~ Blaise Zabini~

The Great Hall. Lunch.

Blaise Zabini watched amusedly as his best-friend brutalised his potatoes with a steak knife, cutting them into quarters then eighths before squishing them with the blade. He always had a penchant for playing with his food Blaise recalled. The images of Narcissa pursing her lips at her platinum haired son as he poked his food around flitted to his mind. Draco angrily delivered the coup de grace amidst the battlefield of his dinner plate by stabbing his fork in the slab of beef and twisting. Scary, Blaise shivered.

Draco had been in a foul mood since Potions, Blaise noticed. Every time he asked him what had his wand in a twist, Draco would feistily snap 'your mother'. Blaise would shrug and laugh it off, but he was worried about his best mate. While Draco was the Ice King to everyone else, he'd always been able to soften up to Blaise. Not this time. He watched curiously as Draco lifted his head to gaze from behind the fallen tendrils of his blonde hair. Subtly, he followed Draco's line of sight, one brow cocking as his eyes rested on his best friend's fixation.

Most interesting. He thought.

~ Draco Malfoy ~

Damn that filthy little mudblood got on his nerves. She's proper barmy if she reckons that she's going to outdo him in Potions for the third time this year. He'd been itching to have a word with her since she scored higher than him on brewing a Polyjuice Potion. Deep down, Draco wasn't surprised considering the clever witch had brewed one so many times to help her and the rest of the Golden Trio cause all sorts of trouble. Still, Draco fumed. His father would have his head if he discovered that he'd been bested by a mudblood. Again.

He gazed at her from across the Great Hall. Her wild curls formed a dark halo around her head and her eyes lit up as she spoke animatedly to her tosspot boyfriends, Potty and Weaselbee. Gods, he couldn't wait to destroy those Gryffindorks at the Quidditch match this weekend. In fact, he'd been itching for a proper square-off between Potty for a while now. That idiot Weaselbee, however, was another matter. He watched with disgust as the red-head goof gazed at Granger like a puppy about to receive a treat. Bloody wanker. What was with him and Granger anyway? Were they together? She's much too –

Shut up. Draco reprimanded himself quietly. This was Granger he was talking about for Christ's sakes, she was the scum of the Earth and entirely undeserving of the magic she wielded so skilfully. His left eye twitched as he watched Granger grin at Weaselbee, her face lighting up in a way that made Draco's jaw clench. He stabbed his beef again. Silly mudblood. How dare she intrigue him so?

"She's bloody sexy, isn't she?" A voice mumbled in his right ear, the lechery that dripped from their words caused a nasty smirk to spread itself across Draco's face. "I'd love to give her a go, what do you reckon?"

He cast a sideways glance at Theodore Nott, his brilliant azure eyes and signature tousled chestnut hair was recognisable anywhere. The sneaky bastard was a right git, but one of his best friends. Like Blaise, Nott stood by Draco's side through all the times his father had beaten him when he was younger. He was there then, and he was always there now. Except when he was playing with a new … toy.

Draco suppressed the rush of heat that threatened to climb up his neck. Was Nott talking about Granger? He better not –

Shut up, bloody idiot. Draco begrudgingly thought, his eyes flickering to the Gryffindor table out of panic and habit. "Who, pray tell, do you want to fuck around with this time, Nott?"

Theo grinned and jerked a chin towards the Griffyndor table, his eyes resting on a certain little redhead sixth year who was basically labelled untouchable amongst us Slytherin boys.

Weaselette.

Draco let out a throaty laugh as the youngest of the ginger clan looked up curiously, feeling reptilian eyes on her. "Watch me work my … magic." Theo's malicious grin didn't falter as locked eyes with Weasley, so he raised a hand and wiggled his fingers cheekily. To Draco's surprise, Weasley pressed a hand to her heart as if she was swooning before her face dropped in the most sinister of ways. Smirking, she presented her middle finger. Who knew Weasley was so fiery? Draco's laugh returned as Theo scoffed, his cocky smile disappearing. It was clear that Weasley wouldn't let Theo touch her even if he drank a Polyjuice Potion to make himself look like The Boy Wonder.

Theo sighed, "One day." He slumped in the empty space of the bench next to Draco, his hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

"We'll see, mate." Draco's eyes flickered back to the Gryffindor table, where the youngest Weasel had leant over to whisper something to the Golden Trio. Flogs, the lot of them. Draco eyed the group curiously and gritted his teeth as Granger's wild curls tossed upwards, her eyes meeting his. She cocked an eyebrow at him in a way that he found scarily endearing as she dropped her chin onto a tiny fist. She whispered something to Potty before focusing all her attention on Draco. Her pretty pink lips puckered as she blew him a kiss, wiggling her fingers at him much like Theo had done to Weaselette. Draco refused to falter and didn't want to look like an utter ponce in front of Theo and the rest of the Golden Trio, even though the heat upon his neck intensified. He tried his best to remain calm, ignoring the flutter in his chest as he watched her smirk. She thought she had won.

Draco mimicked her, propping an angular chin onto his fist. Slowly, one eye fluttered shut in a wink – something he'd delivered to very few girls, but only if they didn't fall for his other charms. He felt that Granger wasn't that kind of girl. Pride bubbled in his chest as he gazed at the splotches of red that sought its way up Granger's delicately slender neck. She blanched and averted her eyes, dropping her head downwards and delivering a poor act of focusing on her meal. How's that? Draco thought triumphantly.

Theo clapped him on the back and barked out a hearty laugh. He knew Theo enjoyed a little chase and who better to give him the best of his life other than the cheeky Weaselette?

When he felt like nobody was watching, Draco snuck another glance at Granger. He thought she was pretty. Beautiful even, but would rather Avada Kedavra himself than say it out loud. She wasn't the conventional pouty-lipped and big blue-eyed beautiful either. No. Granger had this air of mystery and intelligence that the other girls he'd been with had lacked, girls like Pansy and Daphne. Her hair fell into a mass of untameable curls, framing a heart-shaped face with deep brown eyes. Her cheekbones had become more defined since First Year and she had grown into a tallish and lithe frame. Draco glared at the muggle-born witch. She was too clever for her own good. Much too arrogant and a goody-two-shoes to boot. She loved rulebooks more than she loved air. She was a Gryffindor. A mudblood.

The worst.

An unfamiliar feeling reared its ugly head in the depths of Draco's… heart? No. Definitely his stomach. He quickly averted his eyes out of fear that someone had seen him fawning over his arch-nemesis like a schoolboy. However, by the way he locked eyes with Blaise in all his cool and dark glory, he felt he had already been discovered.

Blaise was a strange character, unreadable to everyone except Draco. Except this time, Blaise's dark eyes did not relay any sense of feeling. Instead, deep chocolate orbs gazed at him emptily, as if he was mulling over what Draco had accidentally presented to him. Draco's stomach flipped. He knows, Draco thought.

Without warning Blaise's face split into a sinister smile, like a bolt of lightning across a stormy sky. It was a smile Draco only saw when he was about to cause trouble. Lots of it.

Blaise rose with the elegance of a panther and tossed his knife onto his plate. Draco watched anxiously as Blaise's eyes flickered from Granger to him before sauntering over to the Gryffindor table with his usual swagger.

Shit.

~ Hermione Granger ~

She listened intently as Ron and Harry enthusiastically discussed the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor match this weekend, their hands dipping and diving in the same manner as their brooms above the pitch. She laughed as their hands clashed, their theatrical rivalry erupting into a mass of giggles and shoulder nudges. Hermione and Ginny glanced at each other before rolling their eyes in unison, a mutual understanding of boys will be boys flitting between them.

"Well Harry, are you going to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party next weekend? He's been asking about you… nonstop." Hermione mumbled, feeling a little jealous that Harry was the class favourite and not her. She had to remind herself that he was only good at Potions because he'd had that bloody book. Damn him.

Harry looked up at her cutely, a piece of lettuce hanging from one side of his mouth. He frowned around his food and sighed, "Hmm…. Maybe. I just need to bring a date."

Hermione felt for Harry, she really did. It must be hard for him to find a normal date that wouldn't lower themselves to the likes of Romilda Vane and torment him with love potions. He was the Chosen One, after all. Hermione inwardly rolled her eyes at that fact. If this dorky troublemaker was the Chosen One, then Merlin help the rest of them.

"Have you found a date, Hermione?" Ginny asked, her brilliant red hair reflecting the warmth of the candlelit hall. "Surely you have."

Hermione shrugged sheepishly. She had, in fact, found a date but she wasn't so quick as to blurt it out to everybody. She only accepted the git's offer out of a moment of panic. She'd been fidgeting in the library since Slughorn had told her that dates were allowed and just knew that finding one would be a proper challenge. A challenge that Hermione was too anxious to face.

She groaned but continued to laugh as Ron and Harry kept pestering her about who she was bringing to the Christmas party like two protective older brothers. Sometimes it sucked to have the two most famous boys in school acting like her body guards, like she was off limits to the rest of the school.

She jumped as Ginny leant over the table. "Those snakes are glaring at us again, what's their fucking problem?" She hissed across the food, spitting out the words like they were poison.

Hermione looked up from her plate and immediately locked eyes with none other than the foul, loathsome, evil, little cockroach himself.

Draco Malfoy.

He was staring at her most intently, paying hardly any attention to the sarcastic and malicious Theodore Nott beside him and Harry and Ron who had looked over their shoulders to glare at the Slytherin gang. She felt herself warped in by the cold, distant storminess of his eyes, the elegant curve of his brow and the slightly full smirking mouth. Merlin, she wanted to knock that look straight off his face with her bare fist. Muggle style.

Hermione digressed. She had already gotten one-up on him in Potions, and wasn't interested in feeling like a brag. Instead, she focused her attention onto Potter. "Watch this."

She slammed an elbow on the table, ignoring the humiliation that threatened to consume her as she felt her elbow tap the edge of a bowl and the warmth of ham and pea soup seeped through her robes. So not sexy, she thought.

She propped a chin on her fist and puckered her lips, blowing a lovely kiss to the leader of the Slytherin posse. She wiggled her fingers delectably, her chest puffing out in pride as her eyes took in the way Malfoy tried to suppress his shock.

Her pride didn't last long though as Malfoy mimicked her actions, one steel grey eye closing in a slow and flirtatious wink. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and shove down the warmth that crept up her neck. Without even thinking, she quickly averted her eyes. The intensity of his eyes were too much for her girlish side to handle. She glared at her food and pushed it around with her fork.

"Uh-oh. Zabini at 2 o'clock." Ginny grumbled, trying to make it look as though she hadn't spoken at all. Instead, she pushed around her food shyly and tried to avoid any kind of contact with Blaise. Her reaction made Hermione wonder about what it was about Blaise Zabini that made Ginny so touchy and irritable. Perhaps it was the Quidditch rivalry, as they were both seekers and pummelled each other on the field when they both got the chance.

Harry and Ron looked the opposite way Ginny had described, eliciting from the two girls a groan of both amusement and frustration. Stupid gits, Hermione thought.

She watched as Blaise Zabini sauntered towards the Gryffindor table. For him, this side of the Great Hall was uncharted territory, a different kind of world he'd yet to step into. Over here, the atmosphere was warm and felt like a fireplace on Christmas morning. Over on the Slytherin side, Hermione suspected, the atmosphere was cold and reptilian – hardly her type of thing.

She'd hardly spoken to Zabini, except for when Snape decided to pick on her and paired her up with the obsidian-skinned Slytherin in Potions in her First Year. He was intelligent, Hermione knew, and of a more quiet and reserved nature than Malfoy. He was handsome too, with a lean build fit for Quidditch and deep chocolate eyes that reminded Hermione of the hot Milo her mother would make for her on Sunday mornings.

The entire Gryffindor table went silent as Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin, took a seat across from Ginny. Hermione almost giggled as he started piling a plate with purple grapes, picking them up with a fork and slipping them into his mouth. He behaved as if he belonged there, at their table, with us Gryffindors. In fact, he looked absolutely ridiculous in his black and emerald robes amongst the sea of gold and red.

Ginny blushed as Blaise reached over the table and stabbed a piece of left over cauliflower drenched in gravy from her plate and popped it in his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving the beet red surface of Ginny's face. Hermione cocked an eyebrow. Most interesting.

Ron looked at Blaise as if he was a dragon species he'd yet to discover. Hermione guessed that he'd never been this close to Zabini in his life, except for when he was blocking him from scoring in Quidditch. Harry looked at the newcomer with shock before shrugging and digging into his meal. Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry was always so welcoming and weirdly oblivious to the dangers a simple Slytherin could pose. Hermione wondered if this was plain stupid or if he purposely encouraged the breaking down of class rivalries. To Hermione, Harry was a book that she couldn't read, much unlike Ron and very much like … Malfoy.

Hermione shook her head to rid the thoughts of her arch-nemesis. She didn't know why he popped into her head whenever he pleased. Perhaps he was using Legilimency on her.

Hermione decided she was too dramatic. As usual.

"So..." Blaise began, popping another grape in his mouth and letting his eyes glide over the Gryffindor group. "How is everyone doing on this fine evening?"

Hermione looked over her shoulder out the window, noticing the bright streak of lightning that cracked through the sky and the heavy pelting of rain drowns against the glass. She snorted. Of course, she thought.

Nobody answered.

Awkward.

"Ugh, I know exactly how you feel." Blaise said, rolling his eyes and feasting on another grape. "Slughorn was an absolute bore in Potions today, don't you agree Hermione?" His eyebrows rose with the tone of his voice at the end of his question, he looked at Hermione as if conversing with her was an everyday and pleasant occurrence.

Hermione cleared her throat from the shock and replied, "I agree. Especially when he was talking about Wolfsbane, as if we haven't learnt all about that from Snape." She shot him a genuine smile, which seemed to shock him. While the others of her house described Blaise as a typical pure-blood radical, he'd never actually exhibited his so-called hatred for Muggles or …Muggle-borns publicly. Sure, he stood behind Malfoy and his gang as they tormented Hermione and her friends, but Hermione supposed it was because he didn't care to get involved.

Blaise seemed shocked at her polite gesture and nodded in agreement. "Exactly! Finally, someone feels my pain. Draco always thought that-"

"Gossiping about me, Blaise? When will you ever learn?"

Hermione attempted to ignore the certain lilt Blaise had as he slipped out Malfoy's name. She tried to act like he hadn't just given her a pointed and almost knowing look when he mentioned him. Instead, she focused aggressively on the tall and lean frame of none other than Draco Malfoy. His tousled blonde hair made him look like he'd just gotten out of bed and barely had time to run a brush through it. He didn't wear the Hogwarts robes, opting for a sleek all-black ensemble that basically screamed 'I'm pureblood and I know it'.

Blaise smirked and looked up at the looming figure of Malfoy who clapped a hand on his shoulder, almost threateningly. "Associating with the Golden Trio, Zabini? Didn't think you were the grovelling type." Malfoy smirked in a way that was dark and beautiful, yet still entirely malicious.

Blaise's smirk continued to widen, as if he had this master plan that he was confident he'd succeed in. He gestured to Hermione, Ginny, Ron and Harry happily. "Why Draco! Just the boy I wanted to see." The twitch in Draco's left eye didn't go unnoticed by Hermione. "You see Draco, I was just about to invite my new … friends to our celebratory party this weekend. You know, after we win the match?"

At this point, both Harry's and Ron's head snapped up to reveal expressions of determination and offense. "Oh yeah, Zabini? You think you're gonna win already, huh?" Ron asked goofily, puffing out his bulky chest and tensing his arms. Hermione rolled her eyes at the blatant display of caveman strength. So lame.

Malfoy seemed to roll his eyes too before focusing his attention on Ron. "Not his fault for facing the facts, Weasley. Half your team's down with Dragon Pox." He regarded Ron's dumbfounded expression, "that means, you blubbering idiot, that all you have to rely on is your reserves. Which are shit, mind you."

Harry grumbled something under his breath but restrained himself, and by placing a hand on Ron's shoulder, stopped the both of them from doing something stupid like duelling during dinner.

Hermione didn't notice that she was staring at Malfoy until he cocked an eyebrow and said, "Star-struck, Granger?" He winked at her again, a strand of blonde hair falling across his brilliant grey eyes. She scoffed and looked away from him, repudiating herself from revelling in the warm feeling inside her gut.

"Dream on, ferret." She said, eliciting a laugh from her friends and surprisingly, Zabini too.

Malfoy even grumbled a chuckle, "My pleasure."

After a few short moments of silence, Blaise rose from his place and popped a few extra grapes into his mouth. "Hope to see you guys in the Slytherin Common Rooms. Password is Pureblood, don't forget it."

The rest of the Gryffindors rolled their eyes at the blatant prejudice exhibited by the Slytherins. Hermione watched with further curiosity as Ginny and Blaise locked eyes before quickly averting them. Something was going on there, and she swore on Merlin that she would find out. Her inner gossip-girl couldn't take it any longer.

Malfoy lingered at the table, his eyes sweeping over her friends before finally landing on Hermione. She felt him examine her face thoroughly, probably pointing out every flaw in his head, preparing himself for any kind of onslaught if she were to insult him. She half expected him to call her out on her recent break-outs or chapped lips from the cold winter. Instead, he lifted a finger in the direction of her robes.

"Soup." He said simply with a cocked eyebrow and a smirk.

Hermione's back snapped straight as she remembered that she'd spilled soup on her earlier, trying to beat Malfoy and his friend Nott at their own game. She looked down at her robes that were now spotted with bits of meat and peas, a specific meaty scent wafting from her skirt.

How embarrassing.