Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or Blaise Zambini, or anything really in this story. J.K. Rowling owns it all.

A/N: I wrote this because...well..I don't really know why. It has just been stuck in my head for a while now, maybe even since I first read the 6th book. But I am glad I waited until now to tell this story, because I finally have enough understanding of writing and of Zabini's character to do this story justice.

There are many things Blaise Zabini knew.

He knew that being in Slytherin granted him many oppurtunities that other houses couldn't offer. Oppurtunities to get ahead, and make allies that would be very useful later in his life. For the whole house was made up of people with connections. Connections to what, exactly? Blaise knew that these connections were limited to matters of the Dark Arts, but he also knew how far the Dark Arts can get a man.

He knew that being in Slytherin also took away the oppurtuinity of a real friend. Blaise knew what real friendship looked like, he could see it almost everywhere. In the chill of the dungeons you may walk past a group of people, strenghening their allies, but friendship was something that the house lacked.

He knew he had to watch what he said. Because, unlike friendships, allies were only made based on who you knew and what you said. And a few wrong words can leave you without a person to talk to.

Which is how he knew that no matter how much he wanted to, he would never persue Ginny Weasley.

"So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?" Malfoy said.

Draco Malfoy. The entire house pratically revolved around him. He knew how to make himself sound more important than he really was, in matters concerning the Dark Lord. Blaise could sense that Draco wasn't exactly truthful in how much power he had, so Blaise saw no reason to suck up to him.

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people," he answered back, "Not that he managed to find many."

Blaise knew what the look on Draco's face meant. He was jealous, angered that he wasn't concidered well-connected enough for Slughorn's pleasings.

"Who else had he invited?" Draco demanded.

Blaise rattled off the list, ignoring the little comments made by Draco and Pansy about each person.

"Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the Chosen One. But that Weasley girl! What's so special about her?"

On this comment, Blaise looked at his feet. Was Draco completely blind to the girl's grace? How confidently she handles every problem thrown at her? That feeling one gets when she enters a room? And that hair, that Blaise knew for a fact that many witches have gone bald trying to charm their hair to that exact shade of red. And that smile-

"A lot of boys like her. Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!" Pancy said.

Was it that obvious? Did Pancy notice how he looked down at the mention of Ginny? He looked at her, to find that she wasn't waiting for his reaction, but for Draco's. But the train compartment full of Slytherins were still waiting for his answer.

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like," Blaise said, trying his hardest to sound harsh and cold. The lie went undetected, or even if someone had noticed he was lying, nobody said anything. Because nobody cared how truthful he was. Allies only care about what you say, not what you mean.

Blaise let his mind drift freely, only half-paying attention to the conversation he was in the middle of. But then he heard something that he couldn't ignore.

"I might have- er- moved on to bigger and better things," said Draco.

It was silent for a second. Draco hadn't really said that he was working with the Dark Lord, but he had implied it. Even for a Slytherin, this was crossing the line. Working for the Dark Lord was serious, nothing to just casually throw into conversation like that.

Pansy asked the question nobody else had the nerve to, "Do you mean - Him?"

Draco just shrugged, avoiding the specific question with a rant about service and devotion or something. Blaise had to say something.

"And you think you'll be able to do something for him? Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?"

Draco's voice was barely above a whisper when he answered back, "I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something you need to be qualified for."

Blaise could detect a little more than a hint of truth to this statement. And for maybe the first time in his life, Blaise realised how resourceful of an ally Draco made.

And in the end, Blaise knew, allies were everything.