Chapter 6

Zoe

"So, wait, I thought that the Venomous Tentacula didn't bite humans?"

Flint is concentrating, and hard. An exhausting, brow-furrowing, brain-stimulating concentration.

It's finally the weekend, and the professors have really been piling on the homework in the past few days. It's my second week at Hogwarts, and things have taken a turn for the better. I spend most of my time with Stevie, Eric, Seamus, and Flint, and have barely interacted with Blaise since I confronted him in the common room a week ago. The most I can get out of him anymore is a cold glance or a snippy little comment, and I'm not complaining.

Flint and I are in the common room, working on a Herbology essay that's due Monday. Herbology has proven to be one of two things that I'm actually half-decent at. Besides that and Charms, I'm still no better than a second-year level in most of my other classes, which is quite damaging.

"No." I say, finally answering. "They bite humans all the time. We don't just wear those gloves around them for fashion, y'know."

Flint shoots me a crooked-toothed grin.

"Well, you sure know what you're talking about." He says. "Maybe I should just start copying off of you, huh?"

"You'd never learn anything if you did that." I say. "You told me you wanted to actually learn this stuff, right?"

"Right." He sighs, the smile on his face dissolving into a look of exasperation. "But we've been working for what, two hours now? And I haven't learned anything yet."

I am wondering whether or not this is an insult when I feel his hand rest upon my knee.

"I think you just make it a little hard for me to concentrate."

He is looking directly at me now, but I don't dare look back. His cold and calloused touch on my bare flesh has startled me. I feel the heat of discomfort flooding my cheeks and pray that he isn't able to see it.

"It's getting late, though." He says, his eyes flicking down towards his watch. His hand is still on my knee. "I should probably go to bed."

He claps his hand down once more, and rises to his feet with a tired smile. He's right - it's almost midnight, and he told me he has Quidditch practice in the morning.

"Goodnight, Zoe."

With that, he plods around the couch and towards the stairs, where he climbs up to the boys' dormitories. I am left by myself, eerily alone in the empty common room.

My cheeks are still stinging with the heat of the blush brought on by Flint's gesture. Why did he do such a thing? Up until now, I'd thought that the two of us were just friends - an unspoken agreement. I try to picture him as something more, but the idea makes me squirm uncomfortably. I've never had a boyfriend, nor have I even kissed a boy, and I certainly don't want Flint to be the first for either of those.

I try to focus on my Charms homework next, my deep exhaustion shaking the thought of Flint from my mind. The words on the assignment page are small, and I keep drifting in and out of light unconsciousness as I try to focus on them.

Eventually, the combination of the plush leather couch beneath me and my own fatigue coaxes me into an unintentional but absolute slumber.

***

When I wake, it is easily two o'clock in the morning.

I am a slow riser - hollywood style. A lethargic transition to consciousness, a volitant flutter of the lids. I toss and turn, trance-like, stir a little, rub my eyes with curled fists, and fold into a fetal position before finally opening them.

"You drool when you sleep."

The sound of another voice in the room causes me to shoot up like a petrified cat.

I'm still in the common room - this time, though, I have company. Blaise is seated in an armchair beside the couch, staring thoughtfully into the fire.

"How long have you been here??" My voice is jumpy. I clear my throat, in an attempt to sound less startled.

Blaise's head turns directly to the side, looking at me. The feeling of being under his gaze makes my heart pump anxiously.

"Long enough to see that you drool in your sleep." He says.

I wipe the corners of my mouth. He smirks at this, and I then wish that I hadn't.

"Why are you here?" I question. I don't even know why I'm bothering to ask - I know he won't answer.

"I could ask you the same thing."

This does me in.

With a dignified huff, I rise to my feet, and sweep all of my stray books and papers into my bag, which is still lying out on the table from my study session with Flint.

"Goodnight, I'm going to bed." I say, grumpy. "I don't feel like dealing with you right now."

He laughs, actually laughs at this. It's a low-blown chuckle, but I still hear it, and it still pisses me off. I storm over to the staircases as loudly as I can without waking up anyone above, and begin to mount one of them when Blaise speaks again.

"Zoe?"

I turn around, mildly surprised. I've never heard him speak this way to me before - sincerely, as though he's not about to say something that's complete bullshit.

"Stay away from Flint." He hesitates a moment, and then continues. "He's not who you think he is."

I stand there for a moment, motionless, as the pieces click together in my mind.

Blaise is really telling me to keep my distance from the only person who is decent to me in Slytherin? Unlike him, Flint is actually a genuine guy, or so it seems. Anger pairs with exhaustion inside my chest, and it's not a good feeling.

"Leave me alone, Blaise." My voice sounds tired like I've never heard it before. I don't think it's from my lack of sleep.

With that, I whirl back around, and trudge up the rest of the stairs to my dorm, not bothering to look back at Blaise again.

***

After grabbing several hours of restless sleep in my dorm, I wake up to a note from Slughorn in the morning. It's a Saturday morning, so I'm assuming he had it delivered by owl no more than an hour ago.

Relieved that neither of my unpleasant roommates are here to read the letter with me, I carefully pluck it from my bedside table and unfold it.

Ms. Fletcher -

Meet me in my office this morning. 9:00 a.m. sharp.

Professor Horace Slughorn

I take a quick glance at the clock, and with dread, realize that it's eight fifty-five.

The potions dungeon is only several minutes away, but when you add in the extra distance from the common room and the early morning corridor traffic, it could take me much longer to get there.

I scramble out of bed, quickly tugging a brush through my hair and tossing my robes on over my head before slipping out the door. They are a little wrinkled from spending the night on the floor, but I pray that I look at least half-decent. I don't know what Slughorn could possibly want from me - I have been quiet and persistent in his class, no matter how many times I churn out potions that are complete failures. His quick and urgent tone suggests that it's nothing to be taken lightly, though.

By the time I make it down to his office, it's nine-oh-two. I'm shocked to see that Blaise is inside, as well. I remember the events from the previous night, and feel a surge of anger towards the tall and bitter boy.

"Well, goodmorning, you two." Slughorn is quite cheery, seated at his desk with a goblet of hot coffee. "I suppose we should get right to it then, shall we?"

Blaise nods, refusing to look at me. He is wearing his quidditch gear, and I wonder if practice has just gotten out or is going to start soon. Either way, I'm sure he wants to get the hell out of here as soon as possible.

"Miss Fletcher." Slughorn turns to me, his face grave. "I know that you've only started learning magic curriculum this year, and I know that you've been putting forth remarkable effort in my class, but I am afraid to say that your marks are dangerously low. You are on the verge of failing this class, and therefore, we must do something about it before it gets to that point."

I curse at myself in my head, because I know exactly where Slughorn is going with this.

"Mister Zabini," He starts again, smiling at Blaise, "quite excels in potions. He has since he began learning the curriculum, according to Professor Snape. I believe that if he were to give you extra help outside of class for the time being, you'd be caught up in no time. How does that sound?"

He silences himself, and takes a moment to observe the two of us.

Surely, my heart must have sunken to my feet. The last thing I want to do is spend more time with Blaise - it only guarantees that he'll just grow more and more unpleasant with me.

"Fine." Blaise says. I look over at him, and find that his face wears a sour expression. I wish he knew that I hated this as much as he did.

"It's a deal then. You two can work the schedule out amongst yourselves." Slughorn says. "I'll see you both on Monday."

I bid the professor a woeful goodbye before heading towards the exit. My feet feel like lead as I drag them across the floor.

This whole tutoring thing with Blaise certainly won't improve my time at Hogwarts - I doubt he'll even bother wasting his time to teach me anything. I feel so, so heavy, and I know that once we're out of Slughorn's earshot, I am sure to face an arsenal of insults from Blaise himself.

"Go ahead," I sigh, refusing to meet his eyes when the door shuts behind the two of us. "Get it all out now."

He gives me a quizzical look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, aren't you going to insult me?" I ask him. The corridor is thick with silence around us. "You always do. I figured you'd tell me I'm dumb, or something like that."

Blaise shakes his head slowly. "I'm not going to do that, Zoe. You're not dumb."

The comment seems foreign coming from his tongue. Did Blaise really just say something that wasn't completely dickish to me? My belly begins to tingle.

"But don't waste too much of my time with this." He suddenly snaps. "I'm already busy enough as it is."

With that, he reels around on his heels and strides away. I am left dumbfounded in the corridor, alone.

Just when I thought Blaise was actually going to be decent to me, he turned it around and went right back to being an ass. I don't know why I ever expected any different, even for a moment.

I sigh, and begin to trudge off in the direction of the great hall.

What was I thinking?

Blaise never has been and never will be anything to me but a secretive jerk.