Roommates

Four

Books, More Conversations, And Memos

That Saturday Hermione, Harry and Ron waited outside for the thestral-drawn carriages to appear so they could make their way to Hogsmeade.

"So, I expect you two will be frittering away your time in the Quidditch store?" Hermione asked, joking.

"It's not 'frittering', Hermione," Ron started.

"Oh, Ron, I'm just teasing," she replied as the carriages rolled to a stop in front of them. She climbed into one. "Don't take everything about Quidditch the wrong way."

"Merph," he said, jumping into the carriage and landing on the seat across from Hermione's. "I don't see why you joke about it. I certainly don't joke about bo-- Oh, sorry." He gave her an apologetic smile and they launched into a discussion of what they were going to do in Hogsmeade that day.

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"So, Hermione," a voice from behind her left shoulder said in an amiable tone, "looking in the Potions section? How predictable."

"What do you want, Zabini?" Hermione asked, leafing through Difficult Potions, Third Edition.

"I was wondering what was up," he replied, leaning against the bookshelf next to her. "Can't I be a friendly co-Head?"

She looked at him, slightly amused. "Maybe. But you've got to tell me why you were betting on me with Malfoy first."

"Oh. That." He seemed unconcerned.

Hermione snapped the book shut, irritated. "Yes, that," she said. "Now kindly tell me what it was about."

"You wouldn't like it if I told you," he said, mouth twitching.

"I'm sure," she muttered. "But tell me anyway."

"Hmm... I don't think I will. Thanks, though." He laughed at her expression. "Really, Gryffette, don't argue with people who are protecting you from a greater evil."

"Who would those 'protectors' be, then?" Hermione asked.

Blaise laughed. "Why, Draco and me, of course!" he said, as if that were perfectly normal. "We are watching all of you." He tweaked her nose. "Even the nosy ones, such as yourself, Gryffette."

Hermione rubbed her nose as he picked up a book from the shelf. "Which one is that?" she asked.

He leafed through about a hundred pages. "Potions Masters and the Women Who Love Them, by Severus Snape," he read from the cover. "My own noble Head of House." He put the book back on the shelf and picked up another one. "And this one's Thirty of the Most Difficult Love Potions, by Flir T. Wifmi."

"'Flir T. Wifmi'?" Hermione asked, laughing.

Blaise scrutinized the cover of the book. "That's what it says. Interesting." He looked at the table of contents. "It's got Endless Love, too. Three chapters devoted to the bugger."

"Don't swear," Hermione said offhand, reading her book.

"Humph. I'll do what I want, Granger. But this looks pretty good. Here, give me yours." She handed the book she was reading over to him.

"Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'm going to buy both of them, of course," Blaise said, fishing out his moneybag.

"Don't be silly. I'll buy my own," Hermione said, reaching for the second book in his hands.

"No," he said. "I've got the money for it, and you need to save yours." With that, he evaded her book-grabbing hands and went to buy the books.

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Hermione opened the door to The Three Broomsticks, about to go in to wait for Harry and Ron, when a hand grabbed her elbow. She looked back to see Blaise standing behind her and holding her tightly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Let me go. I'm going to wait for Harry and Ron. Let me go," she replied, trying to tug her arm from his grasp.

"There's a reason I'm the new point Chaser for Slytherin," he said, easily holding onto her, "and it has something to do with my ability to grip things very well." She frowned at him. "Now, now, don't be smushing up those features of yours. Don't want to get premature wrinkles, do we?" He laughed at her shocked expression. "Just joking. Come to Honeyduke's with me," he said, pulling her towards the candy store.

"Fine," she grumbled. "But let me go when we get there."

"Sure."

They walked towards the candy store, recipients of a few strange glances. After all, it was a Slytherin leading a Gryffindor by the arm to who-knows-where, looking rather determined.

"People are staring," she hissed to Blaise.

He looked back at her, a cheerful expression on his face. "I know. Isn't it wild?"

She sighed and let him hold the door to Honeyduke's open for her. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said. He steered her shoulder over to the chocolate. "Now, I'm thinking of getting my sister some chocolate, since she has never had Honeyduke's chocolate."

"What?" Hermione asked, surprised. "How old is she?"

"Oh, she's fifteen."

"But she should be able to visit Hogsmeade, then."

"No, she goes to Beauxbaton," Blaise replied. "What do you think of the dark chocolate? Think she'd like that?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, picking out a huge slab. "Go for it." He laughed, and walked over to buy the chocolate.

When he came back, she had a question for him. "Why didn't you want me to go into The Three Broomsticks?" she asked, tugging a loose curl.

He looked at her, frowning for a moment before answering. "I can't tell you who, but there were two people in there who don't want anyone knowing that they're dating, and I've sworn to help keep the more... inquisitive of people away from their date sites."

"Really?" Hermione said, buttoning up her coat. "Fascinating. Who?"

"Now, Gryffette," he said, handing her a chocolate bar, "that would be telling." He smiled at her. "By the way, it's all right to go back to the pub. Their date's over." He nodded at her, and left to hike back to Hogwarts.

Hermione shook her head at his figure and went back to the pub to wait for Harry and Ron. She slipped the candy bar into her purse, smiling slightly.

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He was watching her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head. Turning slightly, and holding up a mirror, she glanced behind her.

He was sitting halfway across the library with Malfoy, who was chatting at him, and his eyes met hers in the mirror, with an amused expression clear in them. She turned red and quickly turned away to get back to studying the book in front of her.

"The Endless Love potion should never be drunk by anyone who is careless, for the next person to drink the counter-potion will instantly become their life partner, no matter the subject.

Often the makers of the potion will test it and, as a result, fall into an endless love. The only counter for this potion is for one of the drinkers to die. Studies find that the remaining potion-drinker remains loving their counter part for several months, and, in some cases, years. But eventually the potion will work its way out of their system without the person who has ingested the counter-potion to keep the reaction of the potions whole.

Many people have drunk this potion and few ever are dissatisfied with the results. In a few cases, the potion has been administrated to the wrong person. A representative example would be the case of Tristan and Isolde, or the time when a maid accidentally put the female version of the potion into the glass of Veronica Malfoy, and so Lady Malfoy ended up wrecking many alliances by running away with Craig Weasley, a poor potato farmer. The result of mis-application can be a generations-long family feud."

"Finding it interesting?" a voice hissed into her ear.

Hermione jumped. She could feel Blaise's head hovering inches away from hers. She turned abruptly, and almost kissed him.

"Really, Gryffette," he said, sitting in the chair next to her, thoroughly enjoying the blush that was spreading across her face, "if you're that desperate for a boyfriend you could've told me in the chambers." He grinned. "Much better and easier access to a lot of things."

"Oh, shut up, Zabini," she said crossly. "You caught me off guard and you know it."

He laughed. "I do. But it is extremely enjoyable to see you get flustered." His eyes moved to someone behind her. She turned to see Malfoy standing there, looking at Blaise.

"Coming or not, Blaise?" Malfoy asked, ignoring Hermione.

"I've got work to do, Draco," Blaise replied, lounging back in his seat. "Try to keep yourself occupied."

Draco's glance flicked to somewhere else in the Library. "I will," he said, grinning. "See you tomorrow, then."

"Right." Blaise turned back to a shocked Hermione. "What?"

"I'm stunned," she said. "Malfoy an actually behaving like a human being?"

"It's all an act," Blaise assured her, a twinkle in his eyes. "Be certain." He leaned over and fished something out of his bag. "Here." He handed her Difficult Potions, Third Edition. "I thought you might want to read it."

"Thanks," Hermione said. He moved to leave. "Where're you going?"

He sat back down. "Nowhere, if you want me to stay," he responded.

"Well, erm, if you want to, um, work on the project that'd, um, be okay," she said, trying not to blush.

He peered at her. "All right." Pulling Thirty of the Most Difficult Love out, he started to read.

"One of the most difficult love potions ever created would have to be the Endless Love potion. Created by Margaret Gremlins in 1236 as a way to make her daughter fall in love with her fiancé, it worked admirably. The daughter married Bilius Weasley and had thirteen children."

"I think," Blaise said, snapping the book shut, "that we've found almost every bloody thing mentioned about this sodding potion that is written."

"Language, Zabini," Hermione reminded him. She pointed to the first-years. "There are young ears listening."

"Huh. First-years swear like sailors, Granger," Blaise said, glancing at the eleven-year-olds who were sitting a few feet away. "Daft little buggers. If you get in the habit at school, then you'll slip when you're home, and then your ass will burn."

Hermione turned to glare at him. "Zabini, I don't ask much about people's grammatical habits, but I maintain that they don't swear in my presence. So," she pulled her wand out, "stop, or I'll put a spell on you."

Blaise barely batted an eyelash. "Really, Gryffette," he drawled, "do you think I'd be a Slytherin without personal warding spells?" He lifted his right hand to reveal a claddagh ring on his ring finger. "Charming, isn't it? My mother made it for me when I came here. It's incredibly useful against all the minor spells, charms, and hexes." He grinned. "It's always useful when Draco gets into one of his sulks, which is when he and that girl of his 'fall out' for a bit." Blaise snorted.

"Zabini," Hermione said sternly, "falling out is a serious matter, not one to be mocked."

Blaise laughed. "Gryff," he replied, twirling his quill through his fingers, "Draco and that girl fall out more times than Hagrid has mishaps in Care of Magical Creatures. Then the miss each other, snog, and get back together. It's a circle of the Slytherin life: Love, mess up, beg for forgiveness, be accepted, screw it up again. He and that girl are the epitome of that circle."

"Who's Malfoy dating?" Hermione asked absently, tucking her wand into her sleeve.

Blaise grinned even wider. "Sorry, Gryff, but you're not going to choke that out of me. You want to know, you go ask him. I doubt he wants to be interrupted right now, though. He and the girl are having a 'study session'." Hermione rolled her eyes most expressively. Blaise patted her shoulder. "Cheer up, Gryff," he remarked cheerfully, "mayhap you'll find out before the year's out. If you can keep a secret, that is." He picked up his bag and book and left the library and a stunned Hermione behind him.

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The next day Hermione was sitting on a red-and-gold couch with a Gryffindor banner blanket over her legs, reading a Muggle book, Pride and Prejudice.

"What's that?" Blaise asked, plucking the book out of her hands. "Oh, a Muggle book." He made as if to drop it, but instead put it back into her hands nicely.

"Muggle books aren't that bad," Hermione pointed out. "Some have been classics throughout time, even."

"While this is true," Blaise said, nodding at her, "I remain incredibly not interested. I'll be in the garden."

Hermione mumbled something incoherent and not at all nice about Blaise and his head popped out from the corner. "Language, Gryff," he said, laughing and going out into the garden.

She glared at nothing in particular and went into her room. Walking over to the desk, she uncovered the portrait and pulled her wand out.

"Remember," Godric said from above her, "swish and flick!"

She scoffed, and pointed her wand at the roller-top desk's lock. "Facere cinnus, apertus!" she said, swishing and flicking her wand. A grinding noise issued from the lock and the top rolled back to reveal a most unorganized desk covered in parchment, scraps of paper, ink spots, and a gold-tipped eagle-feather quill.

"I loved that desk," she heard Godric sigh. "Miss it, too. You've no idea how useful an enchanted desk can be."

"Enchanted?" Hermione asked, looking up at Godric. "Enchanted how?"

"Oops," he said, as Helga frowned at him. "Sorry, can't say. Terribly sorry, but that's part of whatever Albus wants you to do, I'm sure."

"Humph." Hermione turned back to the desk. She picked up a scroll and unwound it.

From the Desk of Godric Gryffindor, Memo to Salazar Slytherin

Salazar,

Could you please tell your students to stop feeding mine blemish potions? Their faces are becoming unsightly and extremely painful. Or, if you can't stop the Slytherins, please give me the counter-potion. Thank you.

Godric

Hermione looked over the scroll again. "Interesting," she muttered. She picked up what seemed to be the response.

From the Potions Table of Salazar Slytherin, Memo to Godric Gryffindor

Godric,

I would be most happy to give you the potions, you infallible twit erm, kind and forgiving person? If you would please have your students stop insulting mine every five minutes. It is most disconcerting trying to comfort a crying first year when one is trying to conduct Potions experiments. I've been driven to threatening my own students away from my lab. Please inform your students that once the teasing stops, I will be most evilly exhilarated to make them my test subjects, erm, happy to help them out of their predicament. You're welcome you over-boisterous red headed buffoon, erm, lovely co-Founder.

Salazar

Hermione giggled and looked up at the Founders. "You two argued so much," she said. "I must think that these two 'memos' must've led to the breaking of your friendship."

"Hold 'em up," Godric said. He and Salazar read them. "No, those are from about two years after we Founded Hogwarts. Salazar didn't leave until about fifteen years after the Founding."

Salazar nodded. "That's right," he said.

"You people need therapy," Hermione muttered, and went back to rummaging through the desk. "Needed," she corrected herself.