A/N Sorry, I forgot for a moment that I own neither Harry Potter, nor Shakespeare's play.
He punched his pillow in an effort to make it more comfortable so that he could fucking go to sleep already. It had been three days after his profound conversation with Zabini, and damn the stupid prick if he wasn't right. He knew of course that his attitude towards the damn Golden Trio (stupid moniker) was far from healthy but he simply chose to ignore it. If he caved in on that question, who's to say what other demented ideas could enter his head. Next thing he knew he would probably start ruminating what hypothetical traumatic experiences in his childhood had made him such a craven bully at school and generally such a shallow person. He just couldn't give in – especially when it came to Granger - because then he would unravel like a ball of yarn. He was enough of a wreckage as it was.
And yet he just couldn't turn his eyes away from the hellish girl. He kept noticing more and more little stuff that gnawed at his resolve. She wasn't such a nice person as everyone made her out to be. Sure, she was never pleasant with him, and sure, she was compassionate and eager to help, but once someone had stepped on her toes she could become as malicious as any other Slytherin. The many years of pathetic rows with Weasley and the face of one Marietta Edgecombe were proof enough of that. She wasn't some naïve pretty little thing – her analytical mind seemed to aid her not only in studying but in judging others' characters too. That was probably the main reason that she had so few friends – she regarded most girls as shallow and boring (and not undeservedly so, may he add) and kept as much distance as possible with most males that seemed interested in her. Well, having a paranoid emotionally deprived best friend with a hero complex to boot seemed to have rubbed off on her. It seemed she just didn't want to expose herself too much when it came to her innermost feelings. He supposed that spewing house elf right and talking about your sense of belonging - or its lack - in a very conservative society, for example, were entirely different things. Being the reserved (or if you wanted to be rude - emotionally repressed and fucked up) person that he was, he couldn't help but respect that. And what finished him in the end – she just seemed so lonely, clutching to her books like a lifeline, putting the same scowling face he wore to shield herself. Urgh, he just couldn't take it anymore. He cast a Muffliato and on Nott and Goyle's beds and a Notice-me-not charm on Zabini's. "Fancy that, he quipped to himself internally, using the same hideaways as Potter." Snape's old potions book was really the most useful thing the Room of Requirement had ever provided him with – he was lucky he had managed to sneak it away before Crabbe's fiendfyre. He went and shook Zabini in his bed quite roughly; the prat deserved it anyway after planting that poisonous seed in his mind.
"Zabini, wake up, I want to talk to you."
The other boy groaned sleepily. "Whatever for, Malfoy? Did you need to discuss our chances to win the Quidditch cup now that Potter's not here to beat your arse?"
He sneered "For someone who has a vested interest in how I behave, you're not doing a very good job at motivating me."
Blaise shot up to a sitting position "Should we go to the common room if you want to have this discussion at – he glanced at the clock on the nightstand - three in the morning?"
"Don't worry, neither of those two can hear or see us, even if they did wake up. I've done the appropriate charms."
Blaise eyed him speculatively. "So I guess you were quite awake and alert before you got to manhandle me."
Draco scoffed – of course his Housemate wouldn't let him live this down. That's just the way things were in Slytherin house – using others' weaknesses made you appear strong. "Yes, you idiot, all thanks to you. But, to the point. I'd like to finish this conversation as quickly as possible, so I can get some sleep finally."
"Of course, of course" agreed Blaise readily. "You need your beauty sleep, right? It wouldn't do for your cause to look like Hagrid's dog chewed and spewed you, eh?"
"Keep this up, Zabini, and I might reconsider" he spat, annoyed that he was, apparently, so easily read by the other boy.
His housemate narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "As if… let's be honest with each other, mate, you're not doing this for me."
Draco laughed almost pleasantly. "While it's always good to be perceived as opportunistic, it wouldn't do for my Slytherin reputation and conscience to appear so easily navigated."
"But that's the thing, isn't? We are self-serving enough to let others manipulate us, from time to time. As long as I'm not gullible like a Hufflepuff regarding the other side's motivations, I couldn't care less – if it gets me what I want in the end."
"Yeah, mate, now I'm off to bed. I really need that sleep right now."
"Just a second… Have you considered how you're going to approach her?"
He couldn't help himself any longer and snickered – this entire situation was just maddeningly funny and ridiculous at the same time.
"Why, are you planning to write a guideline? "How to charm volatile females with your slippery tongue in less than two weeks"?
"Very funny, mate. You'd probably be the first to need it. But seriously, have you thought out any strategic moves yet?"
"Yes, I plan to be my charming and genuine self. I've been told that with that lot authenticity is highly appreciated."
"So, you actually plan on being your usual priggish self and pester her to death, just so you can get her to notice you. How's that anything new? And more importantly – how do you expect that it will work itself out, in the long run?"
"Patience is a virtue my friend" he smirked, something he hadn't done in quite a while. "And more importantly, persistence. Besides, the girl's too high-strung - she needs to vent her frustrations, otherwise she might combust spontaneously." He plopped himself against his bed and added, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, and Zabini? You may not care for your reputation, but I do. Let's spice up things a bit."
Blaise sighed mockingly. "I knew it was too easy to be true. What cunning plot do you have in mind?"
"A bet. But mark my words the whole thing's off, if you try to meddle in any way whatsoever. So, here's the deal – if I get Granger to admit before the Christmas break that she likes me and we could be good together, you'll stand on the Slytherin table in front of everybody and announce the Weaslette has you whipped."
"And if you don't? Three months is not nearly enough time to overcome her aversion towards… well… you."
"Then I'll stand up on the Slytherin table and admit in front of the whole school that I've been hopelessly infatuated with Granger ever since she slapped me in third year over that damn Hippogriff." Blaise's eyes widened dramatically at that. "Which, by the way" continued Draco almost nonchalantly, "is true. She is quite possibly the most fearsome and loyal woman I've ever met. Except my mother, that is. You should have seen her eyes blazing (no pun intended), she almost flailed me alive. Good night, you fucker, consider this admission a once in a lifetime extra dirt on me. That's all you're probably ever going to get." He chuckled and turned his back to the other boy.
"Well, Malfoy, I'm glad to see the arsehole in you hasn't died yet. Good night to you too… Wanker."
The next morning Blaise nervously swept his eyes across the House tables in search for his favorite shade of red. He had a mild headache courtesy to Malfoy's verbal diarrhea in the middle of the night but was otherwise in a chipper mood. He had written a message to Ginny first thing after he had awoken. They each had a piece of parchment enchanted with a Protean charm which Granger had graciously provided them with – of course she didn't exactly know who the second piece was for.
"Cat's in the bag. Do something to lure the canary in."
At precisely this moment his eyes met Ginny's and she winked slyly in his general direction. He felt the accompanying quill vibrate slightly in his pocket which meant she had already read his message and had written something in return. He waited impatiently for a minute or two so that he wouldn't to any suspicions. Then he opened casually his bag and took out his Transfiguration textbook where he had stashed away the special parchment.
"The deal's done. Took care of it this morning before breakfast. Meet me at the second floor by the tapestry of the Lady of the Shallot ten minutes before the first class."
He smiled to himself absently, hoping he could maybe steal a kiss or two from sweet Ginny before meeting the old Scottish harpy. Just then a loud clanking noise pulled him out of his reverie. Granger was standing, her hair practically crackling with energy visible all the way to the Slytherin table, glaring at some plain boy with a Ravenclaw tie. It was obvious she was quite out of control, as she almost yelled at him.
"No, Goldstein, you quite misunderstand me. I have no need and certainly no desire to be persuaded by anyone, much less you, that not all boys are callous pigs." My, my, it was almost as if she was impersonating Malfoy. "I don't know whoever gave you the idea, but let me give you some advice. Next time you try to convince a girl to give you a chance, do try not to look like a gossiping old cat-lady." With that she stormed out of the Great Hall.
Blaise snickered to himself but then abruptly stopped as his eyes landed on Draco a seat or two left from him. Sure, he was smirking to himself, but his expression seemed so dreamy that he almost resembled Luna Lovegood with his pale hair and a faraway look in his grey eyes.
"Feisty, eh? At least I'm not going to try and convince her I'm not a callous pig – she pretty much knows that I am."
"Because that's the first thing you look for in a person, yeah? Just hope she doesn't see so easily how pathetically smitten you are. If that's how she's running from some Ravenclaw nerd, you'll probably make her transfer to Salem's institute and leave Britain in less than a week. You're not exactly her favorite person."
"You're not much better yourself, you know. Now off you go, your carrot-haired fling seems to expect you somewhere."
Blaise scoffed at him, but then quickly got up and made his way to the second floor. Just in time for Ginny to pull him behind the tapestry of the heartbroken girl who couldn't tear her gaze from the surface of a lake in search of God knows what. He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist and gave her a tender, long kiss. When she pulled herself away after a minute, she laughed.
"You know, your metaphor with the canaries is most unfortunate. If there ever was a volatile little bird, it would be Hermione. My brother's scars are a testament to that."
"Why? What did she do? And what does it have to do with canaries?"
"She was mad at him two years ago for leading her on – he promised to go to Slughorn's Christmas party with her and then hooked up with Lavender Brown right after that. At the time they were practicing conjuring animate objects with McGonagall and well, Hermione might have accidentally conjured a canary or two and then made them attack him."
Blaise laughed silently. "My, isn't she a handful. So temperamental. She's perfect for Draco – she will certainly teach him his place. He doesn't need another doormat like how Pansy used to be." He then paused and regarded her carefully. "Speaking of doormats, whatever was up with that Goldstein bloke?"
Ginny laughed gleefully, with a glint in her eye. "Well, I might have told him a thing or two about how best to proceed with Hermione. Not necessarily true or kind-hearted things, though."
He couldn't help himself and kissed her again, quite insistently. "You, miss Weasley, have a devious mind. How you managed to get into Gryffindor, I'll never know."
"Hey, I'm just being fair. I accidentally heard him the other night while he was talking with Ernie McMillan in one of the corridors. He's just some naïve, not especially nice or clever boy, who has no idea who Hermione is. She doesn't need another Ronald."
"Well, no need to worry about that anymore. Draco will certainly not leave room for anyone – he's like a toddler fixed on a colorful broom. He won't leave her alone until she either caves in or kills him in a fit of desperation. Want to bet which is more likely?"
"Maybe - speaking of Malfoy, how did that happen?"
"Well, he is quite smitten – and if you can believe it, her temperamental outbursts seem to fascinate him the most; have done for quite some time, apparently. Truly, if I have mommy issues, then this guy probably needs someone from the Janus Thickey ward to help him. Anyway, since I caught him with his pants down, so to speak, two days ago, he completely changed his stance on the matter. He's decided he wants to pursue her. In his ideal world, they'll be together, come Christmas."
Ginny's eyes widened "No way… I think I'm going to make that bet with you. I say, she runs as far away as she can."
Blaise laughed good-heartedly. "What about NEWTs, eh? This is your friend we're talking about."'
"She'll take them via correspondence or something, I don't know. There's no way in hell that she'll cave in before Christmas."
Just then, a bell announced the start of the first class for the day. Ginny gave him a quick peck on the lips and said "Gotta dash, Divination all the way up to the Northern tower."
Blaise smirked to himself, straightened his tie and headed towards McGonagall's office.
What he heard, just as he slipped inside the classroom, made him want to groan and hide his face inside his hands, despite the fact that it was most unbecoming for a Slytherin.
"Granger, I'm keeping the seat for my good friend Zabini – the boy was sure even Malfoy didn't believe himself – but if you're so adamant that you must sit at precisely this desk, your desk, as you so convincingly put it, you can always sit on my lap." At that he leered suggestively and even shifted a bit on the chair, as if to make room for the now fuming girl.
"Why, you vile pig, you've just climbed the Everest of your bullshit, congratulations . Keep the innuendoes for someone who appreciates them, like your good friend Zabini here" she scoffed at that. "Or better yet – keep them to yourself" With that she turned and made her way to the furthest table.
"And why is that, darling Hermione? Don't want anyone else to have me, if you haven't the Gryffindor guts to do for once something nobody expects of you?" he called mockingly.
Blaise did indeed groan at that. So that was how Draco was going to play it… As a matter of fact, his eyes seemed intense and gave away that he was meaning something altogether different from what the witch (and anyone with a hint of common sense) presumed to be just a way to torment her yet again, but it was nevertheless a stupid approach. He sighed, as he threw himself in the chair next to the blond boy.
"Should we arrange a welcoming party tonight? I was wondering when the prat you used to be would make a reappearance."
Draco just gave him a withering glare and fixed his eyes on their Headmistress, who was just making her way into the room.