Class

She scribbled down something, biting her lower lip, looking utterly smart. The pink cheeks, the look of high attention, complete with ink stained fingers was something he couldn't avoid. She put her head back down and went on scribbling, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, biting her lip so hard it was getting rather red; rather inviting.

Those lips, how much he would like to press his to them; to be within a foot of her would be a blessing. But she wouldn't ever, she was too Gryffindor, too… Hermione. She wouldn't. There would be uproar, confusion, hatred. She didn't know he existed.

The bell went abruptly and he got up quickly, packing his unused quill and parchment away. He seemed to be getting through a lot less bottles of ink these days. With bag swung over shoulder, he stood up and walked round his desk, glancing back to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

"Ow! Oh, erm," Hermione Granger's cheeks flushed pink," sorry, Blaise." They had walked straight into each other, Blaise not looking where he was going and Hermione… well Hermione just seemed to be in a world of her own.

Blaise smiled slightly, "Sorry, Hermione, wasn't looking where I was going," he began to walk out in front of her. Hermione went behind and smiled slightly, pinks still a little pink.

"Me neither," he turned, giving her a small smile, before walking off down the left corridor. "I'll, I'll see you later then, Blaise?" she stood in the door of the classroom as she called to him.

He looked back and grinned slightly,

"I hope so."