AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi. Chapter Two. So, I took Draco by the hand after I got back from school a few weeks ago and sat him down on the couch, where I proceeded to gently break the news that he would not be starring in my latest fanfic (all the while trying not to drool, of course). He didn't take it too well. Actually, he didn't take it at all. So, here he is, sliding in to stir trouble, as only Draco can do. Cocky little manipulative bastard. Ginny will come into the story either next chapter or the one after that. Ejoy! (And yes, that is how I spell enjoy.)

Get over it.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Mistaken Liaisons

Chapter Two: Reunions

Draco Malfoy stared up at the brick building before him.

Rain spattered at his hair and the wind tore at his clothes, yet he couldn't be moved to walk up those stairs. Not just yet. It was, after all, quite a leap. He hadn't seen Blaise in seven or so years. Even then it was only brief. The real last time he'd spoken to Blaise was around ten years ago, back when they were at Hogwarts and best friends.

School had ended, they had grown up, he had gone one way and Blaise had gone the other. And now all Draco had to show for his loyalty to the half-blood bastard was a slimy tattoo slapped on his arm and a trunk full of things he'd hastily grabbed from his room at Malfoy Manor.

And here he was, staring up at the apartment building in wizarding London, snow falling around him, boots sinking into the slush, lips steadily turning blue with the cold. Taking a deep breath that brought stabbing cold pain to freeze the insides of his lungs, he raised his hand and opened the door.

Apartment 12D, here he came.

…

Blaise levitated his dirtied plates into the sink, letting the warm water eat away at the hardened gunk on the ceramic. Now that his roommate was back, he could actually pretend to have a life now.

Wondering if living vicariously through a woman who shagged a different man every week, sometimes forgot to flush the toilet, usually brushed her teeth only once a day, and shaved twice a week was something he shouldn't be proud of, Blaise flopped onto his newly vacated sofa, kicking off his shoes as the sound of water running migrated through the flat.

He was just contemplating why he'd even been wearing shoes when they were such annoyingly uncomfortable buggers when someone knocked on the door to the apartment. Wondering who would have braved such nasty weather to come see him and his infamously capricious witch of a roommate, he unlatched the door lock and opened it.

A tall man with matted blonde hair and a thick, overgrown beard stood in his doorway, a trunk at his feet and a sopping wet broomstick over his shoulder. Blaise gasped as the man broke out a rough smile. "Zabini, mate! Mind if I crash here for a while?"

"Malfoy?"

Blaise reminded himself that he was a grown man and that grown men don't stand and openly ogle at people standing patiently on their doorstep.

Still, he stood and openly ogled at the man standing patiently on his doorstep. The man made a motion as if to shuffle his feet and then thought better of it; or perhaps he just felt it was too far below him.

The motion broke Blaise's concentration on his ogle-fest and he snapped back to attention and reality. "Malfoy…please, come in." he said, recalling something his roommate had once tried to teach him called hospitality or something of the like.

The blonde man at the doorstep picked up his trunk and swept past Blaise's outstretched welcoming arm. As Blaise closed and re-locked the door behind him, Draco let out a low whistle of admiration. "Bloody hell, Zabini. You've done well." He said, touching his fingers to one of the greyish blue walls. "Never thought you'd be the type to live in a nice place like this." He turned slightly to Blaise. "No offence." He grinned.

Blaise smiled back and offered him a seat and a drink. He accepted both. "So, what're you doing so far from Malfoy Manor?" Blaise asked, dropping tea leaves into the cracked pot he'd been meaning to replace. Draco settled himself at the kitchen table. "I left home." Blaise dropped the teacup he was holding. Muttering a quick "Reparo" under his breath, he turned back to Malfoy.

"You left? For good?" he asked, surprise weighing down his voice. Draco shrugged, fingering his thick beard. "One day I just thought 'why stay? Mum's dead. Lucius treats me like dirt. Why not leave?'. You did. So I decided I would too." He shrugged carelessly.

But Blaise knew the magnificent consequences such a move meant. After all, he himself had made the same decision once. It had been the most dangerous thing he'd ever done, including tacking his roommate's knickers up on the living room ceiling. He was the only heir to the Zabini fortune and lands. His father needed an heir and fresh blood for his precious Lord Voldemort. Blaise had refused. Sometimes during the early days, with almost no food and nowhere to live, he wondered if he shouldn't have just accepted the Dark Mark and followed in his father's footsteps as Draco had done.

But now, standing in his own home, with a decent job and a fantastic friend and roommate, staring at Malfoy, who looked like he'd gone through hell (and probably had), Blaise thanked his determination and resolution in those rough early days.

"What did Lucius say?" he asked, splitting the silence. Draco shrugged again, pulling off his beaten travelling cloak. "The usual. Beat me, hexed me, threatened to disown me, actually did disown me, threatened to kill my mother, then realized he already had, threatened to kill me…" he stroked his chin. "I didn't like that one too much. So I left." He said simply. Blaise wasn't sure he wanted to know just how Draco had left. He may not have lived with a Slytherin in ten years, but he knew their ways well as his own; there were some things you just really did not want to know.

"So, I didn't really have any money. I've been staying at a cheap inn and tavern for the past few days, but I'm running out of money. I thought perhaps…" he paused here, looking for once in his life, uncertain "…I saw your advertisement for a flatmate a few years back. You ran it for exactly a year, so I thought perhaps you'd never found someone…actually I'm rather hoping you never found someone who would willingly put up with you." He grinned wryly, and it was as if all the years between them had vanished. They were seventeen and reckless again.

It was at that point that they heard the bathroom door open and close.

"Blaise! You rotten little twit, you used the last towel!" a female voice shouted, echoing off the walls. "Don't come back here, I'm starkers." The woman warned teasingly. Blaise snorted. He'd seen her with not a stitch more times than he could count. She wasn't exactly the timid thing she'd been as a girl. A door slammed somewhere in the back of the apartment. There was a chorused string of vague mutterings.

Draco turned in his seat, an eyebrow arched in the exact replica of the one he'd scared so many firsties with at Hogwarts. Such fond memories…

"Girlfriend? Or…please tell me you're not married?" he asked, looking horribly reviled. So he was still as gamophobic as he was in Hogwarts. As his dorm-mate, Blaise had quickly learned never to mention marriage or long-term commitment to Draco.

Blaise shook his head. "No, not married. And er…she's not my girlfriend, either." Somewhere in his mind, the little four-year-old in him went 'eeeewww' at the very thought of his roommate being his girlfriend. Draco arched an eyebrow. "Random fuck?" he asked. Blaise rolled his eyes. Still as blunt as ever.

"No, she's…well, she's my roommate." Blaise said, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. Draco simply nodded, though. "I thought as much. I mean, I entertained the hope for a while, but I figured you'd found someone." His brow suddenly furrowed. "Wait, you live with a woman you're not shagging?" he asked. Blaise nodded furiously, the twenty-seven-year-old man in him going 'eeeewww'.

"No, we're not, nor were we ever, nor will we ever be together." Blaise said convincingly. She was his best friend…that would just be wrong. Like falling for Draco…Blaise scooted away from Draco unnoticeably. "She's my best mate. I mean, for a girl, she's bloody great." He must have looked strange because Draco peered at him curiously.

"What was that look?" he asked suspiciously. Blaise startled himself into arching an eyebrow in perfect Slytherin fashion. "What look?" he asked. Draco rolled his eyes, grinning like mad. "That look that says 'she's the greatest thing that ever happened to me and I want to shag her like mad and marry her and have kids with her…'" he trailed off as Blaise was beginning to look rather sick. She was his best mate…no, no, no, and again, no.

"Guess not." Draco said, now smirking. Blaise shook his head, trying to rid it of images he desperately wanted to cleanse from his brain. "Don't get me wrong," Blaise explained "she's one-of-a-kind and probably is the greatest thing that ever happened to me…" he paused, for the first time realizing that his words were true…she was the best thing to happen to him probably since Draco.

"…but she's just your friend." Draco finished. Blaise breathed evenly, grinning. "My best friend." Draco assumed a wounded expression. "I remember a time when you said I was your best friend." Blaise snorted. "And I remember a time where you told me to fuck off because I was a stupid, dark, burly gorilla." Draco scoffed. "Oh, you're going to bring up things from when we were eleven?" Blaise arched an eyebrow. "You brought up things from when we were seventeen." He reminded him. "Oh, what, and the mentality didn't change?" Draco asked.

Blaise shook his head. "Of course not."