Blaise's Diary

Thanks so much for all the encouraging reviews. I know exactly the fear a lot of us are feeling regarding Blaise. I really hope he’s not going to be another Crabbe and Goyle type meathead as well. Ah well, even if he does not become the fantasy boy we’ve all made him out to be, I think we should continue to write him that way. He’s just too hot and the fictions about him are among my favorites. So I’m turning a blind eye if JK makes him a goober.

Hope you enjoy this next entry!



May 4th


“I had a dream about her last night. I’ve had many dreams of her, but last night was a memorable one for me. She was sitting in the library, reading, as she often does. I was standing in the stacks, peering at her between the shelves of books, as I often do. Her quill was in her hand, ready to write down anything of interest she came upon. She was biting on her bottom lip in concentration as I know she does when she is absorbed in her inner world.

But in my dream the impossible happened. In my dream she looked up from her book and saw my eyes watching her. Then she recognized who I was and she softly said, “Blaise?” I came out of my hiding place and went up to her table saying, “Yes love, it is me.” Then she said, “Why do you hide from me? Can’t you see that I need you by my side?” And I replied, “Forgive me my love. I did not think you would want me.”

Then she stood and walked around the table coming to stand right before me. Her hands slid up my chest and around my neck and she said, “How could you know that if you never ask?” Then she pulled me down to her lips for the sweetest kiss. Her lips were addicting like the strongest of love potions and I took her in my arms and pulled her firmly against my body, refusing to release her now that she was mine. I pulled her even more firmly until she was on her toes and her lovely breasts were pressed on my chest feeling the pounding of my heart for her.

Then she raised both legs as I held her to me and she wrapped them around my waist, letting me feel the heat of her core through her clothing. Suddenly, as if I could strip her with my imagination, her clothing had disappeared and she was completely nude, moving herself over the zipper of my pants, pleasuring herself on my fast growing erection under the cloth. She closed her eyes and threw her head back, holding on to me by my neck, grinding her hips in small circles, moaning. I bent my head and took her nipple in my mouth, licking and sucking, biting and pulling on it. She screamed her release and her hips bucked frantically as her long hair cascaded behind her. Then she lifted her face to look into my eyes and she said, “Stay with me.” And I said, “Forever.” Then I kissed her some more, feeling tears of happiness leak from my eyes.

That is when I woke and realized it had not really happened. The only real thing had been the tears, which were still running down my face. The tears became tears of sadness as I longed for that dream to be real. Could my angel really want me? Has she been waiting for me? No, I thought. That is impossible. She does not even know me. She has touched me only once, long ago, on the day I fell in love with her.

Does she remember that day? I often wonder if she does. I was a small boy for a child of eleven. No one really noticed me then. But I remember that day as if it happened yesterday. My father had stood with me at the train station, trying to tell me to act like a big boy in front of all the others. We had arrived from Italy just the day before and I had not known one word of English. People were rushing by with their trunks, waving and laughing at each other, saying words I could not understand. I remember looking around and feeling so frightened. I knew no one. I could not understand them and I had never been away from home before.

No one even looked my way. I was ignored, just a small boy watching everyone with fearful brown eyes. Then the whistle blew and my father grabbed me and placed a kiss on the top of my head. He pushed me towards the train and said in Italian, “Go find a seat Blaise. It is time to leave. Make me proud of you son.” I stepped on board, regretting immediately that I had just left the safety of my father and I looked back at him with a pained expression as the train began to move. He waved to me with a happy smile and I couldn’t understand why he would be happy. I certainly was not!

A man on the train began to speak to me but I could not understand him. I looked at his face, trying to figure out what he wanted. He looked frustrated that I could not understand him. That is when I saw her, my angel. She was coming up the aisle of the train and the man stopped her and spoke to her. She looked at me and all I could think about was how pretty her nose was. She spoke words I did not understand and then she took me by my wrist. Ah! When she touched me it was as if I had received a jolt of electricity through her fingers. My skin tingled and I began to sweat. She pulled me to an empty compartment and opened the door for me, pointing to the seat and speaking again in words I could not understand. But I was too stunned to care. I stood looking at her as she released my wrist, feeling it still tingle as if she had just branded me as hers.

To me, she was my angel of mercy, the first to show me kindness in a scary world. I wanted her to stay, to sit with me in that compartment, so I could continue to look at her and hear her voice explaining things that I couldn’t comprehend. But she turned and closed the door. I watched her through the glass as she hurried away down the aisle once more. I sat alone, gazing out the window. My head would turn to watch anyone who walked by. Many times I saw my angel pass by, probably helping others. Each time I saw her pass my heart would beat faster, hoping that she’d stop and open the door and come in. But she didn’t. She has never spoken to me again, or touched me again. But since that day I have loved her and the sight of her walking past me still makes my heart pound in anticipation.

I am no longer that small, scared boy. I applied myself to learning English as fast as I could. Professor Flitwick, a very kind man, knew some Italian and didn’t mind when I would show up in his office after school asking him to help me translate my assignments. By the time I was thirteen my body began to grow tall and muscular and the girls began to notice me more. I was no longer the small, quiet child that they use to ignore. As my English improved it became easier for me to make more friendships with the guys in my house as well. I grew confident as my circle of friends and girlfriends grew. Always I would watch my angel, to see if she would notice me too. But she didn’t and I realized that it would take more than good looks and a good body to impress her. She isn’t like other girls that I know. And that makes her even more desirable to me because she is unique. Yet it damned me even more because I began to realize that I had nothing to offer her that she valued. And so I have become nothing more than her secret admirer and soon we will graduate and I will no longer be able to watch her as I have for seven years.

Was my dream trying to tell me something? Could she possibly want to know me? Do I have the guts to find out?”


Hermione sighed and closed the diary, leaning her head back against the tree and feeling the warm breeze ruffle her hair. Her heart was really starting to go out to Blaise. So many years of longing for someone! He would be the last person on earth that she’d ever imagine having trouble approaching a girl. How tragic it all seemed!

Then there was his story about his first day on the Hogwarts Express. She remembered that train ride as well, but perhaps not as clearly as he did. She remembered meeting Harry and Ron, although they didn’t think much of her back then. She also remembered helping Neville try to find his toad. But she didn’t remember a small, scared, Italian boy. There was so much commotion that day that she did not remember most of the people she had met.

Hermione now thought further about who Blaise’s mystery girl was. He had mentioned that she studied a lot in the library. Hermione was also a frequent visitor of the library and she now tried to remember which girls spent the most time in there. He also said she was unique. But what that could possibly mean to him, she could not know.

If only she could figure out who it was, then maybe she could help him in some way. She didn’t know what, exactly, she could do, but if it was someone that she knew than perhaps she could drop a few hints to her. Maybe bring up Blaise’s name in a casual conversation and see what she thought of him. Yes, she could probably do that. And if the mystery girl showed any interest in Blaise, Hermione could encourage her in his direction.

But time was running out. School would be over in a few weeks and it bothered her to think that such a passionate love should go unrequited. It seemed so ‘once in a life time’ to her.

Hermione flopped down on her stomach put the diary before her. Propped on her elbows she went to work, reading the next entry of Blaise’s diary for clues. She just had to figure out who his angel was!

OOOOO

Too obvious? LOL Well, I know. But you’ve got to remember that Hermione has no vanity in that regard and would never suspect that someone could feel that way about her. This is less a mystery story and more a story about Hermione opening up to her romantic side and feeling things she has denied herself before. We’ll see what affect this diary has on her. (he he he) Can’t wait to share it with you!

Well, let me know your thoughts. Thanks!