She bristled, then rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. I'll sleep easier now. Look, Zabini, thanks for dropping by, but—"

"This doesn't look like a sex dungeon at all, really." He stood, straightening his unwrinkled robes, and taking in the suite. "I'm quite disappointed."

She stared at him incredulously. "A sex dungeon," she snorted. "And where did you get that idea?"

He turned to look at her from where he'd just parted her curtains to examine the grounds. "Draco."

She blinked, mind twisting to work through it. But of course Draco would be keeping up the ruse around his friends. She could only hope she hadn't ruined everything earlier.

He continued, "He's been quite cagey about you, but he managed to tell us a bit about how you've been occupied."

"My ropes and chains are in the closet," she deadpanned. "Who is 'us,' exactly?"

Blaise wandered towards her bookshelves. "The boys." His fingers drifted over the titles. "At our gatherings." He eyed her, his features giving away nothing.

"Gatherings." She tested the word on her tongue. "Death Eater meetings, you mean?"

"Not all of us are Death Eaters."

They stared at each other. And Hermione considered her next move carefully.

"Where is Pansy," she asked.

His dark eyes danced over her face, pausing and thinking. "Dead."

Hermione felt the wind knocked out of her. She resisted the need to lean on something. Her fingers tightened in her robe.

Her mind worked. The last time she'd seen Pansy, she'd been running into Blaise's waiting arms… as he rescued her.

Her eyes dug into him. "Why?"

"For disloyalty to the Dark Lord," he responded smoothly. Too smoothly.

"You're lying."

Blaise paused. Then shrugged, and said, "Ask Draco." He sauntered into her sleeping area, drawing closer to her and the bed. "He'd be more than—"

He cut off sharply as his eyes caught on something. She followed his gaze to her bedside table, searching for what he saw. The book she'd fallen asleep reading last night, the empty jewelry box, and a candlestick. The book title wasn't anything intriguing — she made sure to always hide the Occlumency book within another on her shelf. She glanced back at him. He frowned, and then turned to her, falling back into his swagger.

"More than happy to give you more information," he finished.

"Wonderful. Anything else? Or can I get dressed now"—he opened his mouth—"in privacy."

He grinned. "I was just interested in seeing the sex dungeon, but…" he sighed dramatically. "I'm afraid you've let me down."

"Apologies." She moved to her wardrobe, dismissing him.

"It does tickle me to see how close you and Draco have gotten."

She froze in the middle of shuffling through her clean jumpers. Blaise leaned against her bedpost, watching her closely.

"We're not close."

"Yeah?" He lifted a brow at her. "When's my birthday, Granger?"

She pressed her lips together, fighting the blush creeping up her neck.

He smirked and sauntered to the door, turned over his shoulder, and said, "Or should I call you Hermione? Since we're all on a first-name basis in this house."