at him. "Stupid. How can you think that I'm involved with that lot anymore?" He rolled his eyes. "Not even you should be that idiotic." Draco had withdrawn his interest in the Death Eaters after his Aunt Lestrange had tried to kill him when she discovered his relationship with Ginny Weasley.

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Hermione tumbled through the portrait hole and onto a cushion that someone had most intelligently put underneath the accident-prone spot. She brushed her shirt off and straightened her skirt.

Walking over to the couch in front of the fire, she sat in between Harry and Ron and sighed.

"So, Hermione," Ron said, "where were you? I thought that you were going to help us with our paper."

Hermione sniffed. "Ron, I have my own homework, you know." Ron opened his mouth. "No, let me go on. I can't always help you with your homework. You have to learn to help yourself."

Ron grumbled something, but didn't repeat it when looked at by Hermione.

They settled into a discussion of the Quidditch lineups for that season.

"...And Malfoy's added Zabini to the Slytherin team as a Chaser," Harry said, frowning at the paper in which he had written down all the lineups for the other teams. "I'm going to move Ginny to point Chaser and--"

"Wait a second," Hermione interrupted. "Blaise is the new Chaser for Slytherin?"

"Yeah," Harry said, flipping through a sheaf of notes. "Apparently he plays with a team near his Manor during the summer." He frowned. "He's supposed to be really good. I'm going to have to train the Chasers really well to be able to get by him."

"How good?" Ron asked.

Harry held up a page of --to Hermione-- meaningless diagrams and Ron groaned when he scanned it. "Crap."

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Hermione went into the living room and dumped her bag onto a chair before walking into her room.

"Rough night?" called a muffled voice. Hermione glanced at the blanket that covered the portrait. She uncovered it to see Godric Gryffindor smiling cheerfully at her. "What's the matter, pet, something shoved up your--Mph!"

Rowena had pushed a handkerchief into his mouth. "Sorry about him," she apologized to Hermione. "He gets a bit, well, odd is the only word I can think of."

"It's ok," Hermione said, glaring at her House Founder. "Yeah, my day was so-so." Godric brightened, hoping for some dirt on other people--preferably from Slytherin. "But no, I'm not going to tell you." She covered the portrait back up. "I'm going to bed. Night."

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The next day Hermione left their chambers before Blaise woke so she didn't have to face him.

She entered the Great Hall to find the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team at the Gryffindor table arguing about the lineup.

"I still say that Dean should be the point Chaser," Ginny argued, glaring at Harry.

His facial expression revealed none of his exasperation. "No, Ginny. For the thousandth time, no. And I've asked Dean, and he said no," Harry said, raking a hand through his hair. "Hermione. Any input?"

"Slytherins," Hermione started, "are evil tweasels."

"Well, we know that," Ron said, smirking. "Anything new?"

"And Godric Gryffindor is a worse than all of them."

"Really?" Ginny asked. "How so?"

Hermione glared at the porridge in front of her. "I'll introduce you some time, Gin, and you will see."

"Okay," Ginny said, going back to arguing with Harry.

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"Now if you look at this one chart," Professor Vector said, frowning at a set of numbers, "then you'll see that Hirtan's theory is debunked..."

"So," Blaise said to Hermione in a low tone. Once again he had managed to wrangle a seat near her. Today he was sitting next to her. She was beginning to suspect him of bribing her classmates. "Ready for another session of horror stories of people afflicted by their rash decision to take the Endless Love potion?"

"No," she said, twirling a curl around her finger, writing notes with her other hand, "I'm rather busy this afternoon."

"With what?" Blaise asked, flicking her with a spot of ink.

"Stop that. I'm organizing a sleepover for all the girls in sixth and seventh year. We're going to have 'quality girl time', according to my cohort, Lavender Brown." Hermione flicked some ink back at him.

"You stop first." A spot landed on her collar.

"Stop," she warned, twiddling her quill threateningly, "or we'll have another 'incident' with my extremely sharp quill."

He glanced at the quill warily. "This evening, then?"

"Fine. But I'm only available for a few hours. Seven till nine."

"Why only that amount of time?" he asked, curious.

"I haven't been getting enough sleep lately, and I'm trying to get into bed by nine-thirty," she said. "Don't laugh."

Blaise looked at her surprised. "Why would I? It's a perfectly reasonable thing to want, since sleep is something all of us sleep-deprived teenagers could use."

Hermione's eyebrow's rose at this, but she didn't comment. She just turned back to the professor's lecture.