Blaise tore a strip of white meat off the chicken bone with the ferocity of a caged wild animal. Gods he was hungry, he'd been revising for his NEWTs for several hours and had skipped lunch, leaving a gaping hole in his stomach. He was a growing boy with a fast metabolism. He needed regular nourishment! Blaise contemplated these facts as he continued to gnaw on the chicken leg with fervour, eyes lowered, concentrating so intently on it that he didn't notice the portrait of Hogwarts kitchens open, nor the gentle tut of a distinctly feminine voice.

"Two ham and cheese bagels please," the feminine voice intoned smoothly. Blaise raised his eyes to look at the latest person, and frowned slightly as he saw a house elf scurrying out and through to the back. He raised his eyes from his food and stared across at the face of a girl in his. She was tall, (not as tall as him,) with dark skin and long hair, and was watching him eat with a slightly arched eyebrow and a wry smile playing about her mouth. Blaise shifted in his seat, feeling he was under a microscope.

"Er, hi," he muttered, and lowered his eyes back to the table, vaguely embarrassed. He didn't like feeling embarrassed.

The girl said nothing, but took a seat across from him, before helping herself to a handful of his crisps. He watched her stuff them into her mouth and barely chew, before swallowing them and letting out a contented sigh. She then reached over for his orange juice and proceeded to down it in one gulp.

Blaise had the distinct feeling he shouldn't mess with her.

"Erm, revision too?" he asked, grinning slightly. He set down his almost completely destroyed chicken leg and leaned back on his seat to look at her. She grinned slightly and rolled her eyes.

"Potions, you?"

"Same," and they let out a sigh of irritation in unison, before grinning tentatively at each other. The atmosphere was thick in the light, large room, and somehow, they were both unaware to the scurrying of all the house elves around them, and the occasional bash of pots and pans.

"Miss Patil," a squeaky voice quivered, from some distance not too far from the floor. The girl looked down and saw the house elf carrying an impossibly large silver tray, laden with a positive mountain of bagels. The girl gasped in surprise and hastily lifted the tray from the now slightly wobbly elf.

"I is thanking you, Miss," he wheezed, grinning uncertainly, before looking hastily down at the floor. The girl smiled.

"It's Padma," she smiled and shook the elf's hand. Blaise watched the interaction with some confusion; it was a house elf. Clearly she didn't know anything of their enslavement; perhaps she thought them amusing helpers.

The elf squeaked again and ran off muttering a, "Thanking you, Miss." Padma looked up in the slightly confused face of Blaise.

She raised a haughty eyebrow, "I think Hermione Granger raises an interesting point with her house elf campaign."

Blaise chocked on his sandwich. Dear Lord, he never thought he'd hear it. Someone agreed with Granger's SPEW ideas…

"They don't deserve enslavement," she said heatedly, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Perhaps not, but they don't want freedom," he challenged her.

Padma frowned, "That's because they don't recognise the advantages of it, and they don't know freedom as we do."

"Why change what isn't broken," he retorted.

"It is broken, it's the jumped up pure-bloods like you who fail to see that!" Padma exclaimed and for a moment there was a smile of victory on her lips.

Blaise sneered; she knew nothing. Bloody Gryffindors, always had to look out for the greater good, why couldn't they just get on with their own problems?

Blaise leaned forward and stared at her intently, enjoy her recoil. "All you are is a nasty little Gryffindor who's too involved in other people's affairs to see what really matters.

Padma frowned and leaned forwards, "Then all you are is a horrible little Hufflepuff too wrapped up in his own self importance."

"I'm in Slytherin," Blaise snapped irritably.

"And I Ravenclaw," Padma retorted.

Blaise leaned back, smarting at her mistake. He had judged her all too quickly, and thus fallen into her trap. He had practically let her win the argument!

Damn her. She was a Ravenclaw.

Padma smirked, before standing and gathering some bagels in a napkin and exiting through the portrait.

The closing of the picture echoed in the still room and Blaise fumed.

He would not rest until he had settled the score; she had one up on him, but not for long.

A/N: For Sara (twinnitwo), who wanted canon!Blaise/Padma and chicken