When the sky began to lighten slightly, she woke up on top of Blaise, and blearily wondered what the hell was going on. Then she remembered that she’d let him sleep in her room—but hadn’t he transfigured the chair?

Then she realized that they were on the floor.

Blaise opened his eyes and found her head on his chest, and chuckled.

“Seems like you want to be on top even when you’re asleep,” he quirked a smile.

“How did we end up like this?” she asked, rolling off of him, voice husky.

“We rolled off our beds, obviously,” he accepted her hand and she yanked him up.

Kristen yawned widely.

Blaise noticed. “Tired?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” she muttered, flopping down on her bed and rolling over onto her stomach, head settled on her arms that served as a pillow.

He blinked, settling in next to her. “So, are you ready for the match tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’m not scared of Ravenclaw,” she turned her head to look at him, half of her smile quirking up.

“You should be,” he growled playfully. “Because they can do…this!” he started tickling her stomach and she instantly hunched over, giggling.

“Blaise!” she gasped, trying to shove him aside. “If—you aren’t—careful—I’ll—push—you off—bed—”

“Try baby,” he grinned wickedly.

She was laughing too hard to do anything. “St—stop,” she got out between giggles, and suddenly rammed against him.

True enough, he crashed out of the bed. Kristen hugged her pillow protectively and peered over the edge to see if he was alright.

“So you weren’t lying when you said you could,” he grunted, hauling himself upright again.

She smirked.

Blaise pouted.

“Aw, did widdle Blaisey get hurt? Poor baby,” she stuck out her lower lip.

“Aww, aren’t you cute,” he mock-sneered, before flashing a hand out and dragging her off the bed with him.

She laughed, whacking him with her pillow lightly. Blaise stole it and threw it across the room, and she gave up and remained on the floor, panting.

He lay back and turned his face towards her, unexpectedly meeting her eyes.

Neither of them could bring themselves to break the contact.

“Blaise?” she asked softly.

He had to work so damn hard not to close the distance and kiss her.

“Yeah?” he answered, just as quietly.

She struggled to find something to say. “Are you going to break it off with Daphne?”

“Yeah,” he answered, still that quiet. “After Malfoy so kindly told me what she’s been doing.”

She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she offered with her crooked smile.

“It’s fine, darling,” he gave her a smile of his own. “Now I can call you pet names right?”

“If you want,” she chuckled and edged closer to him to give him a hug.

Neither of them wanted to break the contact, so she murmured, “Don’t be angry if I fall asleep.”

How could I ever be angry at you? Blaise wanted to ask, playfully. She shifted though, and moved so that she used his stomach as a pillow.

“Your stomach’s too hard to be a pillow,” she grumbled, but she still didn’t move as her eyes closed.

He smirked. “Should I say sorry that I have to be so sexy?”

“I didn’t even know you worked out,” she muttered. “I thought you spent all your time making lame pick up lines.”

“Oh yeah baby, that one really hurt,” he snorted, “I’ll have you know that abs like this don’t come that easy.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You’ve never seen a quality six pack before have you?” he accused.

“Yeah, you’re right, I haven’t,” she muttered sarcastically. “So why don’t you enlighten me?”

He scoffed, but he was panicking and back pedaling fast. “Nice try, but I don’t flash for free love.”

“Scared big boy?” she taunted, rising off his stomach to look him in the eye.

“’Course not. If I did though, you’d have to make it worth my while.”

She blinked. “I don’t have anything worth looking at, sorry.”

“Come on, have you looked in the damn mirror? From what I’ve seen you have a lot worth looking at,” the heat in his eyes was practically scorching her.

“And what have you seen?”

Blaise chuckled, buying himself some time. “I’m a red-blooded male darling. Just because you haven’t caught me doesn’t mean I don’t look.”

“Alright fine, I’ll take off my shirt if you take yours off first,” she checked the time, and her eyes widened. It was already almost breakfast! They had spent so much time talking.

“You’re so desperate to see me shirtless you’re willing to take your own shirt off?” he smirked. “Sure you can handle it?” he asked, sitting up.

Kristen looked up at him through her eyelashes. “I can handle whatever you dish out darling.”

In response, he reached and pulled his shirt off in one movement.

Kristen stifled the urge to widen her eyes. Holy shit- Blaise wasn’t kidding when he said quality.

His skin had the sort of golden glow any girl would kill for, six pack was nicely defined, he had such broad shoulders, how didn’t she notice this before and his arms only complimenting his chest and there wasn’t anything that was overly built.

He stopped breathing when he saw the stark, distinctly female approval in her eyes.

“Your turn love,” he drawled after regaining his breath.

She finally looked up to meet his eyes, corners of her mouth turning up in a half-grin.

Her fingers were feeling for the edges of her shirt—so damn slowly, because she was such a tease—when the door slammed open.

Blaise cursed and dove behind her bed, while she blinked and didn’t move. He was practically growling, vowing to murder whoever had barged in.

It was Hermione.

And she was in tears.

“What happened?” Kristen asked immediately, on her feet and at the girl’s side.

“I don’t know why he affects me so much!” Hermione sobbed. “I shouldn’t care for Merlin’s sake!”

“Draco? What he do,” Kristen responded automatically.

“Yelled at me just because I was late to patrol yesterday, because I was with Ron,” Hermione wiped her eyes. “I mean, not just yelled, screamed at me. I don’t—I felt so horrible—” she collapsed into fresh sobs.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Kristen tried to soothe her. “Hold on, I’ll make some tea,” she slipped out of the room and to the kitchen, where she muttered Muffliato on Draco’s door.

Blaise reappeared with his shirt on and almost gave Hermione a heart attack. “Screw that bastard,” he growled. “If he wants to be so damn touchy, ignore him,” he muttered, sitting Hermione down on Kristen’s bed.

Normally, Hermione would have connected the clues and asked him what the hell he was doing in Kristen’s room, but today she didn’t.

Kristen reappeared with a mug of steaming peppermint tea. “Fuck him,” she told Hermione, “He can get on his knees and beg for forgiveness later.”

The teary eyed girl accepted the tea and cupped the mug with both of her hands, amused that both of the two had said almost the exact same thing.

“Aren’t you Draco’s best friend?” Hermione asked Blaise, hiccupping slightly. “Why’re you—?”

Blaise blinked. “Me and Malfoy have a complicated friendship. As in, I don’t tolerate him when he’s acting like a complete douchebag.”

A corner of Kristen’s mouth turned up. “Hermione, do you need to talk to him for Head duties anytime soon?”

“Yes, tonight. I don’t know how I’m supposed to face him,” more tears slid down her face.

“Here, write down whatever you need to say and I’ll tell him for you,” Kristen offered. “And it won’t do to let him see you crying at breakfast, won’t it? I’ll take you down to the kitchens and get Ron.”

Hermione burst into more tears at this. “I can’t write it down, it’s about the treasure hunt,” she wailed. “I think I’m doomed to talk to him!”

Alarmed, Kristen shot a look at Blaise. He shrugged and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You still owe me.”

She smirked, and led Hermione out of the room.

After leaving the recovering girl in the kitchen, Kristen set off to look for Ron at breakfast. She entered the Hall, absently noticing Blaise already seated at the Slytherin table and made for the Gryffindor one.

“Ron!” she slid into the end seat.

“Where’s ‘Mione?” he asked at once.

“In the kitchens. She’s upset—so I reckon you need some alone time,” Kristen tactfully worded the phrase so Harry wouldn’t try and tag along. Ron jumped up and sprinted out of the Hall.

“What happened?” Harry asked, lowering his voice so that the rest of the table wouldn’t hear.

Kristen sighed. “I don’t know. I think it’s got something to do with Malfoy though.”

“Malfoy! I’ll kill that fucking wanker—”

“Harry, relax. I think Hermione and Malfoy are actually cooperating rather easily now, so I don’t know what happened.”

He sighed. “Okay, I’ll ask her later. Oh yeah, remember there’s a Quidditch practice tonight at seven.”

“Alright.”

That day passed so slowly.

--

That night, Harry called an end to practice early. They’d worked quite well with each other, as close a team as it could get, and their formations and moves were accomplished with practiced ease. And Ginny had ended up in the hospital wing after someone jinxed her while in the air, so Harry ended the practice and rushed to the wing.

Kristen hit the showers and walked out of the locker room gingerly—a Bludger had slammed into her thigh— only to run into Blaise.

“Hey,” she greeted him as they walked back to the castle.

“Hey baby,” he smirked as her eyes narrowed. “What do you say we make the bedsprings sing?”

She bit back a sigh. “Not tonight.”

He chuckled. “Remember what you owe me.”

Kristen’s mouth turned up in a wry grin. “What if I don’t want to take my shirt off?”

He gaped at her as they entered the Hall. “What—damn, seriously?”

She laughed. “Aww you’re so disappointed.”

“For real?”

“I’ll honor whatever I’ve said,” she muttered as they went up a few staircases and back to the Heads’ common room.

Blaise lightly pushed her onto the couch. “Okay. You want to work on the treasure hunt?”

She blinked at the change of subject; she had been expecting him to push her to take off her shirt now. “Alright. Cat hair?”

“In Slughorn’s, the Potions master’s room. Where he teaches—what?” Blaise stopped when she sat up.

“Isn’t McGonagall an Animagus?”

“Yeah, she can turn into—a cat,” Blaise’s eyes widened.

Kristen groaned. “Oh come on. I don’t want to go looking for McGonagall again with my leg fucked up.”

“What happened?” Blaise asked.

“Bloody Bludger,” she murmured, lying back on the couch so that Blaise was sitting next to her feet and the arm served as a head rest.

“Where?”

“Why d’you want to know?” she asked.

He grinned wickedly, and without answering, placed his hand on her right calf. “Because,” he muttered. “Here?” he asked, applying pressure and going up her leg slowly. “Here? Here? Here? Baby you nervous yet?” Blaise asked again when his hand passed her knee.

She scoffed, masking the fact that she was practically hyperventilating and shut her eyes to act nonchalant. His hand was big and warm, and she could feel the strength in his fingers as he gently flexed them against her leg. Jesus, Blaise would be the death of her.

“It’s not anywhere higher than here, is it?” he asked, having come to where her thigh connected with her body.

“Nope.”

“Damn. I’ll just have to keep looking,” he smirked, and started on her left leg. Oh god. His hand slowly slid up her leg. When he passed her knee, the pressure he was applying through his fingertips lessened slightly and he went more slowly, knowing that he had to be close to the bruise.

She tensed when his hand drew near, and her eyes flew open when he gently probed her upper left thigh, flinching.

“Found it,” Blaise muttered. “It’s too bad you wouldn’t let me see it, being that close to...” he trailed off suggestively.

“Who made you a Medi-witch?” she asked, ignoring what he said and gasping when he poked the bruise a little harder.

“You have a wand too, love, and I’m pretty sure you have common sense as well. Why’re you letting it heal on its own?”

“Because I always do, and I don’t know how to get rid of it,” she growled softly. He was on top of her now, weight supported by his arms, they were staring each other in the eye, separated only by a foot of air.

Somebody barged in and Blaise swore: bloody hell twice in one day? They’d better have one hell of a reason.

It was Draco. And he was furious.

He was striding over to his room when he stopped, noticing the two of them at last.

He sneered. “If you two are going to shag, at least do it in her room, not on the fucking common room couch.”

Neither of them moved.

Blaise growled, “Who are you to stop us? I’d pay to see you try.”

“Watch it Zabini, I’m not in a good mood right now.”

“Oh ha-ha, when are you ever in a good mood Malfoy?” Kristen asked, her head turning to shoot him a look full of disdain.

“When I don’t have to see your filthy ass about to get it on with Zabini,” Draco shot back, and Blaise launched himself off the couch and tackled Malfoy, punching every bit of the slighter male he could get his hands on.

Kristen’s eyes widened, scrambling off the couch to try and pull the two of them—now rolling around on the floor—apart.

“Blaise! Malfoy!” she lost her patience and dove into the fray, kicking Draco off of Blaise and the three of them stopped, panting.

Malfoy’s eyes glinted maliciously as Kristen pulled Blaise up. “Oh I see how everything is now…What would Daphne say, Zabini?”

Blaise made to head over to Malfoy, but Kristen tugged on his arm, murmuring something too quiet for Draco to hear. He was surprised, when something—almost jealousy, what the hell, Malfoys didn’t get jealous—enveloped him.

Kristen pressed herself forward against Blaise for a second, said something else, and Zabini left the area and stalked into her room, not bothering to look at Draco.

Malfoy sat up as Kristen advanced on him.

“That was uncalled for Draco,” she said with lethal softness, eyes meeting his own and full of cold fury.

“Like you’re one to talk, don’t you know he’s got a girlfriend?”

She sneered at him and he was shocked to see that she had a damn good sneer, shocked that she could throw his own weapons straight back in his face. “And you will never understand anything. Wasn’t reducing Hermione to tears today good enough for you?”

Draco looked up, stunned. “What d’you—”

“Oh come on. She told us that you were screaming at her. Believe me, I was surprised. It’s not every day that you figure out that a pureblood Malfoy is in love with Hermione Granger, who’s got 100% pure Muggle blood.” Her facial expression was a mirror of his disdain-filled smirk. No wonder Blaise was completely obsessed with her; she wasn’t like the other Gryffindors at all.

“I’m not—”

“Good one. Maybe if you tell yourself that often enough it’ll come true,” she sneered again. “What’s between me and Blaise is our own business unless we decide otherwise. Get the fuck out of my face and concentrate on not wrecking your own life.”

With that, she turned and disappeared into her own room, leaving Draco stunned.

--

Blaise was seething, seated on her bed when she walked in.

“What’d you say to him?” he asked, trying to control his anger.

She shook her head. “Nothing really. Just tried to intimidate him a bit,” she sat next to him, and without warning, lay back so that her mid-back was pressing into his lap.

“Does that bother you?” she asked, watching him.

He bit back a strangled yelp as she shifted, her warmth intoxicating and almost making him forget his bad mood. “No,” he breathed.

“Are you pissed?” Kristen asked, “About Malfoy, I mean.”

“’Course,” he muttered. “I’m worried—what did he say to you?”

“Said, ‘don’t you know he’s got a girlfriend’, and then I told him some things about Hermione and that shut him up,” she murmured, and looked up. “But I thought you broke up with—?” she asked, slightly hurt and confused.

He sighed, and eased his arm underneath her back and lifted her up so that he could kiss her if he wanted to, they were that close. It didn’t help that she was sitting in his lap, and he struggled not to get a boner. “I did. It didn’t go too well either. She started crying and got fucking hysterical and started accusing me of cheating and shit; your name got dragged into it and I just left. I guess Draco didn’t get the memo.”

She rested her head against his chest. “So you’ve had a rough day.”

“A little bit.” Blaise was stifling the urge to rip off all of their clothes and simply shag her, because damn, if she wasn’t flirting then he didn’t know what flirting was.

“Want me to cheer you up?”

Oh Merlin, that if anything sent a rush of hot blood straight down to his crotch, those seductive words in such a low tone of voice.

“What—?”

“I know what I owe you,” she murmured. “I didn’t think that would get you so…excited, though,” she deliberately turned so that she straddled him.

Holy shit. “Darling, it’s probably more due to hormones than you, though you’re certainly not making this easier,” he ground out.

She got off of his lap with a hidden grin, leaving him both disappointed and relieved.

“Really?” she asked and smiled a Cheshire cat smile, and her fingers reached down to the hem of her shirt.

“You are such a tease love,” he growled.

“Sorry, I can’t help it,” Kristen took off her tie and shrugged off the outer cloak. Now she only had the shirt and pants on. Her fingers slowly went down the white shirt, undoing the buttons even more slowly, her eyes locked on Blaise’s, which were following her fingers’ path.

When she finally unbuttoned the last button, she still didn’t take the shirt off.

“Would it be sadistic to say that I want you to beg for it?” she murmured.

“Yeah, yeah it would be,” Blaise whispered back, another wave of heat that went straight to his crotch.

Kristen had a gleam in her eye and she shrugged her shirt off, leaving her with only a bra on.

Blaise almost had a heart attack. Not because he hadn’t seen any girl in only their lingerie before, but because this was Kristen. Holy shit is this real, holy shit, shit shit shit, she TOOK her shirt off—!

She watched his reaction, which consisted of his eyes widening and not much else.

“You know, I think you should take yours off too. I mean, I only got to see your ‘quality six pack’ for a few seconds before Hermione came in,” she purred.

He blinked and took off his outer robe and sweater.

Kristen moved closer and undid his tie for him, noticing that his eyes kept scanning her and his hands dropped, and she would have squirmed if he wasn’t there.

Then she cocked her head at him to ask permission, and when he nodded, started unbuttoning his shirt.

He could barely breathe with her so close to him, and fucking shirtless. They hadn’t even snogged yet for Merlin’s sake, but gods, with her in only her dark red bra he desperately wanted to kiss her. Not even because of his raging hard on, but because she looked so damn delicious—she had a perfect set of breasts, the red fabric looking so sexy against her pale skin.

And she was unbuttoning his shirt. Kristen’s fingers lightly trailed against his torso, now almost at the last buttons and she was so close to touching his dick that he held his breath.

She looked up at him, a wicked smile tugging at the edges of her lips and she simply pulled his shirt off.

Kristen knew he was turned on and she moved so she was again sitting in his lap. “So…what do you think?” she asked, leaning forward so that they were inches from touching chest to chest. “Good enough for you?”

“I really need to take a cold shower right about now, if that’s what you mean,” he managed not to groan as she shifted in his lap.

“Sorry,” she murmured, not really sounding sorry at all.

He had to exert copious amounts of self-control not to push her down onto her bed, ravish her mouth and fuck her till tomorrow morning.

Because that would ruin everything.

“I think that you are one sexy—tease!” he gasped when she deliberately ground against him.

She smirked. “You know what would be funny? If we were actually about to shag and then I walked out on you.”

“I would fucking die,” Blaise growled. “I can’t even think right now, so I hate to imagine that scenario.”

Kristen climbed off him and simply leaned against his right shoulder. “Don’t you think you should take care of that problem?” she asked, eyes closed.

“Yeah. I do. Are you volunteering?” he asked.

“Maybe next time,” she murmured, smiling wickedly. “Even though it’s my fault you have a problem in the first place.”

“You totally owe me, you tease.”

She opened her eyes. “Have you noticed that you hardly call me Kristen? It’s always ‘love, darling, babe’ or something.”

“Do you not like that?”

“I’m just commenting,” she murmured.

Blaise sighed. “I better get going. You’ve got the Quidditch tomorrow, and I’ve got a problem, courtesy of you. ‘Night, love,” he pulled his shirt on, and grabbing his clothes, left.

Kristen couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved.

--

Yet, she woke up in the middle of the night. A strange glow was emitting from next to her, and she looked and nearly jumped a foot, sitting up fast. It looked like some kind of ghostly jaguar, and it advanced.

Kristen couldn’t move as it leaped onto her bed, and they were now face to face as its jaw opened. She noticed the teeth especially.

“Kristen, love, help me…” she heard Blaise’s voice and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she understood.

The jaguar was his Patronus.

And he was in trouble.

The Patronus faded and she pulled on a tank top and jeans quickly, only pausing to cast a Disillusionment charm on herself as she ran out of the Head rooms.

Kristen realized with astounding clarity that she was scared. She was afraid to find Blaise and see what had happened. But even more, she was scared because something had happened to him. What the hell did that mean?

She didn’t bother thinking about it as she raced towards the dungeons, the first likely place she had thought of. Ten minutes later, sliding a little on the slippery slate floor, she kept checking each of the corridors, now going as quietly as possible. It was darker in the dungeons, with fewer torches, so she muttered, Lumos, and was shocked to see a body at the end of the hall.

Kristen found herself kneeling next to them in a matter of seconds, and numbly saw through the blood and bruises, that it was Blaise.

Kristen gasped and he lifted his head off the floor, rasping, “Kristen?”

She remembered that she was invisible, and muttered the counter Charm. His eyes showed his recognition.

“Blaise, what the hell happened?”

“Whole lot…attacked,” he struggled to push himself off the floor, gasping at the pain and fell forward again and she grabbed him. “Fuck, baby,” he whimpered when she touched a spot that obviously hurt, and she pulled backwards.

“Stop,” she murmured. “Hold on to my shoulders,” and he did so as she stood up, supporting him.

“Where’s your wand?” Kristen asked.

“Dunno,” he coughed. “They…took it,” the two of them began slow, agonizing steps towards the hospital wing.

“I could always levitate you,” Kristen offered, and muttered, Accio Blaise’s wand.

A thumping occurred behind them, and he chuckled weakly. “It’s probably trying to get out of the common room.”

“What’s the password?”

“Supremacy,” he murmured.

“I need to—”

Blaise nodded, and she walked him over to a stretch of wall to lean against before jogging back to the dead end and saying “Supremacy.”

The blank wall slid open and a wand hovered there—Kristen took it and ran back to Blaise.

It took them at least half an hour just to get up to the first floor, so Kristen did end up levitating him until they reached the fourth floor and they made it to the hospital wing in another half an hour. She had been murmuring to him the entire time, promising that it would be okay.

She knocked on the door, and when no one answered, kicked it open and brought Blaise in, having let him down from the levitation.

Madame Pomfrey came hurrying out of her quarters in a night gown.

‘WHAT is all this racket—Merlin! My dear, what happened?” she flicked her wand and the hangings on the nearest bed sprang open.

Kristen, half carrying Blaise now, scrambled over there and gently set him down on the mattress.

“You’d have to ask him when he wakes up,” she muttered, and flicked her wand, saying, Tergeo.

The blood on his face siphoned off.

“Dear, I have to take his clothes off to get at all the injuries. Would you mind turning around?”

“It’s alright Madame Pomfrey, I’ve seen it all before,” Kristen maintained a straight face, and almost burst out laughing at the expression on the older woman’s face.

“Just kidding,” and Kristen turned her back and sat down on the bed next to his.

She stayed up for hours after that to watch him.

--

The next morning, she woke up when breakfast had already started.

“Shit!” she grabbed her wand and bolted out of the hospital wing back to the Head dorms to change into wizard robes and dashed down to breakfast.

“Where were you?” Harry asked.

“Accidentally slept in,” she answered, helping herself to food.

“Alright. Seen Hermione or Ron?”

“Nope, not since yesterday.”

“Ron’s on the team, he’ll show up,” Ginny said.

We’ve still got to find McGonagall and get to the treasure!

It was almost time for the match, and Harry led them off to the pitch.

Sure enough, five minutes before they were to get out of the changing rooms, Ron barged in.

“Where’ve you been?” Harry demanded.

“With Hermione. She’s feeling loads better now,” Ron muttered, changing so quickly that Kristen suspected magic had something to do with it.

Harry narrowed his eyes, but before he could say anything, they had to be out on the pitch.

The team, headed by him and followed by Jimmy Peakes, Ritchie Coote, Ron, Ginny, Kristen and another girl named Tara fanned out into a semi circle with Harry in the middle. The Ravenclaws completed the circle, with their captain—in the middle.

“Shake hands,” Madam Hooch barked.

They otok hold of each others’ hands, letting go as soon as possible.

“Mount your brooms…begin!”

Ravenclaw took hold of the Quaffle first, and the Gryffindor Beaters went after the Bludgers to pound at them.

One of them hit its target, but the Quaffle went flying through the air—only to be stopped, with a tiny little room to spare on his lunge, by Ron.

The Gryffindor crowd cheered.

“Ron Weasley, Gryffindor’s Keeper blocks the Quaffle. I don’t think the Ravenclaws are trying their hardest though, or their Captain would be quite angry,” the serene voice of Luna Lovegood floated over the speakers and Harry bit back a laugh.

“And a Gryffindor Chaser—who is that, I don’t recognize her? Oh! Thank you Professor McGonagall. That’s Kristen Lin with the Quaffle, isn’t she new here? Oh but she’s got mad flying skills, look at that! She did a loop de loop! Aw, that’s nice, she seems to be giving me the thumbs up—oh look, the Ravenclaw Beater’s committed a foul on Harry Potter! The whistle blows—indeed, I didn’t think you were allowed to slap anyone in Quidditch either. Ms. Lin flies to take the foul—and she scores! Oh good, I quite like Gryffindor common room parties. That makes it 10-0 to Gryffindor!”

It was back to Ravenclaw possession.

As Kristen, Ginny and Tara swooped around the Slytherins, Coote slammed his bat against a Bludger and it socked their Chaser in the stomach; he and his broom shot sideways.

“Oh, Gryffindor Coote made the Bludger hit a Ravenclaw in the stomach! I wonder if that is retaliation for the foul. But he’s obviously injured, and the Ravenclaw Beater—err, ‘Gee Willickers’” Luna completely botched the pronunciation, “shoots a Bludger at the Gryffindor Chasers and they scatter. Ravenclaw passing it to each other—oh look at that, they dropped it! Ginny Weasley in possession passes it to Kristen Lin—ouch, that had got to hurt!”

The biggest player out there, a Ravenclaw Beater, rammed into Kristen. She nearly dropped the Quaffle, but passed it to Ginny quickly, but a foul was called as she scored.

“Foul on Gryffindor, and does that count? Yes? Okay, 20-0 to Gryffindor. Lin coming for the foul—feints and makes it! And—oh is that the Snitch?”

Harry whirled around and went into a dive to follow the Ravenclaw Seeker, who was streaking towards the Snitch.

Soon, most of the players stopped in midair.

Kristen mouthed something to the Beaters and they sprinted after the Bludgers, and Peakes pounded one at the two neck and neck Seekers. It hit Harry, and then zig-zagged to hit the other Seeker and bounced again to slam into Harry.

Kristen took advantage of the ongoing drama to put the Quaffle through the left hoop.

“Oh the Snitch disappears, good bit of play by Gryffindor Beater Peakes—but I feel for Harry and the—er, other Seeker whom have gotten hit by the Bludger. Also, a Gryffindor Chaser has taken advantage of the confusion to score 30-0. She should have been in Ravenclaw.”

And so the game went on, dragging for hours as each team kept scoring, but the Snitch resolutely refused to be found.

Now, they were up thirty points from Ravenclaw at 220-190.

“DAMN it Harry, would you get the bloody Snitch already?” Ginny screamed.

Kristen yelled her agreement as Ravenclaw scored again to put it 220-200.

Harry didn’t hear them though, because he suddenly went into a dive, plunging steeply while Tara, wove in between Ravenclaws, passed to Kristen and then passed back for a score that was blocked by the Keeper.

The other Seeker was streaking towards where Harry was headed, both of their eyes locked on the same, golden shimmer. But his broom, a Cleansweep 7, was totally inferior to Harry’s Firebolt, and Harry got there first. He reached out to pluck the Snitch out of the air, and pulled up, and dismounted with it in his hand.

The rest of the team, exhausted by the two hour match, made for him. The rest of the stadium could only see red blurs that dismounted and tackled their Captain.

“Nice catch Harry,” Kristen grinned at him.

He grinned back. “Thanks!”

They hit the showers, and then made their way to the Gryffindor common room, celebrating their two straight wins. Harry had cut a deal with Dobby to bring party food into the common room if Gryffindor won, in exchange for his hat. The elf had happily agreed, saying he would do it for free, but Harry insisted.

Kristen accepted a butterbeer from Ron and popped it open. She, Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny were in the armchairs, Ron and Hermione sharing one, Kristen and Ginny the other, and Harry had one to himself. Several people kept coming up to them and congratulating them on the win.

Everyone was rambunctious and the food that depleted was quickly refilled due to a Charm Kristen had saw Hermione put on it. Though, the chatting was pleasant, Kristen found herself wanting to get out and check on Blaise, and she eventually excused herself, charming two butterbeers with Unbreakable Charms and putting them in her messenger bag.

She was halfway to the hospital wing when a gang of Slytherins cornered her in dead end corridor.

“Any reason for the visit?” she asked calmly.

“Yeah,” the leader, a thickset boy with dirty blonde hair snarled. “It’s why Zabini has broken up with Greengrass and has gotten cozy with you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she put two and two together. These were the guys who had beat Blaise up yesterday.

Anger began to boil in the pit of her stomach, but her tone remained even. “Can I ask why she’s not here herself? Too afraid to take little old me on?” she taunted.

“You…you’re not worthy of her time!” Another boy shouted, to a chorus of yeahs!

“Lame excuse,” Kristen hissed. There were only about twenty of the gits, from fifth year and up. “Try again.”

“We don’t take orders from you!”

Deliberately, and with great care, she set her bag down and took a step forward.

“I’ll give you three minutes to get out of my face,” she calmly stated, hand in her pocket and fingers curled around her wand.

“Like we will! We’ll leave you the same way we left Zabini. He got what was coming to him,” they growled.

“Two minutes,” her voice was quite apathetic.

Snarling, they surged against her.

Kristen drew her wand faster than they could blink; casting Impendimenta at the lot of them, Furnunculus twice and seeing boils erupt on the victims’ faces, Confundo, Stupefy, Batbogey Hex and Jelly-Legs Jinx in quick succession. Having not gotten the lot of them, she muttered, Petrificus Totalus, Rictusempra, a Stinging Hex, a Trip Jinx, and another round of Stupefys.

When she was done, she tied them up with Incarcerous, and did another full round of Stupefys. Kristen surveyed her work, bitterly noting that her time in America was probably worth it now. Biting back a sigh, she picked up her messenger bag, slung it over her shoulder and levitated the group and continued on her way to the hospital wing.

By then, it was already eleven, and she knocked on the door hard.

Madame Pomfrey opened the door. “My dear, we are—oh Merlin what have you done!” she shrieked when she spotted the Slytherins. Kristen still had a black battle fury aura around her, and the power of it intimidated.

Kristen ignored that and shoved her way in. “Sorry Madame, they attacked me. Is Blaise still awake?”

“Yes, yes, he is, but visitors are not permitted at this time!”

“It’s an emergency madame, I’m sorry,” she cut in smoothly, feeling less angry, and the tied up group floated their way in.

“Blaise, are these the blokes who got to you yesterday?” Kristen asked, feeling happier when she noted he was sitting up. “Some things they said hinted at it.”

“Yeah,” he rasped.

Kristen turned to Madame Pomfrey. “They assaulted me—er, rather, tried to. Could you get Professor Dumbledore please?”

Madame Pomfrey cast an uncertain look at the tied up Slytherins—that Kristen now unceremoniously dumped onto the floor, but bustled out.

She let out a sigh and walked over to Blaise’s bed, sitting herself down next to him.

His eyes crinkled in laughter. “You’re my dream girl baby, just for seeing those gits hexed to hell and back.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “They didn’t even go for their wands. It wasn’t exactly hard,” she brought out the two butterbeers and handed one to him. He grabbed it and popped it open, downing half of it in one gulp.

“Oh Merlin, you just got so much sexier for getting me soft alcohol,” he muttered and she smirked.

“What about firewhiskey? Ron gave me some the other day, I’ve got it here—no, better not. I’ll wait till you’ve gotten discharged,” she laughed. “How are you?”

“I would be better if I had firewhiskey,” he pouted.

Kristen rolled her eyes again. “Come off it, a day won’t kill you. Seriously, how are you feeling?”

“Much better. Thanks,” he murmured, eyes locking onto hers.

She looked away. “Nothing to thank me for,” she muttered. “You did say though that you’d get rid of that bruise for me.”

Blaise grabbed his wand and pressed it lightly to her thigh, noticing that she went completely still. “Episkey. Come on, you don’t even know that, but you still took on a gang of Slytherins?”

“Like I said, I let everything heal all natural,” she murmured.

He changed the subject. “So I could hear the Quidditch match from here,” he started.

“Yeah. We’re facing Hufflepuff, then on to the semi-finals.

“Exhausted? It was a long match,” he asked.

“Don’t mention it, I’m still on the adrenaline,” she murmured.

Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore soon returned, Professor McGonagall hot on their heels. Kristen stood up as McGonagall’s hands covered her mouth.

“Professors,” she acknowledged them. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but I was forced to. Yesterday, Blaise notified me that he needed help—I found him beaten, and bloodied. And so I brought him to the hospital wing, to receive help. He told me then, that a group of people had done that to him. Please keep in mind that I found him outside the Slytherin common rooms.”

“Today, after the party in the Gryffindor common rooms, as I was making my way here, they cornered be against a dead end. They said a few things that led me to believe it was ‘justification’ after a few teenage incidents in their House, and said that Blaise had ‘gotten what was coming’. I gave them three minutes to clear off, but when they attacked, I acted in self defense. Then, I returned here to fetch Madame Pomfrey…and you know the rest.”

“May I ask why you were coming up here in the first place?” McGonagall asked.

Kristen fished around for an excuse desperately—and found one. “To work on the treasure hunt. Oh and Professor McGonagall, we think we have the final clue,” she cast a smile to the stern woman, who successfully disguised hers as a purse of her lips.

“You may come to my room tomorrow then.”

“I must say that this is quite disturbing,” Dumbledore said. “Are you sure that is all you have to say?” his electrifying blue eyes set on hers.

“Quite sure,” she replied, wondering why he was asking her this.

He did not look convinced but said, “Madame Pomfrey, would it be alright if we kept these students in here, as they are already here and you have a quite large space?”

“Of course,” Madame Pomfrey simpered.

“Ms. Lin, I think you should remain here too,” McGonagall hid a grin as Kristen’s eyes widened, alarmed. “It is too late for you to be wandering the corridors, and Madame Pomfrey can keep an eye on you. Besides, this gives you a good chance to talk to Blaise about the treasure hunt.”

Bloody teachers, damn that fox! Kristen had no choice but to nod, and the two teachers left.

Pomfrey gave her a stern look. “I expect you two to behave, while I take care of these students,” she bustled off.

Kristen gave a low chuckle and sank back down on Blaise’s bed. His left arm wrapped around her waist and drew her closer, asking, “What does she mean by that?”

“Well…notice how you woke up with only boxers on?” Kristen settled against his chest, careful not to put all of her weight onto him. “Last night, when she was taking your robes off, she told me to turn ‘round, and I said, ‘It’s alright, I’ve seen it all before’,” she smirked.

Blaise laughed, pulling her across him gently so that the backs of her thighs rested against his lap, and her back was supported by his right shoulder. “That’s half true,” he murmured, eyes locking onto hers.

She only smiled, lifting a hand to cover her yawn.

“Come on love, let’s get you to bed,” he gently pushed her off the bed, and she promptly sank onto the one next to it.

“Sweet dreams,” he murmured, watching her.

“You two,” she answered as her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep.

--

Longest chapter I’ve ever written for any story! I honestly just kept going on and on.

Stupid-fritz: I hope you liked this one too!