Valentine's Day proved almost fatal.

The ludicrous Lockhart had cockily claimed he'd made the attacks stop. And to add insult to injury, he'd had the audacity to spread gross dwarves dressed as cupids throughout the school to receive and deliver Valentines as a "morale booster."

And when she'd witnessed a loincloth-wearing abomination belch out a love poem from Gracelyn Montague for ten different Slytherins, including a mortified Quentin, Drew was very glad that she did not get one.

Wilby kept grinning at her from across the table at breakfast though, so she was willing to bet she'd have to chuck a dwarf out a window soon.

Amongst the normal owls delivering the daily post, a pink owl swooped over the Slytherin table and dropped a roll of parchment in front of Cyndee's breakfast plate.

Drew swirled her pumpkin juice, "Honestly, that's a lot more romantic and thoughtful than a half-baked midget."

Cyndee gingerly picked up the scroll, as if it were a rabid baby werewolf.

"Open it," Wilby said eagerly, seeming more excited about it than she was.

She cast a surreptitious glance at the rest of the table, and confirming that no one was looking, unfurled it.

Drew leaned closer, and when Cyndee didn't move away, read it with her.

You look lovely today

- Zabini x

Drew nearly heaved out her pumpkin juice, and Cyndee flinched to avoid getting spat on.

"Just today?" Drew demanded, then realized this was not the proper encouragement. "I mean..." she laced her fingers together, "...that's nice."

They noticed that Wilby was vibrating in his seat from sheer excitement, and Cyndee, smiling shyly, let him read the short message.

All three of them tilted their heads to look at Blaise Zabini down the table, who was stonily sipping some tomato soup while reading the Daily Prophet next to Graham Montague.

"Do I talk to him?" Cyndee murmured worriedly, blue eyes widening as she realized she had no idea what to do.

Drew had never talked to the guy, so she looked at Wilby. "Don't you share your dorm with him? What's he like?"

Wilby shrugged. "Quiet. Doesn't like talking."

"So he's the brooding type."

"He's a little sarcastic."

"Aha."

"I think he also has no feelings."

Drew looked at Cyndee, "In that case, I suggest you burn it."

"No!" Wilby shrieked, scandalized. He nearly knocked over some miso soup in his haste, and the mixture swished precariously in its bowl. "He's a nice person!"

Cyndee's eyes nervously shifted back and forth between them, "So..."

"Talk to him later," Wilby told her, pushing the soup further away. "I mean, if you want to."

Drew frowned, "But if he has no feelings—"

"That was an exaggeration," Wilby rolled his eyes.

She threw her sugar-covered bagel at him and grumbled to herself. If you lived in a world where magic existed, there could very well be a person with no emotions.

* ° * ° *

Classes were done with, and Drew and Wilby were in the Slytherin Dungeons, discreetly watching Cyndee as she walked over to Blaise, who was staring out a window into the lake.

"Hello," Cyndee said, timidly.

"Step one is complete," Drew said under her breath, pumping one fist.

"Hello," Blaise said back, turning to face her. He was very nonchalant.

"Step two is complete," Wilby whispered, eyes not leaving the book he had open.

Drew smacked him over the head with the newspaper she was hiding behind, "Shhh, that's enough."

"What brings you here?" Blaise asked.

"Oh, a squid," Cyndee replied unexpectedly, and Drew almost swore that she heard some sass.

Blaise started in surprise, eyebrows raising. "What? Me?" His hand came up slightly, as if he were about to press it to his heart. 

Cyndee merely curved one eyebrow.

"Oh, sarcasm," Blaise said, seemingly regaining his composure. "You mean my message, I suppose." He paused, waiting for her to answer, then went on, "I'm not sure why I sent it, to be perfectly honest."

Looking like she was brimming with curiosity, she asked, "Why?"

He turned away from her and gazed into the green depths of the water. "Do you remember sitting with me on the Hogwarts Express in our first year?"

Cyndee stepped back, "...No."

"You were asleep when I came in," he shrugged. "And when you woke up to eat something, you looked like you'd just come from a funeral. You saw me and shrieked. I'd never seen anyone react so badly just seeing me."

"Um..." Cyndee sighed softly, "sorry."

"It's fine. You ignored me the whole ride, and I did the same. We constantly sat beside each other in classes too. I don't know if you noticed." He clasped his hands together in front of him, "So I have a secret."

Wilby and Drew exchanged looks.

"Should we not listen?" Wilby asked worriedly.

Drew shushed him, "I want to know his secret."

At this point, Blaise was sweeping his eyes around the room, and Drew raised the newspaper higher.

Once a few seconds had passed, she lowered it and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was staring straight at her.

She forced her eyes to flick across the paper. Yes, the happenings of the Ministry were very interesting. Fascinating, even. Cauldron prices were rising. Yes.

"Your friends look like they're listening," Blaise sighed. "You trust them?"

"Yes," Cyndee said, sounding surer than she'd ever been.

"Then I'll trust them too." He put a finger up to the glass, and a fish came up to bump its face against it. "You see, that thing people call 'love'? I don't feel it. At all."

Cyndee seemed to be contemplating her response. "Th-that's terrible."

He stared at her, and from her vantage point by the fire, Drew felt like she could see something in his face besides immovable stone. "At least, I didn't," he said. "There is this curse in my family, and my mother has it, but this is nothing like it. I didn't even want a friend."

"But you do now?"

"Yeah. I didn't like anyone. Not until that day in Potions when I handed you an ingredient you'd dropped, and you smiled at me." He brought a hand up to his face, "It's embarrassing to talk about. Don't laugh."

"I won't —"

The dungeon door opened, and a deafening and horrifying mating call shattered the peace.

Drew dropped the newspaper,, and everyone's heads turned to the door in unison.

Gracelyn Montague was smiling happily in the doorway as a dwarf with one golden wing chorused its way inside. "I've got a singing valentine for Xavier Columbus!"

The prefect in question let out a string of loud curses and leaped off his leather sofa, yelling profanities as he searched for an escape route.

The dwarf was singing a cacophonous song while violently twanging a lyre:

"Xavier Xavier! love his dark brown eyes

They make me think of chocolate!

I love his smooth white skin

Reminds me of vanilla ice cream!"

"She...what?" Drew asked, baffled. "Is this even about Xavier?"

"It's a bad song," Wilby agreed solemnly.

"His hair is as —"

"SILENCIO!" Xavier bellowed, and the dwarf abruptly went mute. "What the hell? Did he say 'smooth white skin'? Gracie, I'm black."

"Oh..." Gracelyn mumbled dumbly, running a hand through her cocoa-coloured hair, "I must've mixed you up with someone..."

Then the dwarf snatched Xavier's wand out of his unsuspecting hand and ran off, expression full of delight while he left rose petals in his wake.

"MERLIN!" Xavier shouted after it. "I'm prefect! I command you to DROWN YOURSELF!"

Quentin and a couple of others tried to help but only ended up snorting with laughter.

"I'm going to expel everyone in this room!" Xavier boomed. Then, hearing Gracelyn's nervous cackle, "Starting with you, Montague!"

Gracelyn turned tail and evacuated to the girl's dormitory.

"Who's bad at controlling your temper now?" Drew asked smugly, primly sat on the sofa he'd been on before.

"Drew..." the prefect narrowed his dark eyes. "Why don't you do something useful and give me your wand —"

The dwarf tackled him and began furiously playing the lyre.

Among the chaos, Blaise eyed Cyndee. "You can laugh now."

She did.

* ° * ° *

Blaise didn't exactly become a part of their group after that, but he hung out with them occasionally. He enjoyed remaining shrouded in mystery, or maybe that was his excuse for not giving them a straight answer about the family curse.

He also didn't talk much, but proved to be very useful for intel on the wizarding world. His "problem," as he called it, with love was another thing he never mentioned again. Drew guessed that he was sensitive about it, but she did manage to glean that it had something to do with a Love Potion.

Cyndee liked him just fine, and Wilby did too. It wasn't that Drew didn't — he didn't care that she was Muggle-born, which was nice. It's just that she thought the guy was almost unacceptably sarcastic. Every remark he gave her was either helpful or arrogant, and sometimes both at the same time.

One day in the library, Jinx jumped onto the table and pawed at Blaise's Astronomy textbook. He jumped and shooed her away, careful not to touch her. Tossing her head, the cat wriggled her way under Wilby's arm.

Drew nudged Blaise, "Do you not like cats?"

He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Yes. They remind me that, in the world, there exist things more graceful than me."

Drew's quill hovered in the air, and gradually she pressed it back onto her parchment and continued to write, muttering crossly to herself. She wasn't even able to come up with a real response.

Cyndee made a quizzical sound, "Does that mean you don't like anything?"

Mouth open, Zabini scrutinized her, trying to gauge if she was genuinely asking or mocking him. "No, it doesn't."

"Oh," she said to herself. "I don't get it, but okay."

Nobody figured out if she meant it or not.