Edited 20th February 2014 to remove review responses and superfluous author's notes.

8. Halloween

During October, the Halloween feast was a topic of great interest. Only first and second years could admit to that interest without losing face, but the whole school needed something to shake away the morbid thoughts of Death Eaters once again on the prowl, and Double Potions with Snape. The Heads and Prefects were involved quite heavily in the organisation of the occasion, to be marked by a feast followed by a ball that had actually turned out to be rather like a disco.

Blaise only knew all of this from Daniel. He was jealous; apparently Ginny was a Gryffindor prefect – silly, he knew she was, didn't he know all he could know about her simply from looking? – and he would have sacrificed a lot to get to sit in on those working party sessions. There seemed to be an awful lot of them. Daniel never seemed to be around any more. Was it really possible that organising a feast – something that the teachers had always done themselves before – could take up so much of the Head Boy's time?

Naturally, Draco Malfoy appeared to think that the whole thing was beneath him. If he doesn't want to go, then that's alright with me, thought Blaise, grimly. He wouldn't miss the sneering presence of the younger Malfoy one little bit. He tore a piece of parchment into tiny little shreds, idly thinking about Ginny. She'd be there, of course. It wouldn't be like her to avoid a party. Blaise would hate every minute of it, but he would be there, partly to support Dan, but mostly just to see her.

Harry didn't much like Halloween. It had been at Halloween that the troll had got into the school and attacked Hermione; it had also been at Halloween that the first attack was made by the basilisk in his second year. Come to think of it, when Sirius had attacked the Fat Lady; that had been after the Halloween feast. And his name had been pulled unbidden from the infernal goblet on the last day of October. Bad things seemed to happen at that time of year.

He was putting on a brave face at the moment, and trying to fight off his premonitions that something, somewhere, was going to go horribly wrong. His scar was hurting again, a tense, dull ache that was somehow worse than its occasional lightning flashes of pain. The Dark Lord was planning something. He could feel it. And he knew that that something would have serious consequences for the whole school.

Unfortunately, that was all he knew. Voldemort knew now that Harry could divine his feelings through the old scar that connected them. He wasn't going to allow Harry to see visions of his plans any more, not if he could help it. The young Gryffindor felt a sort of impotent rage against fate. When he needed to know what the Dark Lord was thinking, the connection was suddenly, irreversibly, gone.

He pushed the thoughts away. Knowing Voldemort as he did, these feelings could mean nothing good. He looked anxiously across the common room at the people he cared about most. Ron, Hermione and Ginny… he hoped that being close to him would not endanger them. He was brought back from his morbid daydream by the fact that Ginny and Ron appeared to be arguing.

Harry went over to them. Ron wasn't yelling, but judging by his red ears, he wanted to be. They turned when they heard him approach, each bursting with what they needed to say, but both silenced by the look in Harry's eyes.

He shook his head, wearily, and turned to the one person he knew would tell him the truth. "What's going on, Hermione?"

The girl looked from one warring Weasley to the other. "Ron thinks Ginny's got a new boyfriend…"

"I think!" hissed Ron. "I bloody saw them!"

"Yes, Ron, you saw her talking to him. Ginny says that's all she did do. I believe her. There's no reason why she can't have friends in other houses, you know."

"Hermione!" wailed Ginny. "He's not even my friend. He's just a boy I was talking to. I didn't think it was important, that's why I didn't say anything to you about him, Ron. I wasn't trying to hide anything from you, honest!"

"Hermione, who is this him?" Harry asked, finally, exasperated by the argument that was just beyond his comprehension.

She hesitated. That in itself annoyed him. Hermione couldn't think that Harry would take this worse than Ron, could she? When she spoke, he could barely hear what she said. "Blaise Zabini."

Harry was puzzled for a moment. "Who?" Then realisation dawned. "Is he little and dark, and does he spend most of his time sitting alone in corners? I think I know him. He should be every teacher's pet; I've never heard him put a foot wrong."

Hermione nodded, though looking slightly disgruntled at his description of Zabini as a teacher's pet. Ron snapped. "You're missing the point, Harry. This Blaise guy is a Slytherin. He's one of Malfoy's friends!"

"He's not," said Ginny, stubbornly. "He hates Malfoy. He told me so. And I've only spoken to him twice; once a couple of weeks ago, the day after the Quidditch, and then today. If you'd given me a chance to speak, Ron, I might have told you that. And there'd be nothing wrong with me being his friend anyway. He doesn't have very many. Some people say that Daniel Fletcher is his only friend."

"If no one likes him, it must be for a reason," persisted Ron, but he was on his own now.

Hermione's eyes had gone round like saucers. "He knows the Head Boy? That man is just perfect." She looked like she had entered a daydream, probably consisting of her, Fletcher, and the next Hogsmeade weekend.

"Oh, please, Hermione," sighed Ron, blocking his ears irritably. Harry looked at his friend and wondered if there might be a little jealousy behind the gesture. He wouldn't ask, though. He would never ask. Ron would tell him in his own good time. Providing, of course, that there was something to tell. Ginny, noticing that no one was paying any attention to her any more, ducked quickly out of the common room and headed to the library.

The night of October 31st was cloudy and moonless. The Hall was decked out for the feast, and the Head Boy and Girl, along with the eight prefects, surveyed their handiwork. Ginny felt enchanted. The decoration was perfect. Distrustful as she might be of Fletcher, he still knew how to set the scene for a great party. It was he who had persuaded Dumbledore to make the "ball" more informal. In Ginny's eyes, this was a good thing. Dress robes made her feel uncomfortable. She was always far happier in her favourite scruffy jeans.

Scruffy jeans were laid out in piles upon Blaise Zabini's bed. He had many pairs, mostly because, back home, they were practically all he ever wore. He chose a black pair. Informal though the party undoubtedly was going to be (and all thanks to Dan) he didn't want to look like a rejected street orphan. He was standing there, shirtless and just fastening the jeans, when Draco Malfoy came in.

"Are you really going like that, Zabini?" he asked, haughtily.

"No, Malfoy, I was thinking of putting a shirt on before I go down to the feast," Blaise replied, evenly, trying to keep the conversation as light as possible, just in case anything said made him want to kill Malfoy all over again.

"I meant, are you really going to go looking so…" he looked Blaise up and down in a way that suggested disgust, "shabby," he finished, his eyes fixed on the ragged ends of the trouser legs, his lip curling, as if he thought he might catch some disease from them. Blaise felt slightly inadequate standing half naked in front of Malfoy. Probably because the other boy played Quidditch, and had a well muscled body, while he was skinny and his slight frame noticeably devoid of any muscle tone.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Blaise replied, in much the same tone as before, and was rewarded by seeing the silver haired boy flinch. Obviously the memory of the wand at his throat was still fresh in his mind. Malfoy just sneered and turned away, leaving Blaise to make the serious decision about which of his shirts he should wear. There wasn't much of a choice: black, grey and green made up the most part of his non-denim wardrobe. He selected a simple Slytherin green, and tried his hardest to ignore Malfoy's physical superiority, currently being flaunted only ten feet away.

Eating was a great way to relieve tension, and Harry for one was glad to tuck into the mountains of food provided at one of the greatest feasts of the year. The atmosphere was much more peaceful, and Ron had apologised to Ginny, although he did keep shooting evil looks at a dark haired Slytherin whom Harry assumed to be Zabini. He wasn't really thinking about any of that; he had more important things on his troubled mind. From the way he had been feeling, he was too pessimistic to imagine that the Feast would come to an end without something terrible happening.

Ginny sighed deeply. Was she the only girl in the school not to be madly in love with the 'gorgeous' Head Boy? She looked him over, as she had done many times, and snorted. He wasn't even that good-looking! All he had on his side was charm, and she instinctively distrusted charm. The teenaged Tom Riddle had been quite charming, as she knew only too well. And hadn't Riddle also been a Head Boy in his time?

Blaise saw Ginny looking in his direction, but he had no illusions about who she was truly looking at. Daniel came first in the minds of the ladies, he knew that. His friend looked distinctly uncomfortable under all those lustful gazes, but Blaise didn't feel sorry for him at all, because it looked as if he could have Ginny Weasley, if he so wished, whereas Blaise could wish for ever, and never have her.

Daniel felt nervous. It was an important night. He had planned what he was about to do, and he was fairly confident in himself and his own ability, but that didn't comfort him now. People, after all, were independent creatures. He couldn't count on anyone's reactions, not even hers. Anything could go wrong, even now. Being the most charming boy in school doesn't necessarily inoculate you against failure.

Harry was a little surprised that they were allowed to finish eating in peace. But then, a disco would be a far better place to cause havoc, if that was indeed what Voldemort had intended. He could easily have been wrong. But somehow, Harry didn't think so…

Ginny and Ron were arguing again. It seemed that Ron had not forgotten the discussion they had had earlier, and was cautioning his sister. Even Harry, who loved Ron like a brother, thought that he was going a little too far. It wasn't as if she had befriended Draco Malfoy, for heaven's sake! He agreed with Ginny. It wasn't her brother's place to lecture her about whom she could and couldn't have as friends.

Ginny pulled away from her brother. "You're so pigheaded, Ronald Weasley!" she snapped. "I'll do what I like. You can't stop me from having friends that you don't like. If I want to go over there and talk to Blaise and Daniel, I will. What's so wrong with Blaise? You like Daniel fine enough, you and Harry, and he's a Slytherin too, you know." She stopped, colouring slightly as she realised two things. Firstly she had been talking far too loud. Second, she sounded like an over-sensitive girlfriend.

"Defending him now, are you?" glowered Ron. Ginny shot a look at him that would have made a weaker man tremble, then seized a surprised Hermione's hand and all but dragged her across the cleared Hall to where the Head Boy was standing with Blaise Zabini. Female eyes watched the two girls like hawks as they crossed the space between themselves and the much-desired Fletcher.

Daniel looked up, and when he saw Ginny, his eyes lit up. Ginny would have been flattered if she didn't know that it was all part of the charm; he looked the same way at every girl he knew. Blaise felt his pulse rate shoot up into the high nineties at the sight of her. Was it possible that she could be coming over to see him? But no, he decided, it was probably to see the handsome Head Boy that she came. For a moment, Blaise felt intensely envious of his only friend.

Ginny had her long hair down, flowing all the way to the waistband of her faded jeans. Blaise had to force himself to take his eyes off her. The sharp-eyed Hermione might have seen his secret, had her eyes not been occupied with staring at Daniel, but Ginny was far too modest to imagine that anyone could find her attractive. So she didn't notice the raw emotion smouldering in the midnight black eyes, and couldn't know what Blaise was feeling.

She stopped in front of him and smiled. "Hi Dan, hi Blaise," she said, brightly. "This is my friend Hermione, Dan; she's the cleverest girl in school. She wanted to meet you, so I brought her over," she concluded, wickedly, ignoring Hermione's obvious embarrassment. Then, eager to wreak her revenge on Ron, she turned to the other boy. "Blaise, do you want to dance?"

It was better than he could have hoped. He hated dancing. But if Ginny Weasley had asked him to turn cartwheels down a corridor he would have tried. There was only one thing in the world that he wouldn't do for anyone, and that was getting back on a broom. He nodded, dumbly. He seemed to have lost the power of speech. She laughed, reached down and took his hand, leaving him tingling from the skin contact, and led him out into the middle of the Hall. From the sidelines, Ron glared angrily, hating the boy who held his little sister.

Later:

"Won't you come with me?" the girl persisted. "A lady needs an escort."

God, she was so ridiculous. She had to be desperate. Blaise just wanted to snigger, but the Gryffindor within stopped him from laughing in the face of a lady. He couldn't go, though. He didn't need to give Draco Malfoy a chance to catch him skulking around in the bushes with a fourteen year old girl.

Blaise lifted his head slightly, and unaware that his words would have a profound effect on the girl's life, said: "I'm sorry," as politely as he could, and then turned away, so he would not have to see the disappointment in her face, or watch her walk, alone, out of the Hall, and into the night. Her last walk. Had he known would he have let her go?