Blaise Zabini
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If someone asked Blaise Zabini what his three favorite things were, he would've replied, with a seductive smile, sex, money, and firewhiskey. Maybe that made him a bad person. He really couldn't have cared less. Blaise didn't spend a lot of time caring about things, it wasn't something he could be bothered doing. He was beautiful, and he knew it. With his looks and his money, he could buy any happiness he could ever want.

It wasn't that Blaise didn't feel anything for anyone. He liked his housemates. He liked Pansy, even more so when she wasn't wearing clothes. He liked Draco, especially when he was really drunk. He liked Theodore, Millicent, and Daphne, and even Crabbe and Goyle. But he didn't really care about any of them.

Ginny Weasley was a blood traitor, albeit a very pretty one. Not that Blaise cared about her. Not that every time he went to Slughorn's stupid parties he went only to see her. To watch the way her hair cascaded down her back in a scarlet waterfall, or how her eyes crinkled at the edges when she laughed.

He'd kissed her once. It was over winter break. She'd stayed at Hogwarts that year instead of going home. Blaise never went home for Christmas, it was better that way. His mother would send him his presents, and he wouldn't have to deal with whatever stupid new boyfriend she'd ensnared this time.

He was in the library when he saw her hunched over a book, quill in hand, face screwed up in concentration. He'd gone over to her and sat down at her table and suddenly they were talking. She hadn't known who he was at that point. He hadn't been wearing his uniform.

They talked until Madame Pince kicked them out, and he walked her to her common room door. Someone had hung mistletoe on the ceiling. She'd looked up, and smiled at him. 'Look.' she's said. 'Mistletoe.'

And then he'd kissed her. 'I'm sorry,' she'd said minutes later. 'I never actually got your name...?'

'Blaise.' He'd replied. 'I'm Blaise Zabini.'

'I've heard stories about you.' She said carefully, turning to enter her common room and leaving him standing in the hallway to realize what he should have known from the start. Gryffindors didn't talk to no good Slytherins.

She hated him. Because he was a bad Slytherin and she was too good for boys like him. He knew that. And he hated her back. Hated her for never sparing him another glance.

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