Who: Blaise and Padma Where: Abandoned classroom When: Sunday afternoon, 30 November, 1997 What: Oh, just read it. I can't guarantee that it won't rot your teeth, though. :D Rating: G Status: Complete
Leaning forward, legs crossed and elbows against her knees, Padma grinned. "You know too many of my secrets. It is hardly fair." The sun shone in through the brightened windows of the abandoned classroom, warming the stone floor and Padma's figure seated upon it. She basked a moment, smile spreading, a rival glow. "You must humour me."
The fedora turned in his hands, a relic from some costume or another that he'd worn to prove to his grandmother that he was "properly attired." He still wore it occasionally, when the mood struck him. This morning, it had. He sat shrouded in sunlight as well, legs stretched out in front of him and delineated by the line of sunlight into shadow. He glanced at her, admiring her profile. "Humour you? In what way?"
Without moving, or opening her eyes, even, as the mellow light persuaded her to stillness, Padma spoke softly. "You must tell me a secret. Something new, something good."
"A secret..." He murmured, placing the hat on his head and thinking. She wouldn't be interested in the secrets in his life, of the men he knew had visited his father, and of the silence he must keep. Then, a thought, one that he hoped wasn't known by his dormmates. "There are times when I wake up in the middle of the night and go to my window," he said, finally. "And I don't sleep for the rest of the night, because I don't want to miss the stars fading or the sun rising."
Padma lowered her face in study, eyes shadowed. "That's quite a secret," she said, still smiling, though significantly more subdued. "I am glad to hear of sharing sleepless nights with someone."
"Any other secrets that I possess I would not wish to burden you with," he said softly, seriously. "They aren't the objects of sweet dreams." A deep breath, and he stood suddenly, holding his hand down to her. "Dance with me."
Without thinking she placed her hand in his, a natural motion, only secondarily considering his words as she was lifted to her feet. "Are you sincere?" Her words were slightly baffled, but her features betrayed her pleasure.
Blaise nodded. "I'm afraid that there will be no music to accompany us," he warned, drawing her a bit closer to place a hand on her waist. Furrowing his brow, he studied Padma for a moment. "Do you know how to waltz?" He felt that he might have been insulting her, but didn't want to simply start and find her stumbling over the steps.
"I am a fine student for teaching," was her ambiguous reply, her own hands settling.
"A tango then, brilliant," came the reply, paired with a devilish smile. Placing his hands where he needed them to be, he moved into a simplified version of the dance, leading her through the steps and counting softly to himself.
Padma was not, in truth, familiar with either dance, her own aims when it came to the pursuit being less of a social nature. Long nurtured grace, however, served her in this instruction, as she bent easily at Blaise's direction. She admired their shadows thrown and joined, the smooth motions they made together.
Once it was clear that she wasn't entirely adept in the dance, he slowed until she got the rhythm, and then sped them up again, their shoes scraping faintly against the stone floor. His inner counting bringing them to a natural stop, he paused a moment, then dipped her. Kissing her neck briefly before righting them, he laughed. "Thank you, madam, what a delightful dancer you are!"
Unwilling to be released, Padma held his hand tightly, memory sharp as she urged him into the first few steps once more. "I am certain I need practice yet." The hand at his shoulder moved to touch his neck, softly.
Something a bit easier, then, he thought, moving them into a waltz easily. "Practice, as they say, makes perfect," he smiled. Unbidden, his hand crept lower down her back. "You know, if we were in public, it would be considered quite the scandal how close we're standing to each other."
Laughing, Padma settled into the rhythm, heart quickened for reasons other than the pace of the dance. "I am thinking this is easily the smallest of our scandals."
"Oh, indeed. For instance," he cleared his throat. "It could be found out that Ravenclaw's pre-eminent prefect was found cavorting with one of those unsavoury Slytherin characters in an abandoned classroom. I don't believe that certain people would ever get over the shock." He was entirely facetious, and enjoying every moment he spent with her.
Tucking in to the soft place between his neck and shoulder as they turned, Padma's smile only brightened, her little developed sense of mischief entirely encouraged by his company. "O, the horrific waves of gossip, the contemptuous glares! We shall have to run away to escape it, lest we drown in tales of our own wildly exaggerated exploits."
His feet hardly moved in the actual steps of the dance any longer, instead moving enough for them to appear to be dancing. He laced his fingers with hers and looked at her from under the brim of his hat. "Should I perhaps make arrangements for our flight, then? Anywhere you wish to go?" Another word stopped itself from slipping from his tongue.
"Away, away," Padma mused, relaxed as they slowed, "I am contented away."
"There are a great many hiding spots in the castle." He slipped his hand from hers and wrapped her entirely in his arms, cheek resting on the top of her head. "Of course, I am tempted to seal the door shut and remain in this room with you." His thoughts were quiet here, the portion of his soul that was disquieted by his conversation with Daphne eased.
The sincerity of his words seduced and amazed, though Padma's tone remained even, playful still. "A terribly charming but flawed arrangement. We shall grow very thirsty and intolerant, I suspect." The careful easing of her body against his, however, was an admittance of her own longing.
"It shouldn't be too difficult to summon a House Elf." Blaise allowed his imagination free reign, envisioning the scenarios, all of them entirely unrealistic, but perfect in their insanity. "One day, when dancing is not a priority, I will share other secrets."
Eyes serious, lifted to peer into his face, Padma spoke solemnly. "And on that day, I shall listen." She kissed him hard, as though making a promise.
Movement stopped, then, all senses focused on her. This time, he had no intentions of backing away for fear of getting lost. The result was a breathless Blaise finally emerging for air and a slight stumble before he caught himself from tripping.
Caught still in his arms, Padma laughed as balance was momentarily lost and regained. "Such brief grace!" She exclaimed, hands looping around his neck before whispering next, "Do you need a lie down? A cup of weak tea?"
"Another kiss?" He didn't wait for an answer, instead dipping his head again. "And now the tea would be lovely."
Taking one of his hands, Padma used her other to scoop her bag from the stone floor of the classroom. "I've some reading to do and tea would certainly be a blessing."
Endeavouring not to pout too much, he pulled his hat down further on his head. "Where shall we go, then? Kitchens? They might have sandwiches"
"Sandwiches and tea." She moved to the door, holding fast to his hand. WIthout looking back, she spoke again, her suggestion tentative. "We could return here. It's so very quiet, and it would be nice to have the afternoon, with you."
A broad smile crossed his face and he nodded, even if Padma couldn't see him. "I think that's a splendid idea. But only the afternoon?" He nudged her gently, teasing. "Surely you'd like the evening as well?"
Shaking her head, Padma steered them both into the hall. "I'm afraid my prefect duties may conflict with my desires, which are not to be elaborated upon." Her tone was stern, though she smiled a moment after as they began to descend the stairs, the jest in her words ambiguous.
But perhaps not as ambiguous as she would have liked. Blaise was distracted for a moment, thinking, in particular, what his desires were and hoping that hers coincided. "Pity. I should like to corrupt you, just a little. Perhaps one night out after curfew?" The corridor was fairly empty of students, most of them likely reveling in the warmth of the Common Rooms or helping Hufflepuff to celebrate. Once in the kitchens, he watched, slightly amused, as the House Elves fell over themselves to provide a basket with tea and a various bits to eat.
Padma took a moment to choose tea for herself, and their basket was burdened with two small, steaming pots. "I shall not encourage you," she said non-committally, smiling at the House Elves a moment later when she and Blaise exited with not only sandwiches and tea but also an assortment of cakes, fresh fruit, and other sweets. Choosing a circuitous route to avoid any questioning as to their lunch, Padma breathed contently.
"We can start small," he proposed, thinking. "Returning a minute after curfew." A pause. "Not leaving your books where Madam Pince wants us to when we're done with them!" He spoke in a whisper, as if speaking of some scandal.
Glancing sidelong at Blaise, not missing a step as the basket balanced between them, Padma kept her lips straight, eyes glittering. "Corruption or reform? We shall see, Blaise." Padma considered. "Perhaps a careful blending of the two."
"I don't need to be reformed," he protested, a bit of a frown on his face. "All right, perhaps I do, a bit. But not much?" He grinned, opening the door to the room they had so recently vacated. He kissed her cheek as she entered.
With the basket settled on a desk, Padma turned and looked a long moment out the window, warmed in the light. "Not so very much." She paused, casting about for an anchor for her thoughts, finding naught but the stability of the present moment, his company, her own resolutions. She did not sigh or smile, but something within her relaxed, satisfied. "Not so very much at all."