"Even you think she's good looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!"

"I wouldn't touch a filthy blood traitor like her whatever she looked like."

Sitting in the Great Hall, Blaise could see Ginny amongst the crowds. She sat between Longbottom and the Mudblood Granger, long red hair flung over her shoulder and a laughing smile playing across her lips. He thought back to what Pansy had said on the train – what she said was true, he did indeed think that Ginny Weasley was a pretty girl; in fact she was perhaps one of the prettiest. Blaise could see at least 3 boys surreptitiously staring at her, not including himself, and it was common knowledge that she was in a relationship with Dean Thomas. It was, therefore, no surprise that Pansy Parkinson was jealous of the girl, possessing neither her beauty nor her magical talent.

At that moment, Ginny turned to look directly at him, a small frown causing her forehead to crease. Blaise remained staring at her carefully, keeping his dark eyes level and unfeeling in the way he had been mastering since childhood, and waited for her reaction. Perhaps she would mouth something at him, or send a jinx his way, perhaps she would attract the attention of her friends, or maybe her beloved boyfriend would come to her defence. The actuality was dull compared to his imagination – she rubbed her cheek, as though something was on it, before turning back to her meal. Blaise tried to squash the feeling of disappointment that rose in him; he felt ridiculous, childish almost, to have anticipated something different. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he had expected the same reaction that he had first encountered just a few months ago. The same reaction as her brother.

The first, and perhaps most obvious, observation that people made about the Weasley twins was that they looked exactly alike. The same red hair, the same facial features, even the same mannerisms – to most, it was impossible to distinguish between the two. But Blaise, who was known for his constant surveillance and observation, had become an expert by the end of his first year. As soon as he had seen the twins for the first time at the feast, he had been fascinated by them. Perhaps it was because he was an only child, perhaps it was simply because twins are an interesting phenomenon; whatever it was, it did not matter to Blaise. They were simply fascinating.

Through his observation at meal times, he learnt that Fred was a fraction taller. George had a rather large freckle beneath his left ear, Fred's eyebrows were marginally thicker and George's nose was perhaps a millimetre wider. He noticed differences in their personalities too; Fred was perhaps more malevolent, slightly harsher in his ways, whilst George seemed to be more retiring and quiet. Even though the differences were barely distinguishable, Blaise found himself becoming more and more interested in George. He noticed that he was not as forthcoming as his twin; he seemed to contain a lot of things, keep a lot of secrets. He reminded Blaise of himself.

This persistent study continued silently throughout the next four years. George never gave a sign that he knew about Blaise's secret hobby, in fact he never even acknowledged him. He would feel thrilled at the very prospect of an encounter with him; a Quidditch match, a detention, even just passing him in the corridor. But all of this time he never acknowledged that it was more than a passing interest; whenever the thought crossed his mind, he would brush it away. Even at night, as he led in his Slytherin dormitory with his pureblood friends and his thoughts lingered on the very Gryffindor Blood Traitor, he would turn over and push it away. The idea that he felt something more for George Weasley was nothing more than an irritating niggle.

However in fifth year, everything changed. He was sat at dinner, on a night just like this, with his eyes focused steadily at the Gryffindor table. George was his choice of study that evening as always, his dark eyes watching the back of his head unfeelingly as his friends chattered idly beside him. Suddenly, George spun round to look at him, confusion written on his face. Blaise balked for a moment as they maintained eye contact; he could see a slight irritation glinting in his blue eyes, and his throat seemed to contract a little. Without warning George stood up, grabbed his bag and fled the Hall, causing a small commotion on the Gryffindor table. It seemed necessary, even instinctual, that Blaise should leave and follow him. He ignored Pansy's protestations, and instead stood and also left the Hall.

Blaise followed George all the way down to the Quidditch pitch, his heart thudding in time with the thump of his boots on the ground. The older boy came to a stop outside the door to the changing rooms, before turning slowly to face Blaise. Despite his hasty exit, he did not seem angry of flustered, in fact his face was just as impassive as Blaise's.

"I think this means I win." This blunt, ambiguous comment made Blaise start, and his visible sign of shock made a wide grin spread across George's face. He leant back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest, as though to admire the reaction. "Oh come on, you can drop the act now! The game's over – I won!" Blaise stuffed his hands into his pocket.

"I don't know what you mean." The smile wavered only for a second.

"You really don't, do you?" George stepped forwards, almost cockily. "You're not the only one who watches, Blaise."

Realisation hit Blaise hard. George did know that he was being watched, and discovering that terrified Blaise. He swallowed, before licking his lips nervously.

"I don't…"

"Ever since I was little I've enjoyed watching people; with a family as big as mine, there's always something going on to watch. I became better at it when we got to Hogwarts too, just because there's so many people. That's how me and Fred have always been good at playing tricks – I know what makes people tick, and Fred manipulates it."

George took another step forwards, still smiling casually as though it were all one of his famous jokes.

"You started watching me as soon as you started Hogwarts. At first I couldn't tell if it was just my imagination, so I started watching you too. It's been quite exciting for me really – I wanted to see which of us would crack first. Thankfully," he let out a contented sigh, "it wasn't me! I hate losing."

Blaise stared for a moment, his cool features still showing a mask of composure. Sniffing haughtily, he matched George's challenging stance and stepped forwards. George's smile only widened.

"You seem to be under the illusion that I have, indeed, cracked." Blaise said in his aristocratic drawl. "What, George, would you say – watcher to watcher – would make me crack?"

"Something that would force you to react – you hardly do anything you know, just stand and stare. At first I thought it would be something to make you laugh, that's what does it for most people, but that didn't work; then I tried jealousy, greed, pride…and finally, I got to lust."

With that, George took his face between his hands and brought his lips down to meet Blaise's. His lips were soft and insistent, causing Blaise's heart to beat furiously and his brain to whir with a thousands thoughts that were battling for attention. After a moment, Blaise hesitantly raised a hand and placed it on George's chest, gently pushing him away.

"You're right." Blaise muttered slowly. "You win." It was the first time he'd admitted it to anyone; he hadn't even acknowledged it to himself. His initial curiosity about George Weasley had developed into an interest, then an obsession, then lust…He gave a quiet sigh. "How did you know?"

"I didn't." He replied playfully, almost arrogantly. "I only knew what I felt, and hoped, or maybe presumed, that you would feel the same. Guess I was right! I love it when I'm right."

Blaise remained silent, clueless as to what would happen now. In all of the time he had indulged in watching George, he had never taken a moment to consider what would happen when it stopped. Now that he was faced with this very possibility, it frightened him a little.

"What happens now?" Blaise asked, mentally cringing at the whine of his voice. He sounded like a child, looking up to an elder brother or friend and hoping that they would tell him what to do. George had been more right than he could ever have expected; lust had caused him to lose control of everything he had spent years building. His stoicism, his iciness, had been melted by a simple kiss. It made him feel stupid.

George seemed to sense his discomfort but, much to Blaise's surprise, he didn't take advantage of it. Instead he slapped him jokingly on the shoulder, stepping backwards to lean against the wall once more.

"Come on, don't worry about it. I'm almost as shocked by all this as you, after all your weakness is the same as mine, isn't it? I'm just better at hiding it; I've had a two year head start on you, after all!"

"I just feel out of control now. I dislike it."

"If I'd known it would make you be like this, I'd never have revealed the game! It's ruined the fun!" George replied, sighing. "If I tell you something, a secret, will you stop acting so bloody miserable?" Blaise gave a terse nod. "Well me and Fred'll be leaving school in a few weeks. Yeah that's right, we're leaving! We've had it up to here with that Umbridge woman, trying to tell us what we can and can't do. We're setting up a shop in Diagon Alley – a joke shop, of course – and I reckon we'll make a fortune."

"But…"

Blaise wanted to ask George what would happen to 'the game', to them, if he was no longer going to be a Hogwarts. He found that he could not do it, despite the fact that everything was out in the open now. If he acknowledged it aloud, he would have to admit that 'it' was real. George stepped forwards again, drawing a small scrap of parchment from his pocket. He gave it to Blaise, grinning the familiar wide grin.

"Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes." Blaise read. "Interesting name."

"I'll be expecting a few letters." George replied casually. "Maybe a bit of custom even; I'll do you a deal on Puking Pastilles. Or…well, if you're ever in the area, we could go for a drink. What do you say?"

"Why not?" Blaise said, smiling weakly and pocketing the parchment. George started to walk away with his usual sloping gait, his hands shoved into the pockets of his robe. Blaise watched him for a moment, the smile that he had intended only to be brief still on his face. George turned his head a fraction, just enough so that Blaise could see that he was looking. He shouted something back to him, his voice filled with the slight laugh that Blaise had become accustomed to:

"Remember Blaise, I'll be watching!"

Author's Note: So this is something very different to what i usually write! As i mentioned in the description, I've written it as part of a challenge in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Community. The challenge is called The Couples Challenge, and i had to pick two random numbers which corresponded with two characters. I drew Blaise and George, so i decided to enter the world of slash! I hope you like it, despite the odd OC-ness in a few places! It was an interesting challenge indeed! Don't hesitate to leave comments - good or bad!