The Untouchable... There's A Small Line Between Love And Hate

It all started with the bet.

That small, insignificant gamble between Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prince himself, and his best friend and rival, Bliase Zabini.

It was the last week of the summer holiday, so the stingy streets of Diagon Alley were filled to the brim with all sorts of cheeky-looking witches and wizards, all rushing about, dashing in and out of shoppes, talking excitedly at the top of their lungs, and squealing in enthusiasm at the sight of their friends whom they had not seen all summer.

Draco Malfoy sighed resignedly, fiddling with the cap to his butterbeer and watchi ng Blaise happily slurping up his butter pecan and coffee flavored ice cream with a look of disgust on his pale face.

Driven to near insanity with the lazy summer boredom, the pair had taken up an 'innocent' game of what they eloquently titled, "Babe-Patrol," outside of Floriene Fortisques Ice Cream Parlor.

"Ohhh, check out the legs on that one, Malfoy," Blaise whistled appreciatively, indicating a tall bottle-blonde witch with long, tanned legs and a full bosom, who was strolling quietly down the street and making eyes at every man that she could find.

"Nice," Draco agreed, smirking at his friend. "You wouldn't have a chance with her, though, Zabini. She can see. Don't even waste your breath."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Blaise retorted, annoyed.

"It's true though, you know," Draco continued, his voice filled with arrogance and self-importance, "What wench in their right mind would chose to be with you when they could have me, the Slythering Prince himself?"

"I swear on Merlin, you think you can get any girl in the world. You're such an arrogant, conceited little prat, Malfoy. One of these days, you're going to meet some bird that wont be taken in with all of your manly 'Slytherin Prince' talk. Then you'll see," Blaise said icily.

Draco laughed loudly. "Wanna bet?"

He drained his butterbeer and dropped the now-empty container to the wooden table top nonchalantly, dragging his feet up and resting them on the back of Blaise's chair.

He had his characteristic smirk plastered onto his handsome face, and he turned his white-blonde head to catch the light breeze that was wafting through the sweltering streets.

And that's when he saw her.

She was walking alone, just exiting from Flourish and Blotts, her long mahogany tresses, with the faintest red highlights, were loose and flowing down her slim back, and her delicately pale face held the most devastatingly green eyes he had ever seen.

She was slender and athletic, and she moved with a slow but purposeful confidence that Mafloy found irrestistible.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

Who is she? Does she go to Hogwarts? he found himself wondering lazily.

"As a matter of fact," he could hear Blaise saying, "I do."

"Hmmmm?" Draco muttered to Blaise, his eyes still locked on the girl, "What was that?"

"I said, as a matter of fact, yes, I do."

"Do what?" Draco asked, ripping his eyes away form the girl to stare at his friend with a bemused expression on his face.

Blaise sighed, irritated, and then said, "I want to make a bet, Malfoy. Just like you suggested."

"Oh?" Draco asked, now fully interested in his friend.

"Yeah," Blaise answered, a smal smirk on his lips. "You say that you can get any girl want, right?"

Draco hesitated, disliking the devilish glint in Blaises eyes.

"Not so sure of yourself, are you, Malfoy? Not having secound thoughts, aye?" Blaise taunted. Draco flushed, his anger building rapidly inside him.

"Of course I can," he said, his infamous smirk finiding its way onto his lips. "I can get the ones I don't want, more the pity."

Blaise smiled unkindly. "A bet then, I think. I'll pick the girl. All you have to do is make her fall for you."

Draco was silent for a momnet, mulling this over in his head.

"The stakes?" he asked suspiciously.

"Let's see," Blaise murmured. "How about.." he stopped, a small smile spreading over his handsome features. "How about, your title?" he offered quietly.

Draco looked at him, confused. "What the hell are you talking about Zambini?"

"The Slytherin Prince," Blaise continued, his voice slightly mocking and a mad glint in his eyes. "If you win, you keep your title, and I give you.. fity galleons. If, however," he continued, "You can't get the girl," Malfoy snorted, "Then you give up all claims to Slythering Royalty and you give me fivty galleons. Deal?"

Blaise held out his hand toward Draco, who stared at him hard, calculating the bet in his head.

something felt.. wrong about this whole thing. But there was no way he could back out of it without Blaise labeling him a coward and a fake. He had no choice.

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl. But she was gone now, and Draco felt a strange sense of loss.

He looked up at Blaise again, then reached ou a hand that schook ever-so-slightly, grasped Blaise's hand, and shook.

"Deal."

Blaise smiled nastily and laughed. "Fifty galleons richer," he said aloud.

"We'll see about that, Zabini," Draco said coolly.

"Now, whose the lucky lady?"