“Good morning, baby girl,” Blaise says as you walk into your Apparitions class.

“Good morning,” you reply, trying not to engage in further conversation as you head to your seat.

“Pump your brakes.” He signals you to stand front and center, his tone more serious. “Every day I say ‘good morning.’ Every day you say ‘I’ll show you a good morning, hot stuff.’ Every day. Not today?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I hate how perceptive you are, do you know that?”

“Spit it out,” he demands, folding his arms across his chest.

“Fine. I met a guy.”

Blaise's eyebrow arches. “You did what? Where?”

“Diagon Alley. Smoking hot. He’s new here. And then, he asked for my number.”

Blaise's jaw tightens. “And you just…”

“Gave it to him. Can you believe that? A complete stranger. Did I mention he was smoking hot?” you say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, I think you did,” Blaise mutters, his fists clenching slightly. His gaze hardens as he struggles to maintain his composure.