Beyond Therapy

- Beyond Therapy -

Between Strangers

Chapter Five

"I want you to make Ginny Weasley your new girlfriend."

Blaise froze, and looked at Draco as if he was mad.

"You think she would forget about the whole thing if I were dating her?"

"Why not? Love is blind."

"My love happens to have perfect eyesight," Blaise replied. "And so does hers, I believe."

"Perfect eyesight, do you? Draco said. "You dated Pansy."

"Pansy dated you."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what you meant to mean."

"You said you would do it."

"I wasduped into it," Blaise said and started walking away. "It doesn't count."

"Hey, you promised!" Draco said and went after Blaise.

"Promises are meant to be broken anyway."

"That wasn't what you said when you were safeguarding your promise to Ginny Weasley," Draco retorted, incredulous. "You are siding her at my expense. Where's the logic in that?"

"I should be the one asking that question," Blaise said as he walked briskly, turning to face Draco once in a while as they talked.

"It's perfectly logical," Draco insisted and reached to get a hold of Blaise's arm, stopping his getting away. "If she's your girlfriend, you can tell her to stop bothering me."

"Ho, ho," Blaise laughed without mirth. "Which century are you living in, Draco? You think she will stop hunting you just because I tell her to? For your information, your type of chauvinism has ran out of vogue a long time ago."

"Come on," Draco continued to persuade, "you are not opening your mind to this. If you would only stop for a second to think about it. She likes you. It's as clear as dancing pixies. And don't think I didn't notice the way you look at her."

"What?" Blaise reacted loudly. "What about the way I look at her?"

"That 'oh, she's one hell of a girl'," Draco imitated. "You said so yourself."

"Well, she is!" Blaise answered. "I also said she is a nut case. And for the record, I still think she is."

"But she's a pretty girl!" Draco persisted. "Tiny, adorable, sweet, nice arse, small waist, angelic face, good at Quidditch, what more can you ask for?"

Blaise arched an eyebrow, snorted, and crossed his arms.

"She's also bad-tempered, unpredictable, prone to violence and potentially dangerous, ever thought about that?" Blaise argued. "Look, since you think so highly of her, why not you go woo her? Now, that's the ultimate solution. No one hurt their own boyfriend."

"Not a chance!" Draco exclaimed and made a face. "Look. Just once. For me."

"I'm not sure I'm ready to be masochistic for your sake."

"I'm not asking you to marry her," Draco argued heatedly. "Just date her for a while and get me off the hook. Then you can dump her. I have no qualms about it."

"What makes you think it'll even work?" Blaise countered.

"You'll never know until you try," Draco reasoned.

"This is crazy," Blaise mumbled. "You are crazy. Look, I'm just not going to do it. You can stab me and throw me into the lake, feed me to the giant squid, but I'm not going to do it, and that's the end of this conversation," he finished and made a run for it.

"Blaise! You can't do this to me!"

"Oh, believe me," Blaise shouted without turning, "I can so do this to you."

"Blaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiise!"

"I can't hear you."

"You won't leave me in the shit hole, would you?" Draco wailed. "I befriended you when you were still sleeping in a cot!"

"Yes, and that's incredibly noble of you to do so because no one wanted to be my friend," Blaise replied sarcastically. "I had no control over who my mother chose to put my cot next to. If I knew this day would come, I would have stopped her from bringing me to your house or allowing her to let you into mine."

"We grew up together," Draco continued. "We ate together, we studied together, we even learnt the piano together!"

"Great, remind me of the senile old man who called me Draco and you Blaise. I think that's why I always get reprimanded for upsetting the great master with 'my' wonky skills. The things I endure for you, honestly."

"Forget that!" Draco replied.

"Why don't you just get this once and for all," Blaise turned and said. "I'm not going to do it. Which part of that do you not understand?"

"Please."

"Over my dead body."

"Please."

"No."

"Not even for me?"

"Especially not for you."

"Blaise ..."

"Goodnight."

~*~

Soft puffs of morning breeze blew, caressing the curtains gently and sent them floating in the air, rippling as it moved and fell still again until another breeze comes. Ginny stirred in her bed, cracked an eye opened and peered out of the window from under her blanket. Through the curtains, she saw the faint image of the sun rising, staining the skies over the horizonwith fine brushstrokes of feathery yellow and golden peach colours. The colours gradually spread and rolled, like a single thread unravelling its way across the broad expanse of the sky and towards the castle.

It was a beautiful morning.

Ginny sat up on her bed lazily and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Seven o'clock sharp. She looked around the room. The other beds were empty, but rumpled sheets and opened trunks showed that their occupants had been busy only a short time before. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand as she swung her legs over the bed, slipping on her slippers. Carelessly, she dragged her feet to her trunk placed near the window to retrieve her uniform. She hugged her robes, blouse and skirt to her chest, and was about to stand up again when something fell through the window and landed under her nose. She looked up through blurry eyes, and all she could see was a furry image swooping away.

She looked down again to find an expensive-looking box: dark blue, and beautifully tied with lacy silver ribbons enchanted to sparkle under the lights.

She picked it up and stood, turning the gift box in her hand to inspect. A card dropped out of it and ended up on the floor.

For Ginny Weasley, it read. And that was it.

She quickly untied the ribbons and opened the box.

Chocolates!

"Ginny," a voice suddenly called out from behind her. "Are you awake?"

Ginny turned and found Hermione, already dressed, appearing at their dormitory door.

"I have chocolates," Ginny said and gestured with the box.

"Where did you get it?" Hermione asked, her brows creasing with curiosity.

"I don't know," Ginny replied, shrugging. "It fell through the window," she said and took a piece of chocolate from the box, popping it into her mouth.

"You don't know who it's from and you are still eating it?"

"Why not?" Ginny answered, her voice muffled. "It's for me."

"But you don't know who it's from," Hermione reasoned patiently.

"I honestly don't care," Ginny said, her speech clear again after she had swallowed the chocolate. "You want one?"

"No, thank you," Hermione replied. "I don't quite trust things from unknown sources."

"Oh, come on, Hermione," Ginny said. "It's not like I'm some royalty or any important person from the Ministry. No one will want to assassinate me."

"I don't mean that, of course," Hermione said. "Though it never hurts to be careful. Besides, what if the chocolates are from someone you hated? You can't return it now that you've started eating them."

"From someone I hated?" Ginny echoed Hermione's word thoughtfully. "Then the more reason I should finish them. Why return a good box of chocolates? Here, try one. It's really good."

Hermione waved off the offer and smiled.

"Come on, you have to hurry. Breakfast's already started."

"Mmmmph," Ginny replied through chocolate-filled mouth and quickly gathered her things before traipsing across the room to the door.

"Wait," Hermione said and pointed at the window when Ginny was halfway to the door. Ginny turned. "Looks like you've got another owl."

Despite her curiosity about the sender, Ginny groaned.

"At this rate, I'll never make it to the bathroom. Don't people have the courtesy to send things only after seven o'clock?"

"It is seven o'clock, dear," Hermione corrected her gently.

"I mean, you know," Ginny said and waved her hand weakly, "after people have brushed their teeth. Or better still, send it in the afternoon when I'm wide awake."

"You are so hard to please," Hermione teased.

Ginny giggled despite herself, and dragged her feet to the window. She beckoned the owl over and took the roll of parchment from it. It was not an owl she recognised, and it looked just like any other owl that might have been from the school owlery.

"Weird," she commented to Hermione as she unrolled the note. "Whoever send notes this early in the morning?"

Hermione shrugged and then felt her heart caught at her throat when she saw the ribbon that was used to tie the note: a familiar black velvet ribbon with a single bead knotted in the middle.

She looked at Ginny, and saw the girl's eyes widened as she scanned the note. When she finally allowed her eyes to leave the parchment, Ginny stared at Hermione, her mouth half opened in shock.

Hermione knew before Ginny told her who the chocolates were from.

"It's Blaise," Ginny said. "Blaise Zabini."

~*~

"Blaise, you gave me a fright."

"I gave you a fright?" Blaise repeated disbelievingly. "What were you doing? Up to no good?"

"Of course not," Draco answered quickly.

"Good," Blaise replied. "Good to know that you have your senses back. Aren't you going to change? It's almost seven."

"Doesn't matter it's almost seven," Draco said. "I'm avoiding public places today anyway."

"Oh, yes, that," Blaise said with feeling. "I almost forgot."

"You run along," Draco said, waving his hand at the door.

"What would you like? I'll get the food, we'll eat in the classroom."

"Coffee," Draco replied. "And pancakes. You know the routine."

"Got it," Blaise said with a mock salute before turning to walk off.

Phew. Almost got caught. Holy shit, I didn't get to sign his name on the card.

Draco pulled another parchment from his bag and copied the draft he had prepared during the wee hours of the morning when he could not sleep. Then turning to check that he was alone, he crept to Blaise's bedside table and tested the top drawer. It was not locked. Fantastic.

He slid the drawer open and carefully searched through the contents, taking care not to leave any signs of disturbance. When he found what he was looking for, he replaced the contents to their rightful places, and closed the drawer. Without wasting time, he rolled the note, tied it, and sent it off with the school owl Crabbe had been using since losing his own.

A smile broke and threatened to split his face into halves. He watched the owl circle the room before it flew out. He followed it out of the door, saw it swoop the corner of the corridor and thought to himself smugly.

I am such a genius.

~*~

Flip-flop.

Ginny's heart did a friendly somersault when she saw Blaise Zabini in the Great Hall. He was talking to Pansy and some other Slytherin girls whom Ginny did not know.

She walked down the aisle, and continued watching the Slytherin table, hoping to catch his eye. As if he had felt her looking at him, he lifted his eyes at her and smiled slightly, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. She smiled back and continued to her House table.

Harry and her brother were already finishing their breakfast when she sat down opposite them. Hermione sat down beside her.

"Good morning," Harry said, and passed the two girls their plates of pancakes.

"Good morning to you too," Ginny replied, her spirits fluttering high.

Ron looked at her strangely, poked his fork upright in his pancake, twirling it on the plate as he thought to himself.

"You look disgustingly cheerful today," Ron commented as he took a mouthful of pancake.

"I don't know what you mean," Ginny replied, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice. "I am cheery everyday," she sang.

"Not lately," Ron said. "Just yesterday, you were going rawr rawr rawr."

Ginny pulled a face. "What rawr rawr rawr? You make it sounds like I was really an unattractive sight."

Ron gave her a lopsided grin and shook his head.

"The volatility of the female mood," he said to Harry. "I can never hope to understand."

"Then don't," Ginny said. "We are not meant to be understood anyway. Women are meant to be loved."

"And from whom did you hear these from?"

"How about I made up my own?"

"Something's happened again," Ron said and eyed his sister suspiciously. "You are really disgusting today."

Ginny threw her napkin at Ron and moved her foot to step on his. He lifted his feet expertly, dodging the attack. When she missed, she glared at her brother.

"Can't you say something nice to me for a change?" she complained. "It's early in the morning."

"Okay," Ron answered and looked as if he was thinking hard for something nice to say to his sister. Then a Hufflepuff walked passed and looked like he could not stop staring at Ginny.

"Hey," Ron called out loudly at the boy and pointed his knife at him. "Go away. She's my sister."

The poor boy hurried away with haste.

Ginny glared at her brother.

"Is it really so hard to be nice to me?" she wailed.

"Give me some time," Ron replied, and sliced up another piece of pancake. "It's a difficult concept."

Harry laughed along with the rest sitting at the table, then looked at Ron with a strange expression on his face before he turned to Ginny.

Flip-flop. There goes her disobedient little heart again. She smiled at Harry, and he looked like he had something to say. Ginny waited quizzically but he did not say anything, and instead went back to eating his breakfast. She felt a tiny stab of disappointment, but did not let it show.

A roar of laughter exploded at the other side of the hall. Everyone turned and Ginny saw a group of Slytherins, joined by some Ravenclaws, laughing their hearts out about something. Blaise was among them. He had thrown his head back, laughing without restraint. Ginny felt the smile on her own face, one side of her pressed lips curling higher than the other. When he sat upright again, his head slightly bent to listen to a Ravenclaw, his long fringe got caught at the side of his mouth. Ginny had the insane urge to help him push it aside and was relieved when she saw him rake his hair, effectively pushing the strands of hair away from his face.

In a bizarre moment, she thought irrelevantly of Blaise in comparison to Harry, and realised that they were more alike than most people would think. They were both tall, had dark hair, and were boyishly good-looking. Both were Quidditch enthusiasts, and both were the more quiet kind of boys who were often also elusive. They also shared this easy disposition - but you would only find out about that when you get to know them better. The only two differences Ginny could think of - apart from the fact that one was Gryffindor and the other was Slytherin - was the fact that Blaise was easily the smarter of the two. In that respect, he was very like Hermione. Then, there was the obvious difference in their image. Harry had short hair that leaned toward the schoolboy look. Blaise sported longer hair, and had a more mischievous air about him. Ginny could not decide who the better-looking one was, and neither did she feel a need to do so.

She looked away and ate her breakfast silently, thinking about the note, and smiling to herself.

Miss Weasley,

It just occurred to me that I have accepted your offer, but have not told you that I've accepted your apology. It was impolite and I seek to rectify that now. Rest assured I've forgotten about the whole incident, and will not hold anything against you when we next meet. Take the chocolates as my offer of friendship.

It was sensational meeting you yesterday, by the way.

Yours sincerely,

Blaise Zabini

~*~

It was sensational meeting you.

Draco could not stop marvelling at his own brilliance. It was exactly the kind of thing Blaise would say. And the note was perfect: a nice touch of formality within informality, not flirtatious, and just enough to show interest. Exactly the kind of mixed messages girls like to dismantle and analyse. Draco laughed inwardly at this naivety. There were never mixed messages where men were concerned. When would they learn?

~*~

He checked the time and realised with a jolt that he had stayed in the Great Hall longer than he had intended. Politely excusing himself, he packed the food and stood up, ready to leave.

"Where are you headed?" Pansy asked curiously when he started to walk away.

"Draco," he said, shaking the bag of food in his hand.

Pansy frowned. "Why isn't he here to eat? He's acting so strange lately."

"Beats me," Blaise answered and waved. "I'll see you at Charms."

"Look forward to Charms," Pansy said playfully.

Blaise's mouth curled at the corner as he turned towards the door. Small groups of student had started filing out, but Blaise knew it was early yet. He waited for some first year Hufflepuffs who were chattering among themselves worriedly to pass before he moved on, wondering how it was possible that these Hufflepuffs were still getting lost in the castle after being here for more than a month. Unable to restraint himself, he cut into their conversation and told them helpfully that the Transfiguration classroom was the one next to a row of armours on the third floor, not the one next to the portrait of Sir Cadogan on the seventh floor landing. That one was a deserted toilet nobody goes to.

When he finished, he was surprised to hear someone giggling next to him. He turned to find Ginny Weasley beside him, looking at him, her brown eyes dancing.

"Did they really think the seventh floor toilet is a classroom?" she asked Blaise.

He lowered his voice and bent down a little to her. "Unfortunately," he said in a conspiratorial whisper, "they did."

Ginny giggled again and he could almost feel her body vibrating from the effort to contain the loud sniggers that were threatening to escape. She was biting her bottom lip hard, and looked at him, helpless. Blaise had to admit that Draco was right on one account; Ginny Weasley was adorable when she was not mad.

"It's so awful, to be laughing at them," she told him.

"But they don't know," he said, feeling the effect of her infectious mood, "so it's okay. What they don't know won't hurt."

"Indeed," she replied. "By the way, I wanted to say thank you. You've been very kind."

If Blaise was surprised, he didn't show it. He nodded vaguely, thinking that she was referring to what had happened the day before.

"You're welcome," he answered, and then there was silent, so he continued, "So, how are you today?"

"Oh, great," she replied. "Today's a beautiful day."

"Good for you," he said. "You know, I don't think we have been formally introduced. Unless you count yesterday's incident as some unconventional form of introduction."

Ginny laughed, feeling a little embarrassed about the episode. "I'm really sorry about that."

"No, no, don't be," Blaise answered and meant it. It was Hermione he was still unhappy with. She was the one who slapped him, and she had not apologised. "You were very impressive. Very strong, very ... macho."

"Oh, god, please don't say that," Ginny said and covered her face with her hand. "I know I've been ridiculous, don't remind me."

"No, really," Blaise said, and tugged her hand gently off her face. "I was surprised at you. One wouldn't tell from your stature that you make quite a fighter. You almost tore my shirt off," he said, and then realising how that had sounded, added. "Wait, that didn't come out right."

Ginny laughed, shaking her head, then composed herself.

"Anyhow, that comes from years of training, believe me," Ginny said, finding it incredibly easy to talk to Blaise. "I have to fight six brothers to get things my way."

"That must be tough," Blaise commented, "being the only girl with so many brothers."

"Tell me about it."

"But something good came out of it," Blaise said, smiling. "You managed to tackle me, and I'm almost twice your size. Looks like I can only hope to be half the man you are."

"Don't say that!" she said and laughed, feeling embarrassed once more.

"Hey, don't feel embarrassed about it," Blaise said. "I meant it as a compliment."

"How can that ever be a compliment," Ginny replied. "I am like a wild child. And I blame my brothers for it."

"It must be fun too, having so many brothers."

"Well, sometimes," Ginny said, "and then, there are the other times."

"I have a sister too, you know."

"You do?" Ginny echoed with interest.

"Yes, I do."

"I bet she's not as wild as I am."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Blaise answered. "She shows great potential when she throws her rubber duck at my face. She might give you a run for your money, mind you."

"Really?" Ginny replied, digesting the information. "She's not here yet then, is she?"

"Nope, thank Merlin, no," Blaise said jokingly. When their laughter subsided, he clarified, "No, she's not here yet. Too young." And might not be magical. That, he left out of the conversation.

"I see," Ginny said. "No wonder."

"So, as I was saying, we haven't been properly introduced."

"Yes, let's do it without the whole my trying to strangle you part this time."

"Blaise Zabini, Slytherin, sixth year," Blaise said and stretched out a hand.

Ginny took it, and said, "Ginny Weasley, Gryffindor, fifth year. Very nice to finally know you."

"Yes," Blaise agreed. "Sensational meeting you."

"Ha, I know."

"Alright, look, I really have to run," Blaise said as he glanced at the big clock over the door of the Great Hall.

"Sure," Ginny said. "Go ahead, don't let me keep you."

"Have a great day," Blaise said pleasantly, waving goodbye.

As he rounded a corner, heading to the classroom, he thought about the implication of his words. He genuinely prayed that Ginny Weasley would have a great day. That would be the only thing Draco could count on for his own great day.

~*~

"What took you so long?" Draco wailed like a child.

"Oh, please, don't complain," Blaise replied, tossing Draco the bag containing the food and the coffee.

"Argh, hot!" Draco exclaimed when the bag landed on his lap.

"There's coffee, what do you expect?" Blaise said. "Besides, you are supposed to catch it. Not my fault."

"Hey, if anything happened to me, you will have to answer to my parents. I'm the only son."

"Has anything happened to you yet? No. And not to worry, I'll handle it when the day comes. So just quit it, and eat your breakfast," Blaise replied, checking the clock in the classroom. "You have ten minutes."

"All thanks to you," Draco said dryly. "I take it you've eaten."

"Mmmm," Blaise said as he walked about the classroom.

"So, there you were in the Great Hall, enjoying the scrumptious spread under the warm sunshine chatting girls up, never mind I'm starving to death here, decaying into bones."

"I'm sorry," Blaise said loudly. "I forgot the time."

Draco snorted. "Yeah, you forgot the time. How comforting to know just how much I really mean to you."

"Oh, you mean the world to me, Draco, darling," Blaise replied. "I wouldn't be bothered to bring you food otherwise."

"You are absolutely disgusting," Draco said, pulling his face, and quickly ate his breakfast before Blaise said something that would make him empty his stomach.

"You are so difficult to please," Blaise said, sitting down beside Draco, and rocking his chair on two legs. "Anyway, I think today may be your lucky day. Ginny Weasley seems like she's in this great mood, so it's not likely she'll go crazy on you. She didn't even ask about you. Not once. It's quite strange, come to think of it."

"How do you know that?" Draco asked, intrigued, wondering if it was because of the chocolates. If chocolate did do wonders, then he would have to send more, and more often.

"We talked a bit just now, in the Great Hall."

"Oh," Draco reacted. "You talked to her?"

"Sort of," Blaise answered. "She talked to me, and then, you know, we talked. She's quite nice actually, when she's not acting crazy."

"So, did she mention anything special?" Draco asked.

"Special?" Blaise echoed, looking puzzled. "What's special?"

"Nothing," Draco replied, then wondered if he had been too obvious. Damn it. "So, what did you two talk about?"

"Just polite exchanges, nothing particularly interesting," Blaise said, picking a loose thread on his robes, "She apologised again, and we made a fresh and less violent introduction, and I told her it was sensational meeting her ..."

"Ha!"

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "What ha?"

"Er, nothing."

"You are really strange today," Blaise asked, rocking his chair slowly. "Why is that?"

"Blaise, you didn't put sugar in my coffee!" Draco complained out of the blue.

"Draco ..." Blaise drawled and leaned over, sliding his arm along the back of Draco's chair. "What is it?"

"Nothing!" Draco tried to feign innocent. "Why do you keep thinking something's up?"

"You tell me," Blaise said, still leaning close, trying to make Draco uncomfortable. "You are the one who's acting all weird and ... up to no good."

Draco laughed nervously and inched further away to his right. "Stop it," he said to Blaise.

"Stop it?" Blaise said against Draco's ear, then reached a finger to feel along Draco's other ear, "I'll stop it if you own up whatever it is you are hiding from me."

"Blaise," Draco warned, feeling goosebumps all over. "Don't think you can -"

The classroom door suddenly creaked open, and they turned to find Hermione at the door, looking at them with an unreadable expression. The two boys jumped in their seats and repelled. In the frenzy, Blaise lost his balance and his chair fell backwards, pulling him along with it.

Thud! Blaise landed with a hard knock against the stone floor, falling out of his chair.

"Ow," Blaise groaned loudly, rubbing the bump at the back of his head.

"Did you break your skull?" Draco asked.

"Ow."

"Get up," Draco said and reached to pull Blaise up before picking up the overturned chair.

Hermione continued standing, motionless, taking in the scene in front of her, dumbfounded.

"What are you staring at, Granger?" Draco asked testily.

"It was ... erm," she said, torn between stepping into the classroom and turning to hide herself somewhere.

"Look, Granger -"

"Step aside, won't you?" someone else said from outside the door. "You are blocking the bloody way," the voice rang loudly in an unfriendly manner. Draco and Blaise recognised the voice: Pansy.

Hermione moved quickly as a small flow of students started filing in, and made her way to the seat in front of the class. She sat down and breathed in heavily, nursing the shock she had received when she walked in on Draco and Blaise. She had wanted to come to class earlier, knowing that she would find Blaise there, and apologise. But as it turned out, she would have to find some other time to do that. Now apart from having to apologise to Blaise for slapping him, she would have to apologise for this awkward encounter as she had obviously interrupted something.

Nervously, she dug into her bag to retrieve her books and stationery, feeling strangely disturbed. It was not that she was uncomfortable with what she saw. Not exactly. She had her share of friends who were like Draco and Blaise. She just did not expect Blaise to be ... with Draco Malfoy.

With hindsight, she realised she should have seen it before. The two boys were almost inseparable, like Harry and Ron. Not that Harry and Ron had anything going on between them. The point was, the sign had been as clear as daylight and she had missed it.

She was not sure if she was upset for not seeing it before or for something else.

~*~

"I bet you all my galleons that we are going to receive tonnes of flowers tomorrow," Blaise joked at lunch.

"Great, now apart from having to deal with Ginny Weasley, I have to deal with influx of gifts from admirers of the gay community."

"The alternative dating scene," Blaise corrected diplomatically.

"You sound pretty alright about that," Draco commented dryly, sweeping his hair out of his eyes with an impatient hand. The wind blew again, and he raked his hair, irritated, staring across the lake angrily as if it were its fault that his hair kept getting messed up.

"It's not a bad thing," Blaise replied. "We can explore our options."

Draco lifted an eyebrow and looked at Blaise disbelievingly.

"It's true," Blaise insisted. "You are just being homophobic."

"No. I'm not," Draco replied. "I just don't like to think that there are other males looking at me that way."

"That's homophobic," Blaise said plainly. "It's always like this. People who don't swing that way make such a fuss about it until someone they know tell them they are gay. Then all of a sudden, it's perfectly normal to be gay."

"What do you mean?"

"Say, what if I were to tell you that I like boys?"

Draco's eyes widened at Blaise.

"I mean, hypothetically," Blaise said. "Come on, work with me, this is interesting."

"Well," Draco replied carefully. "If you are gay, then I suppose, right ..."

"And you will be alright with it?"

"I don't see why not," Draco answered. "Look, I'm not going to throw you into the lake when I find out you are gay."

"See, this is what I was talking about. One moment you are all discriminating, but when you find out a close friend is a homosexual, you turn your views around. This is such a hypocritical world," Blaise concluded. "It's not okay for other people's children or friends or siblings to be homosexual, but it's okay for your own family and friends to be homosexual. Of course, that's putting a lot of faith in assuming that people even love other people enough to overlook the unorthodox."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Draco asked carefully.

"If I were gay, don't you think you would have found out about it already?" Blaise answered, exasperated. "I couldn't be straighter if you run me over with a horse carriage and iron me with starch."

"Okay," Draco said.

"But that's of course assuming that I even know for sure," Blaise said with a wonder of academicism. "The truth is, you'll never know until you meet the right woman, or the right man."

"You just want to sweep up all the fish in the ocean, don't you?"

"I'm just considering the possibilities," Blaise answered. "And when you think about it, what we've just done applies to the blood purity fanaticism. You hate Granger, but you don't hate my sister," he said, then paused. "Or do you?"

"No."

"Good, because if I find out about that, I'm going to throttle you into minced meat and feed you to the giant squid." And as if it had heard him mention it, the giant squid popped its tentacles to the surface of the lake and noisily splashed about.

"Your sister is adorable," Draco said, scratching his ear, frowning. "Granger is not. There is a very big difference, you realise?"

"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Blaise said softly, looking down on the grass. "I've often wondered if I would have looked at Muggles differently if my mother hasn't remarried. On that end, I'm as hypocritical as anyone else."

"Not as much as I am," Draco said proudly.

"Ah, that, I agree."

"It's hot today, isn't it? I'm roasting," Draco complained suddenly, loosening his tie and scratching his neck at the same time.

"Hot?" Blaise echoed, crinkling his eyebrows. "No, it's not. It's quite windy, in fact. Are you okay?"

"Of course, I am," Draco replied impatiently, his voice hoarse. "It's just the weather today. A little too warm."

"No, it's not."

"You never get hot, do you?"

"No," Blaise answered, looking mischievous, "though I'll never say never."

"Argh," Draco replied, unbuttoning the top two buttons. "You want another piece of scandal to top off the first one?"

Blaise had wanted to reply that it would not matter since they already looked like they were having a picnic date by the lake, but paused instead and looked at Draco, frowning.

"Draco," Blaise said and leaned over. "Are you sure you are okay? Your neck's all red."

"What?" Draco said loudly, covering a hand over his neck.

"Here," Blaise pulled at Draco's collar with a finger. "You look like someone fed you hot coals. Why are you sweating so much?"

Draco hit Blaise's hand away, conscious of the attention and resenting it.

"I'm okay," he repeated.

"Maybe you should go let Pomfrey have a look at you," Blaise said.

"No," Draco answered stubbornly. He had always been sensitive about his weak constitution, and did not like people to fuss over him. "Maybe it's the coffee."

"Coffee?" Blaise echoed, puzzled. "What about the coffee?"

"It tasted weird," Draco said. "A little bitter."

"Coffee is bitter when you don't put enough sugar."

"Whatever," Draco waved a dismissive hand and made to stand up, but fell back on the grass, clutching his chest and drawing sharp breaths.

"Draco!" Blaise reached over and pulled him upright.

Draco groaned painfully, feeling the rushing tightness in his chest, and panicked. He looked at Blaise with wild eyes and grabbed his friend's sleeve. He could see Blaise talking to him, could see the other boy's worried glances, but he could not hear anything. There was an impending sense of doom, and for a wild moment, he thought about death and he didn't want to die. He wanted to scream but his throat tightened and he doubled over, vomited, and then, everything went black.

~*~

"Anaphylaxis shock," the doctor said when he straightened up. He was a tall man in his early forties, broad-shouldered and blond.

"You mean allergic reaction?" Blaise asked.

"Severe allergic reaction," the man corrected Blaise without turning, rummaging his medicine box. "I've given him epinephrine," he continued to say, turning to Blaise and Draco's parents. "That's adrenaline in simpler terms."

"Whatever that is," Lucius Malfoy said unpleasantly, eyeing the doctor with contempt. "How is my son?"

"The drug worked beautifully and he should come round in an hour or so. It depends," the man replied.

"Oh, thank goodness," Narcissa whispered to herself and slumped against her husband. Lucius placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but continued to eye the doctor suspiciously.

"It was very dangerous," the man continued to say. "He could have died. What was he doing when it happened?"

"We were having lunch," Blaise replied quietly.

"What did he have?" the man asked, looking at Blaise kindly.

"Sandwiches, and coffee," Blaise answered, digging his memory. "There's ham in the sandwiches, and mushrooms, lettuce, and ..."

"Any nuts?"

"No," Blaise answered. "No nuts. Draco knows he's allergic to nuts."

The doctor nodded, and continued to probe gently. "Were there anything else? What did he have for breakfast? Allergic reaction can take hours to manifest, and sometimes the symptoms are mild, and may resolve before recurring again. Did Draco complain about chest pains, itch, swelling, or sensation of uncomfortable warmth before this?"

"No, I don't think so," Blaise replied calmly. "He only started complaining minutes before he blacked out, and he puked all over my robes."

The doctor suppressed a smile at the last bit, and made as if to pat on Blaise's shoulder but thought better of it. Instead, he paused mid-motion and swept his hand through the air to place it behind his back.

"So, is there anything else?"

"He had pancakes and coffee for breakfast," Blaise answered, and thought hard. "Last night we had chicken, and corn beef, and ... I'm sure he didn't eat anything he knew would kill him. He's not suicidal."

The doctor nodded, and sighed.

"It's very hard to determine why he had a sudden attack," he said, looking at them gravely. "Since young Mr. Malfoy has been able to play Quidditch without problems, I've eliminated the possibilities of vigorous exercise and irritants in the outdoors causing this attack. There are also no signs of insect bites that may have caused the reactions, and neither are there signs of flu or other viral infections. My best guess is that he had consumed something that triggered his immune system to produce the antibody Immunoglobulin E, or IgE that is responsible for the adverse reactions in people with allergies," he paused and addressed Blaise specifically. "You remember what Immunoglobulin is?"

"Yes."

"Good," the doctor said, and noted that the Malfoys were getting impatient with his medical talk. "I'll count on you to explain to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy here what I've said. I believe you've recently acquired adequate medical knowledge to do so."

"Yes," Blaise replied plainly.

The doctor nodded and sat down to scribble in his notebook.

"I'll need to know in details what he had eaten. For today and the past few days, just to be sure," he said.

"I can write you a list later."

"Very good, that will help a lot."

As the doctor continue to make his records, Blaise looked on, frowning, struggling inwardly whether or not to mention what Draco had said last before he passed out. Some parts of him told him it was ridiculous, that all coffee tasted bitter, but he could not suppress the hunch tugging within him, telling him that it might provide some clues.

Before he could come to a decision, the doctor called him, and he lifted his face to see the man looking at him strangely.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" the doctor asked.

Blaise struggled for a second before he said, "Yes," and paused, afraid that the man would think him stupid to even suggest the coffee as a possible answer to Draco's attack. Draco was not allergic to coffee. Draco drank coffee all the time, but ...

"Yes?" the doctor prompted.

"There was something he said before he passed out," Blaise said quickly before he changed his mind. "He said the coffee tasted funny."

"Did it?"

"I don't know," Blaise answered. "I didn't drink the coffee."

"Do you still have the coffee he drank?" the doctor pressed on. "Or did he finish it all?"

"There's some left in the flask," Blaise said, releasing the breath he was not aware he was holding. The doctor did not think he was stupid; he was going to investigate it.

The doctor nodded, and noted the information down.

"I will do a test on the coffee, and see if there's anything that might point us in the right direction. Meanwhile, don't worry yourselves about it. It's probably an isolated case."

"Do you mean he would not have an attack again?" Narcissa asked, her voice tight.

"Yes," the doctor said. "Your son have not had any attacks since he started school. His condition has been stabilised ..."

"Actually," Blaise interrupted, and the adults in the infirmary turned to look at him. "There was this time. About two weeks ago."

"I didn't hear about it," the doctor said.

"He didn't want anyone to know," Blaise continue to say, and avoided the Malfoys' eyes. "And it wasn't too serious. He was alright after that."

The doctor looked calculative for a moment, and then scribbled something in his notebook. Blaise had an intense curiosity to know what it was.

"I doubt the cases are related," the doctor said to them, but Blaise thought he did not sound convinced.

"Are we done then," Lucius Malfoy said suddenly, and waved his cane toward the door. "If there is nothing else, you may make your leave, Mr. Wright."

The doctor packed his things and stood. With a slight nod to the Malfoys, he turned to leave.

"I'll see the doctor out of the castle," Blaise said, and followed the doctor.

~*~

When they were out of the door, Dr. John Wright turned to Blaise, long-faced.

"They are still not very receptive of people like me, are they?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"It must have been fifteen years or so," John Wright said.

"Never mind that. Muggles are Muggles. Draco's parents do not like Muggles," Blaise replied, and switched subject. "How is my mother?"

"Very well," John said with a smile. "How are you?"

"Fine," Blaise said, and paused before continuing, "thank you."

"How's the essay?"

"It's fine too," Blaise answered, and added, "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," John Wright replied and looked at Blaise. "If there's anything else I can do to help with the essay, you can write to me directly. I hope you know I will be glad to help."

"Okay," Blaise said and was subdued.

"Blaise," the older man said, stopping at the moving staircases. "I think we have both passed the age where we need to pass notes through someone else."

"I was just writing to my mother," Blaise said without looking at the man. "I thought I would just mention it to her."

"I hope that's true," the man said and stepped on the staircase that had swung into place in front of them. "I think we are both mature enough to handle a direct correspondence. And I couldn't be happier that you are interested in non-magical medicine."

"How is Gwendolyn?" Blaise suddenly asked.

The older man beamed at the mention of the name, his pride unhidden in his face. "Good, she's good. Up to all sort of tricks, driving Caroline crazy."

Blaise could not help a smile at that.

"Your mother mentions you a lot, especially when Gwendolyn does something to drive us mad. She said you were playful but never gave her so much trouble. She said you were very obedient as a child."

"And so I am."

"Will you be coming to visit in December?" the man asked.

Blaise paused to consider and was hesitant to give a reply. "I'll see," he said finally and led the doctor to the gate. There was a carriage waiting outside the castle, instructed to bring the doctor to the station where he could take the train back to London.

"I hope you will come," the man said to Blaise before he boarded the carriage. "Your mother misses you very much. And so does Gwendolyn."

"I will think about it."

"And about Draco," the man said from the carriage, "I have to admit that I am puzzled with what happened. His condition has been very stable after he turned ten, and his yearly check-up shows that he is in clean health. Quite strong really, with his regular exercise. There's no reason for him to have two attacks within such a short frame of time, and with no apparent triggers."

"Are you suspecting something, Sir?"

"No, no, of course not," John replied. "It's just a little strange is all. Look after him, will you?"

Blaise nodded and pushed the carriage door close.

"Tell my mother I wish her well," Blaise said before the carriage started moving slowly. "And Gwendolyn too."

"I will. You take care of yourself," the man said and waved from the carriage window.

Blaise waved back and stood, watching the carriage move off towards the sunset.

~*~

GOAL! GOAL! GOAL! IT'S A ... no, there's no goal. Jane Wiper has intercepted the Quaffle, speeding toward the other side of the pitch. The Puddlemere United Chasers are right behind, clearly enjoying a clear view of Wiper's sexy long legs. Speaking of best legs, the title still goes to Holyhead Harpies captain Gwenog Jones. Jones is shooting towards the Puddlemere Chasers at top speed, her breasts jiggling tantalisingly, and she hits the Bludger, and she ... missed. Jones is looking absolutely livid now, shaking her fist in the air, and boy, do that look ...

"Why are we listening to this channel?" Blaise complained as he buried his head into the pillow.

"It's the best available," Draco said, enjoying the broadcast of the match.

"You are only listening to this match because it's Holyhead Harpies," Blaise pouted. "I can understand the appeal of an all-women Quidditch team, but I want to listen to good, old, traditional broadcast of my team's match, a broadcast that actually focus on the game, not the women. Change the channel."

"No."

"Change the channel."

"No."

"Give it here," Blaise said and tried to pluck the radio out of Draco's grasp.

"No!" Draco yelled and the two boys were tumbling over each other, trying to take over the radio when a fierce voice rang from behind them.

"Mr. Zabini! If you do not restraint yourself, I will have to ask you to leave!" the nurse scolded. "Please do not excite the patient."

"That's exactly what I'm thought too, Madam," Blaise replied, looking at the nurse earnestly. "The last thing Draco needs is to be excited by the ... dshakfjhasfhfkhkjh!"

Draco pressed his hand firmly over Blaise's mouth, effectively stopping him from saying more. "I will ask him to behave himself, Madam. I promise."

"Hmph," the nurse said and turned to go back to her office.

"Do you want her to throw you out or something? After all the time you spend on charming her to let you in here?" Draco hissed.

"If I don't get to listen to proper reporting of my team's match, I will walk out of here myself."

"Why do you have to do this?" Draco replied, feigning a pitiful face. "This is the only entertainment I have here."

"This is just so pathetic," Blaise said and sat back down on his chair. "You realise you are resorting to cheap, audio pornography for entertainment? It's not even proper pornography. I don't know what it is."

"Fine, take the radio," Draco said and threw the radio at Blaise, who caught it. "Take away the only joy of my life in this pathetic place."

Blaise took the radio happily and adjusted the frequency.

Draco's face fell. "You are not doing this to me."

Blaise looked up, grinning ear to ear as he searched for his usual radio channel for Quidditch news. "You told me to take it."

"You are supposed to say no. You are supposed to say 'Poor Draco, I'm sorry I'm so mean to you. Now have the radio back. Do whatever you want.' Not take the radio and happily tune away my favourite channel," Draco wailed.

... That's all, folks. It was an exciting game and we thank you for sharing your excitement with us. The next game broadcast will be on ...

"What? The game ended?" Blaise shouted at the radio, shaking it. "I don't even know who won! You can't do this to me! Bloody hell, tell me who won!"

Draco leaned back against the pillow, picking his fingernails nonchalantly. Blaise glared at him before throwing the radio at his head.

"Hey, watch it!" Draco said and ducked the radio. "I'm the patient here."

"You goblin fucker, now I don't know if Puddlemere won!"

"If you didn't insist on tuning away, you would have known who won."

"Argh!" Blaise exclaimed, fuming. "I saved your life! I called your doctor! I owled your parents! And I fucking carried you to the infirmary after you vomited all over my robes. The least you can do is let me listen to my team's match and find out if they won!"

"Mr. Zabini!" The nurse came in again. "Mr. Zabini, if you do not ..."

"I don't know who won," Blaise complained to the nurse pitifully. "The game ended and I don't know who won!"

"Don't mind him, Madam," Draco said to the nurse. "He's highly distressed."

"Boys," the nurse huffed and pressed her lips together, shaking her head. "He will have to go soon, Mr. Malfoy. It's nearly eleven. You need to rest."

"But I just woke up two hours ago."

"You are a patient, and you need to rest!" Madam Pomfrey scolded. "If there were anyone else in the infirmary, I would not have let him stay. It's past visiting hours!"

"We know that, Madam, and we appreciated your kindness in bending the rule," Draco said sweetly. "It's lonely being alone here, and I am afraid of the dark ..."

"Do not say anymore, Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey said, stopping him with a firm wave of her hand. Five more minutes, and that's it," the nurse struck the final bargain, and left the infirmary.

"I still don't know who won," Blaise continued to lament, hitting his head against the pillow.

"You will know when you get the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning," Draco said, placing the radio on the bedside table.

"That's like eight hours from now!"

"So how is Dr. Wright?" Draco asked, diverting the topic.

"He looks the same."

"You talked to him?"

"Yes, I talked to him," Blaise replied. "I even saw him to the castle gate."

"I still have problem thinking of him as a Muggle. I always had. It's just so strange," Draco said. "A Muggle whose ancestor created the Golden Snitch. I think that's why my father is able to tolerate him as my doctor. Muggle, yes, but a Muggle with some magical family history makes it less painful for us. He's like a wizard who has misplaced his wand."

"I know what you mean," Blaise replied, hugging the pillow. "Remember the essay I wrote for our governess when I was eight? Famous People I Admire? I wrote about Bowman Wright."

"Because he invented the Golden Snitch?"

"Yeah, what else?" Blaise answered, putting his feet on the edge of the chair, hugging them and leaning into the pillow in his arms. "Never would have thought that his descendent would become my mother's Muggle husband." Draco noted the way Blaise had referred to the doctor. His mother's husband. Blaise never referred to him as his stepfather. As far as Blaise was concerned, there was and always would be only one father.

"Who did you write about?" Blaise continued. "Roderick Plumpton?"

"The guy who held the record for fastest capture of the Snitch?" Draco asked, thinking. "No."

"Adalbert Waffling? Bridget Wenlock?" Blaise continued to guess. "Salazar Slytherin? The Dark Lord?"

Draco shook his head, and Blaise frowned.

"Who is it then?"

"Gaspard Shingleton," Draco replied. "He invented the Self-Stirring Cauldron, and is therefore my ultimate hero."

Blaise nearly fell off his chair.

"Self-Stirring Cauldrons?"

"What is that tone supposed to mean? Self-Stirring Cauldron is a great invention to an eight year old. I admire the man whose invention makes my life easier. Pity we can't use them in school."

"Good to know that you enjoy the fine things in life," Blaise replied dryly. Then, he turned his eyes to the parchment lying on the bedside table, and reached over for it.

"We had better finish this one now," he said and gestured the parchment at Draco. "What else did you eat yesterday?"

Draco groaned and sank deeper into his pillows. "How would I know? You can't expect me to remember what I ate yesterday. I can't even remember what I ate just now!"

"You had two bowls of potatoes, ham, and mushrooms and a jar of plain water just now," Blaise read from the parchment.

"That's not the point!" Draco said loudly. "I just can't remember what I ate!"

"You are supposed to be conscious of what you eat everyday," Blaise said. "I thought it was trained into you from the time you started putting things into your mouth."

"I just don't remember!"

Blaise sighed and looked at the list. So far, they only have three items: Breakfast, lunch and dinner for today. And all of them were filled up by Blaise.

"We need to at least have some records for up to the day before," Blaise said, and looked at Draco sternly. "Dr. Wright said it's important. We need to find out the cause of the attack."

"You can just tell him I ate things normal people eat," Draco said pitifully. "Why would I feed myself nuts and fish when I know they will kill me?"

"Someone may have accidentally put those food into your meal, not knowing that they will cause you to have adverse reactions," Blaise reasoned. "And when you eat without looking at what you are eating, which by the way, is just the way you eat, you are going to swallow them without knowing."

"I will know when I chew my food," Draco answered.

"How are you supposed to know?" Blaise asked, his brows drew together. "You wouldn't even know how they taste like. You haven't had them for years."

"Well ... I just know."

"Draco ..."

"Mr. Zabini," the nurse's voice rang and cut them off.

"Please, Madam ..."

"No ..."

"Just five more minutes ..."

"Out!"

~*~

8^th October 1996, Friday, 4.34A.M.

Never understood why it is compulsory to take A. Astronomy with A. Divination. Never see a bloody thing with the telescope anyway. And if I can't see anything in the skies, I don't know why Trelawney expects me to read any predictions there. I doubt the old bat can see anything with those glasses of hers. Honestly, Divination should be made inter-disciplinary with Arithmancy. Now that would make much more sense. I'm convinced that there must be some relation between numbers and the things that happens around everyday. Even random coincidences are patterns. Yes, Arithmancy and Divination makes much more sense together.

I must find a way to get out of A. Astronomy. If I do, I will no longer have to creep up to the Astronomy Tower to finish the useless assignment amongst snogging lust-crazed teenagers just because I missed class today. It was bloody distracting, and then, I nearly got caught by Granger. She patrols like she's at war. And you can't blame me for getting a fright from her; anything with long wild hair hanging around in the middle of the night like she's out to get you will scare the living nightlights out of anyone.

And now I can't sleep because of that fright, and have to resort to listening to Glenda Chittock on the W.W.N.. The Witching Hour is quite interesting actually, all talks about Wizards as useless bastards and should be thrown into the abyss yet there are all these floo calls about relationships and how to get their Wizards back. Witches are the weirdest things ever created. But while the program has its admirable entertainment value, I kept thinking about Puddlemere and if they won. Blasted Draco. Hope he gets strangled by the bedpost.

Argh. I need to sleep. Maybe I will count sheep. That may work. Right. I will count sheep now.

~*~

Dear Diary,

Today has been good if a little weird. I walked in on Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini early in the morning. It was bizarre. He was stroking Malfoy's ear and whispering in his other ear, and it actually looked quite sweet except that I couldn't get round the fact that they are together. Never would have thought Malfoy swings that way. He dated that pug-nose girl in his House just a year before. They repelled the moment they saw me, which made me feel a little guilty. It's like I've interrupted a private moment and oh, I feel so awful.

I still haven't apologised to the Zabini boy yet, which makes me feel even more awful. I can't sleep with it hanging over me. I don't know what went over me to go all crazy with Ginny, but it was an accident really. I only wanted to get him to let Ginny off, though it turned out that Ginny was the one who pounced on him, as she told me later. A little too late really, but it's my own fault that I jumped to conclusions...

~*~

... Counting sheep is the stupidest idea ever, probably conceived by the shepherd boy who didn't have any friends because he cried wolf one time too many and was thus bored out of his lying wits. Sheep-counting didn't work because by the time I reached my 666^th something sheep, I realised two things: (1) I've lost count, and (2) I think I can't sleep now because I am hungry ...

~*~

... I think I saw him just now near the Astronomy Tower, but I let it passed because I sort of owed him something and I know I shouldn't have abused my power as a prefect but I couldn't get myself to face him after today morning and I didn't want him to think that I am going all out to get him on purpose.

Oh my god, the Witching Hour is the most awful radio program ever created. Why do witches listen to it? I can't believe it's the most popular program on the W.W.N.. The Glenda Chittock witch ought to be shot. What a disgrace to us witches ...

~*~

... Blasted. Should not have tried Muscle Relaxant Potion because I've run out of Sleeping Draught. They lull your body into a dreamy state of being, but they don't do the same for your brain. Which is hell now because I'm lying here, fully aware that I'm listening to the Witching Hour, which is really starting to sound particularly nasty, and I'm immobile, completely powerless to switch it off. Where is Draco when you need him?

~*~

... There's this other thing. G is being unusually cheerful today; she even forgot about her plans for M. I suspect it's got to do with the chocolates she got from B. I wonder why he sent her chocolates. They were talking another pleasantly in the Great Hall today; if I hadn't stopped Ron, he would have thrown his plate over. It didn't make any sense to think that B is showing interest in Ginny because now I know he's with D but ... G doesn't know about it and I'm not sure if I should tell. It doesn't seem the right thing to do, to tell on someone else's personal life. That's Parvati and Lavender's job, not mine. Don't want to turn into resident Rita Skeeter.

Maybe he is interested in G ... can't be at all sure he's not bisexual. He does look the adventurous type ...

~*~

"OPEN your inner eye! Grasp the gift of the knowledge! Savour in the unknown!" Professor Trelawney declared in a voice that alternated between a bellow and a whisper as if she could not decide whether or not to spread a highly classified cosmic secret.

The effect of the professor's speech pattern had Blaise jolting in and out of his consciousness in jerky movements he was sure would cut his life span by half. Surely it was not healthy to have his heart thumped against his ribcage every five seconds.

"You have to reach into your inner eye! Find the core that is the haven of all answers to the world," she continued with an laboured sweeping motion of her hand, looking as if she was sprinkling tiny specks of her Divination talent on her students. "Look at Mr. Zabini! He is doing so well. Look at his unfocused eyes! The trance!"

Blaise jolted again when he heard his name called, and quickly made as if to look into his basin. All he could see with his drooping eyes was the bottom of the basin through clear spring water. The classroom was almost dark except for the flickering small candles used for Scrying.

"See how he is doing it?" the professor continued excitedly, directing the class's attention to Blaise by wiggling her fingers at his table. "The glazed expression! The still eyes! That is what all of you should be aiming for. Breathe deeply, steadily, immerse yourself into the state of the subconscious, and look into the water! Only then can you get the answers you seek for!"

The professor's speech was interrupted by Draco with quiet periodic snorts and soft sarcastic queries made for the entertainment of those sitting in the vicinity.

"Yes, let us all learn from the great Blaise Zabini," Draco said, careful not to let the professor hear him, "who is falling asleep at two o'clock in the afternoon."

"I'm falling into the state of subconscious to seek for my answers," Blaise mumbled.

"Unconsciousness more like it," Draco replied. "What were you doing last night? Raiding Gringotts? You are falling asleep in every class. And here I thought I am the one who could do with more rest."

"I was up all night worrying about you. Don't be ungrateful," Blaise said in a low, hoarse voice, like there was something stuck in his throat.

"Right," Draco said and snorted loudly at the other boy who was fast falling asleep again. Draco poked him awake with the edge of the basin lying between them.

"Come on, what were you doing last night?"

"I couldn't sleep," Blaise replied and yawned. "So I did my Astronomy homework, read Advanced Transfiguration, listened to the Witching Hour, wrote my diary, counted sheep, and drank Potion that rendered me immobile for two hours listening to dreadful that radio broadcast where witches bitch together."

"Witches bitch together?"

"Yes," Blaise answered. "You should try listening to the Witching Hour. You might change your mind about being gay."

"That bad?" Draco replied, arching an eyebrow.

"Bad is an understatement."

"So, what is it that -"

"AH!" A voice rang suddenly and the boys jumped in their seats, nearly knocking over their basin of water if Draco had not caught it in time. "Everyone looked over here at Miss Brown and Miss Patil. They have seen the Knowledge! They have done it! Go on, girls, tell us what you have seen?"

"Oh, professor!" the girls said at the same time before Lavender continued by herself, "There are sparks of lights, and they became foggy for a while, but when I concentrate, the images became clearer and I think I saw who is going to win the coming Quidditch match!"

The coming Quidditch match. Draco straightened and stared at Lavender. The coming match was Slytherin against Ravenclaw. The first match of the season.

There was a pause for effect. The atmosphere in the classroom surged.

"Don't pay them too much attention, Draco," Blaise whispered with one side of his face on the table. "They are never very accurate. Images can be interpreted wrong, and there is always a space in time where things can be altered to go either way."

Lavender was still pausing for effect. It was starting to get on Draco's nerves.

"We shouldn't listen to this," Blaise said and poked his fingers into his ears. "It won't be good either way. We either get complacent or we get discouraged."

Draco knew that Blaise was right, but it was hard to suppress the curiosity now that Lavender had planted it. He had to know.

"It is ..." Lavender started in a secretive tone. "It is ..."

"Shhh! Don't tell!" someone in the classroom yelled. "What's there to watch if you tell us?"

"That's a very good point," Blaise said loudly, supporting whoever the person was. It sounded suspiciously like Ronald Weasley.

"Shut up, Blaise," Draco warned.

"Trust me," Blaise said. "This is all for the best."

"But ... but ..." Lavender sounded like she was bursting to tell what she saw.

The rest of the class read the warning sign. "Don't say anything!" More voices joined in, and they were mostly males. "We still want to watch the match!"

"But, professor," Lavender turned to the professor for support.

"Nooo! Don't tell!" The voices insisted, and they were growing rowdier.

The professor sighed. "I'm afraid we'll have to go with the flow, my dear," Professor Trelawney finally said. "But you can tell me, and I will personally verified if you had been accurate."

Lavender heaved a very loud sigh. An even louder sigh of relief rippled through the classroom.

Draco slumped into his seat, pulling a long face. Blaise peered at his friend from under his eyelashes, his bottom lip sticking out.

"Don't look like that," Blaise soothed and made to peek into the water over the edge of the basin. He crinkled his brows in concentration, and then widened his eyes dramatically, blinking once. Draco looked at him curiously.

"What is it?" Draco could not help but asked.

"I saw ..."

"What?"

"I think I saw ..."

"WHAT?"

Blaise paused for effect, and straightened up very slowly, still looking at Draco with his wide eyes. Draco felt building excitement, his skin tingling with anticipation, his pulse pumping.

"I think I saw," Blaise said and swallowed, his face filled with exaggerated wonderment. "... it is time."

"It is time?"

"Yes, it is time," Blaise said, still keeping a straight face, "to go. Lesson has just ended, Draco."

Draco grabbed the nearest thing he could land his hand on -- a big candlestick, unused, laying on the table -- and swung it at Blaise. Blaise ducked under the table, laughing, and snatched up his bag, ready to run off, but Draco was a step ahead. He moved the table, and when Blaise got up, he hit his head against the underside of it, hard.

"OW!" Blaise exclaimed and squatted down again, holding his head with both hands.

"This is what you get for messing with me," Draco said smugly, picked up his bag and left Blaise squatting under the table in pain. He smirked, following the line of students heading out of the classroom. At the door, he turned back and called Blaise.

"Hey, I'll not wait for you if you don't hurry," Draco said, watching Blaise stood up slowly and pointed a middle finger at him. Draco scooped the empty air with his hand, and made as if to put the rude sign into his pocket.

Blaise fumed as he watched Draco turn to step out of the door. Then, for some reason, Draco staggered backward, his hand clutching at the frame of the door. Blaise broke into a run for the door, but before he could figure out what was going on, a spell was hurled.

"Furnunculus!"

~*~