Roommates

Thirteen

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she panicked a bit until she remembered where she was. Sitting up in her enormous bed, she looked around the room, which was bathed in sunlight.

'That's odd,' she thought. 'I closed the curtains last night, I remember-'

"Would Miss like some breakfast?" squeaked a House-Elf at her right elbow.

Hermione jumped, startled. She turned, and looked at the House-Elf. She--Hermione knew it was a she because her garment, made out of towels, was in a dress-like shape--had an apricot-shaped nose with eyes the same size, and she was floating next to the bed, with a trolley covered in breakfast foods next to her. "Yes, please," Hermione said. "And you are?"

"Lyttie, Miss," the House-Elf replied, stacking what must have been a pound of bacon onto a plate. "Does Miss want any toast?" Hermione nodded. "Butter, Miss? Or jam?"

"Strawberry jam, please."

"Here you are, Miss," Lyttie said, handing Hermione a tray that had a loaded plate on it. Lyttie canceled her floating charm and pushed the trolley out of the room, leaving Hermione sitting in bed staring at five pieces of toast with strawberry jam, a pound of bacon and a pitcher of milk.

She blinked at the food, then picked up a piece of toast and tasted it gingerly. Finding it delicious, she ate the rest with speed, enjoying the tastes. Though she had almost eaten herself into a coma the night before, she had found she was starving upon waking.

After Hermione had eaten everything that was on her plate, she lay back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling.

"I can't believe I ate so much," she muttered. "It must have to do with the atmosphere. It's not that pleasant."

~*~

Blaise woke about half an hour after Hermione had finished eating to find a bathrobe-clad Hermione on his moveable ladder, pulling a book off the shelf. He blinked, clearing the drowsiness out of his system before speaking aloud.

"What're you doing in my room at," he glanced at his clock, "ten fifteen in the morning?"

Hermione nearly fell off the ladder in surprise. "Oh," she said, climbing down carefully, "did I wake you? I'm sorry." She looked back up at the ladder and shuddered slightly. "Ugh, how can you go on that all the time? I couldn't do that..."

"It's got an Unbreakable spell on it," Blaise said, voice still groggy. "Dad put it on when I first bought all my books."

"When was that?" Hermione asked, getting settled in one of the chairs, book open on her lap as she fiddled with her fuzzy bathrobe so it covered all of her.

"Um," Blaise said, sitting up and rubbing his head, yawning, "summer before third year, I think. I got partial funding from my Great-Aunt Phyllis, my grandmother's sister, who likes me. Otherwise, I used the entire summer's allowance." He grinned. "But it was worth it. My original library was only about two entire shelving units, and I've been adding ever since. Mostly I get them from the bookstore in Hogsmeade, though last summer I went to Rome with Zel and visited a rare books dealer I had heard of from my father."

"How much money do your relatives give you?" Hermione asked, amazed.

"Great-aunt Phyllis only gave me money that once," he said, scratching his back. "But I was basically the sole beneficiary of my grandmother's will." He grinned in memory. "She played the wizard stock market and made a lot of money. She left Dad and Zel around twenty thousand Galleons each, but I got the rest, which was around five million. It's in a trust that I can't touch until I'm thirty, though."

"Why thirty?" Hermione asked, making a note from the book on her lap.

"She felt that men below the age of thirty are irresponsible," he said dryly. "She actually felt that way about everyone, now that I think about it. But she was nice, and didn't like Mum, that I remember."

"What about your maternal grandparents?" Hermione asked offhand, gazing at him as he looked out his window.

"That's a good question," he said, looking back at her. She looked back at her book suddenly, blushing, and a wicked grin grew on his face. "I think I'll ask Mum before lunch. That should gain us the rest of the day left alone." He noticed that she was red and frowned a bit. "Are you hot? I don't think it's that hot, but I could open a window."

"Oh, no thanks," Hermione said quickly, standing up. "I should go get dressed, anyway. Do your parents mind Muggle clothing?"

Blaise snorted. "No," he said slowly, trying to look innocent.

Hermione eyed him, and left the room. She quietly retreated into her room and stood before the wardrobe, examining the contents. Finally, she chose a pair of jeans and a red-and-white striped sweater. Pulling on socks that matched her sweater, she tied her shoes quickly.

She puttered around in her room for a while before going to knock on Blaise's door.

"Come on in," he called. She walked in to find him balanced on the top rung of the ladder, reaching for a book.

"Oh my God!" Hermione cried, running over. "Blaise, get down!" She stood at the foot of the ladder, wringing her hands, staring up at him worriedly.

After a minute, he climbed down and stood in front of her, book in hand. "I'm fine," he said, smiling at her, hands on her shoulders. "I'm fine."

The smile that formed on her face was rather brittle. "Well, Blaise, I- I-" she sniffed and looked away, face bright red, "-I care about you, okay?"

He blinked slowly, and one hand reached up to touch her face lightly. His index finger trailed over her cheek down to her lips and lingered there for a moment. "I..." he murmured, head cocked to one side, a curious and soft look on his face. "I... care about you, too," he said, slightly surprised.

Blaise had never admitted romantic thoughts or feelings to anyone before. At least, not verbally. He could remember several times that he wrote notes to girls only to see them giggling with their friends and pointing at him during lunch. Never before had one come to him and admitted feelings for him. It was a curious sensation.

His lips twitched, and a smile grew on his face. "So, do we kiss now, or what?"

Hermione giggled a bit. "Only if you want to," she offered, her smile happier.

Blaise grinned, put his hands on her waist and drew her closer, trying not to be visibly nervous. While this certainly wasn't his first kiss, it was definitely more exciting to him. He felt Hermione's hands slip up around his neck, finger slipping into his hair.

Hermione, too, was excited. Contrary to what most people believed, she had, in fact, kissed and been kissed before. A few times with Ron, early in sixth year, and also Terry Boot, over Easter the last year, and at Diagon Alley when she went to get her supplies for seventh year. As Blaise's hands slipped around her waist, she put hers around his neck and slowly dug her fingers into his thick black hair.

Blaise gulped silently as he tentatively leant down to her face, kissing her lightly at first, then deepening it after a minute. Hermione returned the kiss, tightening her grip around his neck, pulling his face closer.

A few minutes later, there was a pounding on the door. The person on the other side didn't wait for an answer, as they burst through into his room.

"That didn't take you long, I see," an amused voice said from near the opposite end of the mahogany table, by the door.

"Zel!" Blaise panted, embarrassed. "Don't burst into my room like that. It's rude."

"I knocked," her sister countered, crossing her arms. With a wink, she continued, "But I suppose you were too engaged in your activities to notice."

Blaise glared at her through narrowed eyes. He was about to argue her claim when he was interrupted by Hermione clearing her throat.

"Erm," she started. She was red as her sweater when Blaise looked at her; he supposed he was probably flushing just as deep, too. "If you will excuse me, I, er, mustgotmrrmthdhsthng."

And with that she walked out, pulling her bathrobe tightly around her as she went, leaving an awkward Blaise and a grinning Zel behind her.

"Thanks a lot, Zel," Blaise grumbled. He glared at his sister.

"Excuse me, Blaise," Zel sniffed. "I'm pregnant. I go through tactless phases. Ask Eduardo."

The door banged open again, but this time it was Eduardo. He was panting and looking suspiciously at his wife.

"You," he said, advancing on Zel, finger waving menacingly. "You tricked me." He glared at her, holding a chocolate-covered pickle up. "You told me you wanted a chocolate-covered gherkin. You lied to me. You just wanted to spy on your brother!"

Zel squirmed and looked at her feet. "Well..."

"There is no 'well' about it," Eduardo said, his accent getting thicker with emotion. "Leave Blaise alone!" And then he began shouting in Italian, with Zel replying. After a while, Eduardo got so worked up that he took a bite of the pickle, trying to calm down and think. After he chewed for a moment, a look of twisted agony appeared on his face. He spat the mouthful out in his hand and swore in Italian. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" he cried. "This is disgusting! How can you eat this?"

Zel grabbed the pickle from him and wolfed it down. "Ah," she said, smiling. "I love chocolate-covered gherkins in the morning."

Blaise and Eduardo exchanged sickened looks. "All right, you two, out," Blaise said, shooing his sister and brother-in-law out of his room. "Out. Now."

"But Blaise, I have news," Zel said before he closed the door.

"What?" he asked, opening it a crack and poking his head out.

"Mum wants you and Hermione downstairs," Zel said smugly, walking away.

Blaise glared at his sister, then left his room to bang on Hermione's door. It opened, and he barely had enough time to stop his fist before he hit her on the forehead.

"Sorry," he said, smiling apologetically. "But we've got to get downstairs pronto."

"Oh, no! Does this mean what I think it means?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Blaise said, leading her to a metal door in the wall. "The laundry chute. Jump in-- or shall I go first?"

"You go first," Hermione said, eying the chute with distrust.

"Right, then." He jumped in, and she followed. She heard him counting and suddenly he shouted, "Brake!" and put his feet onto the wall.

They climbed out of the chute into a room Hermione hadn't seen before.

"Um, Blaise," she said. "Where are we?"

He was closing the chute door, which, on this floor, was hidden behind a painting.

"Welcome to the Zabini family portrait hall."

Hermione looked around her at all of the portraits. A main trait among them--besides that most were asleep--was their black curly or wavy hair.

"So your hair is a family trait," Hermione said, fingering a strand of his dark wavy hair.

He looked up at it and frowned. "Unfortunately, yes. I'd much rather I got the other tendency of red hair, but that kind of died out about three centuries ago." He looked at his hair again, this time ruefully. "Sort of wished I'd be the one to bring the trend back. Black hair is so boring after thirty generations. No variety."

"So... you're related to the Weasleys?" Hermione asked.

"No, not at all. The Zabinis were from France originally. I think one of my many-times great grandfathers married a Weasley, but maybe not. She had red hair, anyway. And, as I'm sure you know, black hair is very close to red hair in many respects, genetically, I mean. But she started the red hair trend until about four hundred years ago when one of my ancestors married someone with black hair, thereby dooming the rest of us to no hair variation," he said. "And no one else married someone with red hair, and the black hair tendency is rather hard to quell. Ah, there she is. Mary Zabini, the instigator of red hair throughout the clan. How I wish I had hair like hers."

Blaise bent down to peer at the plaque on the portrait that named the people in it. "'Mary Turnam-Zabini and her husband, Franco Zabini, 1012."

Hermione, who had gone to look at another portrait, dashed back. "Did you say 'Turnam'?" she said, excited.

"Yeah, look, it says it right there," Blaise replied.

"Turnam was the maiden name of Gryffindor's wife. Lesta Turnam. This is why Dumbledore had us come here," Hermione said, jumping with excitement.

"Well, we found what he wanted us to find," Blaise said, grinning widely, bouncing a bit, "but what else is here?"