King and Queen; Stone and Snow

A/N: A new day, a new chapter. In this one I will focus on the interaction between Blaise and Harry, give them a little more screen time. Let's hope I can flesh out their characters.

Excuse me for any bad grammar.

All hands forward!!!

Chapter 11: Musings

His right hand was holding a silver spoon, idly stirring it through the flavored water sitting in a bowl in front of him. This was the food he was going to be condemned to for two weeks, little pieces of noodles and slices of bread being added every now and then. His eyes swiveled to the left to see the pile of slices of pork roast on Ron's plate along with an abundant amount of several other foods. He was currently stuffing his face with a turkey leg, chewing loudly with his mouth open. Harry shuddered, two parts disgust, one part envy of him being able to eat good food.

He looked to his right to see Hermione, face grimacing in disgust as she watched Ron. Her eyes found his and he mouthed 'pig' and jerked his thumb in the other direction. She rolled her eyes and chuckled before turning her attention to her own plate, a balance of meat and vegetables.

He looked down to stare in hatred at his bowl of broth. His hand continued to stir the spoon around the bowl, the clinking of silver on silver lost in the noise. He looked up to see Blaise staring pointedly at him as she ate her own food. She made motions, telling him to eat or he would be in some serious pain. She smirked to take the sting out of her actions. Reluctantly he began to eat.

Harry let the conversation wash over him, not bothering to answer any questions related to him. After several moments of awkward silence when someone asked him if he had really been captured and tortured by Death Eaters, did someone finally change the topic. They choose poorly when they asked if that really was the Head Boy badge on his shirt and how did he get picked.

Harry looked around curiously as he saw everyone go tense, their backs ramrod straight. He wondered why they went like that but then he remembered about what Pomfrey had told him of Hermione's actions concerning anything related to the Heads. He looked at her to see that she was smiling unnaturally in a somewhat predatory fashion. Her hand wrapped itself around his forearm and her smile became something gentler, but her eyes gleamed.

"Do tell, Harry. All Professor McGonagall has said is that the Heads were chosen and then she announced your names yesterday at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to make sure everyone knew," she said, her voice as sweet as caramel. Her nails dug into his skin.

So, McGonagall hadn't given out a reason. Or maybe she had and Hermione just feigned that she didn't know and wanted to hear what he had to say. He was starting to get paranoid. He shook his head as he spoke, "Don't really know, I haven't had a chance to talk with her. Besides, I never thought I would get it so it's just a shock really." His answer wasn't good enough, her nails dug in deeper. It was painful but he didn't show it.

"Surely, Harry there must be some reason. I mean, both you and…Zabini weren't even Prefects. There must be some reason why you were chosen as Heads," she said, her voice strained lightly from keeping her emotions in check. Her nails again dug deeper, this time breaking the flesh. He never realized she had such sharp nails.

He didn't comment on what she said, merely looked down at his arm which was held in a death-grip, then back at her and said, "Nice nails." She looked down at where her hands was, blushed heavily and pulled her hand back quickly. Good thing the shirt was black, hard to see any blood. He shook his head at the thought. What the hell was he thinking?

He balanced the arm on his knee, underneath the table as the conversation picked up again. He felt a spell hit his arm as he drank some water. He still felt the cuts, but he looked down and saw the shirt was mended. So she didn't know that she made him bleed. He mouthed a 'thank you' at her. He could get the cuts mended later.

The rest of dinner passed without much affair. The talk mainly revolved around the week worth of classes he had missed in his stay at the hospital wing. He was surprised to hear that Remus had been brought back as the DADA instructor for this year. He really hadn't missed anything, classes were mostly focusing on the importance of NEWT exams and reviewing spells, potions, and plants from the previous six years. He did get the bad news in finding out that he had two essays due on Monday; one, in transfiguration and the other in DADA.

After eating two bowls of the broth, he was feeling hungry for something other than flavored water. His hand was reaching towards the loaves of bread when a stinging hex hit the back of his hand. He looked in the direction it came from to see Blaise at the Slytherin table raising an eyebrow at him warningly, the tip of her wand tapping against the tabletop. He sighed and reached to refill his bowl of broth, missing the look of satisfaction on Blaise's face.

When dinner was over, everyone around him stood up to head back towards Gryffindor Tower. He probably had to go back to the hospital wing, but Madame Pomfrey had only said to return there if he felt faint during dinner. Dinner was done and he didn't feel faint, so he joined up with everyone else and headed up the seven flights of stairs. He ignored the cross look he received from Hermione and just kept on walking past the portrait of the Fat Lady.

He sank down into the chair in front of the fire with a sigh of comfort as the plush cushions molded around his body. He saw out of the corner of his eye, Ron and Hermione sit down in the chairs next to his. He was personally content to sit in that chair, considering the possibilities of having a sore neck in the morning if he slept in it, until Hermione voiced a question.

"Harry?" He turned to look at her. "Can you tell us what happened?" she said in a concerned voice. He raised his eyebrows questionably. Did she really expect him to talk about that, hours after having just woken up.

"Can we wait 'til tomorrow to start the interrogation," he said. She had the decency to blush. "Has there been any news?"

"Nothing much really, except Scrimegour dying," said Ron, his voice surprisingly deep.

"He was killed? Has a new minister been voted in?" he asked.

"Yeah, his name was Thicknoose or something like that," said Ron.

"His name is Pius Thicknese and he was the Head of the Department of Law Enforcement before being sworn in as the new Minister of Magic," said Hermione in her lecture tone of voice.

Harry yawned in boredom. He really wasn't interested in the doings of the Ministry, it's not like going to stop him anytime soon. The two prior ministers had tried to get him to go with the flow and look where that had gotten them; one dead, and the other lost his job. This Thicknese character should learn the lesson and not mess with him.

The next hours passes with relative ease, Ron chatting him up about the Gryffindor quidditch team. What their weak points were, what positions they had to get stronger at, which positions needed to be filled. From there it led to the other Hogwarts teams, discussing the same things again. Harry knew that Ron was a quidditch fanatic, but this was a bit much. He even knew all the measurements of every single player; height, weight, length of their arms and legs, he even knew the bust and waist size of each female player which earned him an impressive glare from Hermione.

Hermione went up to her dorm and then came back down a bundle tucked under her arms. They turned out to be notes when he saw the writing on the first page after she placed them down. He raised an eyebrow in question, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately, and she told him that they were for him to take so he can catch up. He heard the muttered "mental" coming from Ron before the indignant "Oi!" as Hermione hit him with a stinging hex.

Padding his pockets for his wand, he found it, but the pants were too snug to take it out sitting down. He stood up and pulled it out and waved it over the thick bundle of parchment and cast the spell to make a set of copies. He sat back down and then jumped right back up again when he sat on someone's lap. He looked to see who the bloody hell had decided to take his seat. He sighed when he saw it was Ginny.

"All the other seats are taken, Harry," she said in a voice that failed spectacularly to be aloof. He looked around to see that she was right. "So, if you don't mind sharing, I can sit on your lap?"

He looked at her, taking into account everything he knew about her. She was young, brasher than him, a fiery temper. She was pretty, he supposed, but the fact that she looked so much like his mother deducted points for him. And she thought that the fighting he was going to be involved in was a game. She didn't understand the seriousness of it. She would constantly try to tag along and she would just end up getting in the way. Hermione and Ron knew how serious the war was and they would keep their heads level, for the most part. It was for that main reason that he couldn't pursue a relationship with her. If she was involved with him, she would inevitably be dragged into the fight and he seriously thought that she wouldn't be able to handle herself.

He shook his head and waved her offer away, "No, I'm knackered. I'll probably head off to sleep. Ron, my trunk upstairs?"

He saw the hurt look in Ginny's eyes and knew that he would have to explain it more carefully to her. In answer to his question, it was Hermione who spoke.

"Actually Harry, the Head Boy shares a suite with the Head Girl. You would know if you had been a Prefect. It's explained in the rule book that is handed to you," she said in a surprisingly icy tone. She was bloody jealous! It's not like he asked to be Head Boy! And why in the flaming hell couldn't she be glad that he got picked! He wisely decided not to voice those opinions because he wanted to get some sleep and their argument might last a while. He looked around to see Ginny had walked out of the chair and was moving towards the staircase to her dorm.

"Ginny," he said. She stopped with her hand on the rail and turned to look at him, a hopeful expression on her face. "We need to talk tomorrow, okay?" Her reaction became somewhat subdued, but she nodded her head just the same. After muttering goodnights to Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, he gathered up the bundle of papers under his arm and walked out of the Gryffindor common room.

He covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a yawn. He felt exhausted already as he yawned for a second time. He waved his wand, casting the spell to check the time. It was close to eleven. Merlin, where had the time gone? Shifting his weight to carry the stack of notes easier, he walked a little faster, eager to get into the Head's common room and get into a bed.

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, having realized that he had no idea where in the hell the Head's dorm was. Groaning, he began to ask for directions from the portraits, some who yelled at him for waking them up, and others who made a point of ignoring him for the same reason. 'Stupid,' he thought to himself as he remembered that he could have just asked Dobby to tell him where the dorm was.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the little house elf appeared at his side, a rag for cleaning in his hands.

"Master Harry Potter called for Dobby?" he asked in that high-pitched voice of his.

"I just thought of your name right now. How did you know I was going to call you?" he asked.

Dobby became bashful all of sudden, his cheeks turning red and he started to shift on the spot, hands wringing together. "Well…Master Harry Potter…Dobby…bonded with you last year…choose you for his Master, Dobby did. And Dobby can hear Master's thoughts," he said.

Harry was shocked to say the least. Dobby had bonded with him? Didn't he have to accept and then say some mumbo-jumbo to make it official? He came back from his thoughts to see Dobby murmuring hushed apologies for not informing him of this matter and Harry saw that he was about to bang his head against the wall.

"Dobby, stop," he said in a calm voice. He waited until Dobby had stopped moving all together before resuming, "I really don't mind. Although I can say that I really wasn't expecting this, it's all right. Just don't call me Master, okay? You call me Harry and you're a friend, not a servant." Dobby just stood there, his mouth hanging open, obviously in some type of shock.

With that little matter cleared, Harry then asked him for directions to the dorm. Dobby, did one better; grabbing his wrist, he apparated him to the outside of the dorm, right in front of the portrait. Dobby then said that if he should need anything to not hesitate to call and then he disappeared with a crack.

'Well, I guess Hogwarts can't stop house elves from popping in and out,' he thought to himself. Turning his attention back to the portrait, he studied it carefully. It was a green pasture, empty save for the swaying grass that was being moved by an unseen wind, and two hooded figures in the middle of it. In a rush, the two figures rushed from opposite sides of the fields, spears of some sort clashing against each other.

Harry just watched as their actions increased in speed and intensity until he was just watching blurs move across the painting. One of them received a blow to his left side, sending him towards the front of the portrait. That's when they noticed him and the field instantly vanished to be replaced the picture of a study, the two men now sitting down in chairs in front of a fireplace.

One was short and stocky, the other tall and gangly. Shorty was pale with blond hair, while Too Tall was tan with black hair. Too Tall was looking at him unnervingly with Shorty watching him with an open smile. Shaking his head at what he had just seen, he asked if he could get in and then one, or possibly both, asked for the password. At that point, Harry proceeded to hit himself over the head with the stack of papers, cursing his stupidity for not getting the password from Blaise.

There was the sound of laughing and he looked up to see both of the men holding their hands to their guts, laughing like a pack of hyenas. The bloody portrait was leading him on! Shorty stopped laughing first and told him that a password hadn't been set because both Heads had to confirm it. The door swung open and Harry quickly moved past the laughing portrait.

He kicked off his shoes at the entrance, one landing near a coffee table, the other near the couch next to it. He was too bloody tired to pay attention to his surroundings and his knees bumped into several things before he found a door that had his name engraved on a plaque nailed to it. With a sigh of relief he opened it and stepped inside.

He took a moment to look around, checking to see if his things were in here. He saw the trunk at the foot of the bed and he opened it to see that everything had hastily been thrown in. He shut it, remembering that he never had the chance to pack his stuff for Hogwarts and someone had obviously done it for him. His hands patted the mattress and he sighed when he felt that it was soft and incredibly comfortable.

He stood up on his feet, taking off his shirt, prepared to undo his jeans and then fall right to sleep when the door opened with a bang. He turned around, wand already in his hand to point at…Blaise?

"Oh, it's only you. I thought it was…," he was cut off as something collided hard with his chest and then fell down onto his unprotected feet. He groaned in pain and started to hop on one foot, clutching his injured toes. Realizing that he was looking like an idiot in front of her, he stopped, ignoring the throbbing pain in his toes.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he asked calmly.

"For my first two nights here, I was extremely comfortable. I had this huge dorm all to myself and it smelled nice. Now you're out of the hospital wing, you just stroll in here and kick off your shoes, leaving them wherever and waking me up in the process. Now, pay attention. I don't mind if you're a slob, but be a slob in your own room. Other people have to walk through the common room and I don't want to go walking around smelling your feet. Now is that understood?" she said in a quiet and calm whisper.

Harry looked down to see that his shoes were now on the floor and he realized that she had thrown them at him. She could have just handed them over to him, but no, she had to throw them. What the hell was wrong with her?! Although…he could see her point. He remembered how bad the room smelled in his dorm all the past six years because not one of them had ever really picked up the place.

"I'll try. Happy?" he said. Even though he could see her point, his feet still hurt.

Her arms crossed over her chest, drawing his attention to her breasts. He sternly looked up to meet her eyes, telling himself that he did not stare. The smirk he got in return told him otherwise. She was about to say something when her eyes narrowed and she moved closer to him. She grasped his arm and ran her fingers over the crescent-shaped cuts in his forearm.

"You are such an idiot, Potter. You've just barely gotten out of the hospital wing and you've injured yourself already. And I was getting along with you and then you had to pull that shite with leaving your shoes wherever you please, pissing me off in the process," she said in dulcet tones. Her wand appeared in her hand and she tapped each of the marks and then muttered something. The cuts closed up and then she vanished away the blood.

She stepped back and moved to the door. Stopping just inside the doorway, she looked back and said, "Now if you don't need anymore babying, I am going to retire for the evening. Goodnight, Potter."

She closed the door, leaving Harry standing there in the middle of his room, shirtless and with his mouth gaping. Babying?! He didn't need any babying! He had half a mind to go and tell her that, but he forced it back down. He was getting along fine with her until the Shoe Incident which he realized was his fault. So, if he did go there to argue over something that didn't need to be argued over, he would look like an arse and would ruin any friendship they might have right now.

Plus, going down all those steps and then back up again seemed like to much work. With that thought, he kicked off his jeans and climbed in under the heavy blankets, sighing in relief as his body was filled with warmth. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about what Blaise had been wearing when she talked down to him.

(Scene Break)

Blaise walked back into her room, slamming the door. She banged the back of her head against the oak and took a deep breath to calm herself down. Stupid vampire senses, stupid Potter! She had just walked into his room to return his shoes to him because she was not going to have the common room of her dorm look like a pigsty, but she didn't count on the fact that he was bleeding.

She raised her hand to her lips, taking another deep and steady breath. She moaned as the scent of his blood clouded her senses. There was an animalistic scent in it, the scent of raw power. She put her finger in her mouth and eagerly sucked his blood off. She sank down onto the floor, giving another quiet moan as she got her first taste of Potter. When she was done, she slumped against the door, her chest rising as she took heavy breaths at a fast pace.

She licked her lips, seeking for any remainder of his blood. She banged her head against the door when she realized that she was doing it again for the third time. She let the flood of pleasure slowly ebb, the overdrive Potter's blood had played on her almost gone. She stood up on shaky legs and ambled towards her dresser. Sitting down on the stool she stared at her reflection.

Her cheeks were flushed, eyes glazed over lightly, eyes glowing lightly. She grabbed the brush on the dresser and started to brush her hair, cursing her stupid vampire bloodlust. She usually had it under control, feeding from bottles of stored human blood that her father sent to her during the course of Hogwarts. It was usually distilled with water so the taste didn't intoxicate her and if she ran out than she just sent an owl asking for more.

She felt her breath quickening as she recalled the taste of Potter's blood. It practically drove her into a frenzy as she inhaled the scent of it, the power that it exuded. Then when she had barely gotten her first taste of it, she became greedy for more. And it was pure, not diluted by water, but 100 Potter. She banged her fist against the dresser, a small crater dented into the wood from the blow as she tried to think of something else. Tried to think of something besides the thought of what it would taste like if she drank it from the source.

She looked back at her reflection in the mirror as it started to waver. It always happened when her vampire blood became more prominent. She parted her lips to see the elongated fangs, the tips stained lightly in red. Her fangs were usually concealed for the most part, hers and any other vampires. They only extended when vampires were either going to feed, when the scent of blood was in the air and it sparked their senses, or when physically aroused, which eventually led to bloodlust.

She set the brush down after she was done and fixed the crack in the wood with a wave of her wand. She moved to her bed and slipped under the covers, trying in vain to not notice that her oversized shirt that she wore to sleep, stopping at mid thigh, held a small amount of Potter's scent…like freshly cut grass and rain. She groaned and angrily fluffed her pillows.

(Scene Break)

She woke up after the customary alarm of Xera, her little black cat, swatted her head with her paw. She cracked open an eye only to close them immediately and draw the covers over her head as the sun shone through the windows. Closing the curtains surrounding her bed, she was bathed in darkness and only then did she pull down the covers. She sat up, yawning as she stretched her arms over her head.

She scratched behind Xera's ears as she rubbed her head against her leg. Checking the time to see that there was only 30 minutes before breakfast was over. Grumbling under her breath, she opened the curtains for her bed and before she took a step onto the carpeted floor, she swished her wand and closed the drapes over the windows. Nodding in satisfaction she proceeded to dress in just a plain shirt and jeans. No classes today meant she could just lie about and she had already finished her assignment for classes so she had nothing to do.

Grabbing a book along the way to do some light reading, she walked out of her room and down the stairs, stepping into the common room. Seeing what was spread across the table, she placed a hand on her hip and turned to Potter, who was wearing a somewhat sheepish expression.

"Care to explain all this, Potter?" she all but drawled.

"Well you see…what I mean is…," he stammered before sighing. He drew himself up to his full height, he was quite tall she noted, and crossed his arms over his chest. She made a point to not look at his arms and listened to what he said. "An apology for leaving my shoes in here yesterday, I brought you your breakfast. I didn't know what you liked, so I got some of everything."

Looking back at the table that was practically groaning with the weight of the food, she surveyed the platters; pancakes, waffles, an assortment of muffins, various meats, and about three different pitchers of drinks. Taking a plump sausage, she popped it into her mouth. She moaned in delight and sat down to eat. Taking another sausage, she bit into it, tasting the small amount of blood that was inside. Obviously a house elf had known this food was to be for her and they knew how she liked her meat, medium-rare.

"Apology accepted," she said to Potter after finishing the sausage. Loading her plate with food and goblet with drink, she ate, watching Potter out of the corner of her eye. When he reached for a sausage, she slapped his hand away. "Mine." She smirked at him and moved the plate out of his reach. He just scoffed and slumped against the brown-colored couch that was sitting on.

As she was nearly finished, she noticed that Potter had never even loaded up his plate with food, in fact he didn't even have a plate at all. After taking a bite of her chocolate muffin, she asked, "Not hungry Potter?"

"I already ate Zabini," he said somewhat sulkily.

She chuckled with mirth and replied, "Don't sulk Potter, it doesn't become you."

"You would too if all you get to eat is a bowl of water," he practically growled.

"It does have lemon in it. And that should teach you a lesson."

"A lesson?! It's not like I asked to be hospitalized," he said, his eyes narrowing.

Sipping from her goblet, she replied calmly, "You should make sure not to get injured so badly next time. That way you can eat all this delicious food." She grinned at him at the end and ate a piece of a pancake, moaning in satisfaction.

He growled again, the action making him seem as animal as his blood was. She licked her lips and shuddered at the memory before she "tsked" at him, "Careful, Potter. You're starting to act like a dog or in your case an overgrown puppy. And Xera doesn't like dogs so you better watch yourself."

"Xera?" he said, his lips mouthing out the word again.

"My cat and she doesn't take kindly to strangers. Especially those who act like animals," she smirked. At that, she heard the soft footfalls of Xera padding down the stairs and into the common room. She leaped onto Blaise's lap, meowing and purring for attention.

"Oh, that's what your name is. I saw you last night, but I didn't know you belonged to Zabini. Good thing I came prepared," said Potter, addressing Xera. Blaise watched as her cat, hers, switched her attention to Potter as he revealed a platter loaded with fish, sliced open to show that there were no bones. Potter moved the plate to his couch, next to his legs and Xera happily bounded over to his side, his, and started to eat. Xera even purred when Potter scratched her behind her ears. And that damn Potter had the courage to look at her and grin.

"She seems to like me. Guess I'm not an animal, am I?"

Deciding not to answer, Blaise opened her book and started to read. Most people reacted fearfully to Xera for some unknown reason. So far, all of those people had turned out be prats or in general, people that she did not like. Her cat was a good judge of character, having only allowed Pansy to ever pet her. So it seemed quite reasonable to introduce Potter to her cat to find out what sort of person he was. For some reason that she didn't want to begin to think about, she was annoyed that Potter had passed Xera's little test with flying colors, evident as Xera nudged his leg to be petted and stroked.

She flipped to the next page, eager to see what happens at the end between the two main characters. So enthralled was she in finding out their fates that she didn't feel the dip of the couch as Potter sat next to her. She did however feel him when their shoulders bumped and he leaned over to read the text.

"That doesn't look like a textbook," he said, his voice extremely close to her ear.

Her cheeks flushed and she closed the book with a snap. Turning towards Potter, she poked his chest, "Didn't anyone ever teach you about personal boundaries? And what does it matter what book I'm reading?"

"I just couldn't see the title from where I was sitting. I was just curious, nothing to get mad about," he said with a smile. He moved away from the couch and Blaise returned to reading her book after a minute. Again, she was lost in the words and she didn't notice the shadow looming over her. The book was plucked out of her hands and she saw Potter scrambling away from her.

"This is a very interesting book you have here. Let's see what it's called," he said before turning the book over to read the title.

She stood up from the couch, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. She could not let Potter read the title nor read even one passage of that book. The embarrassment that would come from it would be too much. She ran at him and tackled him to the ground, trying to reach the book that he was moving out of her reach. She leaned forward, her fingertips brushing the spine of the book when she was interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

"Ms. Zabini, when you said that you were on somewhat amicable terms with Mr. Potter, I did not realize to the extent that your friendship ran," Headmistress McGonagall said in a clipped Scottish brogue.

Looking down at Potter, she saw the position that they were in. She was straddling his waist, one of her hands splayed on his chest, the other near the book. Her shirt had ridden up, exposing her navel and Potter's hand was on her waist, the other near the book as well. He had long arms and was able to reach fine, but she had to lean, inadvertently putting her chest near his face. She blushed even harder and scrambled off of him quickly, standing upright, arms at her sides. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Potter standing the same way, his face blushing as well.

"Headmistress, this isn't what it looks like," she said in a hurried voice.

"It is acceptable that you are having a relationship. Just be sure to not take it too far Ms. Zabini. I trust that there won't be a little Potter running around in nine months?" said McGonagall with a Dumbledore like twinkle in her eye.

She gasped, her cheeks blushing even more if it were possible. The spluttering that she heard coming from Potter was indication enough of his embarrassment over the situation.

"We weren't doing anything!"

"My eyes do not deceive me Mr. Potter. I can assure that I won't divulge the secret of your affair with Ms. Zabini. Here is your schedule and rule book for Head Boy. Be sure to not take this relationship too far, too fast. Good day to both of you," said the Headmistress.

The opening and closing of the portrait told Blaise that she had left. She pivoted on her foot, glaring at Potter who was smiling sheepishly at her, his hand scratching the side of his head in embarrassment.

"Uuumm…Sorry?" he said nervously.

She couldn't believe the gall of this man! Too angry to commit she just strode forward and poked him hard in the chest. She was forced to look up at him and she cursed her small stature as she craned her neck to look him in the eye. "If even one peep of this incident gets out, you will wish you had never met me." Cheeks heated in part anger and embarrassment, she raked her nails down his chest and then shoved him away from her. She stalked off, bristling with anger, trying hard to make it seem like she was walking instead of running to her room. She only stopped when Potter called out her name.

"What?!" she growled, not even bothering to look at him.

She heard him walking towards her and felt his body close to hers. Something landed on her shoulder and grabbed it, realizing it was her book. She closed her eyes to steady her breathing, hoping that Potter hadn't looked at the title. If he was a gentleman than he wouldn't have done so. As she neared her door, hand on the handle she heard Potter speak one last time.

"Nice title."

She wanted to scream in frustration. Instead she opened the door and stepped inside, slamming the door closed. Holding the book in front of her, she read the title to herself, "Fantasy Lover." Why? Why had she taken this book downstairs? Now Potter knew her guilty pleasure. She groaned as she flopped down onto the bed. What a way to start the school year.

A/N: A part of me likes and hates this chapter. I know that it's going a bit slow, but I want to show the different sides of the characters.

You got to see Blaise's little quirk. Not exactly a clean freak, but she won't stand to have the common of the Head's to be dirty and a pigsty.

Someone commented on sexual tension, some saying it was too fast, others saying too slow. In the beginning it was just some harmless flirting, I think it was the fifth or sixth chapter that they were clearly flirting with each other. Then in the this one and the last one, it's more subtle. Just looking at certain assets and areas of each other.

In the next chapter, we have the aftermath of this little tussle they had and Harry's first DADA class. It will be extremely interesting and I hope, funny. Some more Blaise/Harry tension in the next chapter.

Oh, and Blaise's guilty pleasure is romance novels. HAHAHA!!

Sorry if this one was too short for some people.