Title: Confectionery Seduction

Author: lethalogica

Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, a lot of other characters

Ships: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy, loose Blaise Zabini/Pansy Parkinson, background Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

Rating: PG-13 is my domain.

Warning(s): Suggestive material, some cussing here and there, and abuse of magic.

Additional warning: Author is not responsible for underage readers. Mind the rating and warning(s).

Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This fic was written for fun, not for profit.

It was a rather dreary morning. The sun was indeed out, but hidden behind the miles and miles of slate grey clouds filling the sky with ominous booms and crackling flashes and biting rain. The Great Hall was filled with lethargic teenagers, dejectedly shuffling up and down the aisles and emptily shoving food into their mouths for a source of sustenance. All but for a bright, happy blond prancing up to the green-and-silver decorated table with a huge grin on his face and satisfaction brimming in his eyes.

Blaise Zabini, the resident Slytherin slut, took a particularly large swig of black coffee, and after deciding he was still suffering from some sort of a hangover of which he unfortunately did not remember drinking up to from the faded memories of the previous night (and also deciding that black coffee was, in fact, the worst beverage in existence and promptly spitting it back into the mug with a lofty push), scowled, "What are you so happy about? Be miserable. I'm miserable, so everyone else should be miserable too. Fuck you. I apologise. And to clarify, I apologise because that 'fuck you' may have led you to believe that you ever have a chance with me."

Draco only showed acknowledgement with a smile, and in chirp eerily like a quail's, replied, "Some advice: do us all a favour and kindly go fuck yourself, Zabini, rather than imagining me in the place of whichever faceless victim you're thrusting in and out of next. You'd be lucky if your dick is still intact by the time your thirtieth birthday comes drifting along."

"Oh, yes," piped up a familiar black-haired girl, sweeping her the sides of her skirt under her thighs as she took a graceful seat down, "darling, you forgot your pants last night," and she threw a scarily tiny bundle of flashy scarlet cloth at Blaise's face. "Now, let us return to the mystery of this ungodly morning: why are you skipping around so gleefully, Draco, dear?"

Pansy flickered her lashes daintily, fully ignoring the unbecoming dark bags that was apparently plaguing most of the student body, including herself (plus one instructor - Professor Prosser, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was off in a corner mumbling to himself about horses and axes and those damn Gryffindors and their pranks! while chewing on a chunk of grilled tuna).

"Well, if you must know, Pansy," he indulged her with a dazzling smile that temporarily sent Blaise reeling from him with a hiss, "it's because I have the best secret admirer ever."

She lifted a dark eyebrow and asked, "Oh? And what, pray tell, did this so-called secret admirer of yours do to earn such a joyful reaction?"

He parted his robes and produced a plain black box, about the size of a Potions textbook, with a flourish. The two looked questioningly at him, but the moment the blond opened it, their eyes went glassy with instantaneous adoration.

Blaise put his open mouth to use, bumbling, "Is - is that - the - the-"

"Yes," Draco replied proudly.

The most flawless block of pure white chocolate lay there, stunningly clear of blemishes and a taste so sweet, they could hear it wafting into their pleasure stimulated olfactory nerves. It was the single most enticing consumable any of the three had ever feasted their mortal eyes upon, which was truly saying something, seeing as how all of them were spoilt in childhood, and well into their teenage years too. Each edge was perfect and straight, and the even hue was calming simply from the appearance. It was surrounded by a luxurious burgundy satin, rippling in the most attractive ways, and the chocolate itself was adorned with the bas relief crest of an African lion lounging lazily next to a cacao tree.

"A White Blood. A bar of one of the rarest and most difficult chocolates to make. Each ounce of it that they painstakingly craft in a hidden facility deep beneath the earth in Geneva results in more than a dozen wizards passing out from the magical exertion necessary to do so! And sometimes, they're more than a mile outside of the epicenter and on the surface when they do," Pansy gasped. "That must be worth at least half a million galleons."

"And all mine," the blond sang.

"Damn," Blaise contributed, "your secret admirer must be fucking wealthy."

The blond pursed his lips at that, muttering, "That's true. I don't know how I didn't realise that. But now, I'm another clue nearer to finding out who this admirer is."

His friend blundered and cried out, "Are you serious? You can't!"

"What exactly is stopping me, Blaise?"

"N-nothing. But, look at it this way: if your admirer realises you're close to his identity, you might stop getting anything at all!"

Draco scoffed. "What makes you think my admirer is male?" He stuffed the box back into his robes and grabbed a banana that he began tearing into with an ever-present cringe.

"Because you wouldn't have any female ones," Pansy mumbled into her porridge, which, when she noticed was a colour porridge is not supposed to be, she let crawl down her spoon back to the bowl with disturbingly tiny footprints in its wake. "The house elves seem to have lost their," a disgusted retch was heard, "touch."

Draco was very clearly affronted by these incredibly false assumptions and untouched by what was almost Pansy's taste buds' certain demise, so he resumed gnawing furiously at the overgrown berry with a glare towards his other best friend. "And why not?"

"I..." Blaise started carefully, "You're not exactly the manliest man out there, are you? And don't you hate bananas?"

He nodded. "I hate bananas. But I love how they taste." Blaise was about to voice a query towards the logic of that opinion when Draco interrupted, "That is not the point, though."

He gesticulated pointedly at him with the empty banana skin, glanced at it as if only then realising what was in his hand for the last minute, and threw it at his so-called friend's face with a sneer. "Why did none of you tell me that was what I was eating? Ugh, bananas," he grimaced.

The other two were silent. Silent from a deep frustration that came daily with being the close friends of the prince of Slytherin. And also because of the noise that caught their attentions from behind, the Golden Gryffindor Couple, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, hollowly dropping their heads from an inexplicable exhaustion onto their respective plates of pancakes in perfect tandem.

"Anyways," Pansy said, swiveling back towards the blond (after softly casting a spell that lifted up the brunette's head and cleaned the syrup off her face. Not for Ron, though - there was no love lost between the two, even with Hermione's pushing.). "You want us to help you figure out the mystery of your secret admirer, then?"

Draco hesitated and was about to answer, "No," when she continued, regardless of his response, "Great! This'll be just like one of 'Mione's Muggle mystery books! Especially like the ones with this American bird who lives in a small town yet still finds the absolute best conspiracies there! I just love those ones, even more so when it crosses over with this other series about a pair of detective brothers! And Hermione's even given some copies to- oh."

Draco was staring, bewildered, and Blaise was grinning, amused. She scoffed. "Well, I'm not apologising for fraternising with a Muggleborn. Granger makes for very pleasant company - after you get past her know-it-all tendencies and Gryffindor morals, that is. Better than Blaise's constant borderline sexually harassing company, in any case."

"You weren't saying that when I had my hand up your-"

"Oh, shut up, you two!" Draco snapped, eyes still focused towards Pansy's direction. "Talk about your horrendously boring heterosexual escapades later. Right now, look! Look at Potter!"

The couple turned once more and found themselves squinting from the unusually bright Harry Potter sitting down to breakfast with his friends at the Gryffindor table.

"Oh, shite! Your admirer's two-timing you!" Blaise cursed.

"You moron. Just because Potter isn't as grey as the rest of us does not mean that Draco's admirer is...admiring two people."

"Yet I must admit, I would understand why if your admirer's admiring Potter too," he purred, earning himself a double assault of smacks from Draco and Pansy.

"Watch the face! It's my most valuable asset, you envious harpies!"

"It's your only asset," Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Ah-ha! You admitted it!"

"Blaise..."

"I'm sorry, I forgot, forgive me."

Pansy grasped Draco's hands tightly, and smiled. "He would be a good place to start with, though."

"Should I be scared?" Harry asked with a dark brow raised as two Slytherins by the name of Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini took up the seats next to him.

"She dragged me into this. I wanted no part, but she forced me," the blond groused, looking away from Harry.

"She? Who's - oh. She."

Pansy Parkinson came into his view, seated on a backwards turned chair with a sly smile on her face.

"Hello, Potter. To answer you, no; you shouldn't be scared. That is, if you're not hiding anything."

"Well, as far as I know," he leaned forwards, "I'm not."

Draco growled in a tone that may have been quiet for a howler monkey, though he honestly didn't mean to, when he saw the brunette reciprocate the gesture. They looked at him with questioning expressions, but a closer look at Harry's eyes would have revealed an amused glimmer in them.

"Is something the problem?" Pansy asks, confused.

Only that you're flirting with Potter when you're supposed to be helping me find my admirer, you evil minx, he wanted to snarl, but instead said, "Oh, no, carry on. I just scraped my chair a slight bit."

Blaise was about to speak in question, but shut his mouth as quickly as he opened it while also wiping the corner when Draco sent a petrifying glare that quite effectively said, "Shut your mouth as quickly as you opened it if you value the privilege of being able to spawn children and seeing your malformed face in the mirror every morning. Also, you still have a tiny bit of marmalade from this morning on the corner of your mouth."

Harry chuckled, "Alright. So what's this about? That White Blood you got?"

"Ah-ha!" Pansy shrieked. "You do know about it! Now, spill it! Everything!"

"I can only admit to witnessing the exchanges between you three when I stepped into the Great Hall."

"And why were you watching us? Hm?"

"Maybe because your conversation was perhaps the most energised in the whole hall that morning, and it was also rather hard not to notice when that same rambling act suddenly spotted me and very obviously began talking Godric-knows-what about me in embarrassingly loud yet still unintelligible volumes?" Harry offered.

The three Slytherins contemplated this: Pansy pursed her lips, Draco slammed his head repeatedly against the desk, and Blaise examined his nails.

"Alright. I may have been mistaken-" "Mistaken my arse," Draco mutters, "-but rest assured, my white dragon, we will find him!"

"Or her."

"No, it's definitely a him." Blaise earned himself a slap on the back of his head from Draco's reaching and terribly twitchy arm.

"Who?"

They turned to their earlier focus once more. "No-one you need to worry about, Potter," Pansy answered.

He was surprised at first, making a face that oddly reminded Blaise of an egg, then understanding flared in his eyes. "Oh, no, I see. I thought it was your father who'd sent that, but I was wrong, wasn't I? But then, who sent it to you?" He studied their expression before smirking and continuing, "You don't know either, do you? Draco Malfoy's got himself a secret admirer!"

The blond sneered, though he only looked like a petulant kid to Harry, and gave him the two fingered salute, walking back to where he and his posse normally sat.

Harry chuckled and turned to the remaining Slytherins. He said, "Well, I don't know anything about who gave him the White Blood, but I can help you find who gave it to him."

"What use would you be to us?" Pansy scoffed, fidgeting slightly when she realised that her image in Slytherin would be ruined if she didn't get away from the Gryffindor half of the room in the next ten or so seconds.

"Two things: 'my life for the last seven years' and 'Hermione'."

She was thinking, Harry was waiting, Blaise was yawning, Draco was pouting, students were coming in, seconds were tick-tock-tick-tock-ing in her head, Harry was raising an eyebrow, Blaise was looking at his mirror, Draco was glaring in impatience, students were entering the class, Pansy was conflicted-

"Fine!" she screeched in a whisper. "Help us, sure, whatever!" And she took off at a speed Harry had only previously seen at the Burrow at eleven in morning, when the siblings were pushing and fighting and running to be the first in the bathrooms.

Blaise followed after at a languid pace, taking the time to wink lasciviously at Harry, which left the Gryffindor only the slightest bit flustered. But then he caught Draco's curiously narrowed eyes (who failed spectacularly at trying to seem nonchalant when realising he was caught; the blond stabbed Blaise's arm when he was bringing the quill in his hand back down, causing Blaise to flail around screaming bloody murder and accidentally push Theodore Nott, who then collided with a whole shelf of potions that toppled and covered the entire unofficial Slytherin half with questionable substances), and all embarrassment fled him as assurance replaced it.

Harry smiled.

(And Ron may have giggled a few times more than necessary before he and Hermione was forced to share their table with Goyle and Millicent Bulstrode.)

Author's Notes: High-five if you got the H2G2 reference! It's kind of glaringly obvious. Kind of. And what can I say? I like a classy Parkinson and a vapid Zabini. Fun times.