Author's note: Look, another chapter! So much for promising to update soon... -sigh- (And this time, it's Tamara's fault! SHE was the one who didn't know what to write!) Anyway, hope you like it. Yes, it's all Blaise's story. The next chapter gets back to the actual plot. Reviews make us very happy, and they might even incite us to update faster!
Disclaimer: We're not JK Rowling, we don't own anything, and the last line is adapted from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. (We're in America. You guys in Britain know that one as the Philosopher's Stone.)

9: In which Blaise informs you, the reader, about his life and family

Blaise first saw Draco when he was eleven years old. Both of them were being chaperoned by their mothers, and the two women nodded coolly to each other. Narcissa Malfoy and Syd Zabini were well known to be rivals, and, personal feelings set aside, they could not appear in public as anything more. Blaise, who knew perfectly well that his mother was actually one of Narcissa's best friends, found this entire thing more than a little ridiculous, but he said nothing. He knew well enough that his mother would tolerate no nonsense from him, especially not here.

"Sending your son to Hogwarts?" Narcissa asked, eyeing Blaise as one might a toad: not with active loathing, but only with a kind of mild disgust.

Syd inclined her head. "I am indeed. So are you, I see. Blaise, meet Draco Malfoy. You two will be in the same House at school."

Blaise nodded once to the other boy, and the boy nodded back. Their eyes met and held, and Blaise knew that they would not be friends. Something about the other boy rubbed Blaise the wrong way.

"A bit hasty, don't you think?" Narcissa was saying. "There is no way of knowing what House they will be in ahead of time."

Syd's smile was brittle and arrogant. "You might not think your son is good enough for Slytherin," she retorted smoothly. "But I know that Blaise will shine there."

Narcissa drew herself up haughtily. "Draco is every bit as good as your son. They will both do well in the House of Snake."

"We shall see, won't we?" Syd agreed. "Come Blaise." She swept away, Blaise following her like a lapdog. Narcissa did the same. As they parted, both Blaise and Draco looked back, and their eyes met in a moment of perfect understanding: they would be enemies.

On the train two days later, Blaise found himself sitting in the same compartment as the other future Slytherins. He knew them all, or, at least, he knew of their families. The world of pureblood politics was complicated even for the most experienced players, and Blaise was not one. He kept quiet, watching as the Parkinson girl sucked up to Draco. To his credit, he seemed uninterested and bored by her attempts, but Blaise was still disgusted and, though he would never admit it to anyone, a little jealous. None of the other students were courting him! But he was a Zabini, and any Zabini would rather die than admit to jealousy, so he kept quiet.

The sorting ceremony held no surprises. Well, none for him. He'd know the second Harry Potter's name was called that the black haired boy would end up in Gryffindor. Where else would someone like that go?

He and Draco were, of course, in Slytherin. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to bear his mother's look if he hadn't made it in. From Draco's slight sigh of relief, Blaise suspected that he'd been thinking the same thing. But mutual relief didn't make them friends, and Blaise still didn't like the other boy.

Their first year passed calmly enough, disturbed by nothing more than the occasional troll and the death of a Professor. Draco gained followers, and Blaise acquired the reputation of quiet and aloof. He didn't mind, much. It would have been nice, occasionally, to have the same amount of slavish adoration that Draco enjoyed, but, he told himself firmly, it would get old very fast.

It wasn't until the beginning of the second year, with the appearance of the so-called Heir of Slytherin, that the two boys began to reconcile their differences. Blaise quickly saw through Draco's insistence that the Heir was Potter, just as Draco saw through Blaise's arrogant denial of the entire situation. Both boys understood, though neither spoke of it. Fear was something they all lived with, and it was not something usually spoken of.

As the petrifications continued and both Blaise and Draco began getting almost daily owls from their respective mothers, the fragile bond between them grew. Soon, Draco began making eye contact with Blaise during classes, and Blaise didn't mind being caught thinking about the other boy. Slowly but surely, the two rivals were becoming friends.

Still, by the time the supposed Heir had been caught and tossed out – and, whatever Draco claimed, Blaise refused to believe it was that oaf of a gamekeeper: he was too stupid and too slavishly devoted to Dumbledore to ever do anything like that – they were still far from bosom buddies. Their relationship was more like that of their parents: cool and courteous, without being openly affectionate or friendly.

That summer passed all too slowly for Blaise, stuck as he was with his mother and her husband of the time, an elderly, balding man with more gold than sense and more arrogance than gold. By the time September 1st rolled around, Blaise was more than happy to leave, even if it did mean spending another year cooped up with Draco. Anything had to be better than answering to his mother and avoiding his step father. Well, almost anything.

Thankfully, that was the year things would change between the two boys. It started simply enough, with Blaise remarking one night in the common room that Draco seemed to be baiting Potter more than usual. "Thinking of moving in with him, are you?" were the words Blaise had used, and everyone laughed, even Draco, though Blaise could tell that it was more than a little forced. When Draco delivered a suitably cutting retort (something about not living with animals), the conversation shifted and Blaise was once more cut out of it. He didn't mind. Draco's momentary lapse in control had given him much to think about.

He said nothing over the next several weeks, content to watch and take notes. By the time Halloween came by, he was sure. Draco didn't hate Potter anymore. Maybe, though Blaise hesitated to voice the thought, maybe Draco wanted to be more than friends. He shied away from the notion as quickly as possible, but it refused to leave completely.

Blaise still didn't know why Draco had come to him instead of some of his followers for advice. Maybe it was that Blaise could be trusted to keep silent, or maybe just that Draco knew Blaise wouldn't feel threatened by Draco. Either way, the blond boy cornered Blaise just before the Christmas Holidays.

"What do you want?"

"Listen to me Zabini, because I'm only going to say this once. I need help, and you're the only one who can provide it."

"Should I feel flattered?"

"Shut up and listen. I'm in love with Potter, and he's in love with me and I have to tell my father."

"I fail to see what this has to do with me."

Draco's hand rose as though to hit Blaise, then fell again as Draco struggled to control his temper. "If you will shut the fuck up for a moment, I will tell you," he said through tightly clenched teeth. He waited, but Blaise knew better than to open his mouth again. Even at thirteen, Draco was a formidable wizard. "Your mother is my mother's best friend. Get her to invite my mother to your house over the holidays. Then I'll tell my father in peace, and he won't feel obligated to castrate me or anything like that."

"And he would feel obligated to do such a thing if your mother was home?"

"Yes."

"And what do I get in return?"

"An ally."

"Sorry. I don't need any at the moment."

Once again, Draco's hand rose, and this time, he didn't bother controlling it. His fist hit Blaise's face with a hard smack, leaving Blaise slightly stunned. "You will do this," Draco hissed. "Or I'll make your life living Hell."

Blaise looked at the other boy, his dark eyes blazing with hatred. "You don't scare me," he retorted, pretending he didn't feel the pain from his bruised cheek.

"You should be afraid of me," Draco informed him. "You know I have the power to carry out my threats."

As Blaise tried to think of a suitably biting retort, Draco's hand suddenly dropped and his slender form slumped. Blaise looked at him in surprise.

"Please? I… I don't know what else to do."

Blaise considered for a moment, then decided to give in. Something about the sheer pathetic-ness of Draco's plea hit a chord inside Blaise, and the dark-haired boy suddenly remembered all the times he'd begged for something and not gotten it. This was clearly very important to Draco, far more so than toys or brooms.

"All right."

"You'll do it?"

Blaise nodded. "You'll owe me a favor."

"Anything." There was no hint of anything but complete sincerity in Draco's voice.

"Good. Now, we're late to class. I'll write Mother tonight."

"Thank you." The Malfoy mask was back, but Blaise knew instinctively that things would be different now. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and tackling Lucius Malfoy is one of them.