Pansy sat at the polished oak bar in Grendell's, stirring her drink absently. She absolutely hated to be kept waiting. She and Blaise had agreed upon eight o'clock, and he was late. She cast an irritated look at the hourglass on the other side of the room. He was exactly twenty-seven minutes and forty-eight seconds late, and at present she was only displeased bordering on cranky. She signalled the barmaid for another drink.

If Blaise made her wait much longer, he'd have a full-blown fit on his hands, and she might not be able to Apparate home. She'd already sobered up once today, and it was ever so hard to do it twice. She brushed an invisible piece of lint from her velvet skirt, then rummaged in her purse for a mirror. She held it up to look at her face, and smiled at what she saw. Perfection, as always, she thought.

She glanced around the room at the other patrons. There were one or two men in the room that had nodded appreciatively when she walked in, and she looked in their direction covertly. These days, one couldn't be too careful. Pansy was wary of new people, and she preferred not to be surprised at the end of the evening by parentage, association, or virility, but had been disappointed several times by all of those on more than one occasion, lately. After her encounter with Snape earlier in the week, where she'd actually flirted with her former teacher, and several missed chances with someone else, she knew that it was time to do something. Even taking the slightly scruffy, yet well muscled man in the corner into the loo for a quick shag wasn't sounding like a horrible idea. She took another sip of her drink and bit her lip, thinking.

Pansy rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily, pouting. "Blaise Zabini," she muttered under her breath, "you have about two minutes to show your face, or the next time I see you, you'll wish you were being given the Dementor's kiss."

"Oh, love, I'm hurt. When you insult my face, at least call it pretty."

"You're late," she growled. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

He sat down next to her and raised his hand for a Firewhisky, ignoring the question.

"So, oh love of my life, how are you?"

Pansy glanced at him. "Blaise, if I were the love of your life, I assure you we could find more interesting things to do rather than to be in a bar surrounded by people, drinking ourselves into oblivion. Now take your charm, love, and shove it. I know you too well." She took another drink and continued in a gentler tone, "What've you been doing?" She smiled slyly and chuckled. "Or should I say who have you been doing?"

"Jealous?"

"Of course," she replied. "If I had a potential shag, do you think I'd be sitting here?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Pansy, Pansy. Frustration does not look good on you."

"Nonsense." She fluffed her hair. "Everything looks good on me. Although," she continued, frowning slightly, "I did see one of those Weasley boys earlier in the week, and I didn't dismiss the idea out of hand immediately."

He snickered. "Which one?" he asked incredulously.

"Does it matter? You get one, you get the rest of them. What's the difference? I didn't speak to him, I just saw him. And...considered him."

"Pansy," Blaise admonished.

The pretty witch tossed her hair and waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air dismissively. "Never mind that, darling. Tell me. What evil mischeif has Blaise Zabini been wreaking on the world? Leave nothing out. I want to hear everything."

"I have not been doing anything. I've been innocent recently."

Pansy scoffed. "I'll just move over a bit so the lightning strike doesn't hit me, if you don't mind."

"If you're going to be like that, then I'll just take this interesting piece of news with me and my gorgeous person out the door."

Pansy caught his arm and pouted prettily. "Oh, don't go. I was just having some fun, darling," she purred, pushing his drink in front of him. "What do you know? Don't tease me, now. You know I can't abide it."

Blaise grinned and sat back down, leaning towards Pansy. "Someone is back in town. Someone we both know very well."

She moved towards him, lowering her voice. "Who?"

"Draco," Blaise whispered.

"Malfoy?!" Pansy said loudly, making Blaise roll his eyes. He glared at the patrons now staring at them.

"Bloody hell, woman. Screech louder next time. Yes, Draco Malfoy. Know any other Dracos, do you?"

"Where is he? I guess the better question is, where has he been for the last five years?"

"Here and there, mostly," Blaise said cooly. "He was with a girl in France named Sophie who lit beds on fire. Sounds like fun, right? Well, the thing is he's back. I have a feeling he hasn't seen that many people. You should go see him."

Pansy looked nonplussed. "Fire? Could be fun. In the right context." She gazed at Blaise over the rim of her glass, frowning. "I should go see him? Could you tell me why?"

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Because we used to all be best friends? Nice to know you still care."

"I don't care? I don't care? How can you say that I don't care? He rolled over on all of us and then he left. I didn't leave, Blaise. I've been here the whole time." She frowned. "And don't you try guilt on me, Blaise Zabini. I invented that." She sighed and signalled the barkeeper for another drink, quiet for a moment. "Is he alright?" she asked softly, relenting.

Blaise sighed and moved his bottle around. After a moment, he looked at her.

"No, I don't think he is. He's done some pretty stupid stuff since we've known him, but he told me things that happened... and if I didn't know any better, I would have said it wasn't him in his own skin. Like he was polyjuiced or something. I believe he's going to get better, but he'll need us."

Pansy sat for a moment, thinking. Finally, she relented. "Fine," she exhaled. "Fine, I'll go see him. But I don't promise to be nice. In fact, I think he's got a good thrashing coming. And he better not be polyjuiced into anyone else. I'm not fond of surprises."

He grinned. "Oh, if you're going to give him a thrashing, let me be there. I have a feeling next time he sees me he'll hex me. You'll protect me, won't you?"

She smirked. "I dunno. What's in it for me?" She leaned across the table conspiratorially. "If you tell me why he wants to hex you, I might see my way clear to keep you safe, " she bargained. "Maybe."

Blaise laughed. "Wow. Someone hasn't lost their Slytherin bitchiness. Now see, if I tell you why he wants to hex me, you'll tell him, and then you'll both want to hex me. That's a no-go on that."

Pansy laughed. "See? Now this, I've missed." She shook her head, still smiling. "You realize now that I must know, and nothing you can do will stop me from finding out? Besides, didn't you tell me that you'd been innocent as of late? Lies. All lies," she teased.

Blaise snickered. "Okay, innocent I may not be, but do know that I don't find out the juiciest gossip on our childhood friend and tell about it. He would kill me."

Pansy arranged her face into the picture of innocent friendship. "It's only me, Blaise. Draco and I used to be very close. I was practically part of the family for awhile. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"I will give you a hint and nothing more," he said firmly. Blaise looked around and leaned closer to Pansy. "I know who Draco likes."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "What? Are we fourth year? Who he likes?" She shook her head. "Let me guess. He got himself into a bunch of trouble over a girl?"

"Oh, he's not in trouble, but he sure as hell could be. It's not just any girl. It's a Gryffindor."

Pansy closed her eyes briefly, willing the sick feeling to go away. She opened her eyes, took a long pull from the crystal tumbler in front of her, and put it down softly. "You will tell me right now, Blaise Zabini," she said evenly, "that he is not dating Hermione Granger. You tell me that right now or you are going to be on the business end of one of the biggest temper tantums on record."

Blaise smirked, causing Pansy's eyes to widen just a bit, before he started laughing. "Oh your face! I wish had a camera!" He kept chuckling for a bit before he opened his eyes to find Pansy's wand aimed between his eyes. He grinned.

"Right. He's not dating Granger. Can you imagine? Oh, the children would be hideous! Draco's vanity plus Granger's hair? It's almost an oxymoron. No, he's not dating the Queen of Gryffindor, sadly."

Pansy put her wand down and took another drink. "Blaise, I really don't know how to take this information. I don't like unpleasant situations; they make me want to hex things, and the Ministry frowns upon that, you know. As I don't find the holding cells in the Department of Magical Law enforcement even remotely hospitable, I am going to choose to drink myself into a stupor, promptly forgetting that this conversation ever took place. Care to join me?"

Blaise smirked and saluted her with his drink. "Cheers."

[SUMMARY]: Blaise and Pansy meet up for drinks. Blaise spills the beans... on a lot. It's going to get him hexed.