Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Harry Potter. I really wish though.
A/N: Blaise. No, all of these won't be Slytherins. But this was written months ago, and these two were pretty much done. This chapter is much lighter, and more humourous. Parts are serious, but I think of Blaise as a light-hearted guy.
That's right GUY. Prior to some strange fanfiction belief, Blaise Zabini is male. I'm making that clear because in this chapter, he's a guy, and I don't want anyone thinking he's flirting with Draco or something. So, he's a guy.
This is a little shorter than Pansy's. Just saying.
Enjoy, and please drop a review. They make my day :)
Blaise Zabini;
I am attempting to talk to him. He isn't listening. Again.
It's about Quidditch, too, which isn't exactly inconsequential. The season is getting intense, and yet, he's sitting there, nodding vaguely, paying absolutely zero attention.
The thing is, it's really annoying. Especially because he thinks that he's a good actor, and that I can't see exactly what, or rather, who, he's staring at desperately.
I would be shocked, and I was, for about a month and a half. But when it never ends, and they never break up, you have to get used to the strange relationship they have.
Never dreamed it would happen, though. I can say that much.
He's pathetic. He sits there, pretending to look at me, except he's looking past me. At her table. Of course.
I'm sure she's doing the same thing.
I pick up an orange from the fruit bowl, and consider throwing it at his head. No matter how satisfying it seems, I know it won't happen. I'm a good friend. And even though I'll never get over his obsession with a Mudblood, I'm also kind of twistedly proud of him. He grew up. It's more than I ever thought could happen.
But still. Enough is enough.
"Don't you agree Draco?" I ask him in a sugar-coated voice.
He looks up at me, dazed. "Hmm?" he says. "Oh, right, of course. Yeah, We'll crush Hufflepuff."
I roll my eyes. I was talking about Hufflepuff twenty minutes ago.
"Draco," I say, through clenched teeth, "I was talking about Ravenclaw."
His eyes go a little wide, but he acts unfazed. "Right," he mutters. "Whatever."
I take a deep breath. I'm sick of it.
"Drake…" I say hesitantly. "Do you have anything to tell me?" I nudge my head not-so-subtly towards the Gryffindor table.
He nearly jumps. "What?" he chokes. "No, no way. I mean, why would you think that?"
"You look at the Gryffindork table a lot."
"Yeah, cause you know. I hate them so much. They're just… yeah."
I roll my eyes, looking down at the orange in my hand. I've squeezed it, and the juice is everywhere.
I think of it as Draco's head since he's started dating her.
He keeps looking at her table.
I sigh.
Hell, I tried.