Author's Notes- More of the same. Thanks to Phoenix Black for being the first to review *warm glowy feeling* :D

I first started to notice Blaise that fatal summer after the Tournament.

Nothing much seemed to have changed at first. We still had our lessons. Malfoy was still our bitter enemy, his insults as caustic as ever. Snape still hated Gryffindors. Hermione was still top of the class. We still shared Potions with Slytherin. Whatever subtle changes took place after Voldemort's return, we didn't feel aware of them. Maybe the professors were a little more uptight about security. Maybe we were all still a little numb after Cedric's death. Especially me, because I was.. there. I watched him die and dragged his empty shell back with me. I was the one meant to die there at Voldemort's hand.

But I digress.

It was in Potions that I first paid attention to him. He was paired with Malfoy and I with Neville. It was the first lesson back and I was trying desperately hard not to attract Snape's attentions. The first lesson back and it was terribly simple.. a simple potion to relight fires that had burned out. Why we needed it when we had wands, I wasn't sure. I doubted I would ever forget my wand, yet remember to carry a small vial of Pyrotheseum with me.

Phoenix feathers, a tiny pinch ground to golden dust. I sprinkled the precious powder in and the muddy potion turned a soft, oily black. Now there was nothing to do except let it simmer. Neville hovered awkwardly by my side. "Is there anything I can do?" I shook my head. He had good intentions but I had no desire to find myself aflame. He sat down and I wondered if I had offended him. But his friendly, good-natured face seemed purely relieved. Poor Neville.

I looked over to see how Ron was doing and saw he had been set next to Malfoy. Poor Ron. I hoped they weren't doing anything to distract him. He was flushed deep-red from something the icy blonde had said, his hands clumsy as he fumbled with his cauldron trying to ignore the Slytherin. He was always like that when someone embarassed him, but he could be so dexterous when he wasn't being tormented. I had seen him in Care of Magical Creatures, freeing a tiny fairy from the centre of a spider's web without breaking a strand. And now a few malicious words could send him to pieces. His hands quivered as he tried to steady the cauldron and I covered my eyes as I could see him tremble. A second later there was a rush of dark liquid spilling to the floor and a soft whumph as the mixture ignited. Snape bounded over, already admonishing even as Ron tried to put out the flames that licked at his robes. I watched bitterly as Malfoy turned away, laughing, to the person next to him who was apparantly not interested,. A pale hand swept a curtain of hair from over his face and coal-black eyes met mine for a brief second as he turned to Malfoy.

Have you ever felt like you've only just really seen someone for the first time? After years of knowing them, the gradual progression from childish roundness into adulthood isn't seen. You see your friend, your enemy, that girl who knows all the answers in Divination... and yet if you saw them for the first time on the streets, you could fall for them in a heartbeat. That happened to me then.

Short.. a good two inches less than Malfoy who had stopped growing at 5'6. Dark hair, dark eyes and I thought I saw a touch of makeup round there too. Unusual, and I wondered if he was really male. No colour anywhere, but I could find beauty in monochrome, in shadows and light.

"Who was unlucky enough to work with Malfoy?" I asked Neville casually. He looked up from studying a beetle crawling over the scarred desk.

"Oh, isn't he with Blaise?" Neville asked innocently. "I don't really know him," His attention returned to the beetle.

Blaise. My heart fell. Of course I knew that name- everyone did. I had heard it mentioned countless times, seen it written all over the bathroom walls. I was only 13 when I had first seen the legend "Blaise gives killer head!" written in crude black ink. I hadn't understood it then, hadn't known the meaning of the word when Blaise was already renown for his skills in that department. Later I had heard students- mainly older ones- mention him casually, sometimes only as "that Slytherin slut".

My eyes fell upon the Pyrotheseum which threatened to boil over. It was no longer oily black but shot through with deepest red. Fires could be lit again, but could a whore ever learn to love again?

- - - - - - - -

Potions was over mercifully quickly and I headed to the common room, sinking thankfully into the comfortable red cushioned chair. My friends quickly followed my lead. Hermione and Ron were sat a little way apart from us and I smiled knowingly. Hermione could claim to find Ron unbearably childish, and he claimed she was the bossiest and most unbearable person he'd ever met. I personally thought they complimented each other and I would have loved to see them together. Hermione was sat with a heavy book in her arms and her intelligent eyes scanning the tiny text. Ron sat beside her and I smiled as he and Hermione began their usual banter.

"You haven't done that Potions homework, have you?"

"Go away, Hermione,"

"I'm just trying to read. You know, it might actually help if you opened a book every now and then,"

"Why would I do that when you let me copy your homework?"

"Because one day I might just get tired of you riding off my hard work,"

"That will be the day that Voldemort opens a rest home for destitute donkeys,"

"Very true,"

They fell into amiable silence. I smiled and stared blankly at the Quidditch book before me. The Chudley Cannons captain grinned and waved, but I didn't see him there at all. My mind was firmly fixed upon another who I had only just started to notice.

Of all the people I could have fallen for, it was a Slytherin. And of all the Slytherins I could have fallen for, it was a notorious whore and probably an emotional fuck-up. I didn't know anything about the boy except what I had read in graffiti, and that he would probably hate me for the Gryffindor I am. It wasn't that he was male that bothered me. I had known I was bisexual for a long time.. most wizards seemed to be, for some reason. Maybe it was because we didn't have the same silly prejudices as Muggles that we realised sexuality was a fluid thing and could not be easily tied down to one gender. All through Hogwarts I had seen same sex couples wander around together as easily as straight couples. It was his reputation that bothered me. I didn't want cheap sex, although he certainly wouldn't turn me down from what I had heard.

Because the great Harry Potter was still a virgin. Even though I had been dating Ginny on/off for months (nothing serious, just attended the odd dance together) and I had been with one or two others before that, I had never actually had sex. It wasn't that I was a prude, but the other students seemed too afraid to ever touch me. Put me on a pedastal, revere me as some kind of God, fight to be my friend but defile me? Never. I had my "groupies" who sent me Valentine cards and giggled and sent notes in class, but never once did they make a move on me even though it would probably have been the biggest thrill of their lives. And I was too worried to make a move myself- what if they didn't dare turn me down even if they didn't want it? I frowned.

Besides, why would I want Blaise? I had Ginny. Sweet, beautiful Ginny with clouds of fire-red hair and lustrous deep eyes. Ginny, who could love me with all her heart. I would not spurn her for someone who seemed incapable of love. I shook the thought from my head as she entered the common room, a little shy, a little uncertain as always. The firelight danced in her deep red hair instead of the way it would splinter and break on Blaise's. Her eyes were bright and lively instead of dead, empty holes that sucked in the light of the world. And more importantly, she could love me back.