A/N Hey guys I know I said I'd update early but school just caught up to me right now. It's a heck of a year and I have 10+ concurrent projects right about now. I've -finally!- finalised the direction I want to head in. I'm not sure if I gave you guys any wrong ideas about it being a fic- the draft in my computer is the farthest thing away from a fic. It's drabbles throughout their lives, vignettes, almost - I need to make it clear that all these events that are happening are key to how Blair finally ends up. The Sorting Hat is still in Blair's mind, it's just viewing the events that's going to happen really, really quickly (:

SO, ON WITH THE STORY - FOURTH YEAR. Read and review.

Fourth Year

I. She will get noticed by a Seventh Year, Draco Malfoy. His keen interest in her makes her and her friends giggle loudly, and Blair will just flip her hair back and smile at him.

It's the Tuesday after Halloween when everything changes.

"Don't look, but he's looking at you again!" Penelope giggles wildly, her hands clapping her mouth in an over-exaggerated gesture, more than likely engineered to attract more attention.

Blair looks, of course.

He's in the corner of the Three Broomsticks with his friends. He's not being drunk or trying to flirt with Madame Rosmerta (she wondered idly if the raucous, sleazy, older, other Slytherin boys knew Rosmerta was only half-blood). Instead, his gaze is a little too steady for someone surrounded by falling-down drunk teenaged wizards, his pale face none of the red flush or the trembling hands associated with the drink clutched in his hands.

His gaze is steady; his gray eyes smoldering as he watches her, and when she stares back at him it's like everything else just falls away and it's just the both of them.

He's gorgeous, looking every bit the part of the white knight she's often imagined she would have. Pale blond hair glinting off in the dim lights; metallic as the sound of clinking glasses (and mumblings of "Cheers, mate" all around) and his gray eyes piercing (she's always preferred blue eyes, but then again she's pretty sure she could definitely get used to gray) and the small but unmistakable smirk that lifts his lips at the edges.

Blair turns her back to him so he can't see the matching smirk on her face, and instead drinks more Butterbeer in a manner she hopes is dignified enough. She would rather have elf-made wine like the ones in her father's cellar, the ones that she always drank at society parties, but this place only serves the bare minimum and Blair will just have to make do.

It's a game she plays with him – the clashing of their eyes (steel gray against chocolate brown) amidst a flurry of activity and a small smirk from either party; a game that only ends when one of them looks away. Blair likes to think it's a quiet flirtation, and as much as she's pissed that he hasn't made a further move a part of her is content to be patient and wait it out. They've been locked in a stalemate for weeks now, anyway, and even the thicker of her friends start to notice the undeniable attraction lingering between them.

She doesn't notice Serena coming up to her and whispering, "B, that's a seventh year", because what the hell does she know anyway?

II. She will date Draco Malfoy in secret as he takes his NEWTS (his father doesn't want any distractions for him) and publicly after the NEWTS are over.

The castle at night is a scary one. It's eerie, without any of the hustle and bustle and good cheer and good cheer of the students. The owls from the Owlery have begun a slow hooting, the doors have started creaking, mice starting the squeaking, and Merlin-knows-what in the Forbidden Forest howling and groaning like it's giving birth to a particularly large, ugly baby and Blair's beginning to feel slightly afraid.

How did she get herself into situations like these?

And Serena, the trouble-magnet who always dragged Blair into trouble, wasn't even here.

Blair wonders, briefly. She isn't sure if she would've liked Serena along – Serena still wasn't talking to her because of some "bad" help she'd given – how was she to know that making Justin Finch-Fletchley, Serena's current boyfriend (or to be technical about it, current ex-boyfriend) jealous by bribing Lee Jordan to kiss her on the Quidditch Pitch would result in one very unhappy, very single Serena van der Woodsen?

Up till last week she'd still thought a dumped, rejected Serena was an anomaly, an impossibility in the realm of the sane.

Blair huffs. Serena was utterly ungrateful. Even if the plan hadn't exactly worked out as planned, she was better off without him. Still, Serena isn't listening to her rational explanations and is refusing to talk to her. Over some buck-toothed, boring Hufflepuff who probably bought chocolates for everyone who walked over him like a doormat (Blair would know, she'd insulted him plenty and all he did was give her a box of Chocolate Frogs for Christmas before shuffling away in true Hufflepuff form. She'd wanted to put an Itching Spell on them and throw them at him, but Draco had been in the room at that time and she hadn't wanted him to think she was unladylike).

It was a shame – Blair would've liked the company. Most of the time she hates Serena as much as she loves her, and has trouble making up her mind which days are Love-Serena Days (when they confide in each other and hug) and which are Hate-Serena Days (when she's having a bad hair day and Serena just shines on as brightly as ever) but on days like this where the wind was blowing and the castle was whispering creepily she would've really, really, really, really, really liked the inane chatter and the beacon of fluffy golden hair to light up the dark.

A classroom door creaks as she passes it. Blair gulps and walks just a little faster. Merlin, I'm going to kill him.

An owl hoots.

Blair grabs her wand in her pocket tightly and tries to recite all the spells she knows.

Ahead, a door creaks open.

"Blair…."

Blair shudders, but she remembers not to fear (she is a Waldorf) and she jerks her head up defiantly at the voice issuing from the open door. "Hello?"

"Blair…"

Blair grits her teeth, raises her wand higher and advances toward the door. "Show yourself," she commands, trying to conceal the anxiety in her voice.

A pale hand shoots out of the door, clamps itself on Blair's arm, and quicker than a striking snake yanks her into the classroom. Another hand clamps itself on her mouth, stifling a scream, and a voice whispers in her ear, hot breath caressing her ear and making her shiver, "Merlin. It's just me, Blair, relax."

Blair relaxes, and she squirms around to face amused grey orbs. "I could kill you," she huffs. "That…that trick was so juvenile and showed poor breeding. Good Salazar, what has your mother done with you? And that gel honestly – have I taught you nothing about the wonders of Permanent Hair-Fixing Charms?"

His only response is to curl the corners of his very kissable lips, which only widens when Blair realizes that she is pressed very, very close to the muscled form of Draco Malfoy.

"I missed you, Blair," he whispers.

Blair can't help but giggle coquettishly, batting her eyelashes at him. "Of course you did-" she's cut off with a gasp as she feels the hot breath on the back of her neck, sending chills down her spine. She whimpers even louder when warm lips follow. Her legs grow weak, and she just might've fallen if not for the Quidditch-toned arms holding her up.

She feels the curve of his lips against her skin. "Eager, are we?" He asks huskily.

"Shut up and kiss me, Malfoy."

"Gladly."

The dim lighting makes it hard to see, but that's all immaterial anyway. She doesn't care about anything as long as his lips met hers. The Dark Lord could be storming the castle with giants and centaurs and unicorns and dragons and Blast-Ended Skrewts and she wouldn't give a damn. Filch could be dancing with Mrs Norris in nothing but pink boxers and she wouldn't tear herself away. Dumbledore and McGonagall could be having old people sex right next to them and she wouldn't….. wait, ew.

Old people sex would do the trick.

"Ugh," Blair groans and she pulls away.

He watches her, his gray eyes alight with amusement (and perhaps just a tinge of insecurity?) . "Something wrong?"

"No," Blair shakes her head, her curls bouncing before settling over the Slytherin crest. "I was thinking of unmentionable, forbidden, taboo topics that would be even worse than borrowing clothes from Weasley for the International Magical Haute Couture Show." Blair takes a deep breath. "I think I've found the cure for incurable teenage hormonal horniness."

A single platinum-blond eyebrow is quirked. "Enlighten me."

"Old people sex. Specifically, Dumbledore and McGonagall."

"Ugh," Draco contorts his face in a sneer of disgust. "You just had to put that image in my head, didn't you?"

"I'm telling you, there's something unnatural in the way they look at each other. That look's not allowed for people over sixty and especially for people who look like them-"

"Blair?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And effectively, his lips does just that.

"Draco…"

"I've missed you, Blair." He whispers again, resting his forehead against her own, and Blair knows he means it.

"I don't see why you're so scared of telling your father," she leans away to pout at him. "It's not like I'm a mudblood or some kind of pauper or anything."

Draco sighs. "He just wants me to concentrate for my N.E.W.T.S., that's all. He wasn't too pleased with my O.W.L.S and he's afraid I'm going to muck up the family name. "

"That's ridiculous," Blair scoffs. "Your O.W.L.S weren't that bad. Granted, I wish you'd have studied harder and got at least an Outstanding or two more, but it's certainly nowhere near the absymal standards of Longbottom."

"I know," his voice barely conceals impatience. "But it's just for another week or two, love, give it some time."

"But you'll tell everyone about us when your exams are over?" Blair's proud her voice contains nothing but the slightest tremor of anxiety, nothing to betray how she feels like she's teetering on the edge of the abyss and if he says a word wrong she'll just drop off.

"Of course I will," his face is serious as he studies her. "I'll introduce you to my parents, and they'll love you."

"You think so?"

"Certainly," he smiles down at her, and Blair thinks she's never seen a more gentle and beautiful Draco Malfoy before. "What's there not to love? You're a pureblood, with a respectable name. You're beautiful and one of the smartest I've ever known."

Blair stares at him. "But… I'm only a fourth-year," she whispers, hating her voice for the way it cracks, hating herself for letting him see her so vulnerable.

Draco studies her for a moment, before he leans over, and tips her chin up with a long, slender finger. "You're my girlfriend."

Blair smiles at him and throws herself into his arms and he buries his head in her hair.

Maybe, she thinks, just maybe, she's going to get her fairytale after all.

A/N Review please. Cookie?