Another Day,

Another morning or blotting the existence of freckles.

Only this time, I get to do it sneakily, instead of in my own mirror, as I am used to.

Why, you ask?

Fucking Pansy Fucking Parkinson.

That little Bitch-looking…Bitch.

Ever been kissed by someone of the same sex as you without your knowledge, consent, or want? It is not comfortable in the slightest. Especially when it is in your own bed at 3 am.

And the person is naked.

Butt-ass naked.

And groping you.

If I could have killed her, I would have. Screw that, I have thoughts of what to do to her that involve her apparent love for nudity, the Great Hall, and the middle of dinner.

Not a good idea to get on my bad side.

So at the moment, I am hiding away in the Prefect bathroom, praying to whatever higher power that no one feels the urge to use it at this time of morning. Because what an eyeful they would get.

Yep. Walk in to see me sitting here in nothing more than a thin nightgown and some boy's boxers that I have a love for.

God damn its cold in here this time of morning. Who the fuck builds a school in a stone castle? I mean, what kind of insulation are you getting from fucking rocks? I mean, what kind of moron…

Shit!

And as luck would have it, lo and behold, the Amazing Fucking Ferret enters the Prefect bathroom. And not only does he not see me, but the second he comes in, he loses his robe, to be standing, naked in front of me.

I think I am going to go blind.

My goddess, I want to go blind.

Someone blind me!

With the glare from the light off his pale skin, I just might. If it was any brighter in here, I am sure I would.

Paper would wish for his skin-tone.

Bleach would give him a tan.

And as I try not to vomit my stomach onto the floor, my dry-heaves have drawn his attention.

And caused…attention.

This is so not happening. Tell me its not happening.

If it is, kill me. Life couldn't be worse.

And then it did.

A lot worse. Worse in the form of a dark-haired boy with a towel in his hand and a whistle on his lips. Well…it used to be a whistle. I think the second he walked in on the scene he walked in on, his whistle stopped and he wished for death.

I would too if I walked in on Draco Malfoy with a boner, albeit a mighty miniscule one, while he looked at me, in all my boxer-clad glory.

I want to die.

No, I want to kill. Malfoy's ass is grass.

And I'm a fucking lawnmower.

I, Blaise Gabriella Zabini hereby state that I will be adopting a pet ferret. A white one. And it will be named Annabel. And I will dress it up in a pink tu-tu and walk it around the school.

But for now, I have to find a way to get to Potter, as he has turned and fled the scene of Malfoy's pale arse gaping at me like some kind of hormone-crazy 13 year old with his first erection. And I have to find a way to get away from said rodent, before he puts his hands, or worse, on me.

I make it from the bathroom only to find him in some kind of lusting pursuit after me. He gets 10 feet from the bathroom entry only to find that he was naked in the hallway, and there was a large group heading down the hallway in his direction toward the bathroom.

Turning the corner, I stop and sigh to myself. "It's guys like him that make a girl go lesbian…"

-----

Breakfast is light and easy, and it is only about 5 minutes in that I realize that Potter is watching me. Its not as much as others, like, say, Ferret-Boy, but enough that I notice. And enough that I feel…happy?

Enough to make it…cute?

Dammit, this is not good at all. I'm turning just a bit sappy. But, what can I say, I mean, I have never actually liked a guy before, after all, its always been them after me and not the other way around. But now, it almost seems like I don't know what to do when I catch him looking at me. Debating over an action to make, is not Zabini-style.

I find myself all, 'If I flick my hair over my shoulder because it is tickling my face, will he think I am brushing him off, or acting arrogant?' When I fucking need to brush the hair out of my face. I shouldn't care what he thinks about me!

But…I do.

And that freaks me out.

But there is only one thing that I can do when I feel out of control of a situation.

And that is take control back. Forcibly. By bending said situation to fit my own needs.

And I'll be damned if I don't….

"Dammit you sniveling little shit, what do you want."

"Blaise, I wanted to talk about this morning."

"Can it, Parkinson."

"Look, Blaise, I seriously think we need to talk about where this relationship is going." I was stunned out of my mind at hearing this. Relationship? What in the fuck is she talking about. I mean, come on now, what is that supposed to… "You gave me the impression this morning that you may not be into this as much as I am, and I need someone who wants this as much as I do. I need to know Blaise, if this is going somewhere or not. If not, I don't want to waste my time. Where is it going, Gaby."

Oh dear sweet Merlin, what is this stupid girl doing now? What is she going on about this time, talking about where is "this" going. "It" is going to hell, that's where, and when I get there, I intend to kick the shit out of "it" if "it" comes anywhere near me.

"Blaise, not Gaby you dumb bitch, Blaise." Was my only answer before I stood and walked away from her. I had Potions, and I needed time to get into my "Proper Slytherin Mindset," as they called it.

Can't have "star-pupil" Ickle Blaisiekins hating Snape, so I have to shut down that impulse, and therefore the working part of my brain, before class.

Come on, its hard to have respect for the Dark Supermart's fluffer.

Bastard. Its his own fault. Couldn't find a potion to fix erectile dysfunction, so therefore, he had to remedy the issue manually. And this train of thought always makes me laugh, which is exactly what I was doing when I walked in to class. And exactly what got me sat in the front of the classroom next to the redheaded twit called Ron Weasley.

Hey, you might be thinking, "Hey, but you are all smitten with Potter, why are you mocking Weasley." Simple. I'm still a Slytherin. And if you asked this question, you, my good friend,

Are a fucking idiot.

A bigger one that King Weasel sitting next to me. And, just for spite, I begin to hum that oh-so-catchy tune. He tries not to speak to me, seeing as he seems about ready to piss his pants, which I revel in before Snape deems it time to reveal the reason.

"Weasley, you are on a…probational period in this class, as your O.W.L scores were not high enough to gain you solid admittance into the class. But somehow the Headmaster was…swayed…to allow you to come despite it. I warn you, one foul up and I shall have no qualms with ejecting you immediately."

I was tempted to tip the boy's cauldron over at that exact moment just to see what would happen. But, I was the type of girl that lit her little sister on fire, just the see what happened.

What, everyone does it.

Don't look at me like that. You have too.

Don't lie...

"Today we are working on Deleterius Potions. Like the spell, it will decay something quickly. The dilution we are working on won't eat through skin, but it will eat away things such as clothing, and even hair. This concentration is often used for body-hair removal and by St. Mungo's when they need to get a victim's clothing out of the way to treat an injury."

Oh shit. I get to work with this dipshit to do that? This is a very bad idea. And I don't realize how much so until we are finished making the potion and trying to cork it. It is a two-person process, as the ladle is this metal, heavy-duty-type shit, and the bottle is thick material as well. He is shaking like a leaf in the wind, so I, like a fucking dumbass, hold the bottle while he pours.

And pour he does.

Yep, pours the goddamned liquid all over my front.

And within seconds, I am half naked in the classroom. And it would be the day that I decide to wear the lacy underwear set.

Because that was the only thing that stayed when the potion was through.

Word of advice to all the girls out there. If there is a danger of you losing your clothing, never sit in the front of a classroom. Worse, never sit in the front of the classroom on the day you wear the thin lace bra and the lacy thong.

Bad idea.

Especially when, through some thoroughly fucked-up turn of events, I happened to be the only girl within viewing range, as the girls seemed to all be toward the back of the classroom.

Which left me feeling much like an animal in the zoo. Shit, even Snape was gaping.

I'm not saying I'm perfect…wait, I am, but come on now. I mean, there are much prettier…nope, that's a lie too. But, could they not gape so much. I mean, I don't want to feel so…Grade A, Choice Cut-style here.

And then I feel warmth. And I look up to find Potter standing there, attempting to drape his school robes over my shoulders, without making it look like a gratuitous attempt to look down my front.

Aww, how fucking sweet.

Not on my watch. Good deeds get rewarded, and seeing as how this good deed caused my smitten…ness to become a full on pining, I intended to make sure he got a show he would never forget.

Standing to put the robe "on", I "accidentally" dropped it. So, bending down with my back to Harry, something that incidentally only he could see seeing as Snape had lined me, and him behind me, along the wall of the classroom, and he was standing against if to place the robes over me, I was pretty much giving him quite a show.

I'm not a slut. In fact, Pansy mocked me, calling me a, and I quote…damn this bitch is dumb…a "Penis-Virgin", but I do like to tease.

Ok, I am too cruel to "tease". Its more like torture. But I promise, all participants are willing and thoroughly satisfied, if not overly sexually taunted and frustrated, when I am done mocking their inferior male mind.

I looked back once I was standing again to see a very red-faced Potter, who took his seat quickly and scooted up toward the table as much as he could. It was a general reaction for many of the males in the room it seemed, as they tried to get their last looks in before I was covered completely by his much-larger-than-me robe, but I didn't care about them. It was him I was watching.

Pulling the robe to me, I inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. I looked to my right to find Snape standing there, still looking at me. He had been unable to move from heading toward his desk, as he had apparently been on an intercept course to Weasley before my…spectacle. And there, I saw a repeat of something I had wished I forgot.

I don't know, the thought of that greasy bastard with an erection, nonetheless to me, always makes my stomach turn. And right now, I am in danger of losing my lunch on the table.

Breathing into the robe, I turn from Snape and hear him snap out of his…stupor. "Weasley, come with me, now." And then I hear Weasley's stool scrape across the stone floor and some laughter as I am sure his state is…seen by everyone. But then, "Potter, 15 points from Gryffindor, where are your robes, this is a uniform…" And I guess he has finally looked at me. "20 points for your proactivity, Potter." And then the dungeon door flings open and as it does, the signal for class' end sounds, and we all begin to file out.

Damn Red-headed nincompoop.

-----

Granger is an arse.

She doesn't trust me as far as she can throw me, and without her wand, the girl lacks a good deal of physical strength.

In a street-fight, I'd kick her ass. Thoroughly. Trounce her oversized head into the pavement, then get in a car just to drive over her a few times.

Magically, the girl has the tendency to frighten the shit out of me.

Like, at this moment, her walking up to me at the Slytherin Table has not only confused me, but scared me with her willpower and courage.

Damned Muggleborn.

"What?"

"I've come to retrieve Harry's cloak. You have had time to put proper uniform on, as I can see, I have come to get it."

"Where is he?"

"Elsewhere."

"What are you, his fucking lapdog. He can get it if he wants it." Damn, with a wand within blasting range of my face, I should have been a Gryffindor.

…I didn't just say that…

I did?

Shit.

"Look, I came to get it, it is his favorite set of robes, as they are the only ones broken in at the moment. He is currently doing planning for the D.A., and is therefore not here at the time." She was straining, hard, not to say something scathing or blast at me with her wand, which was shaking in her grasp.

"No, you look. I will give them back to him personally." And the conversation was over.

The girl hated me, I couldn't blame her. I was a Slytherin. Not a bitch, never outright mean to her, but not very nice either.

"Zabini, I will forcibly take the robes from you, as they are not your property. And it still confuses me as to why you are still wearing them when you have obviously been able to change…"

Time for the old snatch-and-run. Grab the dumb girl by her hair and run out of the hallway with her in tow. Slamming her against the wall by the entrance to the hall, I hold her wand arm down and look at her.

"Look Granger, you are Potter's best friend, right?" The girl nodded darkly. "I have a favor to ask you. I really need your help"

This hit her like a ton of bricks. I am tempted to laugh. But…no. A girl needs someone to talk to about her issues, and if I tell any of the girls in my house, they are liable to attempt to kill me.

"Look, I have his robes, true. My issue is…I, I…like Potter." Her eyes still met mine, no look of understanding. "Like, I like him." I try and stress the proper words and then she shows understanding. And then it goes from understanding to a look I don't understand at all. She simply nodded and turns from me, as I release her from my grip.

As she makes to walk away, she states, "After what Ginny's stupid ass did, you are a good improvement. You have my blessing." She said steadily, walking away.

And only after she was gone did I realize. I hadn't asked for the stupid bookworm's blessing, I was trying to ask her a favor. And she walked off…on me…she walked off, on me…

"What a dumb bitch." Was all I strained out before turning and headed off toward the Library. Free periods kick ass, and I love my current one, as I like to spend it in the library.

Fuck you.

I am not a Ravenclaw. Not a bit. I spend it there because it lets me read up on learning things that others don't know. I have a private spot near the curses and jinxes section that I sit in and read up on ways to torture those dumb Hufflepuffs.

------

Yes, as luck would have it, I would find my "spot" occupied by none other than Harry frickin' Potter.

Bastard.

And it would also happen that he would spot me first. Me, as I stand there, reveling in breathing in the fading scent of his cologne left on the robes, and wondering why it is that my perfume and his cologne mixed make such an interestingly entrapping scent.

I feel the need to bottle it and sell it. Its like…pheromones in a bottle.

Not only are we great-looking together, but marketable and profitable as well.

Together? Blaise Zabini…Harry Potter…Blaise Potter…

Harry Zabini…

I laugh some as I realize that name sounds like the famous escape artist. Was a wizard, too. Took those stupid muggle for fools for years, them thinking he was really so ingenious. A unlocking charm, and in the time I takes to say 5 syllables, you are free as a bird in the clear sky.

And here I go doing what I always do. Distancing myself from a distressing situation by musing in awkward happenings that have shit to do with me.

Damn Defense Mechanisms.

"Good Day Blaise."

Blaise?

That is my name. Its not the issue. The issue is, he said it. Not Zabini, not Slytherin Slime, not "Hey you bitch!", but…Blaise.

I'm swooning.

And that depresses me.

Snapping out, I say, "Yes Pot…Harry."

He looks at me like I am nothing. Which is interesting, because I see him glance at my chest when I start unbuttoning my…no, his robe to return it. Always a plus to wear the push-up with a low-necked top. Draws nice attention.

And if there is one thing Blaisey loves, its attention.

-----

He's reading.

I am sitting here, across from him, laying on my stomach, enough cleavage to actually put some guys in an erectile catatonic coma,

And the bastard is reading.

Blaisey loves attention. And hates not getting it. Especially when she really really wants it.

And when it comes to Potter,

I want it.

Bad.

No, I need it.

Hmm…Wonder how to get it.

The look on his face when I jumped on him and kissed him was priceless. Especially due to the fact that I am seated on his lap, on the floor of the library.

Also, it could be that his chin is resting right in the crevice of previously stated cleavage, and that I was literally attempting to rape his mouth with my tongue.

Hey, not every day a girl gets to get the jump on Potter.

I am going to hell for this, something that I am proud of. I find a bit of time, oddly, to revel in how right it feels, before I am dragged back to reality when I realize that, instead of throwing me off like a diseased leech, he has somehow turned it so I am on my back, and he is atop me, holding my arms above my head. His turn to attack my mouth until I can feel the bruising and the swelling of my lips.

I'm a kinky bitch, I like it kinda rough.

So what?

It's a beautiful sight, I am sure, as I am pinned down, my Slytherin scarf somewhere discarded a long time ago, with Potter atop me. If someone were to show up, I doubt they would care about the fact that it looks like goodie-goodie Potter is raping me, and more the fact of what is clear.

Harry Potter, the Gryffindor Golden Boy,

Blaise Zabini, the Slytherin Queen,

Snogging on the floor of the library.

-----

Screw snogging.

I am feeling particularly kinky today, and apparently so was he.

Shagging in the library.

We deserve a medal. 2 powerful-ass silencing charms, and we still almost got caught. I guess that is due to a bookshelf losing half its contents onto the floor when my back was banged into it.

Yep, Madam Pince rounded the corner as Harry lifted me off of him, and carried me from the library, around the corner and into an empty classroom. Slammed into the door before it could close, it was on all over again.

And my goddess did it feel bloody amazing.

I sat there and looked at him after we were done. He was looking at me too, and we finally stood. I made to give him his robe, but he shook his head, telling me to keep it.

"It looks so bloody much better on you than me." He had said.

And then we made to leave. And awkwardly enough, he leaned over, and kissed me. Deeply. And he even gave my ass a pat before turning and checking the corridor and then leaving.

I make it a point not to sigh often. But I just did.

I think I have bloody well fallen for that black haired, goofy grinning arsehole.

Damned Gryffindors.

Them and their courage.

He would be the only one with the courage to stand up and take me from that arse Malfoy.

Dipshit.

Potter…

Harry…

GODDAMMIT! I am in love with that little shit Harry frickin' Potter.

I am gonna so regret admitting that in the middle of the Great Hall.

In the middle of lunch.

Out loud.

Very,

Very,

Loud.

Goddammit.


A/N: K, this is 2, probably 2/4 actually, 3 is mostly done as well. Now here I make this clear. I'm a guy, yes, but in creative writing class once, we had to write something from the other gender's perspective. That is how this idea popped into my head. I'm planning out a sequel which is likely from Harry's perspective, can't decide if I want it post-SQ, or the same events from his eyes, let me know what you all think. Well...yeah, here u go, more FFO soon.