The class shuffled out of the dungeon, followed by the smell of melted caldrons and badly produced potions. Blaise grabbed his bag and stood, leaving with all the others. The sun was searing outside and he was too hot, loosening his tie as he walked. Draco warbled on beside him and Crabbe and Goyle laughed together at his joke, most likely not understanding it.

"Ready for some Quidditch practise?" Draco asked him, a small nudge against his shoulder pulling him back into the conversation. Blaise looked up at him and then down into his hands and cursed. He'd forgotten his "Quidditch through the Ages" and Pince would bite his head off if he had another late book return.

"Sorry, I left something, I'll be back in a minute!" he called as he ran back down the stone steps. The pale blonde haired boy just shook his head and the two oafs beside him followed him out to the playing fields.

Rounding the corner, Blaise was already sweating, even in the mild coolness of the dungeons, and he paused for breath just outside of the classroom, leaning against the wall. Inside he could hear voices, one high and pleading, the other low and disgruntled, almost angry. It was clear they were arguing. Taking a few steps forward, careful to not be heard, Blaise looked through the ajar door and his eyes widened.

Ginny Weasley was standing in front of Snape, her long auburn hair flowing freely down her back, and the look on Snapes' face was a mixture of disgust and pity as he glared down at her.

"Please Professor, I can be discreet," Ginny pleaded, her voice small in the large room.

"Enough!" Snape turned away from her and made as if to leave. She ran up to him and turned him around with a firm tug of his robes, bringing her small hand up to the back of his neck and kissing him passionately, pushing her body against his. Blaise could hear the sounds of their breathing, and the small, almost undetectable, moans that Ginny made. The professor pushed her away tenderly, his hands resting on her upper arms, and spoke softly, something Blaise had never heard before.

"I can't Miss. Weasley, you know I can't." With that he left through the door that lead to his office, leaving Ginny standing alone, her arms still raised slightly in front of her.

Blaise couldn't believe what he'd seen. That little blood traitor was hitting on her teachers? Thinking about it, the way Snape had held her, Blaise wondered if they had done something before. He found the idea oddly arousing and had a sudden flash through his mind's eye of Ginny bent over a desk, her hair wild with her skirt up around her waist...

He shook the image from his head just as he heard slow footsteps coming towards him, and stood up straight to avoid being hit in the face as Ginny swung the door open. Seeing him, she froze, shocked. Her small, pink mouth made a perfect O as she took him in, her watering, blue eyes wide and scared. A frown creased her freckled forehead and she glared up at him, her hair hanging in her eyes.

"What the hell do you want, Zabini?" she snarled, and then with a sudden calculation she demanded, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Well, well, well, little Miss. Weasley, you have a thing for teachers, do you?" Blaise asked with a grin on his face. She looked shocked again and ran passed him, bumping him with her bag as she did so. His voice followed her up the corridor

"I love Snape, I love Snape!" he shouted, pure glee in his tone as he watched the fiery Gryffindor tear away from him down the hallway, her footsteps echoing loudly. Blaise chuckled and turned away, already bored by the fuss, ducking through the open door to retrieve his library book.

Ginny didn't stop running until she found the solitude of Moaning Myrtles' Bathroom and had locked the cubicle door. Sitting down on the toilet seat, she promptly burst into tears. She wasn't that worried about Zabini, not when she knew he was fully aware of how well she could hex him, it was teh professor. The man whose touches she had been craving all term since he had last touched her at the dance. An accident, he had said, something to not be repeated, wrong. Scandolous. She hadn't believed it. How could something that felt so right be perceived as wrong? She wanted Snape, needed him, and all he could do was give her a quick snog and tell her that he didn't want her? She had been pressed close against his body and she knew that he had wanted her, and badly.

The idea that Zabini knew dawned on her again and she wondered almost idly if he would try and blackmail her into doing things for him. If Hermione knew, or Gods forbid, Ron. Ginny put her head in her hands and sobbed a few more times, trying to empty her system of grief. She was a Gryffindor, for goodness sake. Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, she left the cubicle and smiled at Myrtle, who had just entered the bathroom, singing a song about boys who smelt. Feeling glum, Ginny couldn't help but agree.