A/N: Here's the next chapter :) Unless the length runs away from me on the next few and I need to cut one in half, there should only be ten chapters in this series. I can't believe it's almost finished! I'm pretty excited, and I hope you are too :)

As usual, PLEASE REVIEW! I'd really like some feedback while I'm writing the next two chapters...

.:Chapter Eight:.

Draco sighed for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes. The party was in that awkward stage where there were a few people still stumbling in, and nobody had enough alcohol in their systems to let loose yet. There were little groups of people standing against the walls and sitting at tables together. Draco, however, was at a table in the corner of the room. He glared at anybody that tried to get close to his table, and was currently battling with two conflicting desires. On the one hand, he really wanted to drink himself to oblivion so that he could stop thinking about Harry bloody Potter. On the other hand, he had swore that he would never drink again in said brunette's presence after the first few days of beating himself up about his decision.

Speaking of his Gryffindor obsession…

Draco glanced around the room casually, both relieved and disappointed that Harry was nowhere to be found. It seemed as though fate was on his side tonight. He flicked his wand and summoned an entire bottle of firewhisky from the liquor table.

He didn't notice Blaise's secretive smirk in his direction from his place in a group of Slytherins, nor did he notice when Blaise excused himself to go write a very important note.

Harry was in the common room, waiting for Hermione to finish getting ready. He anxiously glanced at the clock every few minutes, worried because they were already about ten minutes late, and they still had to walk all of the way down to the dungeons! He vaguely registered a tapping sound, but realized that it was just his foot; he had been nervously tapping his foot, trying to speed up time. He sat down on the comfy red couch and sighed. A moment later, Harry frowned – the tapping hadn't stopped, but his feet weren't moving…

It finally dawned on him, and he glanced over to the window where an owl was impatiently waiting to be let in. He rushed over and opened the window for the poor thing, who flew over to the couch he had just vacated. He went back over and sat down.

"Sorry, girl." He pet the owl, which he recognized as Blaise's, while it stretched out on his lap. He unfolded the note that the owl was carrying, only a little bit worried.

Harry,

I just wanted to wish you luck!

He's here, and apparently determined to get completely smashed tonight, by the looks of it. I thought this might be useful if that's the case.

Blaise

PS- I hope you enjoy the selection of music. I picked it out with your unique situation in mind.

"Oh god." Harry laughed. Knowing Blaise, the music would be obnoxious as hell, and all about sex. Figures. This is what happens when Harry tells his ex anything gossip-worthy. The Slytherin would never tell anyone else, but he would definitely use his knowledge to embarrass the hell out of Harry for his own amusement.

A small glass vial was tied to the letter. Harry opened the stopper, taking a tentative sniff. It was one of Blaise's special blended potions, and by the smell, it seemed to be a cross between a pepper-up potion and a hangover potion, which would sober up the drinker almost immediately. He grinned, struggling to tuck the vial in to his pocket. He sighed and cast an invisible expansion charm on his pocket, as well as a charm to prevent the vial from breaking for good measure, before finally getting the vial to settle in his pocket out of sight.

"This is ridiculous. These pants are way too tight to be legal. I can't even put anything in my pockets!" Blaise's owl hooted sympathetically at the Gryffindor before nipping his finger affectionately and taking flight.

"Are you still complaining about my pants, Harry?"

Startled, Harry looked up. Hermoine was coming down the stairs, and he smiled at his best friend's outfit. She was wearing jeans even tighter than Harry's, but they were bright purple. She wore a matching vibrant purple tank top beneath a baggy, wide-necked lime green shirt that hung off her shoulder slightly and was ripped in all the right places. She had bright green converse to match the top, and her jewelry was all purple. She had somehow tamed her mass of frizz into a beautiful cascade of curls that she had half pulled up on one side. Harry nodded appreciatively when he noticed the streak of purple that was no present in her hair.

"Very nice, Hermione."

"I try." The two friends laughed, linked arms and made their way to the portrait.

"Where's Ron?" Harry looked around for the third member of the Golden Trio.

"He's probably already down there. He had some sort of errand to run first."

"Oh, Merlin. He's probably rocking back and forth in a corner, flinging hexes at any Slytherin that dares to come too close to him." Harry laughed as they hurried off to the party before all of the good liquor was gone, or their friend committed murder.

Things were finally starting to pick up tempo at the party, and Draco Malfoy was feeling pretty damn good, all things considered. The liquor had finally begun to flow like oxygen, and he was well into his second bottle of firewhisky, and he had actually ventured out to the dance floor. Blaise kept one eye on him and one on the door, waiting for Harry. He laughed to himself at the thought of the poor brunette rushing around trying in vain to get ready on his own. Hopefully Hermione had helped him, or he'd miss the party completely!

But, Blaise's worries were unfounded: a few minutes later, Harry and Hermione stumbled through the portrait into a throng of moving bodies. Blaise raised his eyebrows; if he hadn't been specifically watching for the Gryffindor, he wouldn't have recognized him at first. Hermione had done well in dressing the Golden Boy. Blaise had to have a stern talking-to with his libido before he made his way through the masses to Harry. He finally made it, and had to yell over the music.

"Harry, Hermione! Welcome! You're looking spectacular, 'Mione." He hugged the witch with one arm before turning to Harry and doing the same. "Perfect timing. I was just about to play a song just for you and Draco." Blaise flicked his wand, and as the song drew to an end, another took its place. The bass pulsing from the speakers was nearly deafening; the party was definitely in full swing now! Hermione had made her way over to Ron, and they were dancing to the beat of the muggle song Blaise had chosen.

"Really, Blaise? Enrique Iglesias? I admit the song is fantastic, but it's a bit… crude."

"Precisely, my noble Gryffindor. It also perfectly fits with your situation. Consider it a hopeful bit of foreshadowing. Now, go get 'em." With a smile, Blaise nodded to the tightly packed crowd dancing in the middle of the room. Draco was among them, empty bottle of firewhiskey held high.

With a predatory smile, Harry stalked towards his prey.

A/N: Hope you liked it as much as I did :3

Cookies to anyone who can name the song Blaise chose ;) It's not that difficult lol, but I find it exceptionally amusing and somewhat sentimental - This is the song that actually gave me a great deal of inspiration for this fic, as well as inspiring a separate fic that I've yet to completely flesh out.

Sooo yeah. REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

~Arya Rose