Sunday, three days later, Blaise and Tracey arranged to meet at the park around ten; she was going to eat breakfast with her mother and uncle first. Blaise went early; he was there by nine.

This was a Muggle park, several blocks from Tracey's flat. They came here a fair bit; they were fond of the place. It wasn't a terribly small park; it had a play area and some paths, but was mostly grass and trees except for the small duck pond and the stream that flowed into it. While usually reasonably well supplied with Muggles, it was almost never crowded, and a pleasant place to spend time at.

The bench Blaise sat on was empty, and he was so busy thinking he didn't notice the girl who had sat down, not until she spoke.

"Hi there," she said.

Blaise automatically looked around and realized she was speaking to him. "Hey," he replied briefly, looking at her in some surprise.

She was a small girl, pretty and pleasantly rounded, with straight, not-quite-shoulder-length dark hair that shone red in the sun.

"I'm Beth Spencer," she told him, holding out her hand. "Elizabeth, really, but no one calls me that." Her smile revealed dimples.

Blaise shook it. "Blaise Zabini."

"Pleasure," she responded. "Do you come here often?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes."

Beth's smile didn't falter. "I used to come here nearly every day. I lived only a block away, in a house that was too small for a family of our size, so it was my escape. I spent hours here… Mostly under that tree over there." She pointed at a majestic yew tree. "But I've moved away and I haven't been here in a long time… It's a beautiful park, isn't it?" She pushed back her hair.

"Yeah, it's nice," Blaise agreed.

"I miss it sometimes," she confessed. "And I was so glad to be able to come here today. I'm so busy, usually…" She chattered on, apparently not the slightest bit concerned that Blaise wouldn't want to hear it.

And strangely, he didn't mind. This Muggle girl made him think of the way the adolescent Tracey had been back at Hogwarts, though she admittedly looked nothing like her at all. Beth Spencer also forcibly reminded him of someone else, but he couldn't quite place his finger on who, exactly.

She talked to him with few pauses until Tracey came.

"Hi Blaise," she greeted him. "Who's your friend?"

She wasn't exactly his friend, in Blaise's opinion, but he didn't bother bring it up. Beth responded before he did, anyway.

"I'm Beth Spencer," she told Tracey, holding out her hand.

Tracey shook it. "Pleased to meet you. My name is Tracey Davies," she replied.

The girl beamed at her. "So, Blaise is your boyfriend?" she asked frankly.

Tracey looked at Blaise and smiled. "Yes, something like that."

Beth smiled even bigger, if that were possible. "Okay then, I'll leave you to it. It was nice meeting you." And she walked off, the spring in her step making her hair bounce. Suddenly Blaise realized who it was she reminded him of-Ginny Weasley. Something about her smile and her hair and the flowery scent and the size of her.

"Who was that?" Tracey asked curiously once Beth was out of earshot.

Blaise shrugged. "You know about as much as me. She just sat down here and started talking at me. Never saw her before."

Tracey laughed and sat next to him. "She's a Muggle?"

He shrugged again. "I'm pretty sure she is."

"Hm… You know, Blaise, some of our people wouldn't be caught dead talking with one of them like that. Do you kind of like Muggles?"

Blaise frowned. "I don't like them exactly… I don't hate them. I just…" He didn't know exactly how to describe his feelings towards Muggles and was grateful it was Tracey who was talking to.

Because she said, "You just like them in the abstract? I mean, as long as they don't push up close and annoy you, you kind of like having them there in the background."

He grinned at her. "Yeah, that's it."

"But you didn't seem too annoyed at this Beth Spencer?"

He shrugged. "She made me think of you at Hogwarts, a bit."

Tracey raised surprised eyebrows. "She looks nothing like me."

"Yeah, but she talks like you used to," Blaise explained.

She laughed. "Alright."

"Do you like Muggles?" he wondered. "You like coming to their park."

Tracey nodded. "I kind of like them. But, like you, I'm okay with them just staying in the background. They're nice to have there, though, and they can be interesting to watch."

"Mm…" Blaise took her hand in his. The sun was warm on their heads and he could feel the approaching summer in the warmth of the air around them.

The next Sunday they went hiking again. They took a lunch and after eating it they lay in the grass, their bodies parallel, not touching. They lay in silence until Blaise, for no reason other than he suddenly wanted to, told her about Ginny Weasley.

When he stopped talking, there was silence again, for Tracey took a moment to respond.

"So that's what it was," she said finally.

"What?"

"Well it was obvious something was going on with you," she replied. "But it wasn't obvious what it was. At first you didn't seem exactly unhappy...though it isn't very easy to tell with you. But you just seemed sort of...pensive...maybe a little melancholy. And more and more distracted. Til that day, you remember, when you ran into me and your hand was broken? Your eyes, Blaise... I don't think I've ever seen so much emotion so easily seen on your face. You looked so-hurt, and so bewildered like you couldn't understand how, or why, or something. And after that...it was like you closed all your doors and never really let anyone in. I never knew what had happened but I knew it must have been something really terrible for you..."

Blaise shrugged. He hadn't realized Tracey had seen so much about him.

"Do you still want her?" Tracey asked suddenly, and her tone had changed.

Blaise turned his head to look at her, but she was partly obscured by the grass. "No," he said. "She's married, you know that."

"That doesn't mean much."

His forehead creased. She sounded so...vulnerable. He suddenly rolled over, holding himself up so that he hovered over her.

"I've never yet coveted any man's wife," he told her, but his tone was not entirely serious.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes darker than usual.

"Aw, Trace, don't look at me like that," he said, his tone changing now. "You should know I don't want Ginny Weasley anymore."

Tracey pushed him away so she could sit up. "You know, Blaise, there's so much to you. Anymore I don't even feel surprised when I see another side because that's you, that's just how Blaise Zabini is. It's like...like an onion kind of, though I've never liked onions. Every time I peel one layer away, there's another one waiting for me. And I don't mind that, not really... But this...this is something else to deal with. I don't know if I want to."

Blaise sat up too now. "Well, I'm sorry, Trace. What do you want me to do, edit myself? What happened with Ginny Weasley is as much a part of me as anything else I told you. You can either have all of me, or none of me. I don't come in parts."

Tracey pushed her hair out of her face. "I don't want just part of you. That's the point."

Blaise felt confused.

"Blaise, I've seen your parents, yeah? And how your father still, after all this time, loves your mother. What am I supposed to think?"

He frowned. "That's not how it is at all. I don't love Ginny Weasley."

She sighed. "I don't want to be your second choice, Blaise."

"You're not," Blaise objected. He reached out and took her hand in his. "Trace, come on... You know you've never been that."

She shook her head slightly. "Do I?"

"Yeah," he said.

Tracey sighed again. "What if she wouldn't be with Harry Potter? Wouldn't you still be after her?"

Blaise was frowning again. "No," he said. "I told you, I don't want her anymore."

"But you decided that because she told you she doesn't want you, she wants Harry Potter."

He was starting to wish he hadn't ever mentioned Ginny Weasley's name. "What does it matter?"

Tracey pulled her hand away. "It just does."

"Isn't it enough that you are the one I want now? You've had boyfriends before me too."

"Yeah, I know... But it was different."

"How was it different?"

"They never mattered more."

"More than what?"

"More than you." She wasn't looking at him again.

Blaise leaned forward, lifting her chin with his hand and looking into the downcast face. "Baby... Trust me when I say there is no one I want more than you. You get me in a way no one else does-or can. Not even Ginny Weasley. She's a Gryffindor, remember? It takes a Slytherin to even half understand me." He leaned forward and captured her mouth with his.

Tracey only kissed him back for a moment before pushing him away. "Blaise, don't... My House has nothing to do with it and you know it."

Blaise let go of her and stood up. "Look," he said, his voice slightly cool now, "I told you about Ginny Weasley because I wanted you to know. I didn't want that to be something I'm keeping hidden from you. But now I'm starting to regret that decision of mine."

Then, because he was more upset than he cared to show, he turned and walked several paces away. There he stood still, glaring at the ground and fighting with himself.

For the first time, he felt the tiniest bit of regret for what had happened with Ginny. He had loved the girl, he thought, or had he? He had never known her very well. Certainly he had been attracted to her but he was sure that what he'd felt for her had gone beyond just the physical. And what did it matter now? He had been a boy then and that love did not compare with how the man he was now felt for the woman Tracey was. Why couldn't she see that?

And it wasn't like she hadn't had boyfriends. Well, it wasn't like he hadn't had other girlfriends either. Though since they seldom lasted more than a week, maybe 'girlfriend' wasn't the correct term to use. She knew about most of those and they never seemed to bother her. Maybe because she knew all of those relationships had never gone beyond the superficial; by now they had sort of melted together in Blaise's mind. Ginny was different; like a pink rose in a field of white begonias, she stood out. Tracey seemed to know this.

But he couldn't change it now even if he wanted to, and he wasn't sure he did. It wasn't really what had happened that he might be regretting, only that it seemed to be hurting Tracey.

But why should Tracey let it bother her? He might call her 'Ginny Weasley' still, but it was a fact that she was married to Harry Potter and Blaise was not in love with her. He did not want her anymore; he was more than satisfied with Tracey.

He wished he had never mentioned Ginny Weasley to her.

But the problem was, he loved Tracey and he felt irrationally guilty for having once had whatever it was that he had had, with Ginny Weasley, because apparently it was upsetting Tracey. At the same time he rather resented Tracey for making him feel guilty. The combination wasn't very comfortable

It was at this point, when he was trying to discover whether the guilt or the resentment was stronger, that he felt two slender arms slipping around his waist. Something pressed against his back-her forehead, or maybe her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Blaise," she whispered. "I'll try to trust and be okay with it. I really will."

He sighed and turned around, wrapping his arms around her, holding her close to him. He said nothing, but buried his face in her hair and they stood there for a long while, holding onto each other.

Apparently his love for her was stronger than either.

Blaise was about to do something incredibly stupid with his hand.

At least, he felt it was incredibly stupid. His audience of three might have disagreed as they stood watching; one with her hands on her hips, another with her arms folded over her chest, the third with her hands clasped in front of her, a smile on her face. The latter was Tracey, of course, and the others were two Muggle girls whom Tracey had somehow taken pity upon, which was why Blaise was now up to his elbow in murky, scummy water, searching through the moss and mud and stones for a lost ring.

He wished they would look away so he could just use magic.

"How did you lose it?" Tracey asked interestedly, still smiling.

The taller of the two, a dark-eyed brunette, sighed deeply. "It's mine," she explained, letting her arms uncross and fall to her sides. "My engagement ring," she added with a touch of pride. "It's almost new and I was showing it to Natalia and she was teasing me and she grabbed at it, pretending to steal it, only she really took it off my finger and she dropped it!"

"I'm sorry!" Natalia said quickly. "You know I didn't mean to; I didn't really realize it'd come off!"

"I know." The brunette gave her a tight smile. "I'm not angry with you. I'm just worried! If it's really lost-I don't know what Jimmy will say; what if he's mad?"

"I'll tell him it was my fault," Natalia comforted. "Are you finding it at all?" she asked Blaise.

Blaise made a noncommittal sound. He was not enjoying himself.

Tracey smiled at him. "So you're getting married soon or not soon?" she asked the brunette interestedly.

"Not til September," the girl told her. "I've always wanted a fall wedding and Jim doesn't mind. I think fall is the most beautiful season."

"I don't," Natalia spoke up, pushing a long blonde braid back over her shoulder.

The brunette rolled her eyes. "And it's not your wedding."

Blaise glanced their way in hopes that they would be distracted enough for him to draw his wand. No such luck; Natalia's sharp grey eyes were fixed on him. She looked a little nervous.

"Natalia is very unfixed in her mind, what she'd want her wedding to be like," the girl chattered on to Tracey. "Like, I know exactly what colours I want-red and orange and brown. Like autumn leaves. I've known for years. But she keeps making derogatory remarks about my wedding plans though she doesn't know what she'd do herself. I think it's ridiculous of her."

"At least I know what I don't like," Natalia murmured. "I mean, that's a start, isn't it?"

"Seems to be," Tracey agreed. "I can't say I know exactly what I want my wedding to be like either."

"Oh, are you engaged?" the fiancée asked eagerly.

"No," Tracey said quickly. "No, but all girls dream of their wedding, don't they?"

"No," Natalia disagreed. "I don't."

"I did," the brunette argued. "Oh, I'm starting to like you. What's your name?"

"Tracey Davies."

"I'm Kathleen Portman and this is Natalia Long. We're very good friends," Kathleen told her. "And is he your boyfriend?"

"Yes, he is." Tracey sounded faintly amused. "His name is Blaise Zabini."

"Italian?" Natalia was suddenly intrigued.

"Leave him alone, Natalia," Kathleen commanded. "He's quite good-looking, but I guess you know that," she remarked to Tracey.

"Yes, he's half Italian," Tracey answered Natalia's question.

Blaise was beginning to suspect that this ring was gone for good.

Natalia hummed a little.

"She's got this thing for Italians," Kathleen explained. "She vacationed in Italy one year and apparently she met this most amazing young man there. And now she's convinced that all Italian men are amazing just like that. I keep telling her that's ridiculous but she never listens to me." Kathleen shook her head.

"Your fiancé's name is Jimmy," Natalia pointed out. "Why would I listen to you?"

"She's also basically obsessive about names," Kathleen informed Tracey. "I tell her that's shallow but she pays me no attention of course. His name is actually James, you know, but no one ever calls him that. I think Jimmy is a nice name, though we call him Jim a lot." She shrugged.

"It sounds like a four-year-old," Natalia muttered, still watching Blaise closely.

"Well, my name sounds like an eighty-year-old apparently, so that matches up." Kathleen's voice was suddenly sharp.

Natalia rolled her eyes. "Will you never forget that?"

"Well-" Kathleen started but precisely at that moment Blaise lifted out of the water an object that was most definitely a ring. Not caring to listen to more of her prattling, he quickly stood and held it out.

"Is this it?"

Kathleen stared into his hand and then clapped her hands together. "It is it is! I can never thank you enough for finding it!" She flung her arms around Blaise's neck, much to his surprise, and then took the ring and kissed it.

"So dramatic." Natalia rolled her eyes again. "Like Jimmy would've actually been angry. But thanks," she added earnestly to Blaise and Tracey. "That was really very decent of you."

Blaise was busy looking distastefully at his filthy hand so Tracey smiled warmly at the girls and said, "You're welcome. Congratulations on your engagement, Kathleen."

Kathleen beamed at the two of them. "Thank you! That was the nicest thing a stranger has ever done for me. I am fathoms deep in gratitude!"

Natalia took her hand. "Yes, good. Let's go."

Kathleen waved enthusiastically and they left.

"Shall we go back to my flat?" Tracey asked, eyeing Blaise's arm with undisguised amusement.

He pretended not to notice.

"That was very nice of you, to do that for those girls," Tracey commented a little later as she watched him scrubbing up.

Blaise glanced at her in some surprise. "I did it for you."

She smiled, and then looked back at his hands. "Blaise, are you a little fastidious about your appearance or something?"

He scowled. "There's nothing wrong with not wanting to look like I've just slept in the gutter."

Tracey laughed. "No, there definitely is not. I just didn't really realize that about you before."

Sunday again, evening, and Blaise was tired. He had had to go into work for several hours, Tracey had spent the day with her family, and he wanted nothing more than to relax in Tracey's flat, alone with her.

But as soon as she opened the door he knew that that wasn't in her plans.

"Oh Blaise, hi," she said, a little breathlessly. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

He followed her back into her room, where she continued what he had apparently interrupted-putting up her hair.

"Are you going out or something?" Blaise asked, frowning at her.

"Yes." She did not elaborate, merely concentrated on the blonde strands under her fingers.

"With who?" Blaise questioned abruptly-crossly.

Her eyes flickered in his direction. "Theodore Nott."

He took a step further into the room. "Nott? Like a date?"

Her hair arranged to her satisfaction, Tracey stepped out of the room to wash her face. "Mm," she answered unhelpfully as she patted her face dry. "He's just come back and he's lonely," she added, brushing past Blaise on her way back to her dressing table.

Blaise went after her, grabbing her waist to make her stop. "You don't date other blokes."

It wasn't a command, just a statement of what he thought was fact, but Tracey seemed to take it the wrong way. She twisted out of Blaise's grip, her eyes flashing.

"I do whatever I want to. I do not belong to any man, you know, Blaise." She spread her fingers in front of his face and then went to sit down.

Blaise frowned at her, not understanding the gesture. She ignored him, focusing on the bracelet she was trying to fasten with one hand. Not very successfully, Blaise noticed. She was becoming frustrated. He watched her clenching her teeth and glaring at the rebellious silver catch, and then stepped over to her side.

"Let me," he offered.

Tracey hesitated for a moment before holding out her arm and allowing him to fasten it. "Thank you, Blaise." She turned back to the mirror and leaned close, studying her face, and then chose a tube of some makeup-Blaise didn't recognize it.

But he took it away anyway. "You don't need that."

Tracey did glare at him then. "The nerve of you, Blaise Zabini! I am not your property that you tell me what I can or can't do. Or what I need. Give me that, please."

Blaise did not enjoy being glared at by her. He gave it. "You look better without it," he told her.

She ignored him again, intent on applying it to her eyes.

Blaise studied her, noticing that she was wearing a dress. That was slightly unusual; dresses were not Tracey's first choice. It was a pretty dress; light blue and silky.

"Why are you wearing a dress?" His tone was more accusing than he'd really intended.

Tracey was deeply interested in her face. "Because he said to dress up. It's almost new; isn't it pretty?"

Blaise hated it at once. "No."

She pretended not to hear.

Blaise bent forward suddenly, rummaging through her open drawer of makeup. Tracey leaned away a little, frowning.

"Blaise, what're you-"

"Here," Blaise interrupted, holding out a tube of crimson lipstick. "Aren't you going to wear lipstick?"

Tracey stared at the lipstick and then at Blaise, until all at once understanding dawned across her face. "Oh. No, Blaise, I'm not." She might have been biting back a smile; he wasn't sure. "I'm going to wear lipgloss, actually. I prefer it; it's easier."

He watched her finish up in front of the mirror and then stand and put on her shoes. Sandals actually, that laced up her legs. Somehow they annoyed him. He only grew angrier as he watched her check her hair in the mirror and glance at the clock.

"I wanted you tonight," he snapped at her.

Tracey raised her eyebrows. "So did Theodore apparently, only he had the foresight to make sure he could have me."

Blaise reached out and jerked her to him. "What is the matter with you? Why are you doing this?!"

Tracey struggled against his fierce embrace but he only held her tighter against his chest.

"Let me go, Blaise."

"No."

She sighed and went still. "I'm doing this because Theodore is just as much my classmate as you, and he's lonely and wants company. Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you're my girl," Blaise snapped.

"You're hurting me," she pointed out instead of responding to this declaration.

Blaise loosened his hold somewhat but still did not let her go. "Sorry."

"Would you please let me go?" Tracey asked.

He frowned, and then did, though he didn't look like he wanted to.

"Thank you." Tracey smoothed her hair. "Theodore will be here any minute."

He followed her out into the hall, still frowning. When she paused he grabbed her again, though not as forcefully.

"You are my girl and don't you forget it," he said angrily and also rather commandingly.

Tracey raised her eyebrows again. "Are you ordering me around or something?"

"Yes." Blaise covered her mouth with his, furious and possessive and insistent.

Tracey finally managed to break away, gasping a little. "I-I think I heard the doorbell."

Blaise was not at all displeased that she sounded a little dizzy or that her walk to the door was not entirely steady. But he didn't wait around to see Nott, choosing instead to go lie on Tracey's living room couch in the dark.

They didn't speak loud enough that he could understand, but he could hear their voices and the door closing when they left. Alone in Tracey's now dark flat, Blaise lay on his back and thought, still a little angry, about her.

He simply could not understand why she would be going out with Theodore Nott. And tonight, when she must have known that he would want to be with her.

And just why? He had honestly thought she wouldn't go out on dates with anyone else-she was his girl. He remembered suddenly her statement-'I do not belong to any man'-and frowned. She belonged to him; what did she mean by that? And what was with the fingers she'd waved in front of his face as if she was proving a point?

She had been almost un-Tracey-like with her independence, don't-touch-me, I-am-doing-this-and-what's-it-to-you?, and Blaise didn't like it at all...

"Blaise-Blaise!"

Blaise sat up. "Uh, what?"

"You were sleeping." Tracey sat down on the couch next to him.

"Oh, right." Blaise knuckled his eyes. "What time is it?"

"A little after ten." She was eyeing him with something he couldn't quite indentify.

"Did you just get back?"

"Yes."

Blaise frowned. "Did you have fun then?"

Tracey smiled at him. "Yes, I did. It was a very nice evening." She chose to ignore Blaise's murderous scowl in favour of informing him that "He asked me if I want to go out again Wednesday evening."

"What did you say?" Blaise asked through clenched teeth.

"Oh, I told him not that evening. Pansy and I are having a girls' night. And he said he'd be in touch and I said okay." Tracey shrugged. "Did you have a long evening? I didn't expect you to wait here, you know, Blaise."

Blaise jerked his shoulders. "Slept most of it."

"Oh, were you very tired?"

Tracey's tone was sympathetic but he didn't feel very comforted by it anyway. It still didn't seem like her, really. He had a sudden wild idea that this was somebody else using Polyjuice. But then he looked at her and something about the way she was tilting her head and looking at him recalled so precisely her conduct sometimes while still at Hogwarts that he could not pretend this was anyone but Tracey. But she was being Tracey in a way his Tracey never had been; he had just imagined she had given up on this sort of behaviour and had sort of forgotten about it. Something about him made him feel not only very puzzled and rather angry, but also as if he had done something wrong. Blaise didn't enjoy this.

"I dunno," he said vaguely in answer to her question.

"I am, now," she commented, covering her yawn with one hand. "I think it's my bedtime, Blaise."

It couldn't be called a hint, exactly, more like an invitation to leave. Blaise didn't argue. He kissed her forehead before he left though; it bothered him that she didn't hug him.

As he entered his own flat he decided that if he wanted his Tracey back, he was going to have to do something about it. And he did; though actually, it felt more like a need than a want. He didn't know if he could make it without her.

A/N: At long last people, after much labor and fighting with that heavy weight we call WRITER'S BLOCK, here you are. Somewhat. Summer has come, which is my busy season, which means less writing time, which means OH DEAR THE SLOWNESS. In updating. But you'll make it I imagine. At any rate, reviews are like an inspiration. Really, my deahs, you cannot expect me to update fast when you do not review at all!