"No, Blaise. It's over."
"Ginny—"
She turned on the staircase. "Don't pretend like you're sorry. I know the kinds of things you do with Malfoy. All training up, are you? Think you're some kind of big shot? Well, I don't."
He laughed and immediately sobered when he saw the look on her face. "It's not like that! God, Gin, don't you believe me?"
"No," she said, turning to go again. He followed her to the Great Hall, where people were still talking and laughing before curfew. In the Fat Lady's corridor, she turned around suddenly and said, "What?"
"I-I didn't mean it," he stammered, looking nervously around. They were in Gryffindor territory now, and he wasn't nearly as comfortable as he'd been in the dungeons.
"What didn't you mean?" she snapped, getting angrier than ever.
He gulped. "I-I…"
"Because, you know, I don't really believe that you didn't mean that bit about being a blood traitor. And if you think I don't mind, then you're really, really, really wrong."
Somebody was approaching around the bend; footsteps echoed in the no longer abandoned corridor. Harry Potter's voice filled the hall, speaking a confused jumble of happy words. Blaise swore and moved towards the stairs.
Ginny slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. "God, Blaise," she said, tears running down her freckled cheeks, "I couldn't save you."
But then he was gone and she ran down the hallway, past her brother and his best friend, trying her best to smother her tears in her sleeve.