Chapter 13: Aftershock

During and after class that very same day of the incident, Ginny had found herself contemplating whether or not to report the Dementor encounter to McGonagall.

Initially, it should be a no-brainer but she found her thoughts circling back to Blaise and how he would feel having the centre of attention – good or bad – once again thrust upon him. She knew McGonagall wasn't prejudiced against former Slytherins and that she would listen to their side of the story, but she still feared that the Headmistress would have to report it to the Auror office as well as the Hogwarts Board of Governors. They would probably not look as level-headed on the fact that a Zabini had been present when the Dementor emerged and that he had been the one to lead them to the Shrieking Shack in the first place. Whether or not Blaise in fact was innocent and had been the one to chase it away, he would probably still remain a suspect, be unnecessarily questioned, appear in the newspapers and get another black mark on his reputation despite everything he had done this semester to try and rectify it. Ginny simply couldn't bear the thought of him being dragged through the mud again, while she would most likely remain the innocent victim and war heroine who could do nothing wrong in the public's eye.

Not after … everything.

Eventually, she decided that she would have to report it some time or another anyway and went straight to the Headmistress's office, hoping she could somehow persuade McGonagall to put a good word in for Blaise.

McGonagall looked alarmed when she was relayed this new information and told Ginny she would do her best to protect her students but she couldn't promise anything considering the danger of the situation. She would report it immediately to the Auror office and suspend any further trips to the Hogsmeade area until the creature was caught and any potential danger was intercepted.

The danger of the situation …

Ginny had wanted to laugh. How come she and Blaise did not see it coming?! Had it been the shock blinding them? They had literally just gone for a trip to Hogsmeade afterwards to get hot cocoa instead of rushing back to the school to report that a friggin', rogue Dementor was roaming the grounds near Hogwarts, putting students – everyone at risk…! She had seriously considered that they would still have to go back before Christmas to guide the First Years through a merry old time in the Shrieking Shack..! Apparently, the shock of the incident had hit her much harder than she had been aware, yet she wanted to slap herself for her own stupidity!

McGonagall had seemingly sensed Ginny's stunned demeanor and had reassured her once again that she would do everything she could to dissuade any possible suspicions surrounding Ginny and especially Blaise's presence there. Of course, the trip was cancelled – or at least postponed indefinitely; their guidance no longer required considering what they had been through. The Headmistress had then asked the somewhat pale, stupefied girl whether she should be taken to Madam Pomfrey's but Ginny had mechanically dismissed the concern, saying she was fine; she just needed some sleep. It had been a long day, after all.

Stepping out of the Headmistress's office was like stepping out of a fog and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Instead she made a choked sob and clasped her mouth, leaning back against the stonewall beside the entrance as she felt her suddenly all too tired legs shaking beneath her. Why had she even bothered coming back to the school this year?! Everything just seemed to go wrong and the bleakness still hadn't lifted its shadow over her mind. It was just – too much! Keeping up with classes, taking her final NEWTs, Head Girl duties, Blaise, Dementors, yes, even Quidditch responsibilities seemed wearing on her shoulders on top of everything else. And she didn't want that! She missed the way Quidditch was a let-out for all the chaos inside her, all the shit that had gone down in the war and all the nasty things people said and did in its aftermath.

She felt everything and nothing in a hazy swirl and she didn't want to feel everything and nothing! For once she wanted peace and balance in her life, not confusion and awkward missteps and misunderstandings and the people in her life dismantling and only keeping in touch once in a while via owl! She missed Luna and Neville – whom she'd thought would have started school with her this year, but they had both sent her letters just before the start of term, telling they had chosen to take a year off; Luna had gone travelling in search of new Magical Creatures, whereas Neville had announced - in surprise - that he had been offered and taken up a position alongside Harry and Ron at the Auror office (though he hoped to be back studying soon again). Hermione was here, of course, (however distracted she was), along with the Patil twins and Cho Chang, but Ginny still missed the boys and especially Luna who had been one of her very best friends, after all. Even Dean and Seamus were gone, having settled in Ireland.

Her stomach ached. She missed her old friends so terribly, feeling more alone and destitute than ever before, and at the moment felt so knackered it was a miracle she even managed to push herself off the wall and drag her sorry ass and shaky legs off to bed, while trying not to think of the pressing schedule and duties of the next day. Sighing heavily as she reached her bed and collapsed in it, clothes and all, she suddenly felt much older than her mere seventeen years.

X

Blaise scowled into his Potions book, reading the same three lines for the seventh time before giving up with a heavy sigh, making Theo shoot him a curious look beside him. His mind certainly wasn't where it should be today. And wonder why?

He dared a glance at the red-head occupying his thoughts a couple of rows across from him who was listening with as much attentiveness as one could to Slughorn's current tirade about – well, something about toxins and their antidotes. Blaise couldn't help smirking at the thought but sobered as he continued to stare at her, remembering last week's incident and what she had asked him.

How had he been able to conjure that Patronus?

He had shut her off at The Three Broomsticks and their way home to the castle that afternoon, just like he had shut himself off momentarily, because he didn't want to think of the reason why himself. But now he unwillingly felt the nagging questions of the entire ordeal sneaking their way into the crevices of his daily thoughts and doings.

When he finally chose to open the can of worms and look closer in detail into the memory, he remembered something had been off when they had been struggling the Dementor. Something off with her. For all her skills in D.A.D.A. and encounters with Dark wizards and likewise creatures, she should have been the one to conjure the Patronus. Not him. Not an untrained, unlikely qualified contender who had dabbled with the Dark Arts once. Then why hadn't she been the one to chase it away? Why hadn't she been much faster?

Then it suddenly dawned on him: He hadn't actually seen her conjure a Patronus yet!

In all the - albeit short - time they had trained she had only told him how to conjure one and since she had focused all her attention on him from the beginning, he had taken it as a natural that seeing her perform it wouldn't help him anymore than it already did. He hadn't even bothered to ask, so wrapped up in his own pity party he had been..! How stupid could he be?! Why hadn't she shown him her Patronus? Either she just didn't see it necessary (which was bull!) or she hadn't done it for a reason. Or maybe she just couldn't. No, wait. That couldn't be right..? She was one of the youngest and strongest witches to join Dumbledore's Army back then, during the war. If anyone could show you how to impress in D.A.D.A.-classes it was her! Even the famous Saint-bloody-Potter had been impressed by her skills, he'd heard. Besides, Blaise knew first-hand how quick and almost cunningly subtle she could retaliate if someone threw some particularly nasty slurs in her or her friends' general direction. He hadn't been spared for the tales about how amazing she had been battling Voldemort's followers in the Last Battle either. Of course, he hadn't. It had been all over the news afterwards, during the summer holidays, and still permeated many of the headlines on all available newspapers. Safe to say, appealing reading material had been scarce since then. He couldn't avoid those heroic dunderheads! Nor all the personal, continuously suspicious slur against him, his friends and anything former Slytherin.

But … then again, the war had taken its toll on everyone. She had lost friends and family … A brother. Fred Weasley's death might very well have triggered something, forming a crack in that 'perfect, innocent goodness of hers', making her somehow incapable of conjuring a Patronus, even though he had trouble even entertaining that thought. She seemed so strong – head-strong, for sure. She had so much … so many who clearly loved and cared about her; she must be loaded with happy memories despite everything that had happened. At least a lifetime of something he had never had. Not really. He had never known his father and his mother had never really been there for him; always carousing somewhere with some new beau-slash-potential husband of hers.

He suddenly received a sharp elbow to his side, ripping him from his musings, and he glared to his side to see Theo looking at him with eyebrows raised in question. Blaise scoffed and dismissed his friend's nosy attitude in usual fashion, his gaze automatically seeking back to the redhead in front of him. Something was off with her right now. She seemed lost in thought. Ever since the incident, actually. They hadn't spoken since it happened and – by chance – had had no coinciding duties together, but he hadn't exactly tried to seek her out either. He wasn't big on talking and all that sentimental shit. He had, however, subtly watched her from a distance throughout their shared classes and in the Great Hall, sensing she had acted more withdrawn and pensive than usual (well, as usual as one would expect anyone to be in the aftermath of war); her freckled, alabaster brow often folded in a permanent frown, dark circles under her eyes relaying a general lack of sleep, not unlike himself.

He wondered what she had told McGonagall about the incident in the Shrieking Shack, since he had said nothing himself. But his thoughts was interrupted by the class being dismissed, Theo's irritated voice saying something indistinct on his left and a flash of red hair going past him on his right, setting him into motion.

"Oi! Weasley! Wait up!" he called out, collecting his things and bailing on his baffled friend before he had anything else to say.

She didn't stop however but disappeared quickly out of the door and he had push himself through the crowd of exiting students in order to keep up with her, barely managing to spot her hunched, slim form scurrying down the hallway and around the corner.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Though the girl was quick, he managed to catch up with her thanks to his long legs.

"Would you slow down for a second and listen to me?!" he spoke to her back, exasperated. When she continued to walk on and ignore him, he grabbed her arm and swung her tense body around to him. "Hey!"

He was met by two blazing, light-brown eyes that seemed close to tears. "What, Blaise?! What do you want?" she spat.

"Would you just –," he paused and sighed, "stop ignoring me and running away and tell me what's wrong? Is it McGonagall? Has she blamed you for what happened or something?"

She stared at him in surprise. "What? No! Nothing like that!" she spoke defensively and shrugged out his grip, crossing her arms across her chest. He gave her a disbelieving look. Clearly she was not speaking the entire truth. Covering up for something?

"Wait –" it dawned on him and he pointed angrily at her, "If you are trying to take the blame or something pathetic, heroic shit like that– I never asked you to cover for me! I'm no coward hiding behind a woman's skirts – I can speak for myself, you know! And I certainly don't need you licking the boots of McGonagall like a good, little Gryffindor! I swear to you Weasley, I'll–"

She blistered at his sudden accusations. "What, Blaise? What will you do?! Manhandle me like you always do if something doesn't please the almighty prince of Slytherin!?"

"I just might," he growled threateningly, looking around in irritation for having made a public scene even though they were alone in the hallway at the moment. Luckily, but for how long? He then realized that they were just outside the Prefects' Bathroom. Hm, what are the odds, he thought wryly, but, at least, in there they could hope for some privacy. He had no desire to spread unnecessary gossip if someone spotted them arguing or – Merlin help him – overheard what they argued about.

Grabbing her arm once again, he led her determinedly towards the door.

"Hey, what are you doing?! Let go of me, you oaf!" she protested and struggled in his grip, but he held on and said the password to the door which instantly opened at his touch.

"Giving us some privacy," he hissed, giving the place a quick once-over to make sure they would be alone and then shoved her inside in front of him, looking back to check no one had seen them. He closed and locked the door behind him and was instantly met by the angry, flustered face of the Weasley girl.

"What the hell, Zabini?!"

Rolling his eyes, he stepped away from her close proximity. "Calm down, you crazy bint. I just saved us from being the center of the gossip the next couple of months." Ignoring her piercing glare, he took a couple of steps into the bathroom in his usual, supercilious manner and turned towards her again, arms crossed. "Now, what have you been telling McGonagall?"

"I–" she opened her mouth in protest (who did he think he was? Her father?), but realized he could see right through whatever she came up with and honestly, she had no good cover-up story. What was she supposed to tell him? When first the Aurors began arriving and Hogsmeade was closed off, he would find out anyway. He was about as persistent and stubborn as an army of hippogriffs. She would be one to know since she was exactly the same. That realization hit her out of nowhere and she blinked owlishly up at him.

He raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at her lack of response. "Well?"

"I–" she stammered again and gulped, lost for words and ideas and fearing his reaction to the truth.

Blaise rolled back his neck with a heavy sigh and threw up his hands in an uncharacteristically impatient manner. "Oh, come on, Weasley! Just spit it out! It cannot be that bad!? What could possibly be worse than having faced a Dementor, huh?"

She winced and said reluctantly, "Try facing Aurors."

Blaise's dark eyes widened in surprise. "WHAT?!" he exclaimed and stepped closer to her, making her flinch.

"Um, yeah, I kinda told McGonagall the truth right after class that day, completely blinded by the shock, I think, to realize just how much danger a rogue Dementor near the Hogwarts grounds and the students is," she apologized quickly. "I didn't even think of the danger we were putting everyone in when we left the Shrieking Shack to go to Hogsmeade instead of going straight back to school and reporting it. McGonagall didn't berate or blame us but she was alarmed by the news of the Dementor and said she would have to report it to the Auror office." Hurriedly she added: "But she also told me she would do her best to divert any possible outside blame directed towards us."

She glanced hesitantly up, expecting to be met by his fierce eyes and anger, only to see the reality of the situation dawning on him as well. He looked stunned, almost as if he was going to be sick and backed away from her.

"Merlin! I haven't even thought of that!" he spoke hoarsely, more to himself than to her, and looked back at her in slight panic, mirroring her own fears.

Ginny nodded, hugging herself. "I felt the same way when I saw McGonagall's reaction. I didn't realize just how much danger we were in … and continue to be so," she replied glumly, her worried glance drawn out through the rain-drenched windows towards the dark, Scottish landscape surrounding them. Blaise followed her gesture and gulped.

"So, the Aurors will come?" he asked with strained trepidation etched into his voice after a moment of listening to the rain hitting the glass and the trickle of running water from the bath behind them. She looked back at him and met his worried and all too exposed gaze for a guy who usually held on to a stoic mask of cold indifference.

"Yes, I think they will arrive next weekend when we all go home for the holidays and they'll probably stay here after New Year until the matters are sorted," she gave a tentative guess and hugged herself tighter, her eyes flickering towards his direction.

He gave a solemn nod and his smooth, broad forehead turned into a deep, thoughtful frown.

Unable to help herself, she stepped forward. "Blaise, I– I'm sorry. I wanted to spare you the questioning and the suspicion and the press and– and I hope it will not come to that, because I will do anything in my power to make them understand that it was all just a coincidence – an accident; that not you nor I was at fault. That there wasn't anything else we could do. That we were in shock." She was rambling but his torn expression and haggard face made her instinctively want to reassure and comfort him in any way possible, all her current displeasure and past reservations with the boy momentarily forgotten.

His black gaze shifted to stare at her in an eerily bleak fashion as if he had already given up hope of being spared the unfair attention and humiliation and accepted it.

"Please." She grabbed his arm in desperation, wanting to shake some sense and hope into him, to make him understand that she wouldn't abandon him just like that, but stand by him. He didn't have to be strong alone anymore.

Blaise gazed down to her hand on his arm then back up to her syrupy-brown, imploring eyes, feeling everything come crashing down upon him and seeing her slim shoulders bravely taking on some of the weight, despite everything she carried herself; all the horrors she had seen, all the losses she had suffered. Someone so different from him and yet so … alike. Someone who genuinely cared for once. Who stayed around. It was too fucking cliché! He couldn't think straight or remember the last time he had been able to concentrate on school work or eat or sleep properly; the dark memories and nightmares filling his every thought, his every move. He hadn't seen his mother for weeks now (she had retreated to the family estate in Italy some time during the end of the war) or any of his old, scattered friends besides Theo and occasionally Draco. And for some reason her face – this girl whom he once rejoiced in despising with all his might – had been a constant in his life since he dug himself up from the grave of war and decided to somehow begin again; a constant reminder of everything that was wrong with his past and his life, of what he could have been had he only –

I can't take this anymore.

Grabbing her astonished face, he did the only thing his mind and body could agree upon while pushing everything else away and crashed his mouth down to hers, met with a surprised gasp. Hungrily, desperately he molded his lips to her unmoving ones until she started responding with equal fervour, whimpering as he pushed her back against the bathroom wall and continued attacking her mouth in seconds that were rendered timeless.

"Hmph!" Ginny muffled against him as her lower back accidentally and painfully hit a water tap in the brickwork and just like that the spell was broken. She pushed him away at the same time as he reared back and they stared dazedly and open-mouthed at each other.

What was that?!

"I– " Blaise croaked, his gaze darting across her ruffled, bewildered appearance; their intimate position dawning on him and he instantly let go of her and backed away. "I shouldn't – we shouldn't have done that," he said dumbfounded, mouth opening to say more but nothing but silence came out. "I'm– I need to go," he mumbled quickly in lack of better words and practically catapulted towards the door, unlocking and opening it and gone he was.

Seconds ticked by. Only the occasional, echoing drip-drop quietness of the spacious bathroom and subsiding rain outside were heard.

Ginny finally exhaled, the fluttering of her heart and roaring of the blood behind her ears still going strong as she slid down the wall, past the water tap, down to the floor and stared blankly into the space in front of her. The imprint of his warm, firm lips buzzing on her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and banged her head against the wall. Stupid, STUPID Ginny!

Here we go again.

A/N: I know, the mention of Luna and Neville happened a little randomly, considering Ginny 'misses them so much' as I wrote, but this story is written rather fragmentary, mainly structured around the encounters between Blaise and Ginny and their respective POVs, thus not including many supporting characters (so far). Furthermore, I'm hinting to Ginny possibly having a depression after the war and Fred's death. Nothing overt is expressed about it, but I thought it would be a realistic scenario (though, in reality, wouldn't everyone basically have PTSD after what they've been through?!) if Ginny has it shadowing her moods, thoughts and relationships and simmering underneath everything in her daily life, yet she isn't aware of it or at least subconsciously pushes it away. I've tried to illustrate this through the way she dives into matters of the school rather ambivalently, and, given the level of responsibility she has, is more or less left to her own devices, ostracizing herself from her friends despite secretly blaming them for abandoning her. One could argue that some of them have, but I would think people cope with the effects of war in very different and private ways. Though, of course, it would be amazing if everyone stuck together and pulled through right after the war, yet I think reality would look slightly different.

Sorry, didn't mean to analyze my own story for you. Perhaps it speaks for itself. I just think it's an interesting aspect worth exploring in the HP universe.