Disclaimer: All unfamiliar belongs to me.

union of a basilisk and a dragon.

She could feel his slimy eyeballs piercing into her back, tracing the outline of her bra through her shirt. Her shoulders tensed visibly and her fingers itched to relieve her aggravation. If she had her way, he'd be spread-eagled on the ground with blood pouring like a river from his nose. And she'd be laughing. He's just a boy, a stupid little boy who will get over this crush and start fucking Pansy again and you'll be free. At least you're free from all the other eyes; thank god he's territorial.

Unfortunately, his pursuit had lasted three months.

First he would find any excuse to be around her, and was sickeningly sweet. He opened doors, pulled out chairs, offered to carry her books, he even ventured to wipe her mouth with her napkin while having his best I-have-a-nice-warm-bed-that-you-belong-in look on his face. That wasn't so bad. She could equate it to a dog who decided to pee on a fire hydrant to mark his territory.

Then came the gifts.

He would shower her with gifts: pretty quills, bouquets of flowers, chocolates, anything he thought she would like. One time she arrived to find her bed covered in rose petals and in the center lay the most risqué lingerie she had ever seen. Stockings and garters, with a teddy and hot-pants, all made of lace in a daring color of scarlet. She wasn't a scarlet woman.

Needless to say Pansy was very jealous.

Blaise put up with her fellow Slytherins because she had to. Her family status required her to be social and well-liked, a duty she enjoyed until she found out that beneath the perfected surface of her parent's friends was nothing more than what was in a sugar quill: sugar-coated air. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were the other two Slytherins in her year, so naturally she had to be all chummy with them. Her hours were filled with beauty treatments, nail polish, gossip, and magazines. All her instincts of climbing trees and whirling through the air on a broom were polished out of her with Pansy's nail buffer.

Pansy had had her eye on Draco ever since she first saw him (which was quite a long time ago) and she didn't take lightly to Draco's incessant flirtation with Blaise. So she stopped talking to Blaise, taking Millicent with her. Millicent would go wherever Pansy went, which Blaise thought was odd because Pansy looked more like a dog (and thus would trail after her master) than Millicent, a pug actually. Blaise was supposed to feel iced but instead she felt oddly freed.

So if she could just put up with his wandering eyes and over-perfected flirtation, Blaise would be free from not only the other boys, but from hours wasted over gossip.

Professor Bins coughed and continued on with his lecture. Since they were in their fifth year and he thought them old enough to be used to his lectures, he had stopped writing on the board, droning on instead. She didn't appreciate it; O.W.L.s were this year and she needed all the help she could get; every one did. Well, perhaps not Hermione Granger.

She wasn't bothered by the Gryfindors as much as the other Slytherins, mainly because she was so quiet she doubted they knew she existed. She didn't bother them and they didn't bother her, and she preferred to stay lost in the mob of Slytherins: present but unnoticed. Not that the Slytherins could be called a mob; they were the smallest house in the school because of Salazar Slytherin's selective attitude. A prerequisite for being in Slytherin was being pureblooded, a dying race. And if any half-bloods or mudbloods got into Slytherin, they certainly didn't tell anyone about it.

She tried to listen and extract the words from his whispy voice, but she failed and resigned herself to rereading the page open before her and copying down all the vital information. She always did this; paying attention in History of Magic class was harder than writing a three-scroll long essay in three minutes. In the desk next to her, Pansy was filing her nails, the noise slightly louder than Professor Binns' voice. It was a wonder no one else noticed, and also a wonder that Pansy had forgotten to use the silencing spell yet again. How that girl was made a prefect…

The bell rang, waking everyone in the room like an alarm clock. Several blinked their eyes sleepily before shoving their mostly blank parchments of notes into their bag. Sometimes, Blaise was one of them.

Leaving with the rest, she split off early on, determined to get to Arithmancy and avoid Draco along the way. They both had that class – the only two in their year who did – and he was keen on walking her to it, using it and the seating arrangements to flirt, mercilessly. She was half-way there before Draco caught up, stepping gracefully from behind a tapestry.

"Professor Binns was boring as ever," he remarked.

"Mmmm," she replied.

"But you were still making notes. I admire that about you Blaise, you seem to be putting Granger into some competition for who can concentrate the most." She responded by walking faster but he was not that easily deterred; his longs legs managed to keep up. She vaguely wondered if his knees were still knobbly, but wasn't curious enough to find out.

"Did you think the Arithmancy homework was hard?" he asked, determined to strike up a conversation.

"Not really."

"Neither did I, but then again it was just research. You know if you ever have any questions, I'd be perfectly willing to help."

"Yes." Blaise had no intention of taking him up on his offer. She had been keeping up an air of nonchalance when around him to prevent herself from lashing out at him, but it was hard. First she had tried being chummy but he mistook that for flirtation and she had stopped that after two months, leaving her to ignore him to the most that was acceptable. Maybe it was time to change tactics.

"Look I know what you're doing?"

"What?" he asked, eager now that he had gotten a reaction out if her.

"You're trying to seduce me into your bed, where I will find you're horribly overrated and never want to be around you again. And you're so intent on me because you've already slept with half the girls in the school and you think I'd be an easier girl to lay than any of the others, because they're all in Ravenclaw and Gryfindor and far too good for you."

"No, I'd never sleep with Millicent Bulstrode."

"Then I commend your taste, but you will not be tasting me. Now if you'll excuse me." He caught her arms and pinned her against the wall in the near empty corridor. The bell sounded in the hallway but he didn't release her.

"How can you be certain?"

"Because I won't let you." He laughed and bent in, coming in for the kill. Blaise swiftly brought her knee up between his legs, but he jumped back before she could do any serious damage. His eyes flashed in challenge. He hadn't been that close to her in a month, not since the last time he'd tried to kiss her, and every time he seemed to forget that she knew how to severely injure a man.

"Now, as I said before, I have to get to class. And you've made me late."

"No, you've made us late."

"You were the one who tried to kiss me."

"You provoked me."

"I don't know what sort of healing charms your mother used, but not all things can be solved with a kiss, especially not cuts and scrapes." They had come upon the Arithmancy classroom and she stepped through the door.

"Sorry we're late, Professor Vector, but I landed in a trick step and the staircase changed before Draco could get me out."

She had been awake all of 2 hours and already Draco had opened the door for her, tucked her hair behind her ear, piled toast onto her plate and buttered it for her, and walked past her in the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. She knew the last one was intentional as he was a prefect and therefore had access to the prefect bathroom and it irritated her to no end. No matter how much she ignored him, he just didn't get the hint. Maybe he thought she was challenging him.

He sat across from her while she chewed the toast he had buttered. Thankfully Pansy was trying desperately to win his attention from Blaise so she wasn't battered by endearments and promises of pleasure. Whenever she thought of having sex with him, she thought about walking in on him showering in the third year. The mental image of his skinny, knobbly-kneed legs was a better anti-aphrodisiac than thinking about her grandparents shagging.

The owls erupted from the windows, pouring in as if owl soup was being poured through the windows. She looked for her brown and white owl, named Amber for her amber eyes that matched Blaise's own. Not seeing Amber, she returned to her toast, surprised when a black owl with bright yellow eyes landed in front of her, holding its leg out to her. She brushed her fingertips free of crumbs and untied the letter. Obediently, the owl flew away and she was left with the letter, Blaise written with flourish on the front. She saved it for later, much to the dismay of Pansy's prying eyes.

The day passed quickly. She was known for being quiet, preferring to harbor what little knowledge she had than flaunt it. A Zambini couldn't be wrong, it would shame the family (though she never quite figured out how), and she never set herself up to be wrong. But Professor McGonagall called on her, ruining her plans for never being wrong and she had been so flustered at being called on she could neither remember the question nor the answer, and even after Professor McGonagall repeated the question she couldn't remember the answer, and she couldn't transfigure her snuffbox into a proper mouse (it still had Snivel's Fine Snuff imprinted on its fur and it didn't have tail) causing her to receive extra homework. Then, in Potions, her cauldron overflowed and she received a warning glance from Professor Snape, something that rarely happened to Slytherin students. In magical healing she administered the wrong potion to a patient and Madam Pomphrey rushed to administer a potion to counteract Blaise's mistake. In Ancient Runes she had put up with Draco and then a double Arithmancy had her nearly on the edge of her seat: the edge farthest from Draco who had pressed his leg against hers. She felt like going to her room and screaming out her frustration, but the mountain of homework, plus extra practice kept her there late, later than many of the other Slytherin students who either skived off or didn't do it thoroughly. Something about their uncaring attitude bothered her, perhaps it was because she worked so hard for her slightly above-average marks and they barely worked and received average marks. And, or course, there was Draco who was second in the class by barely trying. Everything seemed to come with ease to him, except the perception of when he was not wanted.

It wasn't until after she had finished her homework and many of the students had left for bed that she remembered the letter and opened it. It read:

Dear Blaise,

– she stopped; she knew the handwriting. Wanting to throw the letter into the fire without reading it, she forced herself to continue –

You probably know who this is. Maybe you recognized the handwriting. Maybe you recognized my owl. Maybe you saw me looking at you this morning, mesmerized by your beauty. Maybe you do not know who I am at all, but I suspect you are smarter than that; smarter than you let on; smarter than you think you are.

I've tried to capture your attentions for fourth months with affection, gifts, and charm. And yet, you seem oblivious. I know that this is just an act; that you're playing hard to get. And I don't mind. I like the challenge. You knew I'd like the challenge. You knew it without asking. Maybe you've watched me as much as I've watched you. I won't lie to you, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen and you have all the attention of any boy you choose, and many you don't.

– Blaise wanted to inform him that she didn't want any boy's affections, especially not his –

But I can see the others watching you, like I do, admiring your black hair that falls like a dark waterfall over your shoulders and your eyes that look so similar to the semi-precious gem. And I don't want anyone else looking at you like I do. You're mine, it's simply fate. Maybe you haven't accepted your attraction yet, but I have, and I'm willing to do something about it. I don't care who I'm arranged to marry. Arrangements can be changed. I don't care if they object to our union. I want you.

Meet me in the common room tonight after everyone has gone. I'm tired of playing games and want to claim you as mine.

Draco

            She felt like laughing. He was completely, ridiculously, head-over-heels, infatuated. You're mine, it's simply fate? Well she had something to tell fate. "Bugger off, Draco is not my soul mate."

            Blaise looked around the common room. It was empty except for a pair of seventh years that were practically shagging against the wall as they made their way up the stairs. A note of panic entered her stomach and she checked her watch quickly, reading 1:00 before shoving her books into her bag and standing to leave. She was almost to the staircase when a hand flew out from the couch to grab her wrist. At the sudden motion she dropped her bag and was tugged over the couch to land squarely on top of Draco Malfoy. She jumped up and twisted her wrist in his hand, only succeeding in irritating her skin. Deftly, he pulled her down onto the couch, pinning her there.

            "What did I say about games, Blaise?"

            "You said I shouldn't play them. And since I'm not, release me." He chuckled.

            "Surely you don't believe I believe you, do you? I know you, Blaise. I know you better than you know yourself."

            "Oh really? And how's that?"

            "I know girls, Blaise, and you're all the same."

            "This girl's not."

            "Oh yes you are, Blaise." He touched his nose to her, affectionately.

            "Why are you saying my name with every single sentence?" He ignored her and bent closer.

"You know you want me, Blaise, I know you do."

Draco Malfoy had cornered her, leaning her back against the couch as he pinned her, his lips brushing her earlobe as he spoke. She shuddered and he grinned, thinking it was from desire. The firelight glinted victory in his eyes, but he would never win her.

"I think you are sorely mistaken. You don't want to make me resort to drastic measures, do you?" She lifted her leg that was trapped between his, hinting at his potential danger.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Blaise. You don't want to damage the most vital bit of me. The part you want the most."

Blaise wasn't sure when the boys had started noticing her, whether it was their eyes sliding over her body like they were trying to x-ray her or if it was their not-so-gentle touches on her thighs and butt. But once she did notice, she found she didn't care for their pre-pubescent flirting techniques (if they could be called techniques). They weren't even all that attractive, the boys-who-looked, and she reduced them to ashes before her with basilisk looks, like she tried now. In response he released her wrist and threaded his fingers through her hair. What was it boys had with long hair? They just couldn't keep their hands off of it!

"I love it when you look like that." She smacked him, hard. He wrenched his hand out of her hair, pulling a few strands in the gesture, and sprung back, holding his hand to his cheek in complete disbelief.

"Well, there has to be one girl who doesn't want to get into your pants." Anger stirred, covering his face like a well-used blanket. Then confusion. Blaise herself was confused; he never showed his emotions. Finally, incredulously, he laughed.

"I guess there must be, and it seems I've found her, of course I always thought it was Granger…no, I hardly think a Slytherin would deny me. You must be a lesbian to not want me." She wanted to slap him again, to slap the cocky edge out of his smile, slap the stupidity out of his perfectly shaped skull, but an idea popped into her head. Not only would this get rid of Draco, the most persistent of all of the boys-who-looked, but it would get rid of all of them. They wouldn't touch her. They wouldn't flirt with her. And she wouldn't have to hex them with ball-burning hexes.

"It seems you've found me out. Congratulations." He looked stunned; it was something he'd never expected from her. Hell, it was something she'd never expected from herself.

"You're not…"

"I am." Oh the things she would do to be left alone.

And from that faked confession forth, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zambini were friends.

~~~~~

So that's the first chapter. Just a little background: this is a parallel/sequel of my D/G fic "Thrill of the Hunt", so you might want to read that first, although I hope this will be understandable enough to stand on its own. And don't you fret, there will be much Blaise/Harry action in the near future. Please review, it would make me as happy as a drink of butterbeer.