"Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please."

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like."

He scowled. He wasn't the type to be haunted by his words, but somehow they kept pounding through his head. Especially whenever he saw her.

They were coming in from the grounds, holding hands between them. He was as tall and dark as she was small and fair, though her hair shone red in the setting sun. They might have been called a well-matched couple, both attractive and opposites in many ways; they looked good together. Blaise didn't care.

For a brief moment his eyes locked on their hands clasped between them; ebony and ivory. He shook his head, shaking away the random thought as the couple went around the corner and out of sight. He rose to go to his common room as well.

Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise…

Yes. Yes, I do, he silently answered the echo in his head.

I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like.

Wouldn't I?

He had scarcely entered the long, low, underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains, when he heard his name shouted.

"Blaise! Blaise! Come here." Tracey Davis, a tall, blonde, blue-eyed girl in his year waved at him. "Sit down," she suggested once he reached her, airily waving her hand at one of the high-backed chairs.

Once again, he obliged. Blaise wasn't a meek or docile boy, but he didn't normally walk around picking fights. Especially not with pretty blonde girls in his House.

"Look here." She thrust a paper at him. "Next Hogsmeade weekend. Draco's already asked Pansy." She glanced around and then leaned closer to Blaise, adding more quietly, "You should have heard her go on about it. You'd think it's the first time Draco's looked at her. And don't tell anyone I said this, but Daphne told me she isn't sure that Pansy didn't actually ask Draco." She laughed.

"Why can't she ask him?" Blaise asked, frowning.

"She can. But she told me that Draco asked her… I just wonder. He's spending an awful lot of time alone this year and Pansy's just a wee bit worried, I know she is. You know what he's up to?"

"Nothing to me," Blaise answered.

"But you know, don't you?" Tracey pressed.

Blaise hesitated, and then shook his head firmly. "No, I don't. But that doesn't mean I couldn't find out if I wanted to."

Tracey dragged her chair closer. "I knew you could. Say, Blaise, you're spending an awful lot of time alone lately as well. Why?"

He shrugged. He hated being questioned and Tracey knew it. So why was she doing it? "I don't know," he said. "Nothing, really."

"Well, I say alone, but I don't know. You're just away from us." She looked at him innocently, which he knew she wasn't.

"Yeah, I'm alone," he said.

"But why? It's not like-I mean…"

Blaise knew what she meant. Tracey Davis was trying to say that he, tall, with high cheekbones, dark skin, and long, slanting eyes, was quite good-looking and there was no need for him to spend his time alone as there were many girls who would have been only too glad for his attention. Blaise was well aware of these facts, and had taken advantage of them in previous years. But so far, this year, he hadn't been seen with any girl, though his status as most sought-after male Slytherin sixth year hadn't changed. Nor was it likely to. Blaise's competition couldn't be called stiff. There were Crabbe and Goyle, who had almost enough personality between them to make an interesting rope; Theodore Nott, who was both weedy-looking and apparently lacking in any social talent whatsoever; and Draco Malfoy, who was handsome and attractive and self-confident and very, very much possessed by Pansy Parkinson.

Blaise realized that Tracey was watching him, her eyebrows raised. She was obviously still waiting for him to say something.

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"You used to have a lot of girls dying for you to look at them and you would just kind of… But now you act like you don't know they exist. Like you really don't know it." Tracey tipped her head at him.

He shrugged again. "Maybe none of the girls 'dying for me to look at them' interest me."

"You mean, you don't think they're good enough? Blaise, you really have too high standards."

Blaise didn't know any other girl, especially in Slytherin, who would say things like that to him. Not even Pansy. But he kind of liked Tracey. He shrugged again at her. "What are my standards?"

"Well, first of all, the girl has to be a real girl, which to you means she has to have at least one pretty thing about her, even if it's just her eyes, she has to be at least slightly graceful, she has to smell nice, she has to have nice hair, and she has to look like a girl." Tracey ticked them off on her fingers, smirking at Blaise.

He was surprised. She definitely knew him better than he would have guessed, and far better than he knew her. At the same time, he realized Tracey met all these requirements. He wondered if she knew.

"Look like a girl?" he asked.

Tracey laughed. "Yes. Um, well, like they have to have curves and… stuff." She waved her hand at her chest.

Blaise glanced down and up. "Oh."

She laughed harder. "Yes. Oh. Blaise, considering who you are, you're really slow sometimes."

Blaise, not knowing what to say to this, shrugged.

"I'm tired," Tracey announced. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Blaise." And, still grinning, she departed.

"Night," he said after her retreating back.

"Blaise." Anastasia Runcorn dropped into Tracey's chair, surprising him. Anastasia was almost his least favourite of the Slytherin sixth year girls; only Millicent aggravated him more. She was pretty enough with her heavy dark hair and celery green eyes, but Blaise disliked her actions. Especially when she was talking to him.

"Hi," he replied shortly.

"So… You asked anyone to go with you to Hogsmeade yet?" Anastasia raised her eyebrows in an over-display of innocence.

"No."

"Oh… No one has asked me yet, either."

Blaise, wishing she could be slightly more subtle, stood up. "Someone probably will. I'm going to bed." He left.

Later, as he lay in his bed, he wondered why he had such a hard time getting Ginny Weasley out of his head. He could name what was wrong with her without thinking twice. It was like a neat list in his head, one that he knew by heart.

1. She was a blood traitor.

2. She was a Gryffindor.

3. She was a Weasley.

He scowled into the darkness. He had had that list in his head ever since Christmas, ever since he had suddenly noticed that she had beautiful hair. Of course, ever since then he had noticed more and more things about her that he liked-as far as he was concerned, her good points far outweighed her bad ones.

He heard the dormitory door open and close. From the silence, he guessed that it was Nott, or maybe Malfoy. It was even possible that it was Crabbe and Goyle, but not likely, because whoever it was hadn't bumped into anything.

He turned over, picturing Ginny Weasley in his head. He wished he was asleep.

~'~

The next morning when he entered the common room it was empty except for Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass, the fifth girl in their year. He wondered why they weren't in the Great Hall. It was late; he had had a lie-in, a very ill-advised one.

Tracey, looking up, saw him. "Good morning, Sunshine," she said.

"Why aren't you in the Great Hall?" he said by way of greeting.

Both girls laughed.

"Daphne's waiting on Pansy," Tracey explained.

"What about you?"

"Oh, same thing, more or less."

Pansy Parkinson came clattering down the steps from the girl's dormitories. Her sharply slanting eyebrows were contracted in what looked like anxiety.

"Oh, Blaise, you haven't seen Draco this morning, have you?" she asked breathlessly, sweeping her dark hair back from her face.

"I just got up," he replied.

"Well, come on then. I want to talk to you."

Daphne and Tracey exchanged why-am-I-not surprised looks, which Pansy didn't see, but Blaise did. He smiled, which Pansy seemed to think was for her, so she returned it. They headed for the Great Hall together, Daphne and Tracey following.

Blaise and Pansy entered the Great Hall and Blaise immediately saw Ginny Weasley's mane of red hair. She was sitting next to Dean Thomas. As he watched, Thomas stood up, saying something to Ginny. Then he bent, kissed Ginny briefly on the lips, and left the Great Hall. Blaise's stomach clenched as he watched the tall, black Gryffindor leave. He suppressed the urge to pull out his wand and jinx Thomas-he knew one that would make him trip, which seemed quite attractive. He sighed and sat down next to Pansy.

She looked at him inquiringly. "Why do you look like you want to curse Dean Thomas?"

He shrugged. "He's just been annoying me," he answered briefly.

"He's a Mudblood," Pansy replied, shrugging. "And he's with that blood traitor Ginny Weasley."

Blaise shrugged again and began buttering his toast.

"Anyway, Blaise." Pansy poked at her scrambled eggs with a fork.

He added jam to his toast. When she said nothing more he looked up and was surprised to see that she looked upset.

"What?" he asked, his tone unusually gentle.

She kept her eyes on her eggs. "What do you know about Draco?"

He shrugged. "Depends on what you mean."

She looked up at him. "Where is he? What's he doing? Why doesn't he spend time with me anymore?" she asked rapidly, "Does he-does he have another girlfriend?" She dropped her eyes again.

Blaise hesitated before answering. "I don't know where he is or what he's doing, but I'm pretty sure he isn't interested in anyone except you."

She bit her lip. "He asked me to Hogsmeade, you know. But I don't think he would have if I hadn't…hinted."

"He probably would have, just not as soon." Blaise resumed eating now that Pansy no longer looked on the verge of tears.

"You really think so?" Pansy asked seriously. She took a bite of her eggs and looked at Blaise.

"Yeah," he said.

Glancing up, he saw Ginny Weasley leaving the hall, her long red hair swinging. As she walked past the Slytherin table her eyes met Blaise's briefly, and then she quickly looked down. He looked back down too, at his plate.

"Who are you asking?" Pansy asked.

Blaise shrugged. "Dunno."

"Are you asking anyone?" she asked, an odd little smile hovering about her lips.

"I don't know." Blaise finished his breakfast quickly and stood up. "I gotta go. I'll see you later today."

"Yeah, see ya," she replied, and scooted up the bench to sit with Daphne and Tracey.

Blaise left the Great Hall, scowling, trying not to remember the way Ginny's hair had swung from side to side, brushing softly against her back in a way that made him think things he knew he definitely shouldn't be thinking about a blood traitor, Gryffindor, and Weasley.

~'~

During break that afternoon Blaise, like so many others, went down to the lake. He had only just sat down under a beech tree when he realized Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley were sitting behind a bush not far from where he was. He swore silently under his breath, though he wasn't actually sure it was a bad thing. He glanced towards them. He couldn't see them very well, but well enough to see that they were snogging. He scowled and looked away. He watched the lake for a while, and then he looked back. He couldn't help it. They didn't seem to be kissing anymore. He hesitated for a moment in which what he should do fought a losing battle against what he wanted to do. Then he pulled out a pair of Extendable Ears and sent one end towards Ginny and Dean Thomas. The other end he held to his ear.

They didn't seem to be having much of a conversation. Mostly there was silence, and then Ginny said, "Oh, look, there's Luna."

"Yeah," Thomas replied briefly.

"And there's Seamus. He looks bored. He probably wishes you were with him instead of me." She laughed. Seemingly she was looking around and talking about whoever she saw.

Thomas laughed as well. "I don't care."

"Mm, there're Parvati and Padma. Wonder where Lavender is. Probably with that brother of mine." She made a disgusted noise. "And there're Michael and Cho. They look like they're having fun."

Again, she laughed and Blaise was sure that her laughter sounded nicer than anyone else's. Shut up, Zabini, he told himself.

"Look, over there's Pansy Parkinson and her gang. Where do you reckon Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle are?"

"I don't know," Thomas said dryly.

"There's Blaise Zabini. He makes me nervous."

"Why?" Thomas had a protective edge to his voice and Blaise scowled angrily, but listened intently for Ginny's response.

"He's been watching me a lot. It's creepy." She made a disparaging noise in her throat. "Don't know what he wants with me. I'm a blood traitor, remember?"

"And I'm a Mudblood," Thomas replied. "But I can think of several things he might want with you."

"Oh, Dean, shut up," she responded. "Anyway, who cares about Zabini? He's a typical Slytherin, through and through, with a special talent for posing…" And she snickered.

Blaise, angry, jerked back the Extendable Ear and stuffed it in his pocket. He stood up and headed for the castle, swearing softly.

"Language, Zabini," someone behind him said in a singsong voice.

He glanced back to see Tracey Davis walking behind him, smirking widely at him. He looked away, but she walked faster until she was right next to him.

"What's wrong, Sunshine? Who are you swearing at now?" she asked him.

He wondered why she was calling him Sunshine.

"Hellooo, I'm talking to you," she said.

He looked over at her and shrugged. She said nothing more but followed him all the way to the Slytherin common room and up to the boys' dormitory.

"You're not actually supposed to be in here," he said darkly.

"It's not my first time, Sunshine, believe me," she replied, perching blithely on Malfoy's bed.

He sat on his bed and scowled. She launched herself over next to him without hesitating.

"Come on, Sunshine, tell me," she coaxed.

"Why are you calling me Sunshine?" he asked, scowling.

"Cheer up," she said. "It's called sarcasm, Zabini."

"Well, cut it out," he snapped, trying to ignore the fact that she was basically sitting against him.

"As you wish." She shrugged. "You like Stormy better."

"No. Sounds like a horse."

She laughed. "True… What about Darkness?"

"Isn't Blaise Zabini good enough for you?" he demanded impatiently without looking at her.

"Sure, sure. I didn't know you were so touchy. You need to calm down, Blaise-my-love," she said.

He scowled. "I'm not your love."

"How do you know?" She laughed. "But you're right, you're not. Would you like it better if I called you 'my boy', like Slughorn?"

He made an annoyed noise without opening his mouth.

"Okay, I shall be nice and leave you. Or I would, but we gotta go to class. Come on."