Roommates

Twenty Two

Blaise watched her go and shook his head, turning back to his porridge. He felt a bit bad for lying to Hermione about Snape's memory, but he couldn't see a way to tell her and keep everyone else out of it and satisfied--or without somehow letting Snape know he'd told Daphne. Though, knowing Snape, he probably knew and Blaise just couldn't tell, since Snape was such a temperamental person at the best of times. He glanced at Snape just as the man looked up and glared at the student body in general, his greasy hair falling over his face as he did so.

As Blaise watched his Head of House, his mind wandered back to that overheard conversation between Snape and Lilithe. His mind perused through everything said between the two--most of it was self-explanatory: they were ex-lovers and bitter towards each other. However, one part of it didn't fit with the rest. In fact, it stuck out like a sore thumb, as it seemed to Blaise.

"You couldn't kill me, Severus. And if you did, it would haunt you for the rest of your life. You never could kill people. That was your weak point. Oh, a backbone. Bravo, Severus. I see that the brats of the Wizarding elite have toughened you up to my sharpened claws."

"You forget, Lilithe, about what I said, all those years ago."

"I forget nothing, Severus. You know that."

The rest, as it seemed to Blaise, had fit into the larger puzzle easily, or it had after being tried in one or two different places. But this one point in the conversation didn't fit, not even with the edges cut off and maneuvered into eighty different places. There was obviously a missing piece that would connect with this one, but what it was puzzled and almost even disturbed Blaise.

He ran his spoon around the edges of his bowl and his face contorted into a thoughtful frown as he cut off even more corners and tried to force it to fit. His efforts were fruitless and soon he threw his fork down and glared, sulking, at his plate.

All of a sudden Draco appeared in the seat across from Blaise, banging his bag down next to him, smirking in an overly cheerful way. "A penny for your thoughts, friend," Draco said.

Blaise transferred his glare to Draco. Even his tone was far too cheerful. "If you don't wipe that grin off your face, I'll-"

"Smash my face in? Or, perhaps," Draco took Blaise's spoon from his hand gently, "carve my heart out? With a spoon?"

"You would be lucky to have either happen to you," Blaise said. "But, I will not hurt you as I am far too tired to inflict punishment upon the body of such a dear friend."

Draco suppressed a laugh. "I am sure. Completely sure. But, sureness aside, we have to talk about Quidditch. The spring final is coming up and we're up against Gryffindor again..."

Blaise grimaced in pain at the memory of the last Gryffindor-Slytherin game. It had not gone well - Slytherin lost 10-240. Draco's decision to put Crabbe and Goyle as Beaters again that year was not a good one. Rumor had it that they had done some...experimenting...with Muggle hallucinogenic drugs that summer. No one knew how they would get them; but occasionally they would be found in the bathrooms talking on and on about daises growing out of the walls and the brightly colored three-dimensional cubes rotating around their heads. Of course, Gryffindor's Beaters were much better; not as good as the Weasley twins were, but almost.

With their defense off in fairy world and Gryffindor's being the all-around best, their Chasers only made it close to the goal posts once. And the only time one of the Gryffindor team was almost injured was when Potter almost fell off of his broom, rolling with laughter as he watched Crabbe and Goyle sway to the unheard tune going around in their heads as they gazed at the flags that people in the stands were waving.

Needless to say, it had been the most embarrassing loss for Slytherin since Charlie Weasley had been on Gryffindor, along with his twin brothers. For weeks afterward the mere mention of it would send Slytherins into either an ashamed and agonized attitude or into a thundering rage about how they would win next time round.

And now, they would have to play against each other again in the finals, as the two best teams. Of course, their victory against Ravenclaw was entirely by chance...but no need to bicker about it now. Blaise glanced over to the Gryffindor table to see the Gryffindor Team huddled around their breakfast as Potter, who was naturally the team Captain, made obscure motions with his hands. The groups around him nodded intelligibly, obviously understanding whatever he was saying with perfect clarity. Blaise's eyes drifted to Hermione, who was sitting a little bit away from the team, looked up at him, nodded at the team and rolled her eyes at him, before going back to her book.

Blaise turned back to Draco, who had assembled the Slytherin team while his mind had wandered. Blaise's thoughts drifted back to the conversation and, most especially, the part that didn't fit with anything he knew.

~*~

That afternoon, as Blaise walked down to Potions--the last class of the day--with his book tucked under his arm, he wondered if admitting he had overheard Snape's conversation with Lilithe would be worth whatever punishment Snape could think up, just to find out what they were referring to. The only thing he could think of that would fit with what was said was that Snape refused to kill someone - and that Lilithe didn't. It occurred to him that Lilithe must have been exaggerating about Snape never having been able to kill people; after all, it was probably a requirement, a part of the initiation, if you will.

He decided that he would ask Hermione while Snape was doing his weekly rampage on Neville Longbottom. That is, he would try and ask Hermione, since she was usually trying to hiss advice to Neville as the boy tried not to break down into tears.

He walked into the dungeon classroom and successfully avoided the volatile teacher's erratic line of vision, making his way carefully to his and Hermione's desk, sitting on the free stool, nudging her gently.

"I will never know how you and Draco are able to saunter in here five minutes late and not get detention or points taken off," Hermione whispered to Blaise. He started to smirk at her as the low and cold voice of Snape said, "Talking during class, Miss Granger? I think that'll have to be five p-"

"Sir, she was telling me what we were doing today," Blaise said, flicking a quick glance at the blackboard before Snape's gaze turned sharply to him.

"Really, Zabini? And what, pray tell, are we doing today?" Snape's mouth curled into a slightly triumphant sneer. As much as he favored his students, defiance from one of them, especially when defending a Gryffindor, and the resident Know-It-All at that, would not be tolerated.

"The benefits of powdered Leprechaun gold in potions, sir. Branching off of our larger class study of the benefits of powdered substances belonging to magical creatures. Leprechaun gold this week, dried Veela perfume last week and the rare powdered unicorn horn, harvested from a naturally deceased unicorn that freely gave it, of course, sir," Blaise said, maintaining a blank face as Snape's face went from triumphant arrogance to plain irritation.

"Very good, Zabini. However, I saw you look at the board before answering me, so obviously you had not ascertained that information from Miss Granger. Therefore, Miss Granger, Gryffindor looses five points. And, of course, five points to Slytherin for Mr. Zabini's cleverness at guessing the next week's lesson before I had ever mentioned it." Snape's gaze, which was still directed at Blaise, hardened. "Can you possibly inform the class as to how you knew the subject of next week's lesson?"

"It's only logic, sir," Blaise replied, blank expression still in place. "At the start of the powdered substances we started with the properties of pixie dust; so logically we would proceed to the more and more complicated and powerful substances as the unit progressed. Dried Veela perfume--which I understand is made out of their sweat, of all things--and powdered Leprechaun gold are interchangeable, as neither has more magical properties than the other, but there are enough details about them to go into a week-long segment on both. I clearly remember the overpowering scent of the Veela perfume so I deduced that we would be doing Leprechaun gold this week, leaving next week, the last week in the unit, for the most powerful that we would be encountering: powdered unicorn horn."

"Such an eloquent response, Mr. Zabini," Snape purred.

"I wouldn't know, sir," Blaise said.

The corners of Snape's mouth then twisted upwards in a previously unknown way and moved to such a position so that it might be referred to as a smile. There was a wave of small gasps. The phenomenon was soon over as Snape glared at all the gasping Gryffindors--and quite a few of the Slytherins--before walking back to the board to start writing down the main points in his upcoming lecture.

Draco leaned down from the table behind Blaise and Hermione and hissed in Blaise's ear, "I really, really hope he hasn't gotten in Crabbe and Goyle's pills. Imagine having to drag him out of the bathroom with everyone hearing him go on and on about daisies in the toilet."

Blaise let off a small laugh and leaned over to Hermione. "Once class is done, I have to speak to you. It's really important, so make sure Potter and Weasley don't follow us around 'chaperoning', all right?"

"All right," she murmured in reply, stirring their potion. "Now, no more talking; I don't want to loose any more points."

Blaise scoffed. "After that win over Slytherin? And Ravenclaw? And Hufflepuff? The whole of Gryffindor House could gang up on Snape and attack him and still be the leader in the House points."

Hermione laughed. "Only half, really."

"Only half what?"

She looked up at him and smiled, amused. "Only half could and we'd still be in the running," Hermione told him.

"Evaluated this, have you?" He grinned.

"Harry and Ron asked me to," she said. "Now, shh, I'm trying to remember how many times I've stirred this."

~*~

"Write a foot and a half--no, there isn't any extra credit, now put your hand down, Miss Granger--about the magical properties and uses of what we've just studied and hand it in on Friday. I want examples of potions, too, Weasley, not just some facts you've picked up by reading over Granger's shoulder. And it had better be the whole foot and a half, Miss Brown, or I shall have to deduct more points from Gryffindor. Class dismissed."

Blaise and Hermione gathered up their books and Hermione started to swing her bag onto her shoulder when Blaise took it from her and put his book in and then proceeded to carry it for her (and, and, and). When he looked at her puzzled glance, he explained, "When you carry your bag, you won't hold my hand." He flushed a bit. "I, er, sort of wanted to...um, hold your hand."

Hermione smiled and inserted interlaced her fingers with his. "There. Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

Blaise glanced around at the milling, cheerful students. "Not here," he told her. "How about you go do whatever you need to, and then meet me back in our rooms in half an hour? Because now that I think about it, I need some time to think about what I want to say."

Hermione glanced at her watch. "All right," she agreed. "I've got to give Harry and Ron some titles of potions texts, show them the potions section in the library and then give them my ten-minute lecture about how they can use my notes but not copy what I say, exactly."

"Okay, see you then." He leaned down and kissed her quickly, eliciting giggles from the group of second-years standing five feet away. He grinned sheepishly at them and squeezed Hermione's hand before walking away in the direction of their rooms.

~*~

When Blaise arrived back at their chambers, he put Hermione's bag in her room before pacing around the living room, ignoring the paintings' protests that he was wearing a hole in their carpets. He was worried that she would blow up in his face, tell him he was a complete imbecile and that she thought whatever it was had been resolved and to leave it alone. Most of all, though, he was afraid she would break up with him, deciding that he'd finally crossed the line from adorably weird to certifiably insane and that she'd had enough of it.

Hermione walked in twenty minutes after he had started pacing. She stared at him as he made another circuit around the sofas and chairs before coming over to lead her to a sofa so she could sit down.

"What's this about, Blaise?" she asked, genuinely worried by this time. "In the Muggle world, people are usually only this serious when they tell their family they're dying from cancer or something." Her eyes widened. "You aren't dying, are you? Oh no, Blaise!" She sniffed, preparing to cry.

"No, I'm not dying," he said hurriedly. "But it might be just as serious." He watched her wipe a tear from her eye. "Please don't cry; I don't like it when you do. And I'd hate it if you cried because of me." He reached out and wiped another tear from her face with his fingers. "I don't ever want you to cry over me, Hermione," he said softly.

She smiled up at him, her tear-filled eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "That's not something I can promise not to do. What if you join the Order? When Voldemort attacks you- you could be killed. I would cry then, Blaise. I don't think I couldn't, if that happened."

"Then I give you permission to cry when I'm dead," Blaise replied solemnly. "But not before then. If I just disappear, then look for me, but don't cry. All right?" He smiled a bit at her. "Do we have a deal?"

"I'll only cry when you're dead," Hermione promised.

"Good. Now, on to what I was really going to say," he said crisply. "D'you remember that conversation we overheard? The one Snape and Lilithe were having?"

Hermione laughed a bit, the tears disappearing from her eyes. "Yes; how could I forget? You think of ex-lovers not getting along, but not to that extent."

"Well, I've been thinking about the part where Lilithe said something like, 'You never could kill people, Severus.' And then he replied, 'You forget about what I said.' Or something like that. Anyway, I've been wondering lately what exactly he said to her. And what she told him. Actually, I've just been wondering what happened to them; why he left the Death Eaters to become a spy and why she became one in the first place. And," he breathed in a deep breath, "I'd really like to find out. From him." He braced himself for the rush of disapproval.

"The thing about finding that out would be finding it out in a way that would make him want to tell us," Hermione mused. Blaise blinked at her, surprised that she wasn't angry. "For example, if you went up to Snape and said, 'My sister's an evil Death Eater bitch, can you tell me why,' that would probably not elicit a linked at response from him. At least, not the sort of response that we want." Blaise blinked at her. "But, then again, if you really want to find out so much--and I must admit, I do want to know, too--then you could always go to his office and try and ask him how he first met Lilithe. If he protests that you don't need to know, then you could always just tell him that she's your sister and you need to know because you have to know if she's really a Death Eater or just an independent operator of evil." She looked at his gaping face. "What d'you think?"

"I think that if I just asked you for advice on everything I'd never have to stick my foot in my mouth again," Blaise said. Hermione laughed. "But I like the idea of going to Snape's office and asking him."

"Then go," Hermione said, moving to face him more directly.

"What?" Blaise asked.

"Go," she said. "Go to his office and ask. Tonight."

"I can't go tonight!" he protested. "I- I have Quidditch practice!"

"The pitch is booked by Gryffindor until the middle of next week," Hermione said primly. "And I happen to know Snape is in his office until midnight on Wednesdays. He can't go anywhere if you corner him there! Go on; go ask him."

"But-" Blaise began.

Fifteen minutes later he was standing outside of Snape's office door with Hermione motioning him to knock from halfway down the hallway. Fiddling with his necklace, he gulped and knocked. Hearing Snape call "Enter," he went in and closed the door behind him, sitting on the chair in front of the professor's desk.

Snape looked at him from behind three stacks of tests. "What do you want, Zabini?" he asked irritably. "As you can see, I've got some work to do. So make it quick."

"I'll try, sir," Blaise said. He gulped again.

After a few moments of silence, Snape looked up and glared at him again. "Get on with it, boy! What do you want?"

Blaise said quickly, "Sir, how did you first meet my sister Lilithe? Did she become a Death Eater at the same time as you, or did she get recruited afterwards or before?"