A/N: I am so, so sorry it's taken me this long to update! I'm writing an original story on fictionpress also, so that's kind of taking up some of my time. If you want to read it, my FP username is the same as my FF account. I thought It'd be easier for people to find me. (and I have the memory of a gnat, so it's easier for me too :)

You guys have no idea how much I loved getting your reviews and story alerts! It makes me so happy! and it makes me want to write so much more, * Hint, hint. wink wink *

ENJOY!

Chapter 2:

Upon arriving at the leaky cauldron, via floo network, Jo and I headed to the restaurant Blaise had suggested. Surprisingly enough, it was located in muggle London. One of the more extravagant restaurants in the area, much to my chagrin.

The building was made out of well cared for gray stone. Wide clean windows rounded the front, showing off the stylish clientele and the pristine white linen table cloths.

The inside was all the more beautiful. Dark wood was a common element, along with silver and the green of plant life.

Needless to say, this was not my kind of place. But it was very slytherin-esk to say the least.

Thankful to get out of the stifling heat, we approached the hostess. Fanning our now sweaty faces.

The air was crisp and cool in here. A haven from the record high heat of the summer.

I decided that her dress alone, cost more than my entire wardrobe.

If her expression was an indicator, she was thinking something along those same lines.

"Reservation?" She asked with the haughty cock of the eyebrow, and a fake smile plastered on to her face.

I raised an eyebrow in return. Her attitude was most likely directed at me, seeing as I was wearing jeans and trainers at a 5star restaurant. It felt like I had a neon sign above my head, depicting a comical arrow and the words 'Does not belong' flashing in violent red.

I don't think that my 4 piercings per ear were helping much. I know what you're thinking; how the bloody hell does she get away with that, with an aunt like her's? Well, it's kind of a funny story; You see, my Aunt Petunia had forced me to get my ears pierced at age 10 to 'enhance my beauty', as she put it. She was still under the very misguided impression that she could turn me into a proper lady and marry me off to some rich normal man with good connections (boy was she mistaken). She then proceeded to shove me into as many beauty pageants as possible. But when it became apparent that I would do absolutely everything in my power to lose horribly and make her look equally horrible in the process, she was forced to relent.

2nd Year, in a fit of rebelliousness; most likely caused by the verbal abuse Harry and I were taking from the other kids (I was a Slytherin and he spoke parsaltoung. We were basically seen as the children of the Satan for the majority of term.), I had allowed Jo to give me my 2nd lobe piercing. Along with an enchantment to prevent them from healing over once I was inevitably forced to take them out.

Loving the horrified reaction I had caused In my dear, dear Aunt, I continued to let Jo give me another piercing the next year. She gave me a small silver ring on the upper rim of my ear. Followed by its neighbor in 4th year.

I was already planing for my next. How do you think precious old Petunia would react to a nice stud in the nose? Or, I think a ring on the eyebrow would look just smashing, don't you?

Jo was immaculately dressed, as always, and completely at ease within the inner workings of wizarding high society. And this restaurant was without a doubt, one of the regular meeting places of their social circle. I suspected the reason Jo encouraged me to rebel (well, not encouraged, exactly. More like stepped aside to let my lunacy pass) was because she couldn't. Not without some serious whiplash in her private and social life.

Blaise and Jo were a part of a very small handful of slytherin's that were born with a conscious and without the 'Kill-all-muggle born's' gene. But you couldn't ask them to reject everything they had been raised around.

To them this wasn't a deatheater meeting place, as most wizards thought of it. This was the place they had come to with their families when they were young and wanted to celebrate. And it was one of the few muggle restaurants that wizards frequented, which I found very ironic.

"Yes" Jo spoke in a cool, proper voice. She had obviously caught on to the women's attitude.

The hostess, seeming to see her properly for the first time, blushed.

"Miss. Warwick." she was obviously caught by surprise. "I apologize, I didn't see you." she hurriedly ruffled through her book, looking for Jo's name, I'm sure. "I-I apologize again, t-there must be a mistake." she said, slightly panicked at not finding it. Before Jo could open her mouth, the hostess spoke quickly, "Not to worry, I will have it cleared up straight away."

"Um, Miss!" she called after the retreating woman, who came back at the speed of light.

"Yes Miss Warwick?" she asked frightfully. If I hadn't found this so extraordinarily funny, I might've felt sorry for her. I could only imagine the people she had dealt with on a daily basis.

Malfoy and Blaise could be irritating at best when they let lose their superiority complex. But some of these people could not care less if she was suddenly killed. They might even be the cause of her untimely demise if I'm being completely honest. A mindless squirrel being hit by a passing Lorry would probably move them more.

"We're here to meet someone." Jo informed the flustered woman. Her relief was evident as she went back to her podium.

"It should be reserved under Zabini or Malfoy." I frowned at that. For I had momentarily forgotten our-little-friend.

But now that those few blissfully ignorant moments were over, I began to feel the anxiety I had boxed away somewhere in the back of my mind.

The human brain was a funny sort of thing, as I was starting to notice. When we're depressed, it tells us to sleep. To skirt some of the emotions that are plaguing our mind, body and soul. And when something unpleasant continues to pop into your thoughts, like let's say, a certain blond headed, silver eyed, git with kissable lips...

I took a moment to dwell on that memory. The memory of a smirk that haunted my dreams in the sweetest way-

I mentally slapped myself.

kissable lips? The sweetest-ugh! Keep your bloody hormones in check before they get you into trouble! I scolded myself and shook my head.

Well, the point is; the brain knows how to protect one's self. Like passing out when you've had to much to drink. It's basically saying 'if you don't stop, I'm going to make you'. Which was another reason why I never understood mixing alcohol with energy drinks. You're pretty much setting yourself up for over the top alcohol poisoning and a hang-over that will have you begging for death.

I glanced up from my bunny trailing thoughts to see that I was still standing next to the hostesses station. Alone.

My eyes searched frantically for Jo's black locks. Not wanting to be caught alone in a territory that bordered on hostile.

I ventured further into the sea of tables and was now nearing the bar area. Without a moments warning, my sight was blocked by the broad shoulders and sandy hair of none other than Cormac McLaggen. A particularly annoying Gryffindor, one year my senior.

Well, this was not my day. I thought dryly.

Now it was my turn to pull a fake smile. It might be vain, but I think I may have pulled it off a smidgen better than that prat of a woman. With my many years of experience, I expected nothing less.

"Well if it issn't little Annie Potter." His voice was a bit louder than necessary. And I might have been mistaken, but I detected a slight whiff of FireWiskey on his breath. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw a tumbler of clear liquid sloshing in his hand.

Who in their right mind would let that boy drink?

"Whatsa sweet girl like you do'in in the snake pit?" He asked playfully in a lightly slurred voice.

"I could ask you the same thing." I challenged. Instinctively, crossing my arms over my chest and hardening my face.

The aversion I felt towards the majority of my house, was not a secret. But I was, for all intents and purposes, a Slytherin. And belonged far more than he in this; how had he phrased it? Snake pit?

Well he was a lone Lion and these snakes were far from the common garden variety.

I shouldn't have been surprised. People like McLaggen were notorious social climbers. He boasted on many occasions, his connections to those in high places. Unfortunately for our day and age, we were slightly outnumbered in the ongoing 'Good Vs. Evil' dilemma. Especially in the Ministry.

"come! sit, sit." he said loudly with a loopy smile on his face. Motioning to the chairs closest to us.

One of them, which I assumed he had recently vacated, held a few square white napkins. Baring the dark green words of the restaurant's curvy logo. Condensation rings overlapped as if the glass had been repeatedly raised and set down.

"Father was having a bit of a business meeting." McLaggen explained, while pulling one of the tall, leather cushioned chairs out for me. Surprise, Surprise. A gentlemen even when sauced, I mused.

"Thought I'd tag along. You know, rub elbows, make connections." he bumped me with said elbow, and winked. I tried to keep the slight irritation from my face, and smiled forcibly like I agreed. Wanting to be as civil as possible while he rambled on.

He was really a nice person, once you got to know him... at least, that's what I'd been told.

"It'll come in handy later on." he continued while I glanced around, trying to spot Jo. nothing. Where in the world was she?

"I plan to follow in fathers foot steps, working at the ministry of Magic." McLaggen pompously inspected his nails, as if looking for invisible dirt. "They make good money, you see." he shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Not to overshadow the excellent work they provide, of course. But in due time I'd like for the future Mrs. McLaggen and I to live comfortably. Maybe have a child or 4." He glanced at me in a fashion, I expect, he thought sexy or come hither. When in reality he looked as if he was slightly constipated or had consumed something bitter.

I couldn't completely hide my smile, and believe me, I tried. Unfortunately, he took this as reciprocation of his words.

He continued with this lopsided conversation, despite my now openly bored expression. We had somehow come to the topic of how we were spending our summer breaks.

Well he had. I hadn't gotten a word in for a good ten minutes, now.

Wow. It is amazing how much I don't care, I wanted to say. Instead, I tried to think of a way to leave without angering the increasingly inebriated bloke who could possibly bench press, well, me. And maybe a few of those fictitious babies he had mentioned. But subtlety had never been my strong point.

"Maybe at the summer home near the beach. You like the beach don't you? No." he answered himself with a overconfident grin. "You're more of a city gal aren't you?"

I hadn't had the time for a small absentminded nod, before he was off again.

I rubbed my temples to ward off the growing headache.

Manners were not an issue at this point. He hadn't glanced at me since the quddich story I had mostly ignored.

It involved mistaking a porcupine or some other unlucky creature, for an abandoned quaffle. It had appeared to be a promising story for a few moments... Until he went off on a tangent about how it reminded him of a hunting trip he and his family had taken with the prim minister one year.

After he had been blathering on about the same hunting trip for what seemed like a century, I opened my mouth to tell him that I was a slight vegetarian. And no, I did not want to hear about the beautiful prize stag he had shot one year! or what he used the pelt for! or the minute detail of gutting the poor animal!

Nor did I want to sit on these real leather chairs for a moment longer and fake enthusiasm over how wonderful the mountain oysters were at this restaurant!

Ugh! How can you even eat that? it's disgusting! He does realize what those are, right!

goat balls! yes, goat balls! you heard me right!

I closed my eyes. Deep breaths Annie, Deep breaths.

...

Five minutes later...

"Hahaha! So I told him; That's not a banshee, that's my sister!" he laughed even louder.

Where's Jo? She has to have noticed my absence by now. But then again, she's probably too busy snogging the living daylights out of Zambini, to notice that her best friend is nowhere in sight.

Mclaggen motioned to the bar tender and ordered another drink for himself. He was kind enough to order me butter beer.

And no. I did not tell him this.

He just added "and a butter beer for the lady." At the end of his sentence. As if I were incapable of ordering my own drink.

...

Another five minutes...

"So the farmer says to the man, You just ate him. BAHAHAHA!"

The jokes were getting more and more horrid by the moment.

I am begging. I will do anything. Just make him shut his mouth and let me escape.

...

Another five minutes...

"They slit the goats throat, you see. And then they..." he explained with hand motions and all.

I covertly covered my mouth as I tried not to vomit.

Apparently, he does know where mountain oysters come from...

Somebody shoot me. Please, just shoot me and put me out of my misery.

"Merlin's beard, Mclaggen." A bored male voice drawled from behind me. thank god, I was about to be sick.

I felt an arm go lazily around my shoulder and looked up in shock to see who it's owner was.

"Can't you see you're making the poor girl ill?" His voice was an octave or two lower than the last time we had spoken.

I never thought, in all my life, that I would be so relieved to see Malfoy's face. Even if it had changed.

He was slightly less pale, but his eye's were the same piercing silver, I remembered. His face had lost some of the endearing boyish roundness also.

What was left was the handsome face of someone I almost didn't recognize.

I smiled gratefully over at him, despite this- But then raised a confused eyebrow.

He was smirking, now that was something I remembered with trepidation. Why was he smirking?

This could never be good...

"Hello, darling." he said close to my ear, while still loud enough for Mclaggen to hear. I shivered as his voice vibrated down my side.

He punctuated his remark with a solid peck on the cheek. He looked directly at me, his expression plainly saying; be good, play along, and don't you dare slap me.

Surprise was my main emotion, but then I put two and two together.

Ah, If he was going to help me, he was going to make me suffer for it. If only for a short while.

Fine. If that was his payment for delivering me from this situation, I would pay it. Gladly.

I glanced over at Mclaggen for a split second, to see how he was handling this new development.

He looked greatly puzzled, with a dash of surprise.

"Darling." I emphasized, for his benefit. Placing my hand on Malfoy's arm affectionately. "What kept you?" I exaggerated the adoring look I gave him, to the point of mockery.

His smirk grew more pronounced as he realized I was desperate enough to go along with his act.

Well, this should be interesting.