Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling
Chapter Two
Back at the castle, Blaise Zabini contemplated the board in front of him, dimly aware that his vision was beginning to blur. He and Draco were playing a muggle version of chess. Instead of pieces, there were shots of whisky. With half the pieces already gone, both were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. In another few moves, Draco captured Blaise's 'King', which was a double shot, and the game was finished, along with the alcohol.
"So," began Draco, "Got a date for the Ball yet?"
"I've had a few offers, but none of them tempting," replied Blaise with a smirk. "What about you?"
Draco's face darkened. "Pansy, of course. The retched girl won't leave me alone!"
"So you've finally given in, and going with her then?"
"Of course not you fool! I would not dare lower myself to that level of desperation! Anyway, I have my eye on somebody else." Oops. He was in for it now. Draco blushed slightly, realising his mistake. Damn the drink.
Suddenly very interested, Blaise sat upright. "Who?" he demanded, with a devilish look on his face.
"No one of any importance to you," he replied, desperate for his friend to remain in the dark about his sudden fixation for a certain red-headed Griffindor. Although Blaise was his best friend, this was the kind of information that, if made public knowledge, could forever ruin his reputation.
"Fine," retorted Blaise, his face taking on the manner of somebody already bored of the conversion, although this was far from the truth. "So you wouldn't want to bet on her then? Only, I have no date, you have no date, you clearly seem to like whoever it is and I'm thinking we could have some fun with this." He said, keeping a straight face, though he still had the devilish look in his eye.
Draco squirmed in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with this turn of events, as it was clearly a recipe for disaster. But he was Draco Malfoy; he never turned down a bet. And Blaise knew it. Plus, when did the prospect of getting into trouble ever stop him doing anything?
"What kind of a bet?" he enquired.
"Well that all depends. Who's the girl?"
After a brief pause Draco replied. "Ginny Weasley." He blushed, but did not hide from his embarrassment.
Blaise let out a low whistle. "Good choice. I've noticed her this year. All the guys have. Rumour has it that she isn't as saintly as her brother and the golden trio either."
"So what's the bet Zabini?" Draco glared at him, cutting to the chase.
"The bet, or rather the challenge, is to see which of us can take Ginny to the ball. Or, failing that, which of us can kiss her by the end of the night."
"And what's the prize?"
"The prize, of course, is Ginny."
Draco looked at him doubtfully.
"Plus, say... 50 galleons?"
Draco contemplated the idea. He could finally win over the little Weasley, plus have the bet as a cover up. Perfect!
"Zabini, my friend, you have yourself a bet!"
