"So, you punched Lavender in the face then?" Harry asked amusedly, sitting down next to Ginny on the worn patchwork couch in the Gryffindor common room.
"I heard she took a couple good swings at Dean as well," Ron added, plopping down on the other side of his sister. "The git. Excellent work, Gin, that's the Weasley way."
"I'm sure she's just thrilled that 'the Weasley way' got her a week's worth of detention," Hermione interjected sarcastically, though her tone was light. "Especially since it's Snape's week to supervise," she said, sitting down in an armchair, shooting Ginny a sympathetic grin.
"Wouldn't you have done the same if you saw your boyfriend snogging another girl?" Ginny snapped, irritation and anger ringing in her voice. "Lavender Brown is the most despicable, conniving-"
"Of course we would've!" Harry said exasperatedly.
"We'd have probably done a lot more damage though," said Ron matter-a factly, chomping loudly on an apple. "I still would too. Dean Thomas-"
"-got lucky he only had to deal with you in that library," Harry finished. "Next time we see him, he's going to wish he never even heard the name Lavender Brown."
"That's mature. Maybe the two of you can join Ginny in detention. I'm sure Snape would have a field day," said Hermione, not looking up from the Daily Prophet.
"So we should just let Dean get away with what he did to Ginny?" Harry asked, a hint of indignation in his voice. "He cheated on her, Hermione, I would NEVER cheat on Gin-er well, it's a terrible thing to do," he finished lamely, his cheeks tinged pink.
Ginny grinned to herself in spite of the situation. Harry had liked her for awhile now, but he never made any advances other than an awkward slip up here and there, such as now. She was kind of glad he hadn't though. She didn't want to make things awkward between anyone, and she wasn't quite sure exactly how she felt about him yet either.
"Let's HOPE you never cheat on my sister," Ron said jokingly, but Ginny could sense a slight threat in the way he said it. "I would kill-"
"Don't you have Quidditch practice at 5?" Hermione cut in quickly, checking her watch. "It's 4:50."
Harry and Ron jumped up from the couch simultaneously, elbowing and kneeing Ginny in the process.
"Shit, you're right. I haven't even relaced my trainers yet-"
"Doesn't matter mate, I don't think we're running today. I wonder if Dean'll be there, we can beat him with our brooms and just make it look like it was a rough practice-"
The portrait of the Fat Lady swung shut and their voices echoed in the stone hallway.
"I better go too Hermione," Ginny said, sighing heavily. "I have to study for Transfiguration before detention."
Hermione smiled sympathetically, getting up and wrapping her arms around her friend. "Hey, Gin, don't worry. It'll all work out in the end."
"I know, but right now I just feel horrible," Ginny said, her voice cracking. "It's not like Dean and I were going to get married or anything, it's just-"
"Ginny," Hermione said, pulling back a little. "You're allowed to feel horrible! Even if you weren't planning on spending the rest of your life with him, being lied to and deceived is still unacceptable. Anyone in your situation would feel the same. And just in case Ron and Harry didn't get the point across, Dean doesn't deserve someone like you anyway."
"Lavender's probably just what he deserves," Ginny said, cracking a small smile. "Thanks Mi."
"No problem," Hermione said with a laugh. "You better go study. My regards to Snape."
"He'll be thrilled, I'm sure," Ginny said, rolling her eyes as she left the portrait hole.
Blaise made his way down to the dungeons as if he was on his way to his own execution. The torches cast flickering shadows across the deep gray stones, mirroring his mood. Somehow, he didn't feel that spending his night with Snape and a couple Gryffindors who probably received detention for chewing gum was worth 20 galleons. Fucking hell, he scowled, pushing open the heavy wooden doors leading into Professor Snape's potions classroom.
"Good evening Mr. Mal-er, Zabini," Snape drawled, glancing at him with an air of suspiciousness. "I was expecting Mr. Malfoy tonight."
"He had a lot of homework to do," Blaise returned, the lies coming easily. They usually did, Blaise was particularly adept at lying. "I told him we could switch weeks."
"Fine, then," Snape snapped without bothering to spare a look in Blaise's direction. "Sit down then, they should be here soon. Tonight they're going to be polishing trophies in the trophy room."
"Who is it this time, sir? Not Seamus Finnegan again, that guy doesn't even deserve to have control of a voicebox," Blaise remarked, leaning his wooden chair on its two back legs and interlocking his hands behind his head. "Bloody idiot, that one is."
"I am sorry to say that we do not have the enjoyment of Mr. Finnegan's company this evening," Snape drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The owl I received just a few moments ago informs me that we will be hosting Mr. Dean Thomas, Ms. Lavender Brown, and the youngest Weasley, whatever her name is."
Blaise almost toppled over backwards in his chair. "Ginny Weasley?"
"That is indeed what I said. And I hope you can manage to locate a sense of balance sometime this evening," Snape said, looking at Blaise curiously.
Blaise's heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he didn't even hear the professor's jab. Ginny was going to be spending the next four hours waxing trophies. Under HIS direction.
"What did she do, sir?" he blurted out. Whenever Ginny Weasley was mentioned, he seemed to lose the ability to control himself.
"The three of them got into a fight in the library earlier today," Snape replied, slowly turning to face his young assistant. Humor danced across his eyes. "Why are you suddenly so interested?"
"I-er, I was just trying to get an idea of what we're dealing with here, sir."
"This isn't a crime scene, Mr. Zabini."
Blaise could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. He prided himself in his ability to mask his emotions; to remain calm, cool, and collected in every situation. And now, here he was, blushing at the mere thought of a ginger mudblood! I really need to get my shit together. Setting his jaw, he turned to see Dean Thomas walk through the door to the Potions room.
"Sit down Mr. Thomas," Snape drawled, lazily pointing at a chair. "Let us hope that your girlfriend-er, girlfriends arrive shortly."
Glowering, Dean slouched over to the nearest empty wooden desk and sat down. Blaise gladly returned the angry gaze. He'd never liked the Gryffindor chaser. He'd hooked up with a couple of naïve, first year Slytherins at the beginning of term, a series of events that had greatly irked Blaise, only because he hadn't gotten to them first.
"Professor, you better keep her away from me, I don't want that bitch attacking me again!" Lavender screeched as she entered the room, launching herself into a desk and sliding it closer to Dean, the legs scraping unpleasantly on the stone. Ginny walked in behind her, her face stony and her brown eyes flashing. She slid into the desk nearest to the door and crossed her arms.
"Miss Brown, I would prefer not to hear your voice again for the rest of the evening," Snape said, emerging from the Potions stockroom. With a flick of his wand, he sent Lavender and her desk reeling away from Dean. "Now, the three of you will be polishing trophies in the trophy room tonight, under the supervision of Mr. Zabini here."
"I just got my nails done and-"
"Perhaps you should have considered that little fact before you decided to compete in a wrestling match in the library, Ms. Brown," Snape said nastily, throwing them each a dirty rag. "Now, all three of you. Go."
With a sigh, Lavender flounced out of the room, followed by Dean and Ginny.
"Mr. Zabini, I'll be in periodically to check in as soon as I finish testing these potions," Snape told him. "And Blaise?"
"Sir?" Blaise replied, craning his neck out the door.
"Be careful . You are playing with fire…both literally and metaphorically."
Startled, Blaise looked up, but Snape had already turned his back. He must either be very, very obvious…or one of those potions allowed him to read minds. It wouldn't come as a surprise at all that Snape had mind reading abilities. At this thought, Blaise turned and had to stop himself from practically sprinting out of the room. His blood turned cold at the thought of Snape having access to his pathetic, dirty mind.