Okay, so I honestly tried to make this a little longer because I have a habit of writing really short pieces and I've noticed that while I enjoy to read little drabbles a lot of people prefer lengthier pieces. It totaled to around 400 words and I hope that's slight improvement. Anyway this is for Taragh McCarthy's Dirty Secret Santa Competition over at the HPFC. As always, I had a lovely time with the competition.

"Did you put your name down for Pansy's game?" a gentle voice asked from behind Blaise, drawing him back in from his tired stupor.

"Hey Astoria," he turned and said. He patted his hand on the couch next to him. "I did. I shouldn't have though, it's driving me bonkers. How about you, did you have a go at it?"

She smiled, mischievously sweet, a blonde lock falling over one eye. "You know I can't resist a bit of good, old-fashioned fun," she winked her half-hidden eye.

"'Good, old-fashioned?'She dubbed it 'Dirty Secret Santa.' I don't think that qualifies as good, old fashioned fun," he chortled.

"Well I suppose that's a matter of opinion, isn't it, Blaise?" she lifted an eye brow. "Any how, you know what I meant. I like to jump on a chance to make someone's holiday brighter," she said, opening her eyes wide in faux innocence.

"You just like to screw with people is what you mean," he chided. She blushed.

"You know me so well," she laughed.

Three days later Blaise was still losing sleep over the stupid gift. Who would send him a bloody white rose in a bloody glass case? It was bloody cryptic is what it was. Whoever it was, they had purposely made him chase his tail, trying to find a non-existent thread from the rose to follow to its sender.

He sat again in the common room, the world outside of his mind foggy and irrelevant. Astoria sat speaking to him with frequent sarcastic remarks about being ignored.

"'Storia," he mumbled finally, "shut up. I'm sorry I'm not listening. I'm just so damn tired," he complained.

"Why?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

"It's the stupid Secret Santa thing. It's been six days and if I can't figure out who send me that stupid rose by tomorrow night I lose and Pansy will rag on me until summer."

"You really don't know who sent it?" he shook his head. "I thought you were playing along, Blaise. I did." He furrowed his brows and pointed at her, a befuddled look crossing his face. "Yeah, me. I can't believe you didn't guess that," she said.

"Of course," he said, pressing the heel of his hand into his forehead. "Who else would send a present with the purpose of screwing with me?" he spoke aloud to himself while Astoria laughed.