Weakness in Me (How Cliche)

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Why can't you hold me and never let go?

When you touch me it is me that you own.

Pretty baby oh the place that you hold in my heart

Would you break it apart again.... Oh pretty baby.

- "Pretty Baby" Vanessa Carlton

~-*-~

Blaise feared for his life at this point. Sure, Gryffindors were brave, courageous, blah, all that crap. But Blaise thought of it like this- if Godric Gryffindor, the one who set the very example of the house Blaise now thought of, regularly carried a large sword, who was to say members of the dormitory in his name wouldn’t also. Or at least have very big knives.

So, when Hermione approached him on the beginning of Day Three, he was careful to not make eye contact, stare at his shoes, and otherwise look pitiful holding the box of chocolates in his trembling hands.

It wasn’t a requirement to be brave when being a member of Slytherin. Which perhaps could be part of why Blaise was put there in the first place. He wasn’t particularly courageous- hell, he’d be the first to say he was a coward. And was particularly resisting the urge to run from a girl that often reminded him of lioness at times. An angry lioness? Not good.

However, greed was a common trait to Slytherins, one which Blaise did not lack. So, there he was, holding a piss poor excuse for a gift in the form of a box of chocolates worth 5 knuts, praying to his family’s long worshipped personal pagan deity that he might save at least some of his limbs today.

Hermione, however, looked confused as she fixed her stare upon the short and thoroughly Greek-looking boy she had only yesterday become acquaintances with. Seeing the glum expression upon his face, and then the box of chocolates, it clicked together sharply, and her eyes narrowed automatically.

"I paid you three sickles for that?" He tone took on the menacing hiss, and Blaise visibly winced. He didn’t deal well with angry females- even after having five older sisters that regularly experienced mood swings.

"Uh, no, not for this. But, uh, the other fell through, and I won’t be able to get it as soon as I had thought. So, uh, here?" He held it out to her with a trembling hand and there was a palpable sound of the chocolates rattling against the paper of the box.

Hermione looked once more at him, and then at the chocolates, before grabbing the box violently, and sitting down in a huff on the ground.

Blaise was left wondering what to do now. A distraught and troubled Hermione now sat at his feet eating the box of chocolates he had been kind enough to pay for with his own money. Somehow, though, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at her, per usual. Sitting down beside her, he sighed and braved the inevitable.

"Something wrong?"

She made a noncommittal wave with her left hand, stuffing her mouth with the right. "It was stupid of me to take the bet in the first place; stupid, stupid me. I mean, what chance would I ever have of winning a guy. Bookish, intelligent, and introvert Hermione that’s never been kissed and threatens to break out in hives at the mere mention of snogging. Look there, a hive." Blaise looked at the point of her direction and rolled his eyes.

"It’s a wart you silly little bint. And you’re acting like a foolish eleven year old."

"Maybe if I was I wouldn’t be having this problem. Back then I never even thought about boys." She sighed, and stuffed another chocolate into her mouth. "Boys- well, boys are boys." She completed with the once again distasteful tone to the word.

"Thanks. I never knew you cared." Blaise responded dryly, and discreetly stole a chocolate.

She waved a hand once again. "Not you. You’re not a boy."

He raised an eyebrow at that one. "I’m not eh? I think general physiology would disagree with that."

She rolled her eyes. "You’re male, not a boy. Boys are distinctly immature, and playful, and have those nice shoulders and necks, and always have that nice sandalwood smell, and…." She stopped abruptly.

"And?" Blaise snickered under the guise of chewing a distinctly challenging caramel piece.

"And I’ll stop now." Hermione sighed, and Blaise felt it his acquaintance-ly duty to part her shoulder comfortingly.

Then he noticed the folded, stationary note in her hand. Spying it through her misery, Blaise snatched it to her muffled protest. Reading it, he crinkled his nose. "You call this a sappy love note? Come now woman, I know you can do better than that." He discarded the note haphazardly.

" ‘Tis not a love note." Hermione replied testily. " ‘Tis a very fine apology that discreetly hides as best as I can all traces of nervousness."

"I didn’t know one could discern nervousness through that chicken scratch. I didn’t know anyone could actually discern anything from your chicken scratch." He sniffed haughtily.

Hermione crossed her arms, and pouted very finely. "I’ll have you know he said I had very nice handwriting."

"And now look where you are? Trying to win his love and affection- back. And doing a piss poor job of it if I might say."

Silence, and Blaise considered his words. He was merely stating a fact he told himself. Hermione’s shoulders drooped at the statement however.

"Yeah. I know. Maybe I should just pay you five galleons and have you date me for a day." The remorseful tone did little to help the joke along however.

Patting her shoulder once again. "Naw, would never work. You’d eat all my chocolate." He snatched up the last remaining piece, and smiled at her.

She smiled. "Yeah, I guess not." Pause. "I still don’t know what to do about it though."

"That," he put his arm around her shoulder in a chummy fashion. "My dear acquaintance, it what you have me for. Now, let’s get up off the floor before my nice new robes becomes flea infested. Besides, we have Potions first, and Snape would love a reason to take house points from Gryffindor if we were late." Offering a hand, they pulled each other into standing positions.

"Thanks." She smiled, and they walked arm-in-arm, like old pals, toward the exit. Not a very Slytherin. thing to do, Blaise had thought, but it was, however, all part of the master scheme of things.

~-*-~

Blaise knew a fair amount about Draco Malfoy. And when if came to women, Blaise most definitely knew Draco was used to getting what he wanted. And if he didn’t get it, was the most jealous bastard around.

Which, was all part of his clever plan.

Sauntering late into Potions, no matter what he had earlier told Hermione, Blaise mused, had become one of the most extravagant highlights of his years at Hogwarts. Arm casually draped around her shoulder, Blaise tried best to emulate the satiated, smug expression he had seen so many boys take on after romantic rendezvous with girlfriends.

Snape’s expression was priceless as he turned around at the sound of the heavy dungeon door opening. Widened eyes, and an expression that clearly said "What the fuck?" almost saved them from losing house points. Almost.

"Mr. Zabini, Miss Granger. So glad you could make an example of inter-house relationships, but please do so on your own time. Ten points from Gryffindor. Now kindly take you seats." The shock was obviously too much for him. That sounded almost nice, considering the usual Snape-ish reprimands.

Nodding towards the back of the class, that only two stools left. Quickly taking their seats, Blaise smirked haughtily at the gray gaze that glared metaphorical poison in his direction. At least Hermione was making an effort to display some humility. Blaise, arm once again finding home around Hermione’s shoulders, was only making an effort to earn those two sickles.

Hermione didn’t seem to appreciate the exercise of such a clever idea however, and testily shrugged his arm off while glaring at both him, and anyone else for that matter, who dared look in their direction.

Harry and Ron looked to be seething. Two birds with one stone, he supposed.

The rest of the Potions period progressed monotonously and horrifyingly slow. Lecture days always proved to be the worst days, and often caused much surreptitious glances between students and sly attempts at conversation. But, this day, it proved much needed in the advancement of Blaise’s meddling.

Writing a note, Blaise unleashed his inner mischief that he hadn’t felt for a long time, and scribbled some inane pictures and taunting sentences, before using the ages-old tradition of passing notes. He couldn’t help but smile as he caught the expression of Malfoy’s face from his profile as he opened the note whilst Snape scribbled some banal list of ingredients upon the chalkboard.

The fine platinum eyebrow raised, and taking his quill, Draco scribbled the reply.

To which Blaise found much amusement in the few neatly written words of: "You die Zabini."

Hermione didn’t see it that way, and rolled her eyes between note-taking and note-reading. Blaise stuck his tongue out at her; that was her problem, no fun at all.

~-*-~

After class, Blaise once again made a show of extraneously helping Hermione gathered her things, affectionate endearments, and holding her hand.

There was one thing Blaise didn’t count on though, and that was Malfoy’s intelligence.

Leaning against the wall just outside the dungeon’s doors, the gray eyes narrowed at their exit, and fell into step beside the miffed Granger as she futilely tried to snatch her hand away.

To only have it moments later be snatched up by the one, the only, Draco Malfoy. Who seemed at the moment to be doing a pitiful excuse for puppy eyes, down on one knee, bottom lip quivering. Blaise thought he looked pathetic. In Malfoy’s delusional mind, he thought he looked rather adorable.

"Dearest Hermione, can you ever forgive me? I should have realized through your anxiety that your somewhat lacking conversation skills were of no use. But my darling, there has not been an hour of each day that I have not thought about you. With your bushy hair, and brown eyes. The cute way you look like a school marm with your hair in a bun. And now dear, dear Hermione," soothingly patting her hand and somehow ignoring the perturbed expression on her face, stood and swept her into a tight embrace. "Now we can be together."

Hermione looked ready to suffocate next to the toned and robe-clad bosom of Draco. Blaise looked almost ready to hurl.

Left to her own devices while Draco smirked in a self-satisfied way at Blaise, Hermione brought her foot to the back of Draco’s left knee, and in an effective measure, brought him tumbling down. Blaise smirked at the satisfying smack his made upon the cool stones of the floor.

Rubbing his head, he looked up to the flushed and irate Hermione, hair multiplied in it’s frizziness factor by two, rubbing her temples and muttering under her breath.

"You," she pointed first to Blaise, and for he had the sudden urge to bolt under the wrath of an angry Hermione Granger. "I asked you to help me, not try and date me you git." Draco smirked, which ultimately brought her attention to his position, still lying on the ground, but in a more seductive and comfortable fashion. "And you," her eyes narrowed and Malfoy gulped nervously. "Stop trying to play the alpha male. You should full well know that sort of thing makes me want to smack you. Please, just, talk to me if you’re feeling insecure."

Draco made an effort to look wounded, but something deeper flashed in his eyes- amusement. He found this little pursuit amusing and, he must admit, Hermione did look absolutely adorable when angry.

Brushing himself off in a timely fashion, he hurried after the receding back of the focus of his romantic intentions down the hall, yelling something inane to gather her attention. Which left Blaise standing outside the Potions dungeon, not exactly sure of what had just happened.

"Cheer up Zabini," came the familiar dark voice from behind him, and he turned to find the customary figure of the Potions Master. "She was more annoying than her worth."

Making a frustrated sound, Blaise rolled his eyes and turned the opposite direction to which the love-birds had gone.

~-*-~

Once again, the scene of the original crime. Hermione mentally cursed herself for coming back to the one most obvious place anyone could find her.

And once again, she was petulantly avoiding any form of acknowledgement of the boy that sat in one of the plump chairs across from her own position in a likewise chair.

This was all becoming more trouble that it was worth. She had certainly thought him different, but he had ended up so, well, boyish, in how he reacted to Blaise that she wasn’t sure what to do anymore.

Of course she still liked him well enough. And of course he was still dead sexy. And of course she was nervous once again at the very thought of how much she liked him and how much he seemed to like her, and well, the over all cliché of such an adolescent relationship.

Hermione was also coming to find- much to her fright and chagrin- that she liked boys. Of all the blasphemous things.

"Come on Hermione," the silken voice broke her thoughts and for the first time her gaze was not upon the book, but the gray depths of the boy in front of her. She couldn’t help but notice how the hair fell seductively in front of his eyes, and he always positioned himself in a pose that insinuated dirty thoughts, which her mind readily elaborated upon.

Bugger if she would let him know that though. She simply raised an eyebrow and directed what she hoped was still a perturbed gaze and not that of a love-sick teenager she was overly conscious she had become.

He just smiled and made an exasperated noise. "Just apologize already and I can be your boyfriend."

Hermione had also noticed he had a certain talent of saying just the right things to make her infuriated and giggly all at the same time. She squashed down the childish, traitorous voice in the back of her head that was laughing inanely at the irony of such a statement as his.

"You act like it’s such a privilege." Was all the said as she flicked the page of her book with much emphasis.

He made another exasperated sound, and clutched his hand to his chest in mock hurt. "You wound me my dear. Any girl would be so chuffed at the idea of dating me she might have a stroke at the pure bliss of it."

Hermione couldn’t help the smirk from forming, even under the covert covering of her hand. "Yes well, I’m not any girl now am I?"

Draco’s hand dropped away, and he considered her with those steely storms called eyes in an intense stare that sent shivers down Hermione’s spine in ticklish tingles. "No, and I don’t suppose I would like you as much if you were."

Such words! Her heart went aflutter at the mere mention of his affection toward her. She mentally chastised herself for being such a silly little bint, but couldn’t help but smile like one.

Tucking a tendril of curls behind her ear, she carefully considered her words carefully. The words of the pages blurred before her in the moment, and she wasn’t exactly sure what a good response was.

Somewhere in the back of her mind though, the still new but familiar voice of Blaise Zabini was shouting his two cents. Apologize for chrissake! came the chastisement of her newly acquired acquaintance.

"I," came the shaky beginning, and Hermione faintly remembered somebody saying that it got easier after you get started. She thought whoever had said it was bloody daft. "I’m sorry," came the final apology in a hoarse whisper that had sounded so confident and sure in her head.

It took a full minute before she could bring herself to meet his eyes. She was good at this whole, new fangled "humility" thing. She almost broke out once again into the silly smile the seemed to be plaguing her very existence these days as she saw the softness of his gaze and the genuine manner of his smile.

"Now, once more with feeling." Then he had to go say a silly thing like that. Hermione rolled her eyes, and threw one of those handy chair pillows at him with a laugh. A small part of her mind petulantly said she was going soft, and so very silly and girlish.

But looking at Draco, she thought she really didn’t mind.

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