Roommates

Ten

Warpathic Sister And A Secret Room

Thunder boomed ominously as Blaise stared at a piece of parchment, trying to think of what he wanted to write to his father. Inspiration struck him and he scribbled down what he thought of first.

Dear Dad,

Thanks for the letter. And for the rings. I've given Draco two, one for him, and one for his girlfriend, Ginny. I've also given the Head Girl, Hermione Granger, three. One is for her and the other two are for her friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. I will send some to Zel and Eduardo, as you asked.

Oh, and thank you so much for asking if Hermione was cute. I just happened to be reading it out loud to her, as Lil had just been there and we had had an 'incident.'

The charm is working very well. Zel and Eduardo are Expecting, don't tell Mum, and yes, I'm working hard on my grades. So far mostly A's and O's.

Have a nice holiday in Greece, Dad. Say hello to Uncle Louis for me.

Love,

Blaise

Reading it over, he grimaced and crumpled up the paper, throwing it into the fireplace. He got out another sheet and began to write another letter.

Dad.

This won't come as a shock to you, but you should probably sit down and burn the letter once you've finished with it. Are you sitting? Good. Lilithe and I got into another fight. This time it was in front of the Head Girl, Hermione Granger. I admit that I said some things that should have remained unsaid, but so did she. I wanted to tell you before Lil tells Mum and Mum screams at you for it.

Thanks for the rings. I'm going to give some to Granger for her and her friends, and some to Draco, Theo and Millie. I'll send some to Zel and Eduardo. On the subject of Zel: she's pregnant. Don't tell Mum.

I've been doing all right on my grades. Mostly A's or O's. Have fun in Greece, Dad. I'll see you over the holidays.

Love,

Blaise

Blaise sat back in his desk chair and put some powder onto his letter, drying the ink. He looked it over and folded it up, sliding it into a pre-addressed envelope. He whistled to his owl, and tied the letter onto its leg. The owl hooted at him and flew out the open window.

Suddenly, he shoved away from his desk and stormed out of his room. He walked across the living room and went right into Hermione's room without knocking.

She was lying down on her bed, reading when he burst in. Luckily, she was wearing her bathrobe over her pajamas. He, however, was in his customary pajamas: a pair of bottoms.

He walked over to her bed and stared down at her. "You don't think I'm a horrible person, do you?" he asked.

"Why would I?" she replied, placing her book beside her.

"Because of Lil. Because of the fight. Because of everything, I guess." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, nervous.

"Well," Hermione began slowly, "I don't think that you should've yelled at your sister like that. I don't know her, but it isn't that polite to yell like that at people. I'm not sure she didn't deserve it, but maybe you shouldn't have, erm, voiced your opinion like you did."

"Oh." Blaise glanced around her room. Books, quills, and scraps of parchment were scattered around on various flat surfaces. Half-written reminders, class notes, and letters were stacked on her desk. "So, you have a lot of parchment," he said.

"Yeah, I take notes on a lot of things. I was studying earlier, and I'm going to tidy up tomorrow."

"Procrastination, Gryff?" Blaise said, amused.

"It's not procrastination!" Hermione protested, becoming slightly defensive. "I just don't feel like picking up right now."

"Oh," Blaise said, moving over to a particularly high stack of papers. "So, I suppose if I was to, say, move several sheets from the middle of one stack to the bottom of another, it wouldn't matter?"

Hermione sat up, glaring at him. "Don't. You. Dare," she seethed.

Blaise lifted a small pile of papers from the top of the right stack and integrated them into the middle of the left stack.

Hermione pursed her lips and got out of bed. "Blaise Zabini," she said shortly, "you have crossed the line. Gone beyond what Harry and Ron have done over the years. Get out of my room before I hurt you."

"No," Blaise said, leaning against her desk. "I think I'll stay right here, and annoy you."

She stalked over to him and raised her hand, as if to slap him, when someone knocked on the portrait. "Saved by a knocker," she said, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

Blaise rolled his eyes and followed her to the portrait. Hermione stretched her hand out and pushed the portrait open.

Lilithe stood there, drenched. Her eyes were narrowed, and her lips tightly pinched together.

"Oh, shit," Blaise muttered. Louder he said, "Look, Lil, you don't have to-"

"Shut up, Blaise," muttered Hermione, voice wavering as she backed up. "I don't think she's in the mood."

"Listen to your co-Head, Blaise," Lilithe said, moving towards them, eyes not leaving Blaise's. "You'll be conscious longer."

"Lil, really," Blaise said, mind racing. "Are you thinking straight? Has the storm addled your brain? This is Hogwarts, Lil. Home to Albus Dumbledore. Ever read the Muggle books, The Chronicles of Chrestomanci?" Lilithe's eyes narrowed even further. "I didn't think so," Blaise went on quickly. Well, in these books, Chrestomanci is called whenever someone says his name."

"Your point?" Lilithe said, her wand trained on him.

"I have a theory that the same applies to Dumbledore," he said, shaking a bit. Blaise had backed against the wall and something was digging into his back. A doorknob! He felt behind him frantically, trying to open it. It was stuck. He shoved as hard as him could, watching Lilithe begin to hiss an incantation. Just as she was almost finished, the door swung open behind him, and he fell through the doorway. Hermione, who had been beside him, fell on top of him. He wriggled out from underneath her and scrambled back as Lilithe brought her wand down in a sudden arm motion.

The spell, which was obviously nefarious in cause, didn't come through the doorway. It hit an invisible barrier and dissolved in a small bright green cloud of smoke.

"Good Gog," Blaise said. Lilithe looked furious.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed. "I call on nature, invoke favors, sift through people's minds, and the spell I use bloody evaporates!"

"It may be on account of where we are," Hermione said, tapping Blaise's shoulder. He looked up and inhaled sharply.

The ceiling above them was a dome, and, on further inspection of the room, they were in a rotunda. The dome was in eight sections, alternating paintings and inlays of griffins. The paintings all featured one man: A tall, rustic man with dark hair, dressed in deep blood red and a sunny yellow, except for his boots, which were black. In one painting, he was fighting a dragon; in another, quelling a goblin revolt of some nature; in a third, he was building some sort of tower; in the forth he was surrounded by laughing, smiling children, with his hand on one child who looked somewhat like him, though his face looked sad and the smile on his face did not reach his eyes.

"Where are you?" Lilithe said, standing just outside the doorway, peering in. "I can't see anything! Come out here right now, Blaise!"

Blaise, staring at the painting of the sad man, yelled back, "Bugger off Lil!" After he said that, the door swung shut, cutting off any remark his sister would make. "Damn Lil and her damned rage that makes her fucking retaliate."

The portrait, which wasn't magical, was of a broadly grinning Godric--the man in the dome's paintings--with his arm around a tall woman with long red hair. She was pale and thin, with deep, sparkling blue eyes and rosy pink lips and high cheekbones. In her cupped hands was a crystal ball shining brightly, a miniature star. Clutching her robes was an unsteady toddler, with eyes like his mother, but in everything else resembling his father. His unkempt hair was black, and he was staring Hermione, or so it seemed.

"It's his family," Hermione said breathily. "I read about them. He was married and had one son--Lionel. His wife's name was Lesta. She was a Seer. She was killed, but Hogwarts, A History isn't that clear just on how."

"I think it's time to bring in the Calvary," Blaise said, leaning against a note-strewn table.

"What d'you mean?"

"Tomorrow we get out of classes early," Blaise said.

"How d'you know?" Hermione inquired.

"It's the second Monday of the month. Double Potions with Gryffindor is last period and Snape always disappears somewhere in between fourth and fifth--the last class--leaving his seventh-years with a Potions assignment due that Friday. Haven't you noticed?"

"No," Hermione said, surprised that she hadn't. "But what do you mean 'bring in the Calvary'?"

"I mean," Blaise said, "we get our friends in, however much we find them...distasteful to one another, and we investigate. I only need Draco. You'll need Potter and Weasley. Can't separate a brain, you know." He grinned at her frowning face. "Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist. See you." He turned towards the door.

"How d'you know your sister isn't out there?" Hermione called after him, eye transfixed on the portrait.

"Well, let's see." He opened the door and poked his head out. "Oh, look at this. She's gone back to whatever hellhole she crawled out of. I'm off to bed. G'night."