In the end, it happened very suddenly.

It had been a good couple of days since the incident with the necklace, and the Slytherins were keeping their knowledge about it to themselves. Nobody seemed to know what had happened, but we did, and we guarded the information closely.

Since that night, I hadn't seen Draco more than once, and then only in passing. He was a ghost in the common room – his stuff was always lying around, or his friends would be sitting in a semi-circle, leaving his usual space free, but Draco himself was never there. More and more frequently Crabbe and Goyle were also absent.

I didn't bother prying – I had more important things to worry about.

Starting with it, which happened, as I said, suddenly.

Just after another one of the Slug Club meetings.

It was, as ever, a dreary affair. Slughorn had been overjoyed when I'd begun attending in an effort to ingratiate myself with those he'd identified as the 'up and comers' of the wizarding world. I needed to broaden my horizons, accumulate allies outside of Slytherin, and this was the perfect place to do so.

For this evening's festivities (a dinner party) I'd secured a particularly brilliant seat – opposite Cormac McLaggen (nephew of the Minister for Foreign Affairs) and beside Melinda Bobbin (heir to a chain of popular apothecaries). Bobbin's family wasn't distinguished but it was wealthy, and wealth was influential, but it was McLaggen who was the real win. I needed connections in Government, and while Narcissa was trying her best to forge such connections, and take advantage of Lucius' old ones, the Malfoy name hardly inspired much loyalty after Lucius' arrest. I hadn't said anything to Draco or Narcissa, but these were connections I felt I should make myself. I needed somebody associated with the French Embassy to help me with my claim. Of course, Lazzarre knew most of the French officials and many of the English diplomats. For them to switch to my side would take some serious English support. I needed McLaggen to get me his uncle Tiberius.

Of course, my happiness was ruined when Blaise arrived (slightly late, of course) and took the free seat to my left. "Estelle." He said quietly.

"Hey, Blaise." I said noncommittally. We weren't angry with each other, I didn't hate him. I repeated those sentences like a mantra in my head. We had been seeing each other casually, I wasn't upset about the 'rumours'. Therefore, it was normal for us to have a conversation. "How are things?"

He wasn't looking at me, his dark eyes surveying the crowd with a distinct modicum of disdain. "We haven't spoken recently." He said quietly.

I blinked. "I know." I said. "That's why I asked."

"You are angry." He said knowingly, and I laughed lightly.

"This isn't the place, Blaise." I told him. "And I'm not. Please, who understands the mechanics of scheming better than me? I would have done the same."

Blaise nodded slowly, and with one last smile in his direction I turned back to Bobbin, with whom I'd been having a hopelessly boring conversation about capitalism. We chatted amicably until Blaise, apparently annoyed that I was ignoring him, set his sights on her. All it took was one, coolly voiced, "how do you do" from him and she became a simpering mess. I, meanwhile, apparently ceased to exist for the pair of them. Diagonally across from me, Weaslette (sitting, as always, next to Bushy Hair) was watching the scene unfold with apparent glee at the position I'd been put in. I ignored her, shooting a smile at McLaggen, who happily reciprocated almost instantly (albeit by suggesting I try the peas). But the moment he attempted to engage me in real conversation, Blaise's arm came to rest possessively on the back of my chair, and he faltered. Blaise's message was fairly clear: mine.

He was absolutely sabotaging me – there was little doubt about it. I shot him a glare when I was sure the others weren't looking, only to find him listening to Melinda Bobbin's dull vacation stories. I scoffed disdainfully when she recounted a 'scandalous' incident where she'd gone swimming in the pool after dark, and, hearing me, Blaise met my eyes briefly and gave me a fleeting grin and wink, both full of satisfaction. In that moment, I felt as though we were comrades again, both of us so disparaging of the world around us, and both of us inescapably a part of it. I hadn't realised how very much I missed our connection until that moment when he looked away, turning his attention back to Bobbin.

I, in turn, resumed my half conversation with McLaggen. "So." He said. "A Dahlquist." I felt a little like an animal in a zoo exhibition he was visiting. "Very impressive." I wasn't sure how to respond to that without coming off as snobby or a complete bitch, and I was trying so hard to make friends. So I resolved to say nothing at all, just shooting him a small smile and a nod. Apparently, though, that did just fine. His smile broadened. "You know me of course."

I gave a light, sarcastic chuckle. "Only by reputation." I said, and without looking away from Bobbin, Blaise smiled at the clear contempt in my voice.

McLaggen, though, failed to notice it. "Yes, I imagine you'd have heard of me. I suppose you know about that Doxy incident…" I smiled, and mimicked his facial expressions so that he thought I was paying attention, all the while my mind wandering far, far away. Were all non-Slytherins this utterly dull? So unable to keep up a conversation? McLaggen wasn't aristocracy, but his family was extremely well-connected and I wanted him as an ally. Right then, however, it seemed that the price I was paying was far too high.

But then, suddenly, I heard a question through the haze of hideously boastful stories about his inane escapades. "So." He was asking me. "I heard you've been involved in quite the scandal." By my side, Blaise tensed a little, leaning oh-so-subtly towards McLaggen. Oblivious, McLaggen kept his gaze fixed on me, and I waited for him to humiliate me in front of all these potential allies. "You had your title removed, right?" He said, and I released a breath I hadn't realised I was holding. "A little birdie told me that your cousin had you disinherited, on the grounds that you 'weren't French enough'."

I smiled, so relieved I wanted to cry. He hadn't mentioned Blaise – either he didn't know or care about that scandal. And even better, he'd managed by some fluke to raise the very issue I wanted to discuss. Of course, it wouldn't do for him to know that. "Those weren't quite the terms used." I told him, affecting embarrassment. "But essentially, yes, that's it."

McLaggen slammed his hand down on the table. "Dis-graceful." He declared, stretching it out almost into two words. "Disgraceful! I hope you're planning on fighting the decision?"

My smile was full of speculation. "I am." I said, adopting a slightly less knowing, slightly more vulnerable demeanour. "But you see, I just don't know where to start…"

His smile was broad. "Right here!" He announced, his voice loud enough to make several other conversations falter as people looked our way. If I weren't trying so hard to get him on my side, I would have been tempted to remind him of the merits of 'inside voices'. "You may have heard of my uncle – Tiberius McLaggen?" I made to answer, but he cut me off. "Of course you have – he's the Minister for Foreign Affairs!" This, too, was half shouted, and accompanied by McLaggen slapping the table again.

"Ssshhh…" I began, despite myself, and then had to mask my attempts to shush him with a faux sneeze.

"Bless you." McLaggen said, before returning to his speech. "I'll ask him to look into the laws – it won't be a problem at all, I assure you."

The smile I gave him was utterly contrived – full of fake gratitude, but very real speculation. "You're a lifesaver!" I told him, hamming my French accent up a little (he seemed the sort to enjoy the exotic). "You'll give him my name? I mean, I submitted a query to the Foreign Office when this all happened, but I haven't had any reply…"

He waved a hand. "Oh, I'll have you pushed right up the list!" He assured me. "I'm very close with Uncle Tiberius, and he'll be more than happy to help me."

"You're so kind!" I said, keeping my voice quiet. If anybody else heard me simpering like an idiot, my housemates would probably perform an honour killing. He smiled, looking quite pleased with himself. "Is there anything I can do for you in return?" I asked. I supposed like most of the non-aristocracy, he liked the glamour and the style of the upper class. It was, therefore, my responsibility to cater to his needs. I straightened my back and lifted my chin. "I hope you won't think me rude, but Dahlquists don't accept charity. I'd want to repay the favour."

He shook his head. "Oh, please, no." He said. "Anything for a fellow 'Sluggy'."

I tried not to grimace at that nickname. "I am grateful." I inclined my head elegantly. "You cannot know how much."

His smile was fairly condescending, and it was an expression I wanted to wipe off of his smug little face, but instead I just held his gaze for what felt like ages. Eventually, a thought seemed to occur to him and he gave a brief chuckle. "You know," he said, leaning forwards. "I'm a Gryffindor."

"I know." I said, nodding in acknowledgement.

"And you're a Slytherin."

Dear Merlin. "I know that, too." I replied, trying to keep my tone even.

He leaned even closer. "Technically, you know…" He glanced up at me and smiled. "We're not supposed to get along."

Was this… flirting? Obvious, not at all witty, corny flirting? It took supreme self-control for me to keep my face neutral when I was cringing on the inside. Surely this wasn't what everybody else had to put up with? Wistfully I remembered the many snarky, witty conversations I'd had with Blaise. I'd thought that was flirting. If this was how other people flirted… I shook those thoughts from my head, and concentrated my efforts on being charming. "Oh really?" I said cheekily, wondering whether or not that would be enough. But McLaggen was still looking at me, and (stifling a sigh) I continued. "I have to admit – I'm not much one for rules."

McLaggen opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly, a cool voice drawled. "Well, I know that's true." Blaise, it seemed, had finally abandoned his conversation with Bobbins (who now looked fairly put out and embarrassed) to come and rescue me? Unexpected. But then, without so much as a glance my way, he continued. "Social conventions are not Estelle's style."

To my horror, McLaggen shrugged. "I did hear a little something about the two of you." I felt a blaze of dislike for him – whatever he'd heard, who would be tactless enough to raise it at a dinner party?

"Frankly, I'm glad she's shifted her attentions to you." Blaise said, sounding quite bored. "Do enjoy."

Both McLaggen and I gaped. I recovered first. "You say such funny things." I laughed. "Tell me, is this typical Italian humour, or are you just an especially horrible person?" But Blaise had already turned away, apparently having no other interest in the conversation at all. I made to speak to McLaggen again, only to find that he'd hastily turned to bother Bushy Hair and Weaslette. Brilliant. At that moment, I was rescued from the awkwardness in the least interesting way possible – Slughorn stepping forwards and introducing some female quidditch player. I wasn't really paying attention. Instead, I was wondering whether Blaise had actually destroyed every chance I had at salvaging my reputation. We finished the dinner (not a moment too soon) and to my 'surprise', Blaise walked by my side all the way back to the dungeon, with Bobbin hanging off his arm almost the entire way.

When she finally detached herself, with a girlish titter and shrill "goodbye!" she left the two of us alone in the cold stone corridor. Apparently more content to talk to me when there wasn't anybody about, Blaise broke the silence first. "That was dull." He said, as though his opinion was the final word on the matter. "Horrifically dull – I detest such blatant attempts to emulate class. All that man has is powerful friends, who are probably embarrassed to admit to the acquaintance at all."

"Unnecessary." I said, trying to keep my tone fairly casual.

Blaise turned to me in mild surprise. "Unnecessary? Well, I suppose tastes will differ. If big-bellied, lower class, minimum wage teachers are your sort of thing…."

"I meant what you said to McLaggen." I said as calmly as I could. "It was unnecessary."

He turned to face me, one eyebrow raised. "I didn't say anything." He pointed out. I noticed then that, without even thinking, we'd stopped heading for the dungeons and started tracing our old path back up to the Astronomy Tower. Blaise still hadn't noticed this, so far as I could tell. He was just watching me, in that strange, masked manner of his.

"You said enough." I said tiredly, running a hand through my hair. "I need him, Blaise – to contest my title."

The look he gave me was speculative, but his eyes were soft. "You do have a lot on your plate right now, don't you?" There really wasn't any point answering such an obvious question. I rolled my eyes and he gave me what might've been an affectionate smile on anybody else's face. On his, it could have been anything. "I don't suppose you've been talking to anybody about it?"

It was such a concerned, almost caring thing to say that I was taken aback. "I have, actually." I answered without thinking. "Fat lot of good it's done me – there's no point talking to a non-Slytherin about this sort of thing."

Blaise didn't say anything for a long while. But then, his tone deliberately disinterested, he said, "non Slytherin?" Shit. "Who have you been talking to?"

"Luna Lovegood." I said, maintaining a casual tone. "She's insane, but a good listener. Why?" It was so very obvious that Blaise didn't buy that. But before I could say anything else, he shrugged and turned away, heading for the dungeons. "What and you doing?" I couldn't believe it. "This – this is the first proper conversation we've had in days and you're leaving? What for?"

He shrugged again, leaning against the wall for a moment. "I'm going to meet Pansy."

I blinked in shock, and for a long moment couldn't think of anything to say. "Really?" I asked finally. He shrugged yet again and I felt a powerful urge to dislocate his shoulders.

His response almost made me act on that urge. "Well, you know." He said coolly. "She puts out."

I felt like he'd punched me. "Well if you ask half the school, they'll tell you that I do, too." I said, somehow keeping my tone even and nonchalant. But it hardly mattered, because he'd already begun to walk off.

I watched him leave with a detached sort of fury. I'll be the first to admit that my pride was wounded more than anything else, but it hurt nonetheless. As I watched him stroll out through the huge double doors leading back to the dungeons, it gave me a profound satisfaction to see him stiffen uncomfortably at the sight of Faustin walking in the opposite direction, a discomfort that swelled as Faustin raised a hand to me in greeting. Draco had been right – they loathed each other.

As the realisation struck me, my path became clear.

And that was how any trace of civility between Blaise and I became doomed. That was how the end began.

….

"I need gossip."

Jess turned to face me, hand on hip. I think I've only mentioned in passing that Jess enjoys storing other people's secrets. She is a big believer in saving things for a rainy day, and while the value of land dwindles, and exchange rates change, Jess has always professed that the value of a good scandal will remain proportionate to the wealth of whoever it involves. So she listens and she watches – she's more observant than anybody I know. I don't like to think what sort of information she has on me, and to be honest, I have no idea how many people she has dirt on. But it's safe to assume that they span the four houses, the seven year levels and perhaps the continent.

I would never really ask Jess to compromise her sources to tell me idle gossip. But this was an emergency and I was stuck.

"Surely you have enough gossip." Jess said scathingly, but when I continued to hold her gaze, she dropped the act. "Why should I help you?" I shrugged and she rolled her eyes in frustration. "Estelle, if I tell you whatever you want to know it means that I lose the power that knowledge gave me – exclusivity is key, here."

I wasn't in the mood for a long debate. I tried to communicate as much urgency as possible through my eyes. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." I told her through gritted teeth, once again shamefully taking advantage of her friendship. Silently, I swore I would repay her for her faith in me.

Jess watched me for a long few minutes before relenting. "Okay, fine." She sighed. "On whom?"

Aleksander Faustin. He'd indicated that he was willing to help me, but what I had in mind to prove to Blaise that he did not own me was not the sort of thing which anybody with self-pride would willingly subject themselves to. I would of course approach him civilly first. But after that? Well, let's just say that with Jess' help I would have a backup plan.

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Faustin? That's unexpected."

"Who did you think?" I asked, curious.

She ran a hand through her hair. "Well, Blaise, obviously. I mean, he started a rumour about you, you start one about him… Fire with fire, right?"

I shook my head, wrinkling my nose in distaste. "I don't know about that." I said. "Fire with fire leaves you with a hell of a lot of ash to clean up. Fire with water, though…"

Jess's lips cracked into a smile. "Planning on raining on his parade?"

I grinned. "Planning a tsunami. A tsunami on his parade."

"And you'll use Faustin to do that?" She clarified, and when I nodded she gave a resigned sigh. "Well, alright, I suppose. Lucky for you, while I don't know much about Blaise, I have a very juicy little tidbit about Faustin." Her eyes narrowed. "Really, I hate to give it to you. But what are friends for?"

"Other than blackmailing innocent bystanders in order to decimate the life of an ex?" I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't have a clue."

…

In the end, it took me very little time to chase down Faustin. Which was awful, because I truly had planned on procrastinating for as long as possible. I had never done anything quite this despicable before, and I was trying (unsuccessfully) to build myself up to it. Blackmail was a huge stepping stone onto the dark side, and I hadn't even worked out how to do it. I was planning on doing that while searching for Faustin. But even the best laid plans go astray, and I happened to bump into him coming out of one of the deserted corridors. What I now knew combined with my stress made the situation almost hysterically funny, but I contained my laughter long enough to drag him into a nearby, quiet alcove. "I-uh." I paused, weighing up how I was going to do this.

"What do you need, Zvedza?" Aleks asked, his eyes gleaming. "I must admit that I didn't realise that you'd take our little 'conversation' the other day as some sort of precedent for friendship."

I smiled knowingly. "I didn't take it as a precedent for friendship." I assured him. "More like … an indication of mutual need."

Faustin's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

I made my move. "You didn't help me because our grandparents were friends, or out of the kindness of your heart." My eyes narrowed. "You're just looking for the opportunity to take Zabini down a peg or two."

"I won't deny it." Faustin said easily, leaning back against the wall. "That's why I've paid so much attention to you – because he seems to."

"I'm so flattered." I said dryly.

"Oh, please." He scoffed. "As though you didn't flirt with me for that exact reason – because you knew it would annoy him." True, but on principle I reserved the right to be angry. Clearly bored of this argument, Faustin moved along. "You know, you are catching me off guard." He sounded surprised at his own admission. "After all, despite everything that has happened recently, I still thought you were a devoted member of the Zabini posse."

Resisting the urge to launch into a tirade about just how wrong that statement was, I shrugged a shoulder. "I hate labels, and I hate posses." I told him firmly. "And that is exactly why I need to prove to Zabini that I am not his to use."

Aleks' eyes took on a knowing look. "Ah. So you are upset about that little public display of sluttishness with Parkinson last week?" I looked away, and he laughed. "Darling, you should have known better than to expect otherwise. Of course he was with somebody else."

I thought we were in a relationship. My brain cried out. I thought he cared, but it was all a game. But I can play that game, too.

But I couldn't say any of that, so instead, I seized the role Blaise had created for me – the shrewish, obsessed little fan girl – and put my own spin on it. From now, I would create the impression that I hadn't thought we were together, I'd just thought we were different. It was a subtle, though less pathetic difference.

"I know." I snapped. "What annoyed me was how blasé he was about it."

"What did you expect?"

In a second, I was inches away from him, playing my part with gusto. "I expected shame. I expected an apology, embarrassment! I expected an explanation." I turned away sharply, clenching my hands into fists. "What I didn't expect was that he took it for granted that I wouldn't mind. That he thought I would just nod meekly and wait my turn."

"Your pride is hurt." Aleks mused from the side, and I spun around, giving him a brilliant smile. "And you want to, what, make him jealous?"

"Of course."

Aleks laughed a little. "Blaise doesn't get jealous." He pointed out. "He'd chase you just enough to make sure he could get you back no problem, and then he'd just go back to his old ways."

"I know." I said calmly. "Which is why I'm not going to leave him- I'm just going to make it clear that two can play at his game."

He knew straight away what I wanted. "You want to be seen to be screwing around with me, but not stop screwing around with him." I smiled again. "Might work, for a moment, but not longer."

I raised an eyebrow, slightly at a loss, before realising just what had happened here. "Oh, dear." I said. "You disapprove?" I sighed sadly. "That changes things. So much. Because, Faustin, I really value your opinion."

Aleks rolled his eyes, fairly annoyed with me. "Didn't anybody ever tell you that sarcasm was the lowest form of wit?"

"You would be surprised how often I'm told that."

He cocked his head to one side. "You know, I really doubt I would be." He said drily.

My mouth curved into an evil smile. "I'm really going to love working with you." I told him with utmost certainty.

Aleks sighed. "So, you want me to what? Pretend to date you?"

I tilted my head back, letting out a pealing laugh which would be sure to annoy him. "No, silly." I chastised cheerfully. "No, I want you to pursue me. I'll just be receiving your attention, not reciprocating." There was a slight pause, and so I continued. "Really, you're going to be the biggest help – the peons follow where you lead, and if you lead them to me… well…" I smiled saucily at him. "My position will be secure in no time."

In a second, his goodwill evaporated. "I think you'll find I haven't agreed to any of this, Dahlquist." Aleks snapped at me, his dark eyes blazing. "And why would I, when I get absolutely nothing out of it?"

"I thought you wanted to annoy Blaise." I said innocently, and Aleks swore viciously in Russian.

"Annoy him?" He let out a slow laugh. "Try amuse him. Or did you truly think that convincing me to chase after you like some imbecilic, prepubescent infant would somehow make him feel jealous?"

I sighed. "There were a lot of big words in that little speech, Aleks." I complained.

Ignoring me, he continued. "People only get jealous if they feel threatened." He pointed out. "And from the sounds of things, you're hardly planning on responding to my 'advances'."

"Blaise is possessive." I pointed out. "Ridiculously so! Just the prospect of you and I will drive him mental. Not to mention to others who will follow." I paused. "And after all, we kept our relationship secret for quite some time. He will inevitably assume you and I are doing the same."

"That isn't enough." Aleks said coldly. "I don't dislike you, Dahlquist, but I hardly trust you enough to go through with it. What if after I go through with this humiliating charade, you return to Blaise the second he crooks a finger in your direction?" I raised an eyebrow and he leaned back casually against the wall. "Don't pout at me, Dahlquist." He snapped. "it's a valid concern – and it would leave me losing out to Blaise again."

I frowned, placing my hands on my hips and regarding Aleks through narrowed eyes. "Are you truly refusing to help me?" Aleks shrugged and I pursed my lips. "Even though our grandparents were such close friends?" My voice oozed mockery and Aleks was not impressed. But when he still didn't respond, I let out a sad sigh and shook my head. "You know, if you don't go through with this you are definitely going to regret it.

Aleks' answering laugh was long and low. "Oh please, Dahlquist." He murmurmed, taking a step forwards. Had I stepped forwards, we'd still have been a good distance apart, but Aleks' legs were ridiculously long, and his step had placed us inches away from each other. "Do I seem like the sort of man susceptible to idle threats?"

"You seem like a man." I told him blithely. "And men in general do appear to be largely susceptible to threat-making." I paused. "Especially my threat making – I have a wonderful track record of following through. And it isn't an idle threat."

"Oh, please." Aleks scoffed. "The events of the past few weeks have left you a penniless bastard with a shady reputation. You have no power anymore – the only threats you can make are idle threats."

He was being so condescending I was almost cheerful about what my next move would have to be. "Oh, I don't know, Aleks… what's that old saying – information is power?"

"Knowledge is power." He corrected me, rolling his eyes. "I won't bother commenting on the irony of you not knowing that."

My smile was tight. "You just did, Aleks." I pointed out. "And for today, at least, I think it will have to be information is power."

"I've recently heard 'sex is power." Aleks suggested, clearly ignoring my subtle hints at the direction our conversation was heading for. After watching me for a moment, he swooped in close, his mouth lingering near mine. "Is that how you were planning on convincing me, Dahlquist?"

I laughed. "Oh, Aleks," I shook my head, smiling. "I know I'm not your type."

He darted back for a minute. "What is that supposed to mean?" he asked, his eyes moving from my mouth to search my face.

I smiled a lazy, lazy smile. "Mon cher." I drawled. "Your naiveté is charming… did you really believe that you and that Ravenclaw boy could keep it hidden forever?" he paled a little and I laughed. "Behind the suits of armour is undoubtedly more subtle than say, in a broom closet - very creative, ingenious, really- but sound does tend to echo in stone hallways."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Aleks said coldly.

"Don't I?" I stretched languidly. "Thomas Boot – or, you know… something like that. Tommy? Terry? Perhaps I don't know what I'm talking about, I never have been very good with names." I had my eyes closed, but I could feel Aleks panicking. "I hope you know that I went to a lot of trouble for this, Faustin. True detective work." I paused. "Boot – it isn't exactly an old name, is it? Certainly not somebody of social standing." Aleks let loose a Russian swearword. "Of course that's hardly the biggest problem your family will have with him." I looked cheekily up at him from under my eyelashes. "Key word in that statement being 'him'."

"Alright, enough, Dahlquist!" Aleks snapped. "Enough!" His usually calm demeanour had shattered under pressure, which I'll admit was disappointing – I'd thought he was stronger than that. But sometimes the ones who seem the strongest are in truth the ones most likely to crumble in the face of adversity. It was just that nobody had ever challenged rich, well-born Aleksander Faustin. Til me.

And that meant he just wasn't used to it. Poor Aleks – perfectly capable of dishing it out, and yet unable to take it. Not a good position to be in when you had a secret as big as his. Pureblooded families didn't necessarily have a problem with gays … so long as those gays were other people's children. Aleks was, I had discovered, an only child. Even the most liberal of parents would take issue with their heir being disinclined to procreate.

Still pacing, he ran a hand through his hair, letting loose another stream of swearwords. "You little bitch." He snarled. I wanted to raise my eyebrows at that – considering I had some dangerous knowledge against him, was insulting me really the best possible course of action? Faustin evidently realised this. "Alright, we can come to some sort of agreement, I'm sure." He said. "You – just – so long as this stays quiet." He was thinking fast now, but not quite fast enough. "I can't believe this." He muttered to himself, running a hand over his face. "I just can't believe it."

I was instantly contrite. "Oh, Faustin – you didn't like my little joke? And here I was thinking I was being so clever."

Aleks' eyes narrowed, and he ceased pacing to glare at me over his shoulder. "You thought you were being clever?" He asked slowly, his voice full of hate and disgust. I nodded innocently.

"Why, yes. With my little joke." Slowly, I sidled up to him. "After all, it's obvious that you're not.. that way inclined. I mean," I tipped my head back and chuckled, "how could you be, when you've been pursuing me so actively?"

His eyes narrowed into slits so thin I couldn't see their whites anymore. "You're a devious little bitch, Dahlquist." He said, his voice low with rage. "Don't think I'm going to forget this any time soon."

I smiled indulgently, hopping down from the window ledge. "Well, whatever revenge you attempt, make sure I can't trace it back to you." I paused. "Otherwise some veritaserum may just find its way into your morning pumpkin juice. Or if not yours…. Timmy Boot? Or, whatever his name is." Aleks' mouth thinned into a hard line and his jaw clenched. "I own you now, Faustin." I told him quietly. "I'm more than happy to forget all about this, but I will have your loyalty and your help, even if I have to coerce it out of you."

"I'll find something." He hissed. "I'll find bigger gossip on you."

My laugh was utterly unforced and genuinely amused. "Oh, Aleks." I sighed, wiping a tear from my eye. "I'm the disinherited bastard daughter of a blood traitor, rumoured to have lost her virginity to the resident man whore." My smile became gloating. "Do your worst. I think you'll find that one of the benefits of having all your dirty laundry aired is that nobody can have anything on you."

….

When I ran into Harry mere moments after Faustin had stormed off (probably to warn his lover) a more superstitious person might have labelled it 'karma'. Here I was, just having committed a fairly terrible act, and who did I run into but the school's resident moral compass, Mr Harry Potter.

He, of course, was happy to see me, and his mouth stretched into a sweet grin when he met my eyes. "Estelle." He called, utterly oblivious to how quiet I was trying to keep this friendship. "What are you doing around here?"

I shrugged, too tired and too reluctant to lie to him. "Scheming."

"What sort?"

I leaned back against the wall, meeting his eyes with utmost resignation to the moral bashing I was about to receive. "Blackmail."

His eyebrows soared into his hairline. "What?" He asked. "Estelle – "

"I swear it was necessary." I said, and then paused. "Please don't ask me to expand on that."

But as I said it, Harry was already asking, "why was it necessary?"

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "He wouldn't have helped me, otherwise." I admitted begrudgingly.

"Zabini?"

"Faustin."

Harry blinked in confusion. "Who?"

Really? Well. Apparently some people really didn't pay much attention to the workings of the upper class. "Aleksander Faustin – Russian seventh year?" Harry still looked confused and I rolled my eyes. "Oh come on, Harry! Really?"

Harry frowned, evidently concentrating quite hard. "Is he that one with the… you know, the hair?" I shook my head in incomprehension and Harry tried again. "You know… the hair?"

"What about his hair?" I asked, confused.

Harry shook his head. "Never mind. I guess it's not important. Okay, so this 'Faustin' person." How could anybody know so little about Wizarding Society? I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and nodded. "Why him?" When I didn't say anything, Harry glanced around us and sighed. "Want to go outside?" He asked, which was a dumb question considering the pseudo blizzard that was currently raging, but when it was Harry suggesting it, I couldn't help but agree.

We wandered out onto one of the many ledges with exposed windows, feeling the chill as the freezing air beat down on us in waves. Shivering, I pulled my cloak closer around myself and hopped up onto the balcony, letting my feet dangle over the edge. Already I couldn't feel my nose, but somehow I was much more at ease. I supposed it was because Harry was there. I snuck a glance at him, only to see him staring out over the grounds distractedly. Against the grey of the sky, his eyes were vividly green, and his hair blacker than black. The cold had whipped colour into his cheeks and made the rest of his face so pale that the faint outline of his scar stood out like a slash down his forehead. He turned, and catching sight of me watching him, flushed and glanced quickly away. "So how is everything going?" He asked slowly."

I considered. "Not so bad." I said, and then, just because I would normally have chatted to Blaise about this, and I was missing bouncing my ideas off of somebody, I said. "I have a decent number of allies within the house, now." I told him. "And over two dozen students who 'believe' that all that talk about Blaise and I was just rumours."

Harry's brow crinkled in confusion, but he nodded. "And Faustin is one of them?" He asked, and even I could hear the unvoiced reprimand in that comment.

I shifted uncomfortably on the ledge. "I needed somebody to chase after me." I admitted by way of explanation.

There was a long silence, during which all I could hear was the roar of the wind through the stone columns. "You – you blackmailed him into dating you?" Harry sounded fairly shocked.

I couldn't help but laugh. "No, Harry." I closed my eyes. "No, I blackmailed him into chasing me. That way people see I still have options and prospects – that I'm not the victim of Blaise's 'manly allure' or whatever, still pining over him and thought of as his property."

"I … don't get it." Harry said. "I'd have thought you'd want to appear to be a victim." I raised an eyebrow in his direction, and he hurriedly added. "Not of… of 'manly allure'," his face flushed a little. "But you know. In general. That way people feel sorry for you and are less likely to hurt you." The idea was clearly distasteful to Harry, so dedicated to pride and nobility and all of that impractical, idealistic stuff. It made me smile at how hard he was trying to relate to me, to think like a Slytherin. It was especially funny because of how bad he was at it.

"No, Harry." I said, amused, "no, appearing weak is the last thing you want to do."

He frowned. "Why? People would want to be on your side. You know, because they pity you."

I raised an eyebrow. "Pity is a Gryffindor thing." I told him firmly. "We don't pity in Slytherin – it's a waste of time. And nobody wants to be on the losing side, and the weak is always the losing side." He still looked confused, and I sighed, kicking my feet out in front of me. "The weak get picked off like flies. Better to appear strong – then people follow you."

There was a long pause as Harry processed this. I sat there, in the biting cold wind, with my knees pressed up against my chest, and watched him thinking. From where I was, I couldn't make out the scar that made him so famous, and he looked completely and utterly normal. Just a boy. For a moment, I toyed with the idea of what he would have been like without the scar. My mind wandered back to Sirius' journal. He'd thought the same thing – what if? Would we be real friends if Harry's parents hadn't died? Would we be close, like he was with Weasley?

Perhaps, I considered, I'd be close to Weasley, too. We'd all be friends. Or would I hate Harry? Would I resent always being pushed together with him, always seeing him when our parents hung out? I frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Harry. Would he be like a brother to me?

Would I still know Draco?

"So exactly what is it that you're actually doing?" Harry asked bluntly, snapping me out of my reverie. "Because last time we talked you said you had to make it appear like you and Blaise were sleeping together, and now you're saying you're pretending it's a rumour?"

With a herculean effort, I dragged my mind back to the present. "Yes, well there's a fine distinction in there." I told him, shaking my head to wake myself up. "I'm continuing the idea that we were seeing each other casually, but not sleeping together. I'm saying that that was an exaggeration."

Harry looked away from me, nodding to himself. "Okay." He said finally. "I suppose that makes sense."

"It's all so horribly intertwined." I complained, letting my head thump back against the ground. "I need to get as many pillars of polite society on my side as possible before I approach the Embassy and the Ministry's Legal Department. But nobody will side with me until this whole Blaise thing blows over. Which it won't." I paused. "Well. It might."

I could tell Harry, surely? This was big news! Exciting news! He smiled in anticipation, "what? What's just happened to change things?"

"I've already told you, Harry." I leaned forwards. "I have Faustin on my side!" At the look on Harry's face, I amended. "Fine, unwillingly on my side." My smile was vicious and cruel as I said, "and I can't wait until Blaise finds out."

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. "Why, Estelle?" He asked plainly. "It's like you want him to be jealous."

I shot Harry a confused glance. "Well, I do." I said.

There was a pause. "So, are you coming to the Quidditch match? Gryffindor against Slytherin." He joked.

Waving a hand dismissively, I nodded. "Yeah, I'll probably be there. Draco gets upset if I… don't scoff, Harry! He does. He likes me to watch!"

"Watch him get thrashed by my team." Harry said almost darkly. And then he shot me an almost sly look. "Is he alright, by the way?"

I adjusted the way my head was resting against the wall to frown consideringly at Harry. "Why?" He just shrugged and I glanced away, not letting my amusement show through on my face. Really? He was trying to scheme information out of me? "He's fine."

"Anything weird happening?" He persisted. "He looks sick."

"It's weird that you're spending time staring at my cousin." I said drily. "he's fine, Harry. Thanks for the concern – I'll let him know you asked."

Harry shrugged almost defensively. "I was just taking an interest." He told me. "He's your cousin – I was just wondering…"

You were just spying. I thought uncharitably. But I didn't say it – I left it, as though I hadn't noticed anything strange about Draco's behaviour at all. But I had, and it left a bad taste in my mouth that Harry had, too.

….

I was sitting next to Pucey in the Slytherin Common Room (pretending I couldn't hear the group of third year girls behind us gossiping about me) when the happy moment finally arrived. "I've just heard a very interesting story." The voice was low, amused and cool. I steeled myself. I'd been waiting for this – I could handle it. I pulled back from Pucey a bit and glanced up at Blaise. His eyes were deep, dark and unfathomable, but the corner of his mouth was twitched up in a smile. "Slumming it, are you, Estelle?"

I blinked innocently. "Sorry?"

Blaise shot a look at Pucey (who with utmost ill-humour and an impressively dark scowl vacated the area) then elegantly lowered himself into the couch beside me. "Mellencorp approached me after breakfast- is it true that he found you in a 'compromising' position with Faustin?"

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "Mellencorp is such a snoop." I complained. "Well, I didn't see him there, but who knows? That guy is such a creep."

"Were you screwing him? In public?"

"What? No, Blaise." I tried to look offended. Placated, Blaise draped an arm across the back on my chair. I looked away from him and elaborated. "It was in one of the classrooms. We charmed the door so that nobody could get in." Blaise's eyes turned even colder. Gleefully, I continued, feigning nonchalance. "And we weren't screwing- you know I don't do that."

"So you are slumming." He stated, each word carefully pronounced, as though he were considering them all. But I knew that he was considering more than that. Yes, Blaise was wondering what I was playing at. "With Faustin, of all people."

I smiled. "To call it slumming is a little harsh." I said jovially. But then I grinned. "Oh, Blaise – of course none of that happened."

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. "It didn't?"

I shook my head. "No." And then I waited a moment longer, waited til he'd relaxed. "No, I've told Faustin that it's too soon after this whole scandal. Granted, he's being annoyingly persistent, but I'm 'sticking to my guns' as they say." Blaise chuckled lightly, shaking his head. This was wrong- he wasn't meant to be amused. "Something funny?" I asked, bristling.

He nodded. "Ah, Estelle. Did you really go and fool around with Faustin just to annoy me after the Pansy incident?" Yes. I did. You hurt me, I'm going to hurt you.

"You are so conceited." I laughed coolly. "And I'm not fooling around with Faustin – I just said that." Blaise said nothing so I looked away from him, keeping my gaze fixed on a group of first years who were playing exploding snap by the fireplace. "He's the one chasing me."

There was a long pause before Blaise said. "Explain."

His voice was so low and dark that I couldn't keep the smile from my face. "Oh. Well, he's decided that I'm a marriageable prospect."

"You?" Blaise asked sceptically. "The poor bastard whore? You are a marriagable prospect?"

I sighed, curling my legs up underneath me on the couch. "I know." I said lightly. "It is strange. He said that his mother is pushing for him to marry a Russian, but he wants to forge connections with the rest of Europe."

"Nobody from the rest of Europe wants to marry a Russian." Blaise scoffed.

I nodded. "Precisely. That's why he wants me."

"You?"

I pointed at myself. "Me. My mother was half Russian, if you remember. From an old, old Russian family – the Ludvenksco family?"

Blaise did not react. "I've never heard of it." He said, sounding almost sullen.

I shrugged. "Well, they were a branch of the Russian royal family, socially significant through the last three centuries, but officially disappeared after the Revolution. They're really all but extinct. Anyway, Faustin knows that his mother would welcome anybody with the coveted Ludvenksco blood, but I'm French and English, too, so he would get his foreign connections."

"You're poor." Blaise pointed out.

"And Aleks is rich." I shrugged. "he doesn't mind – we've always flirted, now he wants to take things further." It was fairly obvious that many people around us were following our conversation closely. Even the first years had taken a break from their exploding snap and were paused mid-turn, eyes fixed on the two of us. I turned to meet Blaise's eyes. "It's an advantageous connection – I wanted to let you know myself that it was on the table."

We were very close now, close enough for Blaise to whisper, without our audience hearing, "what are you playing at?"

My answering smile was small and sweet. I leaned in very close, close enough that our lips were almost touching, and then I moved around, so my mouth was flush against his ear. "You saved your reputation." I breathed, and felt him stiffen. "Now I'm saving mine." Now he was stiffening for a different reason. Smiling with satisfaction, I pulled back just a little and planted a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek.

"Zvezda." Somebody said, and I turned to see Aleks standing behind us, looking amused.

"Did you just sneeze?" Blaise asked, clearly having recovered from my little revelation. "I can never tell with Russian- such an ugly language."

Aleks just smiled. "It means 'star'." He offered politely. "It's what I call Estelle."

"Because 'Estelle' means star." I elaborated patronisingly. "It's practically a Russian translation of my name."

"Want to go for a walk?" Aleks asked, as though I weren't practically sitting on another boy's lap.

"We're talking." Blaise snapped at him. "Go annoy somebody else." He must have realised then that he was reacting too angrily for somebody who'd just been tolerating my advances over the past month out of pity. He froze for a moment, then pasted a nonchalant look on his face, though he still watched me, waiting for my reply.

"I'm not annoyed." I said calmly. "Maybe later, Aleks. For now…"

"Just as friends, then?" Aleks said quickly, playing the part of svelte lover to perfection. "Come on – a short walk so we can talk for a little while."

I made a show of looking from Blaise to Aleks, and then back again. I met Blaise's eyes and held his gaze for as long as I could without him saying anything. And then, at the very last minute, when he'd just opened his mouth to speak, I turned back to Aleks and shrugged. "Sure." I agreed with a smile. "Why not?"

His smile looked completely natural. "Wonderful!" He said. "I'm glad. Shall we?"

I stepped up beside him, allowing my fingers to brush 'accidentally' along the length of Blaise's forearm as I did so. But I didn't say goodbye – just looked over my shoulder and winked.

The second Aleks and I were out the door, he dropped my arm and rearranged his features into an expression of disgust. "I don't want to admit it," he told me, "but the look on Zabini's face was wildly satisfying."

"Wasn't it, though?" I agreed, primping a little. At that moment, we heard the sound of footsteps along the dungeon. Quickly, I took Aleks' arm, and he adopted a cheerful expression. "I had no idea!" I said brightly, waiting for the person to arrive, "that you had a summer house in Paris."

"Yes, the Faustins have many properties." He said, sounding boastful and very flirtatious. "One right near an old Dahlquist property, I believe."

"Yes, well." I sighed. "We have some property in Paris, but my grandfather preferred the ancestral haunts – we own half of Annecy, and have a large villa on Mont San Michel."

"We should do a tour!" Aleks suggested with a laugh. "That is, after we get your rightful title back." I rolled my eyes at him – too far – and murmured a 'thank you' as we waited for the person we were trying to impress to pass by.

But it was just…

"Draco?" I called, and Aleks – knowing there was no need to perform for my cousin – dropped my arm with a sigh. "What are you doing? You look so…."

Pale? Tired? Awful? Drawn? Old?

"I'm in a rush, Estelle." He snapped, pushing past me.

I spun around, watching him through narrowed eyes. "Draco, I think we really need to talk!" I called out, trying not to sound too desperate and concerned.

He ignored me, continuing his angry march along the corridor, shoulders hunched and eyes lowered. I felt Faustin's hand on my arm. "You'll make a scene if you try again." He muttered. "And if I must pretend to pursue you, I'd rather you not be seen as a shrew." I didn't reply to him, and in a show of the most reluctant kindness known to man, Faustin sighed and patted me gently on the back. "I don't know why you're bothering." He said bluntly. "You say you want to re-enter high society, yet you cling to the one pureblood who could bring you down." I stared stubbornly ahead. "Malfoy is no longer a suitable friend." Faustin told me firmly. "Not if you want to be respected in any community larger than England. It's time you distanced yourself from the whole lot of them."

I licked my lips. "They raised me, Faustin." I pointed out drily. "They're my family. I can't abandon them"

He scoffed, apparently amused. "What are you, a Gryffindor or something?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Sorry! No promised kiss. It just didn't fit in. BUT the very next chapter will fix that right up.

As always, thanks to my reviewers: katchile94, Guest, Kaitie, The Agent of Fire, Miss Sugar Unicorn!