Third year was shit.

The only positive thing I could say about it was that the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was a vast improvement on that twat Lockhart. Just a shame that Harry Potter's existence was going to somehow yet again be the reason of the downfall to his career by the end of the year.

Just as long as Potter refrains from murder this time.

Oh yeah, and Draco got punched. The only thing that upset me about it was that I wasn't the one to have done it.

It was all over that stupid bird. He'd actually gone and got his father to use his influence to get it beheaded on the school grounds. Gross.

And not only was it to take place at Hogwarts, but also amongst the very pumpkins which would eventually end up as juice in our glasses. It didn't seem that sanitary to me.

I kept out of Draco and Pansy's way pretty much the entirety of the school year. It wasn't difficult, seeing as they seemed to be literally glued to one another.

Although, there was this one small thing in February; on the morning of my fourteenth birthday, in fact. The owl post dropped something down before me at breakfast.

It was a small package wrapped in shiny emerald green paper marked simply with the letter B. Inside was a bag of chocolate money; Muggle chocolate money.

I instantly looked up and my heart gave a small sad tug as, from the furthest end of the table, a pair of silver grey eyes met mine.

It was the same gift he had given me for my previous birthday.

I gave my head the merest nod of thanks, and then looked away.

It would take more than a crappy bag of fake coins to win me over.

But I still returned the sentiment for his birthday in June, leaving for him a wrapped bag of Skittles; a reminder that I knew his dirty little secret.

By the time the end of year feast rolled around, it transpired that once again Gryffindor had won everything and not only that, Buckbeak had managed to evade execution.

Draco's face was pulled in a way that suggested his whole world had come to a bitter end. Next to him, Pansy didn't look any better; and she looked even more put out when Draco kept irritable shrugging her off him every two seconds.

As the Gryffindor table once again drowned out everyone else with their noisy celebrations; I managed to catch Draco's eye from down the far end of the table and offered him the tiniest of sympathetic smiles.

When he returned it with a small smile of his own, I couldn't help but feel a gentle warmth spread from inside my very core.

He may have been a dick, but perhaps I hadn't lost him entirely, after all.

*****

About half an hour into the journey home on the Hogwarts Express, my solitary compartment got a visitor.

I felt a flicker of irritation the moment the door started to slide open. I wasn't in a people type mood. I just wanted to close my fucking eyes and imagine I was swimming in a chocolate lake.

"What do you want?" I muttered grouchily to the contrite looking white-blond haired Slytherin, feeling slightly surprised that his bitch wasn't simpering pathetically at his tail.

"Can I- um..." he stammered nervously, scratching the back of his neck, "can I sit with you?"

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him. "Why?" I snarled.

"I've just- I've... missed you."

He had at least the decency to look guilty as he said these words, his face colouring slightly whilst avoiding my eye.

"I'm sorry, but I refuse to spend the journey with Little Miss Hoover." I said stiffly, settling myself back into my seat to close my eyes, hoping he'd take the hint and fuck off.

"No, I meant just you and me," he coughed awkwardly, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets and looking down as he shuffled his feet, "I managed to get a hold of a pack of cards, you see, and wondered if you wanted to play a few games?"

"What kind of games?" I asked, opening one eye. "You mean like Exploding Snap?"

"No... erm, Muggle games," he said quietly, giving a quick guilty glance over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't been overheard. "There's this one I read about called Blackjack. Thought we could give it a go?"

"Can't you get your girlfriend to play your little Muggle games, Draco?" I sniped, not being able to just shrug off the way he'd ditched our friendship so unceremoniously for the entire year. "Or would she not approve that her darling little Drakie-poo isn't as pureblooded as she'd been led to believe?"

"I don't know- I don't care. I want to play with you, damn it!" Draco hissed, his face pinched furiously. "As I said, I've missed you and I don't want to lose you. I've been a complete dick and I'm sorry. Please forgive me, Blaire. Please."

His expression softened at this last part; his eyes mournful and pleading. I couldn't help but think of a puppy dog and I suddenly found it difficult to stay mad at him.

I gave a heavy, resigned sigh and sat up properly, removing my feet from the seat opposite so that he could sit down.

"Go on, then," I muttered, "just one quick game and then you can fuck off."

Draco's face lit up as he hurriedly sat down before I could change my mind, and I had to try my damnedest not to smile, but my lips betrayed me and I felt them twitch up helplessly as our eyes fixed together.

"You won't regret this, Zabini," he smirked, his eyes flashing wickedly as he fished out a pack of unremarkable looking playing cards from his pocket; immediately shuffling them like a pro.

"I better fucking not, Malfoy," I muttered back warningly but at the same time nudging my foot playfully against his shin.

Six hours later we had played about a million games and eaten our way through half the sweet trolly.

"This reminds me of being in the treehouse," I said, knocking back my can of soda before emitting a loud echoing belch.

"Speaking of the treehouse," Draco said, biting off the leg of a Chocolate Frog. "I've managed to persuade Mother to sneak me in some new games for the PlayStation. We can try them out when you come to stay."

I looked at him startled, raising a bemused eyebrow. "Won't your girlfriend have something to say about me sleeping over? Besides, I'd rather not play gooseberry again, thank you very much."

He flinched the second I had mentioned Pansy. No doubt the novelty of pug sucking had well and truly worn off for him. I didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted, quite frankly.

"But you've got to come," Draco spluttered, looking horrified at the prospect that I wouldn't want to, "it's the World Cup and Father's got a personal invitation by Cornelius Fudge himself to join him in the Minister's box."

"Well, that's nice for him," I shrugged with an air of 'I don't give a shit', "but as I said, I'm not tagging along just so I can watch you and Pansy act like a pair of leeches."

"I don't want Pansy there, I want you!" he said exasperatedly, a pained expression on his face as he looked at me imploringly. "Please, Blaire. I'm so sorry for the way I've treated you; I've been the world's biggest dick and you didn't deserve that. But I've missed you, and I don't want to go the World Cup with anyone but you."

Keeping my eyes fixed firmly upon him, I slowly put down my can, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I didn't say anything, just stared at his pleading expression.

After feeling that I'd made him wait a sufficient amount of time, I shrugged. "Okay, then."

"Okay? That's a yes? You'll really come?" His voice sounded so hopeful and desperate that a part of me was tempted to change my mind and make him beg further.

But I was tired and I'd missed him and suddenly I wanted our friendship back more than anything.

"Yes, Drac, that's a yes," I muttered coolly, "but this Ministers box better have decent fucking seats. I hear Krum's playing and I want a close up."

If I didn't know any better, I'd have sworn that the look that flitted across Draco's pale pointed face just then was one of jealousy.

It would have served the fucker right if it was.

*****