Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Believe me. IfI did, I wouldn't be here.
A/N: Thank you for reading. I'd like to say right now, that, like most fanfiction writers on this site, I will indeed write and update much faster if I get positive feedback. Flames are not appreciated, but if you really feel it is neccessary to flame me, than obviously I deserve it. Constructive critiscm, however, my second favorite of the three, is appreciated. Please be sure to leave a review, not only at my story, but at others, as every story should be appreciated.
Also, be sure to take note of the names in bold. That just shows who is currently... Running the story.
Ship: Hermione Granger/Blaise Zabini
Chapter One: Thoughts
"I'm going out," Blaise explained to Draco Malfoy. Draco simply rolled his eyes. "Who is it this time, Zabini? Clearwater? Kenington? Or Kelly? Come on, you can tell me!"
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Blind date," he mumbled, lying. Draco smirked. "Blind date? Who set you up with this one? Bulstrode? Pansy? Jenkins?"
" Uh... Millicent, yeah, she did," Blaise murmured as he threw on his Slytherin cloak and headed to the door of his dorm.
"Oh, Millicent Bulstrode, Blaise? I'd be careful with her. She set me up a date with Cho Chang in third year. That didn't go over well."
"Yeah, okay, bye Drake," Blaise waved to his friend, his mind preoccupied. He walked out of the dorm and headed through the series of tunnels in the dungeons of the Slytherin Dungeons, until he finally reached the common room. It was empty.
He peered out one of the windows, spelled, like the ceiling in the Grand Hall, it would imitate the weather going on outside, above the dungeons. "Ah, rain," he smiled to himself. He loved rain. It helped him think. But he only liked being in it alone.
He walked out of the Slytherin Common Room and into a hallway that led to Snape's Dungeons. Blaise respected Snape, but like most of the students, he couldn't stand him in the least. The only two in sixth year who actually liked that sickly professor were Pansy Parkinson and Draco.
He shuddered at the thought of Advanced Potions next year. He was a skilled potionmaker, but that alone couldn't make him enjoy potions class. Nothing could, unless, of course, Snape suddenly died and a nicer, brighter teacher took his place. Like Sprout. Now she was kind. Gentle, and kind. Maybe not the most patient person in the world, but she was very nice.
He was in the Front Hall now, and the doors out to the grounds were before him. Blaise quickly sneaked through them. It was okay to be on the grounds, but being as popular as he was, he didn't want anyone following him.
He walked out onto the grounds, holding the cloak in his arms, loving the feelings of rain on his head. It helped him relax, that rain. It was the only thing that could.
He settled into the gardens, lying on his back on a stone bench, covered with damp roses, thinking...About what? he thought. My father, that's what. The famous Jorge Zabini. He thinks he's some great Death Eater, but he, like all the rest of those Voldemort loving scum aren't even worth the dirt on the ground. And he wants me to be a Death Eater, too. But I won't. Never. I turn seventeen in three weeks, and I'll be old enough to get the dark mark, but I won't get it. I'd kill myself first.
"'Mione, hon, can you help me with this essay? Binns wants us to describe the Civil War of 1206, only, I can't remember who the sides were- giants or goblins." Ron told her. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron, we've already gone over this. The Civil War of 1206 was in eastern Aruba between the rebel goblins and the pro-royal goblins. Now let me get back to my Arithmatic notes!"
"Thanks, 'Mione," Ron sighed. Hermione rolled her eyes for about the seventeenth time that evening. She loved Ron- they had been dating since June- but sometimes he could get on her nerves. Like tonight. She had a huge test tomorrow in Advanced Arithmatic and all she wanted to do was study for it. And Ronald here needed every bit of help.
"Now was it Jogold who led the rebel army? Or Fritzderu?" Ron asked in a whiny voice.
Hermione finally exploded. "Ron! Leave me alone! I need to study, okay! Okay. Now let me be!"
"'Mione, I'm sorry, okay?"Ron said in a fake, whatever type voice. "But if you would just stop caring about yourself and just help me for two friggin' sec-!"
"How dare you!" Hermione shouted. "I do help other people! You have no right! I don't just care about myself! I care about you! I care about Ginny! About Harry!"
At that very moment Harry and Ginny looked up from their heated game of wizarding chess. They both raised their eyebrows.
"Look, Hermione! I can't go out with you if all we're going to do is fight! This is our fourth arguement today! Now, either you straighten up or I can't go out with you!"
Hermione gasped. Harry and Ginny quickly turned back to their game, pretending they didn't hear anything. "I can't believe you! Ron, if that's the way you want it, than so be it!" Hermione cried out in tears. She grabbed her cloak and ran out the portrait hole, tears streaming down her face.
Absentmindedly, her feet carried her to the grounds and toward the lake, to a large boulder she loved to sit on on days like these. It was dark, and it was raining. Hermione loved the rain. She savored the feeling of it on her hot skin. It helped her think. It was the only way to relieve her stress.
Reaching the boulder, she climbed up to the top of it and sprawled out on its slippery surface, not caring if she slipped off the rock and plunged head-first into the lake, surely to her death. More tears came.
Thoughts ran through her muddled mind, mixing and morphing into bigger and more elaborate manifestations. What if she went on like this, dating all of her male friends and then somehow breaking up with them, losing not only a romantic relationship. but a valuable friendship.
I loved Ron, she thought sourly. But he was so ruthless with our relationship... He was so reckless- just wanted to throw it all away because we were having a bad day? I can't believe him, he's just like all those other boys I've dated. That's it... No more, I'm sixteen. It's September, I have two years left here at Hogwarts, and when i get out I can worry about trivial things like boys.
Despite her solution to the problem, Hermione couldn't explain the tears rolling down her face. She laid down on the rock, face on the cold hard surface, the rain covering her shaking body as more sobs racked her very soul.