"Where's Malfoy?"
Blaise looks up from his Ancient Runes notes to see a head of bright red hair. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to see Hermione about something but I saw you here."
The Slytherin shakes his head and looks back down into his notes to hide his blush. "He's in the Infirmary."
"Why?"
"Madame Pomfrey came to get him from the Great Hall."
"Oh."
Blaise scribbles more notes for the next couple of minutes in silence. He starts to feel a prickle on the back of his neck. "Stop staring at me, Weasley. Go find your girlfriend."
"She's not my girlfriend," Ron says it like he's said it too many times already.
"Really," Blaise says, tone bored, not lifting his head from his parchment.
"Yes, really. We're just friends."
"Then why is she giving me the death sentence by guillotine with her eyes?"
Ron frowns and looks up, eyes widening at the look on Hermione's face. She catches his eye and snaps her book shut, stands and stomps out of the classroom. "What..."
"She's plotting against me because she thinks I stole her man."
"Well, you kind of did."
Blaise does look up this time. "Weasley!"
The Gryffindor laughs as he dodges a balled up parchment, flinching when Blaise hits him with his book. "It's true!"
"'Tis not! I did no such thing. You chase me like a lost puppy even though I keep telling you to go away."
"And I told you I wasn't going away because I like spending time with you."
Blaise glares at him, but Ron only gives him an innocent smile in return. "You're impossible. Are you not going to go after the damsel? She's clearly distressed."
"She's just going to yell at me," Ron makes a motion with his hand. "About stuff I don't even understand."
"Wow," Blaise shakes his head at him. "You are heartless."
Ron frowns when Blaise starts packing his stuff up. "Where are you going?"
"To talk to the damsel in distress. And to make amends because you are clearly incapable of doing such."
He ignores Ron's protest as he walks out after picking up Hermione's bag, turning left and right in search of the bushy-haired girl. He walks down the entire corridor before he sighs in defeat.
And then he hears a sniffle.
And another one. And he turns to his left to find an alcove, and a figure squatting on the floor. "Granger?"
The figure looks up. And then it scoffs as it stands to it's full height. Hermione Granger steps out of the shadows with puffy eyes and wet cheeks. "What do you want?"
Blaise drops her bag to lift his hands in defense. "To talk. I just want to talk."
"About what? Ron? You want to rub it in my face?"
"Salazar, no, woman. Who would want to talk about him. You're a perfectly good subject."
Hermione rolls her eyes. "Sweet talking me is not going to change anything."
"Change what? What am I trying to change?"
"This," she motions wildly around her. "The fact that I'm not good enough! The fact that I spent every minute of my Hogwarts career stuck in a tandem between danger and fear, and I came out on top but I still feel like I lost something. Because of you! Because you took that away from me!"
"What did I take? Ron Weasley? I took Ron Weasley from you?"
"Yes! And...And Harry! Harry's in a hospital bed and the only one that can stay with him is Draco? Why? Why are you Slytherins ruining everything? We won!"
"What are you talking about?"
"We beat you! We won and you lost and you should be rotting in Azkaban."
Blaise narrows his eyes at her. He feels his mouth curl into a nasty snarl and he doesn't want to snap, he doesn't want to. But this girl knows nothing. And she just cut a very thin thread. "Excuse me?"
"You don't deserve to be here. You tortured people. You killed people...!"
"I only killed people that were harming my kin. As in my peers in this bloody school. You know absolutely nothing, Granger. Nothing."
"I know you want Ron."
"Fucking take him! I don't want to want him if it's going to make you hate me without reason! You know nothing about me and you hate me!"
Hermione sniffles again. And then she crumples to the floor on her knees. "He doesn't want me."
Blaise sighs. He reaches up and rubes a hand down his face. "Granger..."
"He doesn't want me because I'm not good enough. I'm not good enough! I'm not good enough!"
"Alright, alright. Calm down," Blaise steps closer and lowers himself into a squat. He will not put his knees on this nasty floor. There are Giovalini trousers.
He purses his lips, debating on touching her shoulder before grimacing.
Why do I have to deal with these Gryffindors?
"Why am I not good enough," Hermione sobs.
"Listen to me, woman," Blaise snaps his fingers in front of her face. "You will not lower yourself to this. You are kind, and gentle, and a hell of a lot smarter than the average witch or wizard. You are capable of more than you have done. You are more than this."
"But..."
"You are going to get up, off this disgusting floor. And you are going to walk with me, with your head held high, all the way to the Tower. Do you understand?"
Hermione just nods, sniffling as Blaise helps her up, lifts her book bag and hands it to her. "Why are you helping me?"
"Trust me, it's not nice to be alone," Blaise repeats the words. He remembers exactly where he heard it and his chest warms.
Despite her red face and her teary eyes, Hermione does exactly as Blaise says and holds her head high, her shoulders squared as they walk the halls to the Eighth Tower.
The Common Room is empty, as everyone is in class at the moment, and Hermione turns to the Slytherin when they enter.
"What now?"
"Where's your room?"
She gives him a suspicious look, to which he rolls his eyes to.
"I'm a very homosexual Italian-Brazilian man. You don't need to worry."
The Gryffindor dorms are...crowded.
That's the only way Blaise can think to describe them. It's as if the doors are stacked on top of each other, and when Hermione pushes a door open, Blaise's jaw drops.
There's five beds in here. Five.
"You share?"
"There's a lot of us that came back," Hermione shrugs. "And we all decided to stay in houses so McGonagall did the best she could. You don't share with Malfoy?"
"Heavens, no," Blaise is horrified at the idea. "The man is a diva with his hair products. It's ridiculous how he even gets ready in time for classes."
Hermione giggles into her hand. "He does wear a lot of hair products. The smells are overpowering."
"Tell me about it. Now," Blaise claps his hands. "We are going to talk about anything and everything while I give you a makeover."
She makes a face. "A makeover? Why do I need a makeover?"
"Because. It makes you feel better about yourself. And I can keep telling you how ridiculously attractive you are."
Hermione blushes. "I'm not really..."
"Don't," Blaise lifts his hand to her face to shut her up. "Stop talking. Just take my praise, buffoon."
"Alright?" She sounds amused.
"Where is your bathroom?"
There's a yellow door that catches his attention.
"Never mind. Let's go."
He hauls her to the bathroom and configures it to look like a salon rinse sink. Hermione gapes. "I didn't know you could do that."
"Transfigure furniture? Of course you can, darling."
"No, I knew that. I just didn't know you could do it on Hogwarts furniture."
"Oh, you can't," Blaise grins mischievously. "But I have my ways. Now, sit."
Blaise washes her hair in record time, considering the mess it is, and leads her back into the room. "That felt nice."
The Slytherin hums. "I've been practicing on Draco. He likes to be treated like royalty, if you hadn't already noticed."
Hermione laughs. "Is this the career path you want to take? You want to be a stylist?"
"Like my life depends on it."
He summons his care kit from the West Wing of the Tower and it comes in ten seconds. He digs through it, humming a tune as he takes out what he needs.
Conditioning Potion, his scissors, and combs.
And then he turns to the Gryffindor.
"I'm cutting your hair."
Hermione gasps. "No!"
Blaise rolls his eyes. "Why not? You do absolutely nothing with it. It's too curly to comb through, which is probably why you don't touch it. And it's down to your waist. Trust me. This is what I'm studying for."
"Fine," Hermione says after several seconds of a stare-down. "But not too short!"
"Don't worry. I know what to do."
He talks to her the entire time. About his mother disapproving of his career choice but approving of his lifestyle. He talks to her about what he did in the war and how he stayed far away from the Dark Lord so he didn't have to do anything like Draco. He talks about wanting to live in Italy after he graduates because he wants to be close to home.
But he doesn't talk about Ron. Not until Hermione brings it up.
He's letting her hair air dry, applying powder to her face when she suddenly speaks.
"Do you like Ron?"
Blaise's hand freezes over her forehead and he moves his eyes down to meet hers.
There's no more malice in them. No sadness.
Just curiosity.
He sighs and keeps patting her forehead gently with the pouf. "I don't want to if it means you and I can't talk civilly."
Hermione frowns. And then her face straightens when Blaise tells her the makeup will crease. "You're depending your affectionate status for him on me?"
"I'm done being an enemy. I never liked it in the first place, but I did what had to be done. I played the role that needed to be played to survive. And...I might still be in danger but at least I know the worst part of it is over.
"I want to live. I want to have friends and go out and drink and not worry about who will stab me in the back. I want to be able to talk to you about Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. And I want our friends to be able to play Quidditch together while we watch from the stands.
"And I want to graduate knowing I did my best in paving a future not only for myself, but for all my friends. And if that means letting Ron go, then I won't hesitate even though it'll cause me pain."
He takes a fluffy black brush and rolls it in the rouge, gently brushing it onto her cheeks. Hermione swallows. "You would do that?"
Blaise doesn't hesitate to nod. "I don't guarantee a good outcome of it, we both know Weasley isn't one to let things go easily. But if you and I can't be friends because of a boy, then I'm not going to risk it."
"But you'll be unhappy," Hermione frowns. "And so will he. And...so will I."
Blaise shrugs. He rolls a tube of red lipstick out. "It's your call."
Hermione watches as he concentrates on lining her lips perfectly with the lipstick. He takes his time, swiping a tissue around her mouth when he's done to get rid of any smudges.
When he's done with that, he goes behind her and flips her hair this and that way.
Hermione is still thinking.
The Slytherin uses a blow drying charm to get the rest of the water out of her hair, and then he uses his wand to loosely curl it.
Even when he's done, she hasn't uttered a word.
"I didn't mean to scar you," he jokes, going around her chair to face her.
"Sorry," she smiles guiltily. The way the red lipstick stretches over her pretty smile is mesmerizing. She really is a gorgeous girl. "I don't...want either of you to be unhappy. And...I don't need Ron either. He clearly doesn't like me, so I'll learn to live with it."
Blaise smiles kindly.
"And I should really focus on my career instead."
"You'll thrive, I know it."
"Thank you," she sighs. "Are we done? Can I see?"
"Yes! Ooh, wait," he holds a finger up. "Do you have any pretty dresses?"
"In the closet," Hermione says with a wide smile. "To the far left, is where all my clothes are."
"Oh," Blaise says with a smirk. "Okay. You stay here. I'll be right back."
The first thing Blaise sees is a thong hanging off a hanger. He shudders. He walks all the way to the back left, where everything is color coded and organized by garment. So he goes to the white, and of course, pushes all the school uniform shirts back and...woah.
That one.
He takes it and runs back to Hermione.
"Okay, stand up. Undress."
"Blaise," Hermione laughs.
"I'm gay," he says impatiently. "Come on, I'm excited! Why do you even have such a sexy thing?"
Hermione looks back after taking her shirt off and sees Blaise holding a white dress. "Oh. I think Luna gave me that for my birthday."
"Oh," Blaise holds a hand to his heart. "Dear Luna is a genius!"
When Hermione finishes pulling her pants off, she motions for the dress. Blaise turns respectfully as she slips it on, only turning when she mumbles she's ready.
"Oh," Blaise gasps. "My goddess! Yes! This is how you should dress all the time!"
Hermione is a blushing mess, adjusting the low cut of the dress where it ends at her cleavage. The dress flows beautifully to the floor, a sheer lineage of glittered mesh over the entire skirt.
"You look like an actress! Go! Look, look!"
Blaise summons a mirror into the room behind Hermione and he turns her. Hermione's jaw drops.
"Oh, my God."
"I know!"
"What did you do to my face," Hermione laughs incredulously. "I look..."
"Divine. Gorgeous. Flawless," Blaise grins. "How do you feel?"
"Beautiful," Hermione whispers. She reaches forward and touches the mirror. "I feel great. Thank you."
"Oh, don't even mention it."
And then Blaise is engulfed in the smell of roses and slightly burned hair. "No. Thank you. Thank you so much."
He sighs out a smile and hugs her back. "You're welcome, Granger."
"Call me Hermione," she pulls back and gives him a beaming smile.
Blaise nods. "And you can call me Blaise."
"Okay, I really do love this," Hermione pulls back to look down at the dress. And then she turns to look in the mirror again. "I had never tired this dress on."
"Blasphemy," Blaise gasps.
"Yeah," she laughs. "But I think I should change, now. I still have classes."
"Keep the makeup on," Blaise winks. "Trust me."