A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers, especially tryntee13 and Amethyst-Rose!

To thine own self be true,

And it must follow, as the night the day,

Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Polonius' advice to his son Laertes in Hamlet

A knowing leer crept across Theodore Nott's face. "It seems we've interrupted something," he said.

"Perhaps," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, his dark eyes clearly taking in the entire scene. "And perhaps not."

He knows, thought Ginny. He wasn't fooled a bit.

Humperdinck giggled. He sounded a little nervous, in Ginny's opinion. "Goodness; goodness me. You're all being a bit naughty, don't you think? I've never been any sort of prude, of course, but it's not quite the thing to do in the dessert room only twenty minutes before dinner."

Daphne swallowed visibly. "I'm, er, awfully sorry, Gay. Maybe we'd better—"

He waved a plump little hand dismissively. "No, no, dear; don't bother. We've all got some tiresome business to discuss. I'll see you in just a bit. But just between yourself and I, I shouldn't resume those delicious activities with our dear, disgraceful boy." He wagged his finger at Blaise. "The walls have ears, you know!" He turned to walk off with Shacklebolt, Astoria, and Nott, chuckling. The door slammed behind them.

Daphne turned on Pansy. "That was the worst idea you've ever had, Parkinson," she said without preamble.

"Excuse me?" asked Pansy, her voice as cold as Astoria and Theo's eyes had been. "Does anyone happen to accurately remember what was happening about ten minutes ago? 'Oh, no, what do we do now?' Does that ring any sort of bell? At least I had an idea, and this is the sort of thanks I get. I shan't trouble myself again."

"Don't give me that shite," said Daphne. "You certainly will do this again. You're the bossiest person I've ever known, and considering my family that's saying a great deal—"

"Oh, stop it, please, please!" begged Ginny. "This isn't helping."

"They used to do this by the hour back in school," said Millicent. "If you'd been in Slytherin, you would've seen it a million times. Hey, Blaise, your buttons aren't done up yet all the way yet. Or on second thought, how much time do we have before dinner?"

"Ladies!" Blaise gave all his most unctuous smile. "I know you're all fighting over me, really, but there's plenty to go round. Just get in line, and don't shove."

"Oh, shut up, you—you bargain basement gigolo!" Pansy shot back at him. "Some of this mess is your fault as well, you know."

Blaise looked very hurt. "That wasn't kind. I was only acting. Shacklebolt and the rest still might've been listening—"

"You might be thick enough to carry on without putting a Silencing charm on this room, but I'm certainly not," snapped Pansy.

"Oh," said Millicent. "Never mind, then. Dreadfully sorry about that," she added to Luna, who seemed absorbed in staring at the carpet.

"Millicent, please!" Pansy turned back to Blaise. "If you hadn't turned in the worst acting performance since Colin Creevey threw up all over the mermaids during A History of Hogwarts in fifth year, then we might have had a chance. But as it was—"

"Well, I never claimed to have professional thespian training," muttered Blaise.

"You still might have done a bit better!"

"You don't have to yell."

"I'm not yelling!"

"Is anyone else getting a headache from all this yelling, or is it just me?" asked Millicent of nobody in particular.

"That didn't have anything to do with it," said Ginny. "It wouldn't have made any difference if Blaise came out of the Muggle Royal Shakespeare Theater. Didn't anyone else but me notice that Astoria and Theo Nott came in with Kingsley and Humperdinck?"

There was a brief silence.

"Yes," said Dean quietly. Everyone else seemed to be looking away now as well.

"Dean, when you talked to the Minister, what did you actually say?" she asked him. "I couldn't understand it."

"I said a few pretty inconsequential things, and then…" Dean rubbed his chin, looking tired. "I asked him about Harry. Kingsley said that he'd talked to him, but he didn't give the slightest hint what their conversations had been about. I asked him if Harry would be at the Ball. He said that he naturally wouldn't, because he isn't a pureblood. You heard the rest. He didn't say anything about why he and Humperdinck would be talking privately to Astoria Malfoy and Theodore Nott, but I'd be willing to bet that the Minister knows something's up. So I think you're right, Gin. Our little scene didn't make much difference either way."

"I never knew that the Minister is your cousin," Ginny said quietly to Dean a few moments later. They stood in a corner of the room; everyone else had already left, she wasn't quite sure where.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Ginny," he said, just as quietly.

"I know that." She bent her head.

"I was about to tell you, actually. During your fifth year. I wanted you to know about my family, and who I really was. But Harry became interested in you, and then—" He shrugged.

The familiar feeling of shame rushed over her. So many things she'd never bothered to find out about Dean Thomas; so many ways she'd failed him. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It doesn't matter now," he said. "I'm a pureblood as well, you see, but not the British sort—we come from Haitian royalty. Voldemort would never have recognized us; that's why I had to go into hiding during the war. But it's enough to let me into the Pureblood Ball." He lifted her chin. "Oh, Ginny, don't cry; it's not important now."

"You mean, because—" she began, and then remembered.

Dean shook his head, much too vehemently, she thought. "No, not because of Daphne Greengrass. I've got nothing to say about her."

Ginny nodded. Fine, she thought. I'll get it out of Daphne, then!

"I can't believe it," Dean said suddenly, as they were headed for the door. "Ginny, I know what you're thinking, but you don't know everything there is to know about Kingsley Shacklebolt. His father stowed him away on a boat leaving Haiti when he was just eight years old because it was the only chance to get him out. He stayed with cousins in England for six more years before he saw the rest of his family again. He pretended he'd come from France, he never told anyone the truth. He's tougher than you can imagine, and he's always lived by a code of his own. I can't see him being led by Harry."

"I hope you're right, Dean," said Ginny. "That's all I'm going to say."

She looked at him, feeling troubled. A bell-like tone echoed lightly through the doors.

"Fifteen minutes until dinner," said Dean. "Let's split up. You'd better find Blaise."

Ginny had to agree, but she wondered what to do with herself. A quarter of an hour suddenly seemed like a ridiculously long time. She peered out the doors leading into the main ballroom stood at the far end of the room, shuddering at the sight of all the small, chatting groups of people. Going out there was not an option, she decided. Just where the hell is Blaise?

"I beg your pardon, Mistress Lovegood?" she heard his voice hiss from behind the double glass doors at the other end of the little room at that very moment.

Speak of the Devil, thought Ginny. She crept towards the doors and then crouched down at the crack between them as carefully as she could. Before she could manage to get close enough to see anything, however, she heard Blaise's pained whimper.

"Oh. Luna, that was really low. How could you—"

"I'll do it again if you keep blaming me, Blaise Xanthius Zabini," snapped Luna in the least dreamy voice that Ginny had ever heard from her. "And don't call me 'Mistress Lovegood' in that stiff sniffy way, either!"

Ginny could see now that they seemed to be in some sort of tiny greenhouse or conservatory. Luna had backed Blaise up against a rosebush, wand out. He was wringing one hand and grimacing in a rather overdone way. She sighed in relief. She'd pictured more than one outcome that would have caused considerably more problems from the point of view of his being able to escort her in to dinner.

"But you did talk so very loudly about the note, Luna," Blaise said piteously. "You wouldn't hit me with another Stinging hex, would you? You know it's true."

"I was very restrained," said Luna. "I might have told the entire room what was in it in a loud voice. I didn't do that, now did I?"

"Oh, Luna, what was in it?" asked Blaise.

"I don't see that the contents are any of your business right now," said Luna.

"But I sent it," said Blaise, even more piteously. "Please do tell."

This is making less sense all the time, thought Ginny.

"No," said Luna. "I'm going now."

"Back to Dean, I suppose," said Blaise, straightening up.

"He's my partner for the night," said Luna, in less than friendly tones.

"I suppose you'd better go on, then." He stepped aside and gave her an elaborate bow. Luna flounced past him. Ginny immediately got up and scrambled behind the dessert table.

As Luna went out the double glass doors, Ginny studied Blaise's face, looking after her. There it is again! It's a bit like the way Harry used to look when he was trying to blame me for something. All self-pitying and self-righteous, as if he's done something noble and self-sacrificing, or at least he's convinced himself that's what it is… oh, no…

Ginny marched out from behind the table. "Blaise, you're an idiot," she said without preamble.

"Ginny!" he exclaimed. "Ah… er… where did you come from?"

"I was listening at the door."

He looked horrified. "Gin, you're a spy. I never had the slightest idea. Aren't Weasleys supposed to be too noble for that sort of thing?"

"Shut it, Blaise. I thought at first that you and Luna couldn't make it work because you couldn't really leave male slutdom behind. She caught you with some girl, or boy, or—well, who knows what—and she broke up with you. But that's not it at all, is it?" She looked at him shrewdly.

"Er—well, dinner will be served very soon, and I don't think we need to go over that now, Ginny." Blaise pulled at his cravat.

"Oh, yes we do," said Ginny. "The truth is that you rejected her before she had a chance to reject you, and you were firmly convinced you were doing it for her own good. That was it. Wasn't it?"

Blaise looked at her with big green eyes. "Er…"

"If you don't admit it, I'll hex your other hand." Ginny backed Blaise even further into the rosebush and gave him a threatening glare. "And I'll tell everybody that your middle name is Xanthius, too!"

He winced, brushing leaves off his tailcoat. "All right; I admit it! I did it because I had the only noble impulse of my entire life, and it was bloody awful. I hated it. I'll never have another one."

"They're very difficult to deal with if you're not used to them," said Ginny, thinking of Draco.

Blaise drummed his fingers on the lip of a small marble fountain. "She's far happier with that art crowd than she could ever be with me," he said. "Andy's much more suitable for her than I am, you know."

Ginny sighed. "Blaise, why are you changing the subject? You can't possibly mean that that had anything to do with it. When it comes to Andy, you must know exactly how pointless it is for you to worry about him and Luna. He's barely interested in sex at all. He'd rather eat a box of Hydrox cookies any day. And what little interest he has is completely in the bent direction. He and Luna are friends. Very close friends, but it's the most platonic relationship the world has ever seen."

"I know it's nothing to do with that," said Blaise. "Naturally, I know that the entire crowd is made up of raving loons on loon tablets, but they make Luna happy. Don't you see, Ginny, that's why I thought I could—" He shut his mouth tightly.

Ginny looked at his miserable face, and a new thought dawned on her. "Blaise, it's all right, really it is," she began.

"No," he burst out. "No, it's not all right, Gin! I wanted Luna to pull away from me because I'm dangerous for her and I thought it would be all right because she's got that artistic crowd, and maybe it's all right for her, but it's not for me because I think I'm going to die, because she's changed me, Ginny. She left me once, did she ever tell me that? Right after we first started up?"

"Yes, uh, she did actually—"

"Now she's done it again. I can't bear it. I'm not the Blaise Zabini I used to be, and if she won't take me back, I don't know what I'll become. I can't return to the careless playboy I was. I don't know what I'd do without her, I… "

"You love her, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes. I…" Blaise swallowed hard. "I love her. There! I've said the 'l' word. Generations of Zabinis are flipping in their graves."

I was right, thought Ginny. "Have you told her this?"

Blaise ran a hand over his head. "No; no! Are you joking? I don't have the faintest idea of what she feels—well, what she felt- and if she didn't care, it might have backfired hideously. I'm not quite sure how stupidly noble she actually is; she might have pulled away from me to protect herself, because I'm connected to Draco—that what I mean by being so dangerous to her, don't you see?- and I think the Department of Mysteries is about to start investigating me as well and I don't have the slightest idea how Draco's ever going to get out of this one and I'd help him if I could, but I really don't see how there's any way to give him the least bit of help—sorry, Gin, but I've got to give you my honest opinion." At last, Blaise stopped to draw a long breath.

Ginny laid her hand over his. "I won't believe that," she said.

"Which part? That I'm capable of loving anyone?"

"No; that's about the only part I do believe, Blaise. I mean almost any of the rest of it, although it was hard to follow. The last time I heard anything so incoherent was when Luna cried on my shoulder after she broke up with you. Mostly, though, I didn't agree with the end."

"Really?" Blaise asked excitedly. "She cried about that? I mean, er… what about the end?"

"I believe that there's a way to help Malfoy," said Ginny. "And that I've found it."

"That's because you have idiotically noble impulses all the time."

"Oh, it's not noble," said Ginny. "Don't think it is. But Blaise, I think it can work."

"Because of those sketches for the sculpture commission, you mean?"

Ginny nodded. "You haven't seen them yet. You don't know what they're like. But when you know, you'll understand what I mean and how I think they can be enough."

"Maybe they will be, then," said Blaise. He smiled faintly and straightened up, offering Ginny his arm. "There's one thing I do believe, Gin."

"What's that?"

"It's that if your belief is all it takes, you'll be able to save him."