The most seasoned veterans in the criminal profession can attest that acts of chicanery are best conducted in... well... the most unexpected places. Hence, I've deduced that the Great Hall is the perfect venue for my little... coup d'etat. After all, you wouldn't expect Voldemort to attack Potter during breakfast...(Is it just me, or is that scenario remarkably easy to imagine? Perhaps it is just me... After all, I've just endured a very traumatic incident. Have you forgotten about it? So soon? Well, let me refresh your memory. Just last night, for absolutely no reason whatsoever, Draco Malfoy felt compelled to put my trousers on fire. Dumbledore really ought to think about including anger management classes in the curriculum. It would save many a pair of innocent trousers. Anyhow, when I did realize that my pants were indeed on fire, I had a mild, quite mild panic attack. For approximately one minute, I ran up and down the corridor like a mad man. And so, it was only after I was rather tired of running around and screaming for water did I remember that I'm a bloody wizard. You know, I find it highly intriguing that we wizards always find ourselves in the most inexplicable situations. And inexplicably, we ALWAYS seem to temporarily forget the fact that we are indeed wizards, people who harness magic, the one thing that can fix EVERYTHING. Except for exploding warts... down there... there's no cure for that...I'm so sorry.) Anyhow, I can already see the aforementioned scenario unfold: Potter laughing at something Granger's said. King Weasley looking confused because he didn't see the humour. Granger looking pissed because once again her dolt of a boyfriend did not "understand". And Weaselette looking annoyed because once again she's the fourth wheel to their... solely three-wheeled...flying caravan. And BOOM! Voldemort appears in a cloud of black smoke (I know. I know. Voldemort isn't your everyday magician or illusionist, but I'M the story-teller here so I'M taking full advantage of my artistic license. In laymen's terms, SHUT THE HELL UP, THANKYOUVERYMUCH!), he approaches the Golden Trio, and, to show how bloody SERIOUS the situation is-because, you know, the whole "one of us must die to determine the fate of the entire wizarding world" just doesn't scream solemnity-, Voldy burns Ronnikins' pumpkin pasty to a crisp. Despite the fact a murdering, soulless, schizophrenic bi-polar LUNATIC just joined us all for breakfast, I honestly think I'd laugh. Can't you just envision Weasely's baffled expression, his face suffused with the classic "Whuh? Whuhhappenin? Whuhhappenedtomehpasty?") If that little digression wasn't enough evidence for you, let's look at the cold, hard facts. Voldy's attacked Potter through a psychotic professor, an overgrown snake, a death eater-gone-delusional, a portkey leading to the Devil's rebirth, a dream about a felon (Potter, Potter, Potter... are the girls at Hogwarts SO unappealing to you? Honestly!... If I wasn't afraid that you'd -ah- inadvertantly find me attractive, I would have introduced you to some of the Slytherin girls myself...And Black's no ordinary felon... He's your GODFATHER for Christ's sake! Have you no morals? Virtues? Vestiges of normalcy?) , and lastly, a cave filled with very nasty things. None of these methods of ...Potter-removal have been very conventional. True, none of these methods have been overly effective... but I blame that all on Voldy. Bloke's got no luck to speak of.

So, as I'm walking down the aisle toward the 7th year Slytherin table, I know that today's the perfect day to proceed with my plan. I quickly scan across the room, searching for any discrepancies amongst the Hogwarts population... Nope. Nothing's out of order. The boys are aimlessly stuffing their faces, the girls are gossiping their glamour charms away, the faculty are chatting about academic nonsense, and the Hufflepuffs... I do not have the words, or the patience, to describe to you what those looneys are doing. But I will tell you that their daily breakfast routine does involve a human-sized marshmellow, a pair of pink swimming fins, and a piece of rotten, moldy Swiss cheese. Please, by all means, let your imaginations run rampant.

And now, the Slytherins. I can already see Malfoy at his throne, right at the center of the table. He's flanked by Pansy on one side and Daphne Greengrass on the other. As usual, Pansy's whispering seductive, sweet nothings in his ear, thinking that she's the only girl on his mind. What she doesn't know is that Greengrass is quite blazenly slipping her hand between Malfoy's legs. I don't know how he does it. If I were Draco, I'm pretty sure I would have come right there. But no. King Malfoy is all about control. It's unnatural, really. Makes you wonder... if two beautiful girls can't arouse ... Sheriff Malfoy (Yes, I did just name Draco Malfoy's dick) , then what can?! Hell! I don't know how SHE does it... How can Greengrass stroke someone's nether regions, sip pumpkin juice, read the Daily Prophet, and ask Crabbe how his mother's dragon pox is coming along? ALL at the same time? Perhaps those two are meant for each other...after all Greengrass is just as psychotic as Draco (Actually, I'd like to retract that statement. The wench is probably even MORE mad than the so-called Slytherin God of Sex. Yes, people do call him that. And no, I'VE never referred to him as such. Cheeky little bunch, aren't you?).

Daphne Greengrass. Her rather depressing history will force you to hate Muggles. Why, do you ask? Because without Muggles to be mocked, teased, and poked at, well, this terrible accident would never have happened (Alright, alright. I'll admit my logic is a bit flawed... but this whole tragedy really could have been avoided if those bloody idiots never existed. And besides, I'm from bloody Slytherin. Rumour has it, we eat Muggles for breakfast. They're a bit on the salty side, but still quite delicious. I thought I'd let you know, just in case you're thinking about changing up your diet). Anyhow, Daphne's father used to work in the Department of Muggle Abuse (exploding toilets, closets that open to thousand-foot cliffs, doors that bite you when you try to turn the knob, chairs that pinch your arse, you get the gist), and unfortunately for him, he did encounter a mailbox which ejected retractable Siberian silver caliber throwing knives. So, not only was Mr. Greengrass stabbed by seventeen knives, these knives then removed themselves from his body, re-entered the mailbox, and shot back out at him...Multiple times. Isn't magic just delightful?

Only several hours later did someone from the ministry come by to see what had happened to Mr. Greengrass. As you can imagine, not much was left of Mr. Greengrass. But the point of this rather long-winded digression lays at Mrs. Greengrass' feet.

Poor Valena Greengrass, approximately NINETEEN years junior to her husband, could not stand the idea of being the 'lonely, single parent'. And so, when her daughter caught her flirting with the priest after the funeral service, all she could say was "I'm sorry, darling, but Mummy's a bit lonely". At that moment, all Daphne felt was confusion. Was it that easy? Was it really that easy to forget? To forget years and years of living together, loving together, fighting together? Was it all gone? (What was that? No, I'm not laying it on a bit thick. Would you oblige me by keeping your quite idiotic remarks to yourselves? Trying to tell a story here...) And just as suddenly, her confusion was replaced with an intense disgust, an anger which burned through her soul. And thus, when Valena began applying arse-enhancement charms and such to "get a new father for you, darling", Daphne's rage grew exponentially.

And so, just three weeks after her father's death, Daphne was FURIOUS to discover that her mum was engaged to a more-dead-than-alive octegenarian by the name of Mr. Algernon Fitzkrumpet. Now, Daphne wasn't too pleased about this, and who could blame her? Her father had been both father and mother to her. He had nurtured her, sang to her, sent her care packages on the weekends (Even Malfoy used to get a bit jealous of her care packages... and trust me when I say that his mum gives STUPENDOUS care packages... What I mean to say is, how many people do you know that receive fucking PRO-QUIDDITCH brooms in fucking care packages? In case you're wondering, I received a rather shitty broom on Christmas. And Malfoy gets a fucking BROOM over the weekend! Did I mention that the Malfoys gave Draco an ISLAND for his seventeenth birthday? AN ISLAND. WHAT THE HELL IS HE GOING TO DO WITH AN ISLAND? He's bloody English! He physically can't tan! A beach in the middle of the Caribbean is useless to him! Honestly! I really can't fathom modern parenting practices... Nevertheless, I suppose it was the whole "I really do love you" sentiment that came with Daphne's packages that had all of us craving for a bit ourselves...but I digress... you'll hear of our sad, pathetic, family sagas soon enough.) It didn't help matters that Daphne's new father-to-be seemed to be a goblin/giant hybrid- a highly unattractive breed. And so, for the very first time, Daphne told her mum how she felt.

"Mum... we need to talk..."

"About what, darling? You know Algie and I are going to see the ballet tonight... Can't this wait until tomorrow?"

"No, Mum. I need to talk to you now."

"Alright, Daphne Lorraine. But you should know, you always choose the most inconvenient times to chat with me. Anyhow, tell me what I'm keeping dear Algie waiting for."

"Well... I don't think it's right. You. Marrying him. How could you, Mum? Forget Dad so soon? I don't understan-"

"That's right, Daphne. You don't understand. You can't possibly understand what I'm going through. I'm doing this for us. For us. Love him like your own father, Daphne-"

"But, Mum-"

"Stop it, Daphne!...These are grown-up matters. And you are still a child... Don't worry your pretty little head about such things...I'll see you in the morning, darling."

And that was it. The BIG confrontation- that went so wrong in so many ways. And so, with no further interruptions, the wedding took place in a lovely seaside villa. It was splashed all across the Daily Prophet as the event of the year. And this is where things begin to get a bit ugly.

Apparently, the morning after the wedding, Valena found herself lying in an empty bed. A cold and empty bed. As per protocol, she had Aurors scour the world for him, but Mr. Algernon Fitzkrumpet was nowhere to be found. The only piece of him that remained was a tuft of his greyish-gingery moustache. According to the Prophet, the coroner hypothesized that old Fitzkrumpet had splinched himself in the process of apparating. Unfortunately for Fitzkrumpet, when the elderly splinch, it's quite difficult to get them un-splinched. It didn't help matters that poor Algie had dementia along with a degradative form of short-term memory. So, honestly, the poor man never stood a chance. Can't you just imagine our little goblin/giant hobbling aimlessly through the Sub-Saharan desert, his fingers grazing across his face, pondering that inevitable question, that one question that has plagued philosophers for decades, nay, centuries, that inexplicable "Whatever happened to my moustache?" (Things were getting a bit depressing there. I thought you lot needed a laugh. And now that you've had it, let's move on.)

So, one week later, the wizarding world shuddered whilst eating breakfast and reading the Prophet. Valena Greengrass had killed herself. She had flung herself off the second floor balcony, merely two days after Algie's disappearance. Did I mention that it was Daphne who found her the next day? Yep. She's pretty fucked up now. But don't make any judgements yet... There is still more fuckedupped-ness to be had.

Now, as you all know, most first-years purchase some sort of pet, a companion of sorts to facilitate the adjustment to the Hogwarts lifestyle. Back then, many of us bought owls, frogs, even tiny, harmless garden snakes (Nowadays? Nowadays, it's quite a different story. Apparently, our pets are "old-fashioned". And hence, the first-years this year brought in 36 foreign dragons, 127 unicorns, 24 phoenixes, and 1 thestral. And of course that bloody invisible eating-machine resides in the Slytherin tower. I can't describe to you how many times I've closed my eyes, just relaxing, holding my warm mug of coffee, breathing in the damp, musty air of the dungeons. Simply thinking. Finally alone. No botheration. But then, something changes. The dynamics of the room become different. Cold, strange, uninviting. And so, I open my eyes. Nope. Everything's fine. There's nobody here. I'm completely, utterl- And that's when I see it. Blood. Dripping from five feet in the air. And half-a-cow being masticated before my eyes. And people wonder why Slytherins become dark wizards. If you had to watch that every morning, you'd think Voldy was all rainbows and sunshine as well).

Anyhow, whilst the rest of us were lugging around small metal cages carrying Olly the Owl or Freddy the Frog, Daphne Greengrass was in possession of a Bolivian boa constrictor she lovingly called Bartleby. Like most of his kind, Bartleby had a tendency to... well... constrict things. And thus, the disappearance of two owls, three toads, five cats, and one first-year named Cornelius, resulted in Bartleby's expulsion.

Meanwhile, Daphne officially became an orphan. With rumours of a curse slowly killing off her family, none of her relatives wanted to take her in. And cue the silver trumpets-enter Dumbledore. Of course, the "Greatest Wizard of All Time", also known as "The Man Whose Mistakes are Mammoth-Sized, No Really, Think Large, Pre-historic, Furry Animal", just HAD to get involved. And so, he requested that she return to Hogwarts with all of her belongings in tow. When she asked if Bartleby could come along too, the sappy marshmellow gave in on the one condition that she only release him in her private dormitories. Now, I thought Dumbledore was supposed to be more intelligent than a brain-dead chimpanzee. But I reckon I was mistaken (Me, making a mistake? It's been known to happen...approximately every other millenium). I mean what kind of headmaster allows a student to bring in a boa constrictor that has a morbid proclivity for strangling things? And we're fighting VOLDEMORT? Not that I'm saying Voldy's faultless. He isn't. But at least he had the sense to keep his bloody snake locked up in the basement, and not frolicking about in the Slytherin dormitories where innocent children sleep and learn. Anyhow, imagine the terror we Slytherins felt knowing that that thing was back!

And so, Malfoy, Nott, and I decided to take matters into our own hands and get rid of the damn thing. (No, I did not kill the snake. My lord, you just LOVE to jump to conclusions. You know where that puts you... in the same lot as Mr. Harry Potter. Bloke's more wound up than Ron with Veela triplets...Alrighty, then...On with the story.) So, whilst Daphne was sleeping, we snuck into her chambers and removed the old, raggedy, and slightly malodorous suitcase she kept Bartleby in (Okay, it wasn't that easy. As you know, at least I hope you know, boys are not allowed inside the girls' dormitories. But for some reason, girls are allowed in ours. Talk about sexism, but I digress. Anyhow, each of us used Polyjuice Potion to temporarily become a girl. Malfoy was Pansy of course, Nott was Millicent (ugh, I don't know how he managed to get one of her hairs- if you can call that atrocity hair... more like porcupine quills), and I was alksdjklajsdmadamhoochalsdaskd. (WHAT? What do you mean, "what did I say"? My lord, you are SUCH a rude audience. Don't interrupt me whilst I'm telling a story... And for Christ's sake, if you MUST know, I went as MADAM BLOODY HOOCH. I hope you're bloody satisfied.) And so, (WHAT NOW? Fine. If you must know, I'm a Chaser on the Quidditch team, and thus I had plenty of opportunities to snag a bit of her hair... Are you quite finished then? Thanks) when we had issues dragging the suitcase out of the room, we just blamed it on our feminine (Ahem. NONEXISTENT) muscles. One hour and three broken fingers later, we managed to bring the suitcase to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. I carefully opened the zipper and waited for Bartleby to strike out. But he never did.

Instead, he slowly slithered out, properly enjoying himself as he finally felt fresh air and the cool, dewy grass against his skin. And while I was admiring his red and black scales, I noticed something odd about Bartleby. About a third way down his body, at the five-meter mark, there was a rather odd bulge. He continued to slither out, and more bulges appeared. Soon enough, all fifteen meters of Bartleby were on the ground, and I could very well see that these small bulges formed one rather gargantuan bulge. A person-sized bulge. To be more specific, a goblin/giant-sized bulge. Suffice it to say, I've never ran faster in my life. And that, my rather uncooperative audience, is the unabridged saga of Daphne Greengrass.

Anyhow, I slip in next to Pansy, hoping Malfoy's too busy concentrating on his pumpkin juice (and the small hand caressing his parts) to notice. Pansy smiles at me then, a quick flash of radiance, and then turns fully to face me. As I'm about to pour myself some pumpkin juice, I hear her whisper against my ear.

"Are you ready?"

"What? Ready for what?"

"Blaise! You didn't forget, did you?" Oh shit. Whatever it is, I've definitely forgotten it.

And then her lips were on mine. I felt as though all of the air in the hall had been sucked out. And it was just me and her. It took me a while to respond. After all, I was just reminiscing about Bartleby... Anyhow, I must admit that Pansy almost killed me with that kiss. She didn't douse herself in the fruity rubbish girls thought that we went mad for. Instead, my mind was being softly swathed by hints of...lilac. Or was it lavender? And before I knew it, my hands were fisted in her short, dark hair. All I felt was softness. My thumbs grazed her neck and I could feel her pulse, quickening at this slight movement. And before I could savor whatever this experience was, it was over. Her lips were gone, her fragance was never there. I opened my eyes, feeling disturbingly undone. I found myself staring at two very wide violet eyes. Pansy.

She whispered to me then, "Wow. Blaise. I think that was quite convincing. I'll talk to you later about the formal. Thanks!" And she turned back to Malfoy, a smirk on her face.

OhmyGod. I really have to get used to this. Did I mention that Pansy's enlisted me to her "Let's Get Malfoy All Jealous and Riled Up so that He'll Come to His Senses, Stop Flirting with 99 of the Hogwarts' Female Population, and Start Dating ME Exclusively" campaign? I didn't have the heart to tell her that her efforts are utterly worthless. Malfoy had dated Pansy for several years, he had even slept with her. And now, now he was done with her. She was used, damaged goods. He didn't want her, so nobody wanted her. Despite the fact she was one of the prettiest girls in school.

I turned back to my pumpkin juice then, contemplating the whole "Woe is me!" situation. And before I could really start pitying myself, I heard something hit the hard, wooden surface of the table and roll towards me. A goblet. Pansy, always the devious little strategist, had quite deliberately tipped over Malfoy's goblet. Pumpkin juice flooded the table as well as a certain someone's robes. As Pansy began to give Draco a handjob -ah- as Pansy began to assist Malfoy in cleaning his robes, I refilled the goblet and discreetly (or so I thought) added the potion. I passed the goblet to Malfoy, and for the first time that day, he acknowledged my presence. He looked at the goblet and then back at me. That kid trusted NO ONE (with good reason, might I add, seeing as I was trying to steal his wit). And with an almost imperceptible shrug, he downed the goblet in one go. I got up then, a second vial in my hand. One, two, three... An emerald green orb, a bit smaller than a Snitch, rose out from Malfoy's chest. And that's when I punched Malfoy in the face.

As my left fist connected with his jaw, my right hand, which held the vial, swiped at the orb. And before Malfoy's own fist collided with my cheek, I whispered "Locomotor quartendum!" And that's when sweet, soft darkness fell over me. Who knew heaven smelled like lilacs? Or was it lavender?

Urrgh. My face...MY GOD! MY FACE! I lifted my arms and guided my hands to my face. And all I felt was bandaging. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Oh stop, already! Don't worry, you're face is in PERFECT condition. The bandages are there to reduce the swelling."

"What the- WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU TAKEN ME?!"

"SHUT UP, ZABINI! Any louder and you'll wake up Madam Pomfrey. And use your brain for Christ's sake. You're in the Hospital Wing... After you hit Malfoy, he punched you in the face, and hence you're here now. And you're Head Boy, you should know my voice by-"

Oh GOD! What did I do to DESERVE a visit from the she-devil herself? "Yeah, yeah, Granger. So what's the problem. Why are you here?"

"I know what you did, Zabini."

"What are you talking about, Granger? I do many things. Try to be a bit more specific."

Even though I couldn't see her, I could feel her blush at my vulgarity. Whatever. I was in pain and this bitch was bothering me. Chivalry died three alleviation potions and one plan for revenge ago.

"Well, Zabini. I saw you slip something in his goblet. I saw you steal that orb..."

"Oh! Excellent! So, not only are you the bossiest girl in the history of Hogwarts, you've also re-instated the Inquisitorial Squad. Let me guess, you're Umbridge. Wonderful. Anyhow, what's it to you if I stole something from Malfoy. Why the hell would you care?

She stuttered then. "I don't care. It's just... it's wrong to steal, Zabini! I can have your title for this. Tell me what you stole."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll go to Dumbledore."

"SO WHAT? WHAT DO YOU THINK THAT OLD BUGGER IS GOING TO DO?!"

"I don't know... GET YOU EXPELLED MAYBE?"

"Oh please, Granger. You and I both know that the Zabini family has recently donated 5,000 Galleons to the school. Do you REALLY think I'll get expelled for supposedly stealing some measly orb?"

Sometimes... being a Slytherin is way too much fun.

"Fine! What's the price of the truth?"

Interesting...very interesting indeed...

"Hmm... What does Granger have that I want... Intelligence? Nope... I have enough of that... Great-looking hair? Definitely not... But if you want some of mine, maybe we can figure something out... I don't know Granger... It looks as though you have nothing I want..."

"UGH! Come ON, Zabini! Surely there's something I can give you!"

"Huh... maybe you're right... I want...a kiss."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Can't wait for this bitch to blow a gasquet!

But the gasquet never blew.

She was really quiet. Too quiet.

"Fine. But no groping. And take those bandages off."

"Wait. WHAT?! Are you serious, Granger?! What the hell have you been smoking?!"

And where can I get some?

"What NOW?! Didn't you say you wanted a kiss?"

"Yeah... but you're supposed to be all prudish and nun-like. Why would you kiss me? A Slytherin? A potential Death Eater in-the-making?

"God, Zabini. Don't flatter yourself. The only reason I'm willing to kiss you is because you have information. Information that I want. Since I think you're nothing, that you're worse than the dirt on the bottom of my shoes, I'll kiss you. Because you mean nothing to me."

And without further ado, she came up to me, lifted up my head a bit, and began unravelling the bandages. And me? How would YOU feel after hearing that? I must admit my ego was a bit bruised by that rather scathing evaluation of my character...or the lackthereof, according to Granger...I don't understand it. What happened to the Granger that I used to know? The Granger who would have said, nay SCREAMED, "No!" at my ridiculous request. Stupid bitch has done it again. Used her bloody righetousness and "wholeness of character" to make ME feel like rubbish.

"Ready, Zabini?"

"What?" She's muddled up my brain for sure.

"I said, are you ready?"

"I don't know... Do I want to be kissed by someone who thinks I'm -how'd you put it-'worse than the dirt on the bottom of my shoes'?"

"Fine! Then just tell me, Zabini. Just tell me."

Why does she sound so desperate?

"Granger, you should now by now that nothing is free. Nothing. I'll take that kiss now."

She looked at me then, her face mixed with disgust and pity... What the hell?! And she came even closer to me then. Is she- Is she?

"Are you crying, Granger?"

"No-"

"Am I SO repulsive to you? Well, I'd hate to disappoint you, seeing as you hold me in such high esteem, but I must let you know that I don't give a flying fig if you can't bring yourself to give me a lousy peck on the mouth. The price of the truth hasn't changed. So either you do it, or you don't."

Why am I getting angry? Wait-What's going on? And though it seemed impossible, she leaned even closer to me, her hands on either side of my face.

"What are you doing-"

"Shhh. I'm imagining..."

"WHAT?! I don't want you to imagine me as WEASELY!"

"I'm not."

"What? Then WHO?" Wait a moment... If the Golden Girl isn't lusting after that excuse for a human... than whom is she thinking of? Who does she... like?

"You don't know him... just be quiet..."

She closed her eyes then. And she just breathed. Her hands cupped my face, her palm carressing my bruised cheek. And then it happened. She kissed me. And like before, my hand reached up and fisted in her long ringlets.

Her kiss was slow, tentative. So unlike Pansy's. Pansy's kiss was passionate from the start, just fire building on more fire. It was spontaneous and free. But Granger... her kiss was so...methodical. It started out slow, her lips over mine, and then mine over hers. And then my hands slid down to her waist and I pulled her on top of me. What am I thinking? This is Granger... I can't be kissing bloody GRANGER... But it was too late for thought. She understood what I was trying to do, and she helped. She lay on top of me now, her knees bent near my waist. And the kiss continued. And all I did was feel.

Her hair hung around my face like ivy. Apricots. She smells like fresh apricots. But this wasn't enough. I pulled the blankets off me and I felt her bare legs against fine. But it still wasn't enough. I rolled over then and I was finally on top. I felt her completely then, her breasts pushing lightly against my chest. And her skin. Her goddamned soft skin. The kiss still hadn't broken. Her hands now crept under my shirt and along my back. What is she doing to me? What's Granger doing to me?

But I couldn't stop myself. My hand slipped under her shirt, and I could feel her stomach quiver. I started trailing up her body. Past her stomach, her breasts, and to her heart. It's beating so fast. Why is it beating so fast? Was she frightened? Of me? And so I slowly broke the kiss and began kissing along her neck, and then under her ear, along her temple, and I felt her hands on my chest. Pushing me up. Pushing me away. I jolted up then and off the bed. I looked at her, her hair tousled, her blouse torn, her hands hugging herself convulsively. I looked at the stone floor, trying to understand what had just happened. Why does she look like that? Like someone...hurt her? How could I let things get so out of control?

"Granger-"

And her tears, which had been glittering in her eyes all along, were spilling over.

Oh my God. FUCK!

"Hermione-"

"Don't! Don't call me that!"

"I'm sorr-"

But she was gone.

It was only a kiss.