Chapter 3: Musings and decisions

Blaise angrily flopped himself down in a chair along with his belongings in the old Ravenclaw Common Room, now used for the students of the House of Politics and Law. Theo who had been sitting in a chair opposite him looked up.

"Trouble in paradise?"

Blaise grumbled. "An unfortunate, red-haired encounter in the Prefects' Bathroom, no less."

Theo smirked. "Let me guess: The Weaslette?"

"Who else? She's the only Weasley who has returned and here I thought it would be a pleasant ride to get that bunch off my back my last year."

"Who says it can't be a pleasant ride?" Theo leered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Fuck off, Nott," Blaise snorted.

"What? I remember you once proclaiming she was fit."

"Yeah, I remember. I also remember saying she was Weasel trash and that I wouldn't come near her with a ten-foot broomstick," he snapped.

"But you would now?" Theo prodded curiously.

Blaise whipped his head towards him. "What's with you?" he groaned. "Who are you and what have you done with the old Theo who used to hate everything red-haired and Gryffindor and jumped at every chance to mock them?"

Nott shrugged. "He died in the war, I guess," and then gave a disturbingly cheery smile. "This is the new Theo. Get used to him."

Blaise stared disbelievingly at him, as if he had grown a second head. "I'm not sure I will." He leaned his head back and rubbed his face, sighing heavily. "Fuck, I miss Draco."

"Hey!" Theo exclaimed, feigning insulted. "I take that personally! Just because your old fuck-buddy bailed on you to go to Durmstrang this year, doesn't mean you don't have other options!" He pouted dramatically, batting his eyes at him.

"Piss off!" Blaise hauled a throw pillow at the grinning Theo who barely missed it.

"No, seriously," Theo said once he had sobered, "the war did stuff to all of us. And of all the Weasleys, I think the Weasley girl is alright, always have. Gotta have respect for a girl who was under the influence of You-Know-Who for her entire second year and came out on the other side in one piece. Not so sure that could be said for the rest of us who actually 'chose' his side," he shrugged and images of the girl's grimy, pale, but courageous face when she and Potter emerged from the Chamber that year flickered across Blaise's mind.

They had all been scared shitless that year, even the Pureblooded Slytherins though they'd never admit it, and the idea that Ginny had experienced all those monstrosities up-close, an unwilling pawn for Him, made him shudder. She'd been so innocent and young, yet came out only stronger and braver. Scarred, but not discouraged. Just as Theo he couldn't help but respect that.

He looked up and found Theo studying him more intensely than Blaise liked. He always knew Theo was sharper than he gave off, but he rarely laid subject for his scrutinizing gaze. He felt like Theo could see right through him sometimes.

"I guess so," Blaise shrugged, but then his mind brought him back to the incident only moments ago and his voice hardened, "but she's still bloody self-righteous and that Weasley temper would make even Peeves fly away screaming!"

Theo chuckled. "Oh, I'll bet she'll make you scream alright. Those Quidditch muscles…damn. For once, I'm actually envious of Scarhead," he whistled lewdly, back to his old self, and immediately received another velvet throw pillow in his smug face.

Curse him and his dirty mind, Blaise grumbled inwardly and chose to ignore his continuous taunts for the rest of the afternoon. His thoughts had turned to other matters. Or perhaps not entirely other matters. Unwilling images of a certain red-head doing certain things in bed with Pothead kept popping up, disturbing his thoughts, taunting him. No, he was determined not to have any more run-ins with that infamous female firecracker! If he had been able to avoid her for six years, this must be a piece of cake.

X

Blaise Zabini was positively confusing!

But, no, Ginny wasn't about to let the little episode in the Prefect's Bathroom ruin her routine of Quidditch training and using the Bathroom Sunday afternoons. The risk of a certain former Slytherin appearing at the same time once again was highly unlikely, after all, and she definitely wasn't about to let their little encounter rile her any more than it did. She had literally washed that boy right out of her hair!

Not that he had even mattered in the first place, just – ugh!

She tore in her hair, not at all comfortable feeling so confused and out of touch with a situation like that. It shouldn't matter! Not at all! She was used to play such situations off with other boys.

But then again, Blaise Zabini wasn't just like the other boys, was he?

And there was something about the way he looked when he said she didn't understand or know anything about what he had endured during the war that had just struck her.

Damn her own curiosity!

Blimey, she sounded like Hermione now; being way too analytical about everything.

She usually didn't have troubles talking about her feelings and otherwise got whatever bothered her out through a nice tumble of Quidditch. She had thought it an easy task, initially, but seeing him almost daily, not just in the Great Hall and in classes, but also at the Quidditch field, was a constant reminder of how he had looked in the Bathroom. Of course, he didn't seem disturbed by the episode, having fallen right back into his mask of arrogant, bored indifference. He didn't swagger as much as usual, however, and she couldn't help but noticing his somewhat tense reactions whenever she was around. Maybe she was just fooling herself. She could hardly believe she had the ability to irk the infamously cold Slytherin, in the first place; he hadn't even seemed that bothered with anything during the war, for Merlin's sake!

But maybe that was the problem? She didn't really know whether he truly had been bothered or not, did she? He wasn't the infamously enigmatic Slytherin for nothing. Maybe something had happened to his mother? Maybe he had been worried about his so-called 'friends' in the Slytherin House (though only Merlin knows why!)?

She moaned out loud, hoping to still the jumble of thoughts in her head regarding the dark-skinned wizard.

Since when had she become like this? Moaning over a boy. Seriously? She had compassion but this was taking it too far, even for her. She didn't have time to ponder about the Slytherin; she had tons of things to do and no time for boy trouble – or whatever this was.

That was the problem, wasn't it? She didn't even know what to categorize this! The war seemed to have ripped everything into shreds and the task of piecing everything together, even the smallest, most trivial, day-to-day stuff, seemed a lot harder than she initially thought. She welcomed normalcy at the beginning of the school year, but of course she was hardly allowed a moment of peace before a certain Slytherin – of all former Houses! – went and stirred it up! Ugh!

No, she had decided not to let the episode affect her anymore than it already had. She was still determined to use the Quidditch field and the Prefects' Bathroom those late Sunday afternoons for herself and if she had to, she would hex his sorry ass off the wet tiles if he indeed appeared and as much as looked at her the wrong way!

Yes, that was the plan. So far, so good. The old Ginny Weasley was back. At least, for this particular task.

She smiled to herself, humming vaguely as she pinned the seasonal poster of the Holyhead Harpies above her bed in room. A new year, a new season. She looked forward following the girls in their endeavors to win back the Quidditch World Cup.

She couldn't wait to someday join them in those very endeavors.