A/N: We read the short story Miami-New York by Martha Gellhorn in my honors US History class. That story, and the resulting class discussion are my inspiration for this story. I thought it would be fun to explore the dynamics of a relationship between two strangers over a short period of time.

Those Moments

"Don't close the—" SLAM!

It turns out, in case you ever wondered, that the Hogwarts castle does have intense protections against unwanted intruders. Doors lock. From the inside. And then, only those who "belong" are able to open the doors from the outside. This means that students are able to get into the safety of the rooms but they are unable to get out. Unfortunately, those who are locked inside have no choice in the matter. They are stuck until the castle sees fit to let them go.

That is what befell me. I had been in an empty classroom on the third floor, practicing my charms when the classroom door closed. On its own. I assumed it was a draft and continued on my work. It was when I was forced to take notice of my growling stomach five minutes later and decide to wander down to the kitchen to satisfy it, when I became aware my predicament.

The door would not open. I tugged… and tugged. All the spells I knew to open locked things proved futile, as well. Realizing this, I slumped down next to the door, waiting for someone to arrive and let me out. I reached into my bag, pulling out my novel. Might as well pass the time I have to wait in someone else's life.

Soon enough, the doorknob turned and the door began to open. A person stepped in and it was as if I was watching in slow motion. He – for he simply oozed masculinity – stepped in and was about to remove his hand from the door. "Don't close the –" he whipped around, his features etched surprise. "-- door," I finished lamely, for his hand had left the door, and it had slammed shut behind him.

"Damn," he cursed quietly, realizing, as I did, that the door would not open.

He placed his back to the door and slipped the floor next to me, pulling his knees up to his chin. I took this opportunity to take in his physical features. His straight, dark hair fell over a chocolate brow and surprisingly light colored eyes. He was tall, and slender. By the time I finished taking all of this in, he had gracefully folded himself next to me.

He stuck out his hand for me to shake, "Blaise Zabini."

I grinned; maybe this would not be such a bad situation. Reaching out to shake his hand, I replied, "Ginny Weasley. What is going on out there?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Malfunction, I think. Anyway, it is only the hallway. I was going to let you out but it seemed the room was empty. And then you scared me." He smiled ruefully. "However, it seems as if we are going to be stuck here for a little while. At least, until one of the teachers figures out what is going on." He peered at the novel in my hand. "What are you reading?"

I, too, looked down at my book. "Nothing good. Simply passes the time."

He nodded in understanding. He paused for a minute, seeming to think of what to say next. "So, you're a Gryff? What year?"

"Sixth." He opened his mouth to say something and I cut him off. "Seventh year, Slytherin. I know. You're the other one they fear."

I must have inserted more derision than I meant to into that last part, because he raised his eyebrows, a smile playing around his full lips. "'They'? And who is the one besides me?"

I answered the latter question before responding to the former. "Draco Malfoy. And you guys are just human beings. So am I. Should I fear myself?"

He chuckled, at my tenacity, I assumed, and draped his arm over my shoulders, pulling me close. His voice in my ear was soft, seductive. "Why should you fear yourself?" he asked before answering his own question. "Because you never know what anyone, including yourself, will do. There are strong emotions and these emotions can make human beings to crazy things."

I was not interested in going down that path. It made me remember things I was not willing to remember. Yes, Tom happened. Yes, it was awful. But, I learned from it and it made me stronger. And, now it is over, it is my past, not my future and I prefer to move on instead of dwelling in the past.

I decided to distract him. I leant further into his casual and embrace. "So, Mr. Zabini. Although I may know your year and your house, I must admit that is the limit of my knowledge. Tell me more?" I asked and the in the most lighthearted tone I could muster.

He laughed softly, darkly, at things I was sure I would never know. "Until I graduate, I live with my mother and her current husband. My father died when I was just a babe and that has been my life since. I have a job lined up with the British embassy in Nigeria and am moving the afternoon of graduation."

I was curious, "Why Nigeria?"

"My father was from there and I'm hoping that I can find some more of my family. Nevertheless, my mother is going to disown me when I leave her. However, it is necessary for her to understand that I am not one of her husbands, to be pushed around and to live at her will. It seems as if nothing I do a living under her roof will convince her of this. Therefore, I must leave." He trailed off, looking down at his knees. Abruptly, he changed our positions so that I was sprawled across as lap, his legs on either side of me. He took a lock of my chestnut hair, twining it around his finger. "Enough about me. How about you, Red?"

I sighed. It is not that I do not love my family. I just do not really like my family. They cannot understand me. I think that Tom may have left part of himself alive in me and that made me different from them. Either way, it was after my foray into the chamber and the dark arts that my family began to separate itself from me. Like Blaise, I planned on moving out after graduation.

"My family is," I paused, searching for the right word, "special. There are seven of us kids. I am the lucky youngest. After …events that took place during my first year, my family has pretty much left me alone. I suppose it is for the best. As much as I hate how emo and clichéd I sound when I say this: my family does not really understand me. They do not really bother with me."

I knew, as soon as I shut my mouth, that he was going to ask. And, as I've learned, people never fail you. "Which events?" trying not to offend me, he followed up question up with an explanation. "'Cause all that I remember happening that year was …" he trailed off, eyes wide, assessing my expectant expression. "Wait! That was you? Shite. Well, I can see why your family might have freaked." His tone softened considerably. I'm sorry, Red." He pressed his lips, gently, against my temple.

As much as I hate to say it, my heart fluttered. I liked this situation. It was exciting. We were stuck in here for who-ever-knew how long it would probably never see each other again. This was an adventure for me, no strings attached. There was something about Blaise that appealed to me. My Tom side seemed to appreciate his slightly darker nature more than any of the guys I'd been with.

It was for this reason, I assume -- for if was for any other reason, I've yet to admit, even in the deepest recesses of my mind-- that I lifted my face up to his, hoping he would place his lips against mine. Not until he brushed my hair out of my face and kissed the corners of my mouth, did he comply and press his lips to mine. It was the gentle of caresses of skin on skin, but it tingled with electricity.

He pulled away and we looked in each other for one tense second. Then, his lips descended again. This kiss was as intense as the last one had been innocent. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders, pulling me as close as he could. I reached up and placed one hand on the back of his head, the other on his cheek, holding his lips to mind.

The door opened next to us. We pulled apart, our bodies remaining in the same position. I looked up to see Snape glaring down his over-large nose at us. I realized what picture we must have presented. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin twined together. Blaise, completely unruffled, hopped to his feet and offered me his outstretched hand. I accepted it and he helped me to my feet.

"Well, this is been lovely, Miss Weasley." He placed his lips on my hand and walked out the door. I followed, Snape trailing behind. After having left, I began the trek back up to Gryffindor Tower. I never saw Blaise Zabini again, after that day.