"Blaise," Lavender crooned, sidling up to him and fluttering her eyelashes as they entered the trophy room. "How about I just mop the floors? My nails won't get dirty. I'll be happy. You'll be happy. We'll all be happy!"

"Lavender, I don't give a shit about your nails…or your happiness. So do us all a favor and shut the hell up," Blaise replied scathingly, tossing her a rag and a tin of wax. "Wax on, wax off."

"You know the Karate Kid?"

Blaise turned to face Ginny. She was staring at him with an incredulous look on her face. "Don't be stupid, Weasley," he said nonchalantly. "I had the misfortune of reading about it in a book somewhere. I would never waste my precious time watching Muggle films."

"Of course you wouldn't," Ginny said sweetly, taking the wax from him. "You were probably far too busy reading fine wizarding literature and preparing to become the arrogant asshole that you are today."

Blaise smirked at the insult. "Mm, I love my women feisty-"

"It's a bit hard to concentrate with you hitting on my Ginny!" Dean snapped at Blaise, glaring at him from over the top of the trophy he was polishing.

Ginny laughed, high and loud, but it didn't quite reach her lovely brown eyes.

"Dean, I thought we went over this. Never refer to me as yours EVER AGAIN," Ginny said evenly. She was clenching her fists so tightly that her nails were practically cutting her palms. "I would rather be his than yours!" she hissed, gesturing at Blaise. "…and that's saying something," she finished quickly. What am I saying? I must be daft!

She quickly looked over at Blaise, who failed to hide the look of shock on his face. For a moment, their eyes met and he caught a glimpse of something he couldn't quite describe.

"Don't look too deeply into it, Zabini," Ginny said, cutting in before he could take off running with that statement. "I just said that to prove a point, you still haven't got a chance."

"Whatever, Weasley," he retorted, struggling to keep hold of his dignity. "I could never date someone like you anyway."

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Ginny shot back.

Blaise did not like where this conversation was headed. "Anyways," he said, trying to keep his tone indifferent, "What's up with this little triangle?" He gestured at Dean and Lavender.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Ginny snapped, polishing her trophy in noticeably more vigorous circles.

"Ginny's sulking because Dean's decided he'd rather have me," Lavender interjected, a cold, taunting smile playing on her lips.

Blaise watched as Ginny's entire body tensed. It seemed to hum with energy, but the next second he blinked and she had relaxed once more.

"Well Dean," Ginny said cynically, choosing to ignore Lavender. "Good choice. You really picked a winner, if you know what I mean."

"Gin-"

But Lavender cut Dean off before he could finish. "Don't be jealous because I'm better looking than you are, Ginny Weasley!" she snapped.

Blaise had to hold in a chuckle at this point. In what figment of her imagination did Lavender get off saying that she was better looking than Ginny Weasley? Sure, she had a decent arse, but her makeup was caked on so thick that most people probably had no idea what her face actually looked like. She also had a brain the size of a Knut and a personality to match. Ginny eclipses her in every aspect of the term'beauty!' Blaise mused, silently observing the verbal spar between the three Gryffindors.

"…and said you were bad anyways!" Lavender finished, her voice ringing with the confidence and triumph of a child who had just managed to choose her first wand.

"Oh, is that so Dean?" Ginny asked him sweetly.

"No, Gin, of course you weren't-"

"That's not what you said on Christmas, Dean!" Lavender interjected angrily, knowing that her last bit of ammunition would never hit home if Dean lied about it.

"I thought you were skiing with your parents on over Christmas weekend," Ginny said, whipping around to face Dean. "You couldn't come over for dinner on Christmas because you were in the Alps!"

"That's what he told you!" Lavender said triumphantly. "My family was gone, so I told him to come over and we could talk underneath the mistletoe-"

"Is she telling the truth, Dean?" Ginny asked him flatly. Her body was quivering with anticipation. Sweet Merlin, I hope she's lying, Blaise thought, sneaking a look at Ginny's face. It looked like it was chiseled out of marble, dark and impassive. He had a horrible feeling that what Dean was about to say would shatter the lovely statue that was currently Ginny Weasley.

"Baby, listen to me. It was a mistake-"

But the rest of his words were cut off by the sharp, crisp sound of Ginny's palm forcefully making contact with Dean's cheek. Dean reeled, but Ginny was already rounding on Lavender, her beautiful body arched like a deadly predator.

Blaise lunged at Ginny and caught her around the waist before she could dismember Lavender.

"Let go of me," Ginny spat, her eyes blazing. She tried to writhe out of his grasp. "I'm going to kill that bitch-"

With that, he strode away, grasping Ginny and her flailing limbs. Still fighting his grip, Blaise pulled Ginny out into the hall and slammed the door shut behind him.

"Ginny, calm down-"

"Don't you DARE tell me to calm down! I have every right! She deserves it, the filthy, conniving slut!" Ginny screeched, trying to shove Blaise away. "And Dean-"

All the sudden, she stopped fighting. Blaise had his arms still wrapped tightly around her, and was startled when he met no resistance. He stepped back a bit and saw her face. It was no longer the mask of anger it had been, but stark white. The look of pain on her face nearly made him shiver.

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "Ginny?"

"Dean," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I can't believe he…he was never…I was-"

She started to cry then; deep, hacking sobs that traveled to her very core. Her entire body shook with grief. He was rather alarmed by this sudden breakdown. Ginny Weasley was the kind of person wouldn't be caught dead crying in public, especially not crying on the shoulder of someone like him. Someone she hated. She had too much pride. He felt a sudden rush of anger thinking about Dean Thomas and how he'd taken every ounce of Ginny Weasley's trust, a trust that was clearly quite hard to come by, and thrown it to the wind. How had an idiot like him had this kind of effect on a strong, seemingly impenetrable girl like Ginny Weasley?

Oh Merlin, please stop crying, Blaise thought desperately, unsure of his next move. He was never very good with any sort of display of feelings (unless those feelings ended in orgasm), so he did the only thing that seemed logical: he wrapped his arms around her awkwardly. He was shocked at how her body could be both solid and fragile at the same time. He held her there for quite some time, rubbing her back in small circles while she soaked his shirt with salty tears, not knowing quite what to do.

As she was surfacing from her pool of self pity and grief, Ginny became curiously aware of how perfectly her head fit into the niche of Blaise Zabini's shoulder. He had her pulled up against his chest, and he was lightly tracing circles on her back. He wasn't filling the air with useless phrases like "Everything's going to be okay," that meant nothing. The simple act of rubbing her back was much more comforting than anything she'd ever felt.

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffing and pulling back a bit. "Your shirt's soaked."

"Yeah, well, surprisingly, I'm not mad," Blaise said, looking down at the wet spot on his shoulder. "I'm glad you stopped when you did though. My entire shirt may have been damp if you'd carried on that rubbish much longer."

Ginny punched him lightly on the arm, letting out a watery laugh. "You probably would have contracted pneumonia on your way back to the dungeons."

"Yeah, well, maybe that would get me out of a few of these bloody exams…on second thought, feel free to carry on then," he said teasingly, spreading his arms with a grin.

Ginny smiled, but there was still the slightest hint of embarrassment in her tone, though she tried to conceal it. "Sorry to say, but I think I've recovered from my highly embarrassing little…er, episode."

"Ah well, you can just owe me then. I did stand there for hours while you cried your heart out all over my shirt. I hope it doesn't leave a stain."

"That's bullshit! It was maybe 10 minutes," Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes. "I'll pay for your dry cleaning…sir."

"Not hardly, Miss Weasley. My dry cleaning probably costs more than your entire house," Blaise said with a (fairly) good-hearted smirk. Am I flirting with her? What the fuck am I doing? "Anyways, you should probably go. I'll just tell Snape I handed your crazy arse off to McGonagall or something," he said quickly. "I have business to attend to."

"Fine with me," Ginny said, turning and walking down the corridor. "And Blaise?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Thanks," she said, smirking at him. "That was really kind of you… but don't let that get to your head. You're still an arrogant prat."

"And you're still ginger blood traitor," he called, keeping his stride. But he couldn't help, once again, to smile despite the insult. And even though they were walking back to back in opposite directions, he swore he could feel her smiling too.