A/N: I'm very sorry for the late update! I've been busy with classes. Hopefully I can update within the next couple weeks.

PLEASE SUBMIT REVIEWS. They are incredibly helpful! And I love hearing your comments! Enjoy!

Chapter 4: The First Detention

The minutes ticked by as we worked. As soon as I finished one trophy, I moved on to the next. I let Zabini work on the trophies that were higher up since I was too short to reach them. And he didn't seem to mind. In fact it was almost like we had a silent understanding that I would polish the lower ones and he'd polish the higher ones. We didn't look at each, well, at least I didn't. A few times I felt his gaze on me, but I ignored him, trying to calm the strange wave of nerves I was feeling. I set down my tenth trophy and reached for my eleventh.

"Bloody hell, Delaire, slow down," Zabini said, annoyed.

I glanced at him. "Why?"

"Because we should be trying to make this polishing thing last for the whole two weeks. I, for one, don't feel like writing lines," he snapped.

My lips pushed together in a pout and I slammed the trophy back onto the shelf, the loud sound making him. Then I stalked to the other side of the room and sat down, leaning against the wall. I was suddenly annoyed with the fact that Zabini had remembered the writing lines threat and was therefore the one to realize the consequences of rushing through the trophies and that it hadn't been me.

Zabini finished his current trophy and then sat on the floor opposite me, mumbling something I couldn't quite make out, but I thought I caught the word, "mudblood."

I frowned. "What are you doing?"

"Well I'm not going to be the only one polishing. So if you're not working, then I'm not working," he answered, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.

I rolled my eyes and huffed, crossing my arms and glaring at the floor. "This sucks."

"You think?"

"Shut up, I wasn't talking to you," I said. Apparently my attitude from this morning hadn't worn off at all throughout the day. I shot him a glare, only to realize there was a twinkle of humor in his eyes. "What the bloody hell do you find so amusing?"

He shrugged, the humor fading as the coldness slipped back into place.

After five minutes of sitting in silence and not doing anything, I was getting a little antsy. I hated feeling trapped, and that's exactly how I looked at being in detention: being trapped. What was worse was that my only person to socialize with was a Slytherin prat.

But after another few minutes of silence and boredom, I caved.

"So. Um. How are classes going?" I asked awkwardly.

He gave me a confused look. "Why?"

"Well I don't know about you, but this silence is really bugging me, and I'm bored. I'm just trying to pass the time," I replied with a shrug. I was horrible at small talk, so I didn't take his reaction badly.

He studied me for a few seconds, his confusion slowly turning to suspicion. "They're. . . fine, I suppose. No problems so far. Not like you," he added with a short chuckle.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm in Potions and Charms with you. I saw the accidents," he answered smugly.

"I was having an off day," I defended. "And it all started with you."

"I didn't do anything."

"You tripped me this morning!"

"And that made you spill your potion and sit next to a so-called wizard who can't even wave his wand without setting something on fire?" he shot back.

"Well, no. . . but. . . ."

"Don't go blaming me for your clumsiness and poor choice in seats," he said icily.

I opened my mouth, then closed it and took a deep breath. This conversation was getting worse and worse with each word. "Okay, let's. . . forget it. New topic."

"I'm not very interested in having a conversation with a mudblood."

"Fine!" I stood, grabbed my rag and polish, and walked back over to the shelves we had been working on. I seized a trophy and started polishing again, not caring that he was sitting beside me.

Zabini pushed himself up with a grunt and yanked the rag out of my hand.

"Give it," I snapped.

"No. I told you, I don't feel like writing lines, which is exactly what's going to happen if you keep polishing at such a fast pace! So sit back down," he said, glaring coldly down at me.

Last year, I would have shriveled up and run away from a glare like that. It even chilled my blood now. But I refused to back down. I matched his glare with a fierce one of my own, showing that I wouldn't let him intimidate me.

His lips twitched. "It's about time some of that Gryffindor bravery started to show itself in you. I was nearly convinced the Sorting Hat had been Confunded when put on your head and had confusedly placed you in the wrong house."

"Oh, you think you're so amusing, don't you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He smirked. "Yes, I do. And I must say, this new act your doing is much more entertaining than your usual timidness."

"It's not an act."

"You sure?"

"Yes," I said through clenched teeth.

"So you're saying that this sudden bravery will not waver?" he asked innocently.

"Yes." A twinge of uncertainty was snaking its way through my stomach. And when he stepped forward, fully invading my personal space, his dark, intense eyes never leaving my deep blue ones. I fought the urge to back up, mentally telling myself that he was testing me; seeing how far he could push me.

He stepped to the side, his eyes never leaving me, and slowly moved to stand behind me. He stayed very close. Close enough that I could feel his body heat. I sensed more than felt him bend slightly, and then felt his warm breath tickle my ear. It sent a small shiver down my spine.

"I'm very impressed. Not many students would be willing to be left alone with a Slytherin," he whispered.

I suppressed another shiver, knowing he wanted a reaction. "I'm not here willingly, and your wandless anyways. It's not like I'm in danger." Oh, how I hoped I spoke the truth.

He gripped my upper arm and spun me around to face him, his hand clamping around my arms to keep me in place, no longer holding the rag. My heartbeat accelerated, and I was sure he could hear it pounding in my chest. The firelight from the many lanterns in the room glinted in his eyes and cast shadows across his dark face, giving him a dangerously handsome appearance.

Dangerously handsome? What the bloody hell was wrong with me!

"I may not have a wand, but I'm not harmless." He emphasized this by squeezing my arms hard enough to make me gasp in pain.

I tried to pull away, but he held on tight and even pulled me closer. So close that I was practically pressed up against him. I could feel the firmness of his chest through his robes, and a slight blush rose to my cheeks.

With one last effort, I ripped myself from his grasp and turned away from him so that he wouldn't be able to see my reddening face. That was the last thing I needed, to have him taunting me about blushing.

I moved to the opposite wall and sat down, tipping my head down so that my dark hair fell in front of my face. I heard him chuckle, and I was suddenly furious with myself for letting him get to me like that.