Blaise Zambini was in his bed, a bit after dinner. Draco Malfoy was in the Pride of Place bed, on the corner farthest from the door, sulking. "Draco," Blaise said.

No response.

"Dra-key!" Blaise tried next.

If possible, less response.

"Dra-coDra-coDra-co" Blaise said, in a continuous syllabic refrain.

"What?" Draco Malfoy said, his head popping out from behind the curtains. His gaze presaged doom or somesuch. Blaise had never liked divination.

"I got you a dance with Granger." Blaise said, a slight smile playing on the edge of his lips.

Draco froze, torn between punching Blaise, laughing at him for being a fool, or just returning to sulking. Problem was, sulking wasn't much fun.

And, a foreign thought floated through his head, "What if Blaise had actually done it?"

It was that thought that had Draco springing out of his own bed and sliding into Blaise's, tugging down the curtain and spitting out Muffiliato without pause for thought. (It wasn't a good silencing spell, but no one except his Godfather knew it, so it was fiendishly difficult to cancel).

"Details." Draco Malfoy demanded.

Blaise took a bit of a breath, as if unsure, and then started, "Granger owed me a favor, and I cashed it in."

"For a date with me?" Draco asked, "I don't believe you."

"No, for Yule in general. A dance with any Slytherin that'll dance with her - and protection from violence, of course." Neither of them wanted to admit to the very real possibility that someone other than Pansy Parkinson (who was merely a vengeful bitch) might bring Politics into a Hogwarts Dance.*

"How the hell did you manage that?" Draco asked, his normal "above it all" attitude completely shredded and replaced with awe.

"For that favor, I told her I'd tell her what I could about that nob of a secret admirer." Blaise said.

"You did not," Draco insisted, his eyes wide.

"I totally did." Blaise smiled widely, "Of course she was going to agree..."

Draco Malfoy moved, swiftly, and Blaise found himself in a chokehold, his head bumped tight against the wall. "What. Did. You. Tell. Her?"

Blaise, not to be put off by near murder, grinned, and said, "That you were a Slytherin. Is that enough plausible deniability for you?"

Draco forced himself to relax, and then grinned at his friend, "Bet she was wroth about that answer."

"Yeah, she wanted to know if this was Some Slytherin Thing." And they both laughed, knowing that most Slytherins would sell out their mothers if they could.

[a/n: I like the boys! they're fun! Leave a review? What do you suppose is coming next?]

*It's one thing to have the bitch be mean, it's another to be racist bullies In Public.