Destiny

Blaise Zabini stepped off the Hogwarts Express in Hogsmeade for the seventh and last time in her life. Her gaze fell upon a scene familiar: bustling students of all ages swarming around the carriages, fighting to get a place with their friends. The thestrals were painfully visible, as always. Blaise had been exposed to various Death Eater murders since she was a little girl, and the horses were nothing new. However, there were shouts of terror and surprise as those who had witnessed Death since the beginning of the summer gazed upon the phantom horses. Blaise glanced coolly at them and sauntered towards her carriage, which was already occupied by Draco Malfoy and his Death Eater cronies Crabbe and Goyle. She had fashioned her confident front from the first moment she stepped on the Hogwarts Express and it had never come off since.

She stepped gracefully into the midnight-black carriage and swung the heavy door closed. Draco's slanted moonlit eyes found her a moment later, and his telltale smirk crept upon his face. Blaise was not the only one who played masquerade while she was at Hogwarts. Draco was glad to see her.

Blaise tucked her grey pleated schoolgirl's skirt under her as she sat down next to Draco. The hem of the skirt came midway up her thigh, where it disappeared under the folds of the crisp white blouse that she had yet to tuck in. Her silver and green Slytherin tie was tucked in one of the belt loops of her skirt. She had been too lazy to tie it on the train and had simply left it there; the ends of the tie reaching farther down her leg than the skirt did.

Blaise surreptitiously glanced at Draco, surprised by how much he had changed since the end of their sixth year. He had grown at least three inches taller, and if they stood facing each other his chin would brush the very top of her nose, around where her delicately arched eyebrows met. His chin had grown stronger too, and his eyes had grown sharper. Blaise observed that he wasn't taking his new manly grooming duties too well: it was not yet late morning and already sparse stubble was showing on his chin. She was trying to gauge whether his hair, which now brushed his eyes, had grown a shade darker over the summer when he slid an arm around her shoulder and interrupted her chain of thought.

"Blaise," he said smoothly.

"Draco," she answered, trying to ignore his fingers brushing her skin where he was fiddling with the collar of her shirt. The ends of his fingers were calloused but not overly rough- just the right texture for a rich young man who had cast a few Unforgivables in his short lifetime.

"Where's your tie?" he asked. Blaise tilted her head towards him and graced him with a small smile.

"I could ask you the same question," she answered superiorly. Draco grinned and handed her his tie, which she then proceeded to tie around his neck. She tried to ignore the ends of his hair brushing her skin as she reached about his head to bring the tie around. As her hands knotted the silk Blaise thought of how happy she was that Draco had stopped gelling his hair back. Now that he had deviated from his father's hairstyle, he looked more relaxed and less severe. Blaise had even overheard some Gryffindor twits gossiping about how attractive they thought he was. They had been seventh years, too, something Blaise had never expected. She had known that Parvati and Lavender were ditzes but she had never suspected that Hermione Granger had ever given more than a passing glance to any member of the opposite sex. Blaise had to admit that the girl had also grown, and learned how to control her hair, but it was still Hermione Granger. It was probably the only time she would ever see he out from behind her telltale pile of textbooks.

When she was finished and had managed to detach her hands from running down Draco's shirt, the more forward of the two reached down the slipped her tie out of the belt loop of her skirt. He bestowed a wicked smile upon her as he then tied her tie, his hands brushing against her skin, as she had not yet buttoned the top two buttons on her blouse. Draco did that for her too, and for a moment Blaise wondered why he was suddenly bestowing so much attention on her in particular. Granted, it was the only year that she had been bold enough to sit in his carriage uninvited, and everyone in the school seemed to think that she had every boy in the palm of her hand. Maybe that's why no one has ever really shown an interest in me, thought Blaise; maybe they already think that I'm dating someone. She had to admit that that had been her goal in the first place.

The carriages were pulling up to Hogwarts, its familiar turrets and features casting shadows across the hill. The thestrals pranced to a halt in front of the castle and the doors swung open on their own accord. Draco climbed out of the carriage first and waited for Crabbe and Goyle to lumber down from their seats before offering a white hand to Blaise.

"I don't need help getting out of a carriage, Draco," she said, her actions contradicting her words. She let Draco took her hand and did not fail to observe the disappointed glances that some of the other boys gave her.

"I've turned into a gentleman since last year," he replied. Blaise laughed, a soft tinkling sound that held a sincerity rarely found in a Slytherin. As Draco offered her a chair next to his in the Great Hall, Blaise watched the first years line up to be Sorted and recalled her own Sorting. The Hat had briefly, very briefly, considered putting her in Gryffindor. But the young girl had been raised among Slytherin Death Eaters, born and bred, and she had pleaded internally with the hat to place her in the house of her forefathers. The Hat had sighed and agreed and she had taken her seat, coincidentally right next to Draco Malfoy. She hadn't cared about him then. He was just another rich boy that her father knew. What could he do for her?

The first few children had been sorted, one into Hufflepuff, one into Ravenclaw, and two into Gryffindor. It wasn't until the eleventh child that one was placed in the Slytherin house. "We're a dying race," dryly remarked a fifth year down the table. "A dying race."

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Harry clapped heartily with the rest of his friends as two first years took their seats at his table. He was beaming, not just because his House had just grown by two people (and possible future Quidditch players). His buoyant and joyous mood had been caused by once again greeting his friends in Hogsmeade after a wonderful summer at the Burrow, and he had just received the excellent news from an aging McGonagall that he had been made captain of his Quidditch team. He had already been the subject of several future toasts, one that Lee Jordan wanted to make, and another by Hermione and a third by Colin Creevy, who had grown no less annoying since he had met Harry. But Harry felt that he wouldn't even get peeved at Colin today. Today was his day. He felt on top of the world, like he would do or have anything he wanted, and he voiced this thought to Ron in no fewer words.

"Anything, eh?" said Ron with a challenging raise of his red eyebrows. "What about that veela that we met fourth year? You think you would have the guts to talk to her now if she was here?"

"Send an owl to Beauxbatons," said Harry exuberantly, "I'll ask her out now."

Ron wrinkled his nose and cast his gaze about the Great Hall, searching for a harder challenge. His eyes tactfully avoided the Ravenclaw table, as matters with Cho had only gotten worse and tenderer since Cedric's death at the end of fourth year. "Ah," he said triumphantly, nodding towards the Slytherins, "what about that one? That Blaze or Blasé of Blaz girl?"

"Blaise Zabini?" offered Hermione, who wasn't supposed to be listening.

"That's the one!" said Ron, elbowing Hermione out of the conversation. "What about her?"

Harry sighed. "I don't have anything to say to Blaise, Ron."

"You don't have anything to say to Fleur, either."

"Hey," said Harry with a raise of his eyebrows, "I saved her sister's life. She owes me."

Ron scoffed and watched the end of the Sorting ceremony, waiting eagerly for his cup to fill with the pumpkin juice that he had been looking forward to all summer. "She owed me a date to that damn Yule ball." Harry tried to ignore Hermione's dreamy sigh as if preventing Ron from hearing it. "Oh no," said Ron a moment later. "You're not still hung up on that Krum guy, are you?"

" 'That Krum guy' used to be your hero, Ron," said Hermione, her voice retaining the girlish dreaminess of her sigh.

"Used to be," stressed Ron as the desired pumpkin juice appeared and all three people fought to make their toasts at once.

"To Harry," said Lee Jordan raising his glass.

"The best study buddy," added Hermione.

"And Quidditch captain ever!" said Colin, smacking his glass against Hermione's and nearly causing a pumpkin juice disaster on her robes. Hermione's steady hand averted the spill, however, and she drunk deeply and heartily with the rest. Dumbledore observed all this with an extra twinkle in his eye and turned to say something to the Deputy Headmistress, who was seated next to a certain brooding Potions master.

The said Potions master was observing his table, and his new Slytherins. Severus Snape also cast a glance towards Draco Malfoy, a favorite of his. The boy possessed all the qualities of a perfect Slytherin. Snape observed also that he was paying special attention to the Zabini girl this night. He raised his eyebrows delicately and raised his goblet to his lips. He was not drinking to Potter.