A very random pairing: Blaise Zabini/ Lisa Turpin. Hopefully, you'll find it an enjoyable one. I wanted to try to play with some characterization, so I picked two minor characters I had always liked and threw them into a story together. It's different from what I usually do... but hopefully it's worth reading.

Please review if you'd like me to continue!

Blaise Zabini strode through the halls of Hogwarts confidently, barely glancing at the other students milling about. After all, he was a Slytherin, and one of excellent breeding at that. From the Zabini family records (all meticulously recorded in dusty old tomes in the family library), it was obvious that not only was his family completely pureblood (not a single drop of unclean filth, even from seven centuries back), he was also ridiculously wealthy. Apparently, his great-grandfather had created cockroach clusters, and the Zabini family wealth was derived from this lucrative business. Of course, in keeping with his image as the evil but terribly handsome Slytherin (he ran a hand through his hair with a self-satisfied smirk), he told everyone else that his family fortune came from manufacturing muggle-torture devices.

He allowed his lips to curve upwards in a smirk as he walked (Slytherins never smiled, they smirked). Life was good. It was his seventh year, and in a year, he would be free of this terribly mundane life at Hogwarts and be off, traveling abroad, mingling with high society and spending money lavishly in exotic locales. He could see it already- the beautiful girls, the gorgeous cities, and the heavy purse of ten thousand galleons that his father had promised him for graduation.

Such was the life of the rich, beautiful and utterly conceited.

Lost in his reverie as he daydreamed about the trickling stream of gold coins currently locked away in the Zabini family vault (he could already feel them clinking into his palm), he didn't notice the slender dark haired girl hurriedly making her way from the library with a large stack of books in tow.

Unfortunately, she didn't quite see the Slytherin casually strolling down the hall (after all, he was dressed completely in black) and crashed right into him, sending both students sprawling as their belongings scattered across the hallway.

Lisa Turpin looked up in dismay as she gingerly sat up, wincing as she rubbed her elbow.

There's a bruise forming, she thought morosely.

"Oh I'm so sorry," she began to hurriedly apologize to whoever she had run into as she crawled over to retrieve her books. She shoved several books back into her book and stacked the rest in her arms before looking up to see exactly whom she had plowed over. "Are you alright?"

A rather ruffled Blaise Zabini glared down at her coldly. Truth be told, he was rather irked that he had been knocked to the cold hard ground and (horrors!) that his robe had been sullied and his dignified walk interrupted by a careless girl. And, he noted as he looked down at her, a seventh year Ravenclaw who was of shameful parentage. "Out of my sight you filthy mudblood," he spat out with practiced disdain. "And pick up my quills," he added on afterthought, noticing that several of his quills had flown out of his bag and were now lying on the floor.

The girl looked up, her mouth agape at his words. Slowly, she leaned down and picked up his quills one by one.

Inwardly, Blaise proudly congratulated himself.

September 24th: Only the first week of school and I've already intimidated a mudblood into doing my bidding! Father would be so proud...

And then much to his surprise, the quiet, seemingly harmless Lisa Turpin drew herself up rigidly, stomped over to him, and promptly jabbed at his shoulder viciously with one of his expensive quills.

He screamed out in surprise (and pain, undoubtedly), but she continued, unfazed.

"You insufferable pompous git, I hope you die of blood loss!" she shrieked angrily as she jabbed quite hard at his shoulder repeatedly. She then proceeded to dramatically toss the pens into his face (he barely had time to close his eyes before he was blinded by the tip of one), and spin on her heel, continuing down the hall without a single glance back.

Blaise rubbed his bleeding shoulder painfully, staring in shock at the back of the frightfully violent girl who had just attacked him.

And I though Slytherins were supposed to be the vicious ones, he thought in confusion.


Lisa was still seething when she reached the Ravenclaw Common Room. Despite her best efforts to concentrate on her reading for homework, she couldn't help but want to kick something as she thought of her encounter with that nasty, arrogant Slytherin.

Mandy Brocklehurst, one of her close friends, came over and sat down next to her. "Hey," she greeted, watching her friend clench her fists. "Is something wrong?"

Lisa sighed deeply, slamming her book shut in frustration. "Well," she ranted, "I just ran into Zabini in the hall, and he was the most conceited prat in the world. He called me a mudblood and then he had the nerve to tell me to pick up his quills."

Mandy clucked sympathetically. "Zabini," she mused, "Isn't he friends with Malfoy?"

Rolling her eyes, Lisa nodded in agreement. "Yes, he's one of those arrogant brats."

"Well," Mandy smiled knowingly, "Knowing you, you didn't let him get away with that at all, did you?"

Her friend simply smiled angelically and twirled a lock of dark hair nonchalantly.

"Of course not. I picked up his precious quills and stabbed him with one."


That evening in the Great Hall, Blaise couldn't quite stop glancing over at the Ravenclaw table worriedly.

No, of course he wasn't afraid of a girl.

Of course.

He continued to try to convince himself of that.

However, he couldn't help but admit that he was now absolutely fascinated by the girl (Turpin, was that her name?) who had stabbed him in the shoulder a record total of eight times. Not that anyone had ever stabbed him at all before, but it was still an impressive feat.

No, of course he wasn't afraid that she'd stomp over here again, her green eyes flashing madly as she stabbed him to death with her steak knife.

Of course not.

He unconsciously rubbed his shoulder again, which he had bandaged on his own in the Slytherin dormitory.

That stupid girl.

His thoughts were interrupted when Pansy Parkinson looked up from simpering over Draco to glance at him. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" she asked, looking at him quizzically as he once again rubbed it.

The other Slytherins nearby looked up with interest as well.

Blaise thought quickly.

It would never do to tell them the truth. Lord, if he told them that he'd been run over and then stabbed by a quiet, studious girl a good five inches shorter than him, he'd be the laughingstock of his whole house. Not that Slytherins laughed, mind you. But they'd certainly snicker and smirk and find ways to ridicule him at every turn.

So he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Well," he lied smoothly, his eyes never giving the slightest sign of doubt (his father had trained him from an early age), "I had a bit of a run in with pixies in the Care of Magical Creatures classroom and they injured me a bit," he sighed dramatically, putting on his best "pity-me, I'm a poor, suffering martyr" face. "But don't worry, I'll survive."

Much to his dismay, his companions neither cooed sympathetically nor looked upon him admiringly. In fact, Pansy and Millicent gave each other one look and began giggling, and Draco smirked tauntingly.

"Pixies, Blaise?" he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Even first years can handle pixies."

"Well." Horribly mortified, Blaise couldn't think of anything to say. It really wasn't his fault that he had had a terrible experience with pixies as a young child.

So resisting the urge to pout, he simply ignored the snickers of his classmates and picked at his steak. Of course, he couldn't even enjoy his food in peace. Every time he picked up the steak knife (or saw any other sharp object for that matter), he was reminded that a certain dark haired Ravenclaw witch could come swooping in at any moment and stab him in the back. And given his very recent run-in with her, he wouldn't be one bit surprised if she did.

He ventured another glance over in the direction of the Ravenclaw table. The Turpin girl sat there with several of her other 7th year friends. Much to his surprise, she wasn't viciously stabbing at her dinner, as he would've expected. Instead, she seemed to be deeply engaged in conversation with another girl, laughing as she stopped every few moments to primly take another bite of her food.

It's all an act, he thought resentfully. Deep down inside, she's really vicious and cruel.

Not that he really knew her well enough to even say that.

But, he was fairly certain, that if she could become so incensed at such a small insult, well then, she must have a terrible temper.

Really, the girl's parents should've taught her to control that nasty little temper.

But then again, they were only mudbloods, and they honestly couldn't be expected to know how to rear children.

Poor dear; she had grown up to be a barbarian.

And so, for the rest of his meal, Blaise Zabini pondered about the terrible lives that muggle-born children led.

And in the end, he decided that his good deed of the day (it was very un-Slytherin of him, but he was feeling especially benevolent for some reason) would be to try very hard to treat those poor, disadvantaged muggles with pity and patience.

Goodness, he thought, filled with self-admiration. I'm really such a wonderful person.

Please review if you liked it! I'm not sure if I'd like to continue this...