authors note: why hello! first of all, thank you so so much to everyone who has reviewed this story so far! it is the most amazing thing to see and i'm so glad you're all enjoying it. i really can't stress how much your comments mean to me :) i'm also glad that you think it's funny, i was worried that i was only amusing myself. anyway, thank you all very much. if you are not reviewing, thank you so much for checking out the story but let's be frank, i'm a greedy bitch that has NO idea what she's doing. am i sucking? is it okay? please let me know!! also if you are interested, i have a longer and much more serious other blaise/hermione story up called paradise lost. if you review either this one or that, i swear.. i will love you forever. (those who already reviewed... marry me?)

now onward to the story!

il principe, thre

Hermione was angry. Scratch that- furious. Not just angry in a way that all Gryffindors get (temperamental, feisty, impatient, were words the Sorting Hat never mentioned, but never forgot), but so angry that her ears were more red than Ron's, so angry that she was positive that she would break something- most likely Zabini's face if she ever saw it again. And she would, especially tomorrow night at seven o'clock in the library.

Detention.

Detention.

How revolting, how disgusting cliché! The very word was loathsome and foul. Her entire school carrier ruined in three syllables. Madam Pince almost let Hermione get away with Zabini causing a fuss in the library. But then her stupid Gryffindor instincts kicked in and there had been yelling and oh Merlin, did she really hex him that badly anyway?

It had started out fine, fun even. Blaise Zabini was a stuck-up Slytherin who needed to laugh at himself, and Hermione Granger was a secretly playful Gryffindor who tried to give him that chance. She had been daring, rash even…properly lived up to whatever it was that Godric had desired. And she had been resigned to this, to humiliation and book sorting and the complete end of her entire life.

Hermione marched through the hallways of Hogwarts, tramped up the moving staircases and threw herself inside the Gryffindor portrait hole (leaving an extremely shocked Fat Lady and several random students in a stupor). The common room was calm. People were laughing, joking. Even Harry and Ron were playing wizard chess by the fire like nothing was wrong. As the portrait slammed shut, however, all activity stopped as the house turned to look at their prized student- their saviour in house points.

Instantly, Hermione Granger began to sob. Harry rushed over to her side, shocked but ready. "Hermione?" he asked worriedly as he led her to sit down in an empty chair, "What's wrong?"

Hermione sobbed, "What's WRONG? I'll tell you what's wrong, I- I – I, HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME?" Harry shot a look over at Ron disapprovingly. The other boy shrugged, just as confused.

"Er- Ron?" Harry suggested timidly.

"No, not Ronald!" the boy in question jumped at his name. Relieved however, he tried approaching the sobbing girl, "Uh- who did what, Hermione?"

"Za—Za—Zabini. And now I have de…de…" The rest of her syllables were lost in a torrent of tears.

"Dementia? Delusions? Er, dysentery?" Harry tried miserably to help.

"DETENTION!" Screamed Hermione in agony, flapping her hands up and down dramatically; "My life is over, how could this happen to me? I'm going to fail everything, now! Oh, McGonagall is going to be so disappointed in me! What will I do?"

Ron bit back a laugh, "I'm sure it will be fine, Hermione," he turned to Harry and whispered, "Can you believe this? McGonagall is going to be so disappointed in me? I always told you she was mental!"

"Have a little sympathy, Ron!" Harry shot back under his breath, "this is the girl whose boggart was McGonagall telling her she failed everything, remember? I'm just afraid she'll dehydrate herself. Hermione!" he turned back to the sobbing girl now mumbling to herself, "DO YOU WANT SOME WATER?" he pronounced each word very clearly as if she had gone deaf.

Hermione just nodded feebly as she babbled, Harry catching snippets of her distress such as "All Ts," "Witch Weekly," and "should have let the Troll…"

Harry looked around and quickly transfigured an old cushion into a slightly worn looking goblet, "Er, what's the charm again? Agua..uh…Aguamentos!" there was an explosion of rather minty smelling water that hit Seamus from across the room.

"Aguamenti-i-i-i-i…" Hermione trailed off in another onslaught of tears.

While Harry finally got her a glass of water, Ron tried not to burst from withheld laughter, and Seamus made some rather rude hand gestures and obscene taunts, across the castle Blaise Zabin wasn't exactly having a blast either.

Grumbling a gross amount of curses, Blaise came stumbling into the Slytherin Common Room for the second day in a row in a daze of anger and plots to murder a certain bushy headed Gryffindor. Oh, she would suffer. Blaise vowed right there that he would destroy her. Tomorrow night, she was all his. Slowly she would succumb to his power, humiliated and defeated she would crawl before him begging for mercy and he would offer none. He was the proud, the invincible, the magnificent Blaise Zabini! And let none defy him.

Standing with his two fists in the hair, maniacally laughing with glee at his plot to bring down Granger, Blaise suddenly realized that he was standing the middle of the crowded Slytherin dorm, and that he had a nasty habit of talking out loud at the complete wrong times.

Slowly, he lowered his fists down to his side and surveyed the common room. Look poised, look regal, he thought (with careful concentration not to open his mouth) as he puffed his chest and stretched his neck. Elegantly he arched a single eyebrow and asked the room, "Well?" Instantly, the common room went back to busily moving about on their own business.

Blaise scowled, secretly praising himself on a job well done, and began to swagger towards the stairs to the boys dormitory. Then he heard it, "Zabini!" he froze as he recognized the nasal tone. Shit. The only person he wanted to see even less than Granger.

Blaise turned around slowly, "Malfoy" he cooly replied with a curt nod before attempting to continue up the staircase.

"Not so fast, Zabini!" Malfoy smirked, it was really displeasing on him. The smirk was an ancient Slytherin art- a move that combined a haughty sense of purpose with a cold distain. On Draco, however, it just looked like he was rather constipated.

"I just wanted to say congratulations," the boy continued. Blaise could not help but wonder how own person could be so alarmingly pale. He was probably sick in some way, inbreeding would do that he thought.

"Congratulations on what exactly, Malfoy?" Blaise asked pointedly as he marvelled the remarkable pointy-ness of Draco's face.

"Why, on finally deciding to give that stupid Mudblood hell, of course!" Malfoy replied cheerily, "I mean you've always been so aloof, but it's really fitting to see you engaging in our little pastime. Really, to mock that bushy headed disgusting buck toothed bitch of a Gryffindor is really a sport that you should engage in. You know my father always said…"

At this point Blaise tuned Malfoy out as he continued to scrutinize Draco's odd features. He could probably stab someone with his nose. And that hair! Blaise almost pitied the poorly treated and slicked back white… creature!

"And you know what we do about those blood traitors. Why, one time Potty and Weasel…" Finally he curled a lip in disgust. Carefully hiking up his trousers, Blaise stepped up on the steps away from Malfoy. The other boy looked at him confusedly. Blaise just smiled apologetically and said, "Please excuse me. You're bullshit was just getting on my expensive shoes." Nodding swiftly, Blaise left the other boy stunned and staring up at his retreating back.

He really couldn't be bothered with Malfoy anyway. He had plots to deviously scheme and less than 24 hours to plan the destruction of Hermione Jean Granger.