Evan Rosier was pootling down towards the Great Hall, having just come from History of Magic class, of which the mind-numbingly dull subject inadvertently caused him to become fixated on his next meal, which often led to a groaning in his stomach. Now that it was time for lunch he was eager to see the choices on offer. He hoped that there was banoffee pie today, o sweet, delectable banoffee pie, the perfect blend of condensed milk and banana, as homely and toothsome a pudding could ever be.

As he descended the stairs he felt a resistance tugging at his sleeve. Whoever was so bold as to hinder his quest for pudding!

Lo, it was Lucius Malfoy, exemplar bar none of the nouveau riche, mercenary scum of the earth whose coat tails were fit only for Quidditch-boot wiping. Quidditch boot wiping after said boot had trod upon a muddied field after a thunderstorm. What did this pest want of him?

"Rosier," Malfoy hissed in a conspiratorial tone.

"What?"

"I have a..." Malfoy shuffled his feet and twisted his foot upon his toe in an uncertain manner. "I have a request to make of you. Do you have time to spare?"

Evan thought of his banoffee pie. Flatly, he said, "No."

Malfoy frowned. "Please?" he begged.

"What could be so important?"

"Ah," said Malfoy, anxiety crossing his face. "It concerns your cousin."

"Cissy?" Evan said loudly.

Malfoy had a startled look like a stunned hinkypuff. "Please moderate your volume. I can't have others eavesdropping..."

"Oh I know," Evan sighed dramatically. "You're in love with her. You wish me to put in a good word for you that you may begin your courtship of her. You wish to have my blessing in wooing my cousin."

A pink flush descended upon the cheeks of Lucius Malfoy. "No! It was for another more pertinent reason..."

"Honestly!" Evan remarked. "You're only about the five hundred and seventeenth person to do so. I'm sorry but you've got no chance with her. Good day."

"I mean to ask," Malfoy choked out. "It has come to my attention that she has been spending a considerable amount of time in the company of one Fabian Prewett."

"L'etudiant pauvre? Are you wondering why she would stoop to someone like him? After all, what can he offer that you can't?"

Malfoy looked affronted. "I am not that crass! I am merely wondering if she has been taken."

"For that matter, my cousin is not an object for you, or anyone, to take! If she chooses to spend her time with that pauvre she jolly well can! She is not taken but merely preoccupied."

Malfoy frowned at him. He had the appearance of a man greatly offended.

"Never take offence, my dear," Evan said. "Offence is for small people."

…..

Much to his dismay there was no banoffee pie to be had. The pudding of the day was sponge cake, which Evan scarfed down anyway.

After this most unsatisfactory of lunches he charged to the prefect's room, to file away some bookings he made for uniform breaches (failure to attach crest on outer robe with correct sticking spell, wearing of ugly shoes, failure to wear house tie in the correct knot) to assuage his emotional state.

He chanced upon Cissy and Fabian in the prefect's room, practising the duet they were to perform at the Hogsmeade Fayre talent show that was to round off a day of fundraising festivities.

"You'd never guess who tried to talk to me today," Evan began.

"Ramona Wiggleswade?" Narcissa Black ventured.

Evan wrinkled his nose in disgust. "No. Lucius Malfoy."

Narcissa looked genuinely surprised and struggled to mask her genuine interest. "What business does he have with you?"

"It's not me, Cissy. It's you he wants."

"Oh, tosh," Cissy dismissed. "As if."

"He thinks you're seeing Fabian," Evan continued. "He's getting all green-eyed. What do you say, Fabykins? Lucius Malfoy thinks you're seeing Narcissa Black!"

"Wherever did he get the idea?" said Fabian, slightly taken aback. He was used to being invisible and it surprised him to realise that students of much higher social standing were taking notice of him.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe because I'm always around Cissy and you're always around me?"

"I'm not always around you!" Fabian protested. "I thought we did a good job of being discreet."

"Oh!" Narcissa interjected. "Fabian dear, do not worry, if word gets around we're seeing each other it can only affirm that you have reoriented yourself. That is good, as it also improves your social standing by dint of being Narcissa Black-approved."

"You think too much of yourself, Cissy darling," Evan teased.

"Reoriented myself," Fabian mumbled, still fixated on the idea that rumours about him were circulating once more. He thought he was done with this in third year with the whole George Varey Goode business.

"Fret not my love," Evan began, and then sprawled himself over the sofa. He reached an arm over the back to where Fabian was standing, and gave him a naughty pinch on the bum.

Fabian squealed defensively, and from the piano, where Narcissa was sitting, there was another squeal, but of delight. Both boys cast a look at her, whereupon she hastily apologised and went back to playing a jaunty tune grinning to herself.

Fabian's face contorted to a series of expressions meant to convey the message that all this was really rather inappropriate but Evan ignored him save for a little smirk that said that this naughty business was to be continued.