Anchor and Rose | Dramione

Thirty-One.

Hermione did not know Blaise well at all. Out of all of the Slytherin's Draco had ever been acquainted with, she knew him the least.

At least with Theo, she had spoken to him on a few occasions, such as being paired up with him in classes, even if they weren't all great experiences with him, she still had spoken to him. Same with Pansy, although they had previously loathed each other, there had still been some sort of communication between the two of them even if it wasn't all positive.

Blaise Zabini however, was a crux to all those who didn't know him.

He was famous for his mysterious flare. The way he'd walk around the halls with his head held high and his dark eyes floating across all the heads below him, seemingly judging everybody like they were lesser than him and his pure-blood companionships.

And he was very coarse too, he would never speak his mind when he wanted to. For example, in potions, if he disagreed with something someone had said, most of the time, something Hermione had said when answering one of Snape or Slughorn's questions, he wouldn't make it known. Instead, he would give a small little cough of amused scepticism before rolling his eyes and refusing to listen to her words completely.

And that's how he was right now, staring at Hermione through his shiny aphotic eyes, roaming her body with the highest level of suspicion as she and Draco entered the room with Winky following excitedly at their heels.

The air in the Drawing room was rather tense, thick like a fog of scepticism. Blaise was leaning back against the piano, one hand already occupying a glass of dark whiskey. He was just as Hermione remembered, yet aged to the perfect degree. His large body was adorned in a white oxford shirt, three buttons open to show off his broad chest, and his slanted eyes continuing to stare at Hermione until the door closed behind them.

"So it's true then," Blaise started, a suspicious smirk on his face as his eyes raked over both her and Draco at the same time. "Hermione Granger is all shacked up with our Draco."

He brought his glass to his lips and took a sip, swallowing it with a loud huff.

"It's nice to see you, Blaise," Hermione said, trying to force a genuine smile onto her face, yet deep down, she felt nervous. "How have you been?"

"Is that an attempt to be funny, Granger?" He raised an eyebrow, licking the residue of whiskey from his bottom lip with his tongue. "How have I been?"

"Careful, Blaise." Draco warned beneath his breath, tugging Hermione along with him as he walked so they fell against the sofa rather than looming at the door.

Winky followed and jumped onto the sofa beside them, hopping up and down so excitedly that the dust from the holes of the sofa bellowed around them and caused them to cough.

"Oh, I mean not to be rude," He had his free hand up in fake surrender, "But I decide to leave my position as a Death-Eater, couldn't find my best-friends who turned out to be visiting the Lovegood home as well without me ever knowing, then I found out I was accused of Narcissa Malfoy's death, then had to hide away-"

"That's enough Blaise," Draco spoke again, glaring up at him with an annoyed, yet somewhat playful expression on his face. "We know what's happened, she's not trying to spite you, she's just asking a question."

"She knows what's happened?" Blaise raised an eyebrow. But he too was now sporting a less-inflicted expression, which had softened when Draco had begun to speak.

There was another pause, with no sound but the roaring crackling fire echoing throughout the room.

"Sure, but did you guys know that I've been spending my time with Andromeda?" Draco took a sharp breath at Blaise's words, but Blaise continued speaking. "She sends her regards, by the way. Lovely woman, makes a stunning Sunday roast."