Chapter 16: What lies heavy on my mind
The following day – after the little 'inquiry' at McGonagall's office – Ginny had been moderately occupied with her Head Girl chores and the buck load of homework she needed to get done before the party she – for some mysterious reason – had agreed to go to that same night.
Still, she felt the day dragging on; her limbs feeling dull and heavy, her mind elsewhere; joggling with the solemn words spoken yesterday, repeating them over and over again as if they would somehow reveal the true intentions behind them themselves.
"… the nature of your relationship … past affiliations … he either planned the attack of the Dementor … Imperiused or persuaded Miss Weasley to join him … attack on the school …"
"… be prepared to be summoned again … further clarifications on certain matters of your involvement that day … our complete trust…"
She didn't like this waiting; not knowing what was going to happen, feeling her nerves unraveled by some sort of pressing paranoia. Like a turbulent current under still water.
More so by the fact that she hadn't told anyone about it. Not even Hermione.
The latter was momentarily back at Hogwarts from her internship at the Ministry and, for once, they were able to coordinate their time tables so they could study together and chat for a bit.
Visibly disturbed by the news of the rogue Dementor on the school grounds, Hermione immediately started ranting on – in true, indignant Hermione style – about the complex, juridical aftermath of war and how Magical Law was currently being enforced, especially concerning the capture of rogue, Dark Creatures such as Dementors. She didn't agree with all of the Ministry's methods in this regard nor their somewhat biased categorizations of what exactly made a Magical Creature Dark or dangerous. That was the main reason behind her internship there, she told; to get a foot inside, get to know the system and know what to improve if she landed a Ministry position at some point.
"The Ministry is really trying to keep up a diplomatic, calm façade in midst of all the chaos, I know, but you should hear what goes on behind the scenes, Ginny!" Hermione gritted her teeth, cheeks pink. "The most outrageous gossip – practically hate speech – and prejudiced indictments being made by a bunch of fearful hypocrites who know all too well what happened before and during the war but are all too happy to ride the recent, political wave for personal gain. I tell you! If we are not the future generation to show the ones to come how to make a better world than the one we grew up in, then who are?!" she hissed, her unruly curls sparking, and gestured wildly with her arms from the secluded spot where they sat in the quiet library; books, quills and papers spread out between them.
Ginny stared back at her, not knowing whether to smile at her friend's righteous anger or to open her mouth and spill her guts.
Opting for a distraction from the touchy matter, she cleared her throat after a moment of silence when Hermione's temper had abated a bit.
"Right. Well, speaking of improvement," she cringed inwardly at the lame crossover, "I, apparently, am in need of vamping up my social life – Parvati, of course, was so kind to remind me – so, I was actually considering going to your House Party tonight." She peered over at her friend hopefully. "Are you coming as well?"
Hermione, who had observed her with raised brows, was now biting her lip. "Um, no, I can't. I'm sorry, Ginny," she quickly added when she saw the other girl's disappointed face. "I have an important Ministry report I have to finish before tonight and then I have to get back to London … to meet up with Ron, actually." She blushed and a small smile appeared on her lips.
"Oh?"
"Well, yes," the curly-haired witch smiled, "It is not often we get time for that sort of thing, given our respective, demanding jobs, so I really don't want to miss this one out when we're finally able to find a day we both have time off." Her expression turned guilty, eyes pleading as she looked at Ginny. "I hope you understand."
Ginny sighed and nodded. She was the last person to protest to the building happiness of her dear brother and Hermione.
And now she definitely didn't want to spoil her busy friend's good mood by telling her just how involved she was in this whole messy affair with the Dementor on the loose!
Suppressing the lingering hollowness inside her with a smile, she continued to listen to Hermione who had eased into more talkative subjects regarding how Ron, Harry and Neville fared in the Auror Department and the latest events in London.
She really deserves this happiness, Ginny thought as she observed her unusually cheerful friend. She's gone through so much; she, of all people, deserves this.
When they eventually turned back to their books, her mind went instinctively to Blaise and how troubled he had looked and acted yesterday.
Had the nerves and anxiety finally gotten to him?
Or was he somewhere shagging his frustrations out with some more-than-willing chit in a broom closet?
Probably, she huffed and denied the way her chest contracted at the thought.
"Something the matter?" Hermione asked, raising her head from a voluminous book on Magical Law Practice.
Ginny flushed at having been caught. "Um, no, no," she quickly replied but obviously didn't fool her friend who narrowed her eyes in concern.
"Are you sure?" she pressed.
Ginny nodded, bowing her head to read the same three lines from the Potions book beneath her for the fifth time.
"OK, if you're sure," Hermione trailed off, though she didn't sound convinced.
I can't. I can't tell her!
… It is not the right time, anyway.
Ginny worried her lip and stared hard into the book, chasing away her conflicted feelings and concentrated on her homework – which she had to get done.
Finally, after a while, she was able to get into an objective, numb state of mind and forced her quill down to the paper and started scribbling away, not really interested in the subject at hand.
Unaware of how much time had passed, she only first looked up when Hermione started packing up her books and papers. Outside, the winter sun had already touched the horizon and darkened the library which was now more or less abandoned.
"I need to go now, I'm already late," Hermione stated hurriedly, grabbing her bag. "Again, I'm really sorry I can't join you at the party, Ginny," she spoke emphatically and came around the table to reach in and give her a hug. It was not done out of pity; Ginny knew that, but still, it didn't help the hollow feeling in her chest returning with a painful throb.
Hermione's concerned, brown eyes swarmed her vision. "Perhaps another time, alright, Gin? I would really like that," she smiled kindly down at her and Ginny managed to hold back a teary response as she watched the older girl give her one last goodbye and hurry towards the entrance and disappear out of it.
Swallowing her silly notions, she looked out the windows to the setting sun.
Maybe she should get going as well. She needed to dig up some sort of outfit for tonight, she grumbled, looking down at herself. She couldn't very well turn up in her school uniform.
Slowly standing up and packing her things together – along with her finished essays – she ruminated on what exactly she had in her wardrobe that would fit the festivities tonight. No special theme was given and she had no desire to stand out this evening.
As she left the library and walked down the corridors, she passed several jabbing students skipping towards their dorm rooms in excitement, probably having ended the last class of today and looking forward to tonight's hyped-up party. Some of them seemed a little too young and she made a mental note of looking out for any underage students seeking to crash it later on.
Most parts of the school were practically abandoned when she reached the third-floor corridor and just as she was about to round a corner on her left, she spotted the now all too familiar sight of Blaise Zabini's broad-shouldered, tall form as he was leaning suspiciously close to a girl standing against the wall. At present they were the only ones occupying the darkened corridor.
Ginny halted and quickly stepped back into the shadows unseen.
"Aw, luv, don't give me that look. You know I have my moods and you just caught me in a bad one back then. That's all," Blaise's deep voice purred, head tilted. Ginny raised a sardonic eyebrow, gathering this was his infamous 'seductive' persona.
"Huh! 'That's all'?!" the girl scoffed indignantly and Ginny recognized her to be the former Hufflepuff who had spotted them at the inn. "How can you be so nonchalant about everything, Blaise?! You flaunted another girl – that Weasley girl" – Ginny's ears perked up – "in front of me and told me to 'sod off'! You practically threw me out! I've never been so coldly treated in my life! I might as well have thrown myself into the Great Lake instead!"
Blaise rolled his eyes, sighing with mild impatience. "You're always so dramatic, Podsworth," he stated smoothly, unimpressed. "And if I remember correctly, you called me a 'man-whoring sod' and some other flattering words that went with it. Or rather, you screamed it at me in front of everyone at The Three Broomsticks and then stormed out of there like a rapid banshee." He raised a mocking eyebrow, but Paloma just huffed with annoyance.
"Well … you made me! How was I expected to react?"
"Oh, I don't know," he spoke wryly, "Perhaps with a little more self-composure. I believe that's the word you're looking for." He straightened his posture and sent her an arrogant smirk. "Something you former 'Puffs still have trouble figuring out when to use correctly. Besides, you've always known I was never a one-woman's man," he shrugged and studied his manicured hands as if she now bored him.
The whole act was laughable, but apparently it had the intended effect as Paloma opened and closed her mouth in chagrin (reminding Ginny of a fish), then narrowed her eyes as she glared up at the dark-skinned wizard standing so casually in front of her.
"So you treat me like – like that – and then just expect me to come right back into your arms and forgive everything – after – AFTER THAT?!" she ineloquently screeched, making Blaise's straight back bend slightly backwards from the sheer force of volume.
Despite the rather comic picture they made, Ginny couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for the girl. Blaise had treated her abhorrently – as he likely would any other girl. Mind, she still didn't like the girl and couldn't quite fathom how she hadn't prepared herself for such a treatment from the 'Number One Womanizer' in the school, but then again, she couldn't be blamed for having hoped otherwise and to actually be treated decently.
And he was just – standing there! Like he couldn't care less about the consequences of his actions!
Ugh, he could be such a smooth cad sometimes! Ginny bristled from her shadowed spot, wanting very much to step up to them to give him a good bollocking.
But she refrained. It wouldn't exactly look good if she – of all people – tried to interfere.
Better let them sort this out themselves, she thought. Just – don't be an ass for once, Blaise, she added and sent the unaware Italian a pleading scowl. Yet, Blaise looked positively unperturbed by the Hufflepuff's frustrations directed towards him, making Ginny's alarm clocks silently go off.
"Gee, Podsworth, had I known you were this sensitive I would never have hooked up with you in the first place. I guess that's what you get when you go with Hufflepuffs. I was simply out for a good time, luv, hoping you'd let bygones be bygones." He tsked, "Guess I should have known better. Oh well."
No. No no no NO! Dammit, Blaise!, Ginny thought frantically as she watched the poor girl's face crumple slowly under his callous words.
What's wrong with him?! she fumed and took in his indifferent face which seemed intended on not showing any outward sign of remorse.
What had I even expected? That he had changed? Since when? Since I have come to know him? She gave an inner scoff. Had she really been so foolish to believe he had changed because of her own influence? Because of their – whatever it was between them?!
Ginny, you must be off your rockers!
But then … She had actually hoped, hadn't she? She had hoped and led herself to believe that he had somewhat changed, hadn't she?
"You – YOU BASTARD!" Paloma spat – jolting Ginny from her thoughts – and hiccupped, clutching herself as she ran from Blaise with no other words (luckily for Ginny in the opposite direction from where she hid), rounding a corner and disappeared.
Then a strange thing happened: Ginny was utterly baffled to witness how Blaise's posture changed dramatically, turning slack and weary, as if he had held his breath this entire time and now finally was able to breathe.
He leaned one hand against the wall where Paloma had stood only seconds ago and scrubbed his other hand across his long, chiseled face, sighing heavily.
Ginny stared, having never seen him act like this before – besides the incident in the Shrieking Shack though that was slightly different – and she doubted few, if any, ever had.
Believing himself to be alone in the corridor, this might be the reason he let his guard down, but she had an inkling it was far from a usual 'break-down', because the Blaise Zabini she once thought him to be would never risk giving himself away like this, no matter the situation. Not even in a presumably empty corridor.
She worried her lip and continued to watch him from her hidden spot. He still just stood there, unaware of her presence, leaning against the wall; the muscles in his body looking coiled and tense and yet exhausted at the same time.
She felt split. On the one hand, deep down, she wanted to reassure him and chase away his worries and on the other hand, she wanted to distance herself from him, not to sympathize with him – or feel anything!
Yet, she was too deep into it now. She had been from the day she was first paired with him to Quidditch introduction and then found herself willingly suggesting teaching him the Patronus charm.
Perhaps even from the day when they stumbled upon each other in the Prefects' Bathroom.
He could be a bastard, but he was not a total bastard. Yes, what he had said to Paloma was awful, and he needed to rectify that, but Ginny could now tell he had been putting on an act. In truth, he had been frightened. Frightened out of his skin that he should be suspected and even prosecuted for the Dementor appearing and endangering the entire school. Frightened that he should end up where he started; his reputation and dignity and self-worth in the gutter. Forever a black mark in the world. He still wasn't patched up and just like everyone else, including herself, who had experienced the war up-close, she doubted he ever would. But at least he had come a long way to get away from all the misery and had tried to make good of his mistakes. Well, as good as he could manage.
He hadn't exactly become a saint.
Despite the gravity of the situation, she couldn't help but snicker slightly at the image of 'Saint Zabini', halo and all.
Unfortunately, the small sound was enough for Blaise to snap up his head and look in the direction where she was hiding.
Darn! Spotted!
"What –" he started, his eyes widening when Ginny begrudgingly stepped out the shadows by the corner.
"What the fuck are you doing here, Weasley?!" he snarled, glowering at her. "Eavesdropping and having a laugh at my expense, are we? How original of you! How much did you hear, may I ask?!"
She shuffled her feet but kept a safe distance. "Uhm, maybe everything..?"
"Fuck!" he hissed, making her flinch. "Great. Just great! Now you've finally gotten your leverage, it seems!"
"My– my leverage?" she stated, dumbfounded.
"YES DAMMIT!" he yelled and stepped forwards, trembling with uncharacteristic anger, and she stepped back in surprise. "Congratulations! You now know the true me! The real Blaise Zabini! A pathetic bastard who picks on women and Muggle-borns to makes himself feel better and is a bloody hypocrite and a cowa–" He halted all of a sudden, his dark and so often cold, emotionless eyes now flickering like flaming obsidian – full of regret, anger and shame all at once.
Rarely had she seen him so animated – at all!
He withdrew then and it was truly a sight to behold; the way he pulled into himself within a second, easing his breath, schooling his angry features into a hard mask, eyes glazing over with arrogance, all in all collecting himself to the closest version of his usual self. A true Slytherin, indeed.
However, he couldn't still the effects from the momentary outburst; his chest heaving a bit quicker than normally, the muscles in his strong jaw ticking away and his large hands tightening into fists. She could practically hear the silent roaring of panicked 'fucks' resonating inside his head.
His voice in the next moment washed over her like a cold fever: "So. Do what you will with what you've seen here. I couldn't care less!" He spat the words scathingly, his eyes so cold – like burning ice.
Merlin! He really hated her in this moment, Ginny realized belatedly, feeling her own breath struggle to remain even.
"I – I have no idea what you mean! Why should I want to use that as any kind of leverage?" she stammered in earnest, staring at him in confusion and hurt, but he didn't look one bit convinced that she would never do such a thing. Actually, he just narrowed his eyes, crossing his long arms and loomed over her, looking more suspicious.
Damned, paranoid Slytherins, she swore internally.
"I honestly don't, Blaise. And if you still don't believe me, then you're just going to have to trust me, okay?" She held up hands in peace, her eyes imploring him to understand that she wasn't one of his old Slytherin 'mates', up to their old, scheming tricks.
His eyes got a momentarily wary look about them as they roamed her face for any telltale signs of dishonesty but found none. His anger seemed to calm slightly, but he still looked unconvinced as he kept giving her the eye.
"Fine then," he bit out, then gave her a haughty once-over, worthy of the old days. "You wouldn't have it in you, anyway. 'Justice' and 'peace' are all you bloody Gryffindors fill your silly heads with!" he sneered exaggeratedly.
Ginny gave something between a wry chuckle and a scoff, now more certain that what was said was said in confidence.
"Right. Be careful now, Zabini. From what I've just witnessed – that 'first-rate'" she gestured disbelievingly to his form "Slytherin treatment you just gave that girl?..." She tsked pointedly, shaking her head. "I wonder why any of them even bother."
He scowled darkly down at her. "You know what? Fuck you, Weasley!" She gaped back at him. "I don't owe you any explanation, so don't come here on your high horse, playing almighty judge on me, alright!?"
"Judge? Judge!?" Ginny squeaked, infuriated, and gestured wildly with her arms, "Do you even hear yourself right now?! Merlin, you're so obtuse! You can't just go around treating and discarding people so carelessly like that, Blaise! There are consequences! I thought you knew that! I thought you had bloody well learned by now!"
The anger instantly faltered from his face at her words and she gave a dry, sad laugh, rubbing her forehead. "And here I thought you had actually gone and changed! Just a bit! How stupid could I be?! How bloody stupid could I be?" she said more to herself than to him and started turning away in exhausted resignation.
"I didn't –" he began in protest, but she whirled around to face him again.
"You're a Slytherin, Blaise," she snarled, "manipulating people is your hobby!"
For seconds, he just stared down at her, blinking in disbelief. Then the words seemed to hit a switch within as his features hardened in resentment.
Rolling his eyes, he threw up his hands and emitted a frustrated expletive. "You know what? I'm so sick and tired of you bloody self-righteous Gryffindors and your high-assed moralizing! That excuse has gotten so old, you know? Have any of you ever thought of not letting yourselves get manipulated?! No, you naïve, thick-headed Gryffindors never really think that far, do you? No, you just judge and blame everyone else when you fall for one dirty trick – once!" he pointed and standing so close to her that the warmth of his body and ragged breath hit her like a shock wave.
"Huh! Like you didn't just voice your typical Slytherin prejudice against Gryffindors, you hypocrite!" she scoffed, folding her arms and stared pointedly at him.
Blaise stared back at her like she was a madwoman.
The tension crackled between them, but neither of them budged.
Bloody stubborn Gryffindors!, Blaise thought.
Idiotic, pigheaded Slytherins!, Ginny thought.
…
What were they fighting about again?
He suddenly broke their intense stare-off, fuming, and started to pace the space in front of her. "Merlin, I can't believe this!"
"What? What can't you believe, huh, Blaise?" she spited him, incensed by his childish behavior and not really thinking what came out of her mouth, "That you have to face the consequences of your actions all of a sudden? Oh, poor you! I feel so sorry for you!"
He spun around in a fury, stalking towards her, but she held her ground.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, Weasley?!" he roared, the sound resonating in her skull and the empty corridor. "In what world are you currently living, huh? Haven't you been keeping up on the latest news? I distinctly remember seeing you that morning in the Great Hall, so I guess you must be both blind and deaf and well, stupid, if you did not hear McGonagall's announcement or notice the whole bloody artillery of fucking Aurors!?"
Stunned, she wanted to say 'Yeah, Blaise, I know, and I was there with you when we were dragged in front of McGonagall and the Head Auror to be questioned, if you remember', but it seemed he had chosen to entirely repress or ignore that memory as he continued onwards with his tirade – and she could only stand there, looking on silently, baffled by his high-strung behavior.
"If you haven't noticed, I'm in the bloody mix of it all! I'm a fucking suspect, Weasley, and they don't even have to tell me! I just know! I saw their faces; I saw how they looked at me!"
"Blaise –"
Ignoring her plea, he whipped his frustrated, self-accusing stare towards her. "And you were there, at the Shack, you saw me! How would you be able to know I hadn't set the whole thing up in the first place?!"
"Blaise –"
"– After all, I was the one who suggested we should check out the Shrieking Shack! I lead the way! I could easily have summoned that Dementor only to get rid of it to act all heroic and shit in front of you!"
"Blaise!" She stepped forward and grabbed his tense arm and he stilled in confusion at her suddenly alarmed face.
Then he heard it too: A distinctive squeal sounding very much like Peeves and a simultaneous meow and a hiss from the far end of the corridor, echoing in one of dark hallways leading up to it. Then came the angry growl of Filch and another, suddenly much closer howling laugh of the ghost, a crash, and something bouncing off the walls.
Ginny and Blaise looked panicky at each other. Those three were the last ones they wanted to run into right now, no matter their respective statuses as Head Girl and Prefect. This was not something they wanted the ever-gossiping Peeves and the ever-suspicious caretaker getting mixed into!
Unfortunately, it was already too risky to try and go back towards the crossing of stairs where the sound came from.
"This way," Ginny whispered hoarsely and instinctively pulled him in the opposite direction.
They quickly rounded a corner and continued down a long hallway leading away from the sounds, running around another corner on their left. Ginny had no idea where she was leading them, but as long as they got as far away from Peeves and Filch as possible, the better.
Going up several stairs that none of them had ventured before, passing utterly barren, unlit galleries, they heard another mocking squeal close by, then a very pissed off cat and its owner, and they realized belatedly that the damn ghost was taunting Filch who was now chasing him through the castle.
He must have done something to the cat or – oh fuck! They were right behind them!
Ginny suddenly realized they had come upon the entrance to the Astronomy Tower (though only Merlin knew how?!) and before she could react, Blaise had pulled them both inside and was scurrying up the stairs with her in tow.
They had just reached the top stairs when they heard the cackling ghost whizzing past the entrance below and continuing onwards and a little while after the heaving, swearing, old caretaker came shuffling after him.
Not risking anything, Blaise took her arm and led her silently out to the ledge before the balcony, where the Scottish weather once again had decided to 'bless' them with rain and a light, grey drizzle clouded the late afternoon scenery in front of them.
They stood there, panting for a while, listening intently to any sounds or footsteps nearby. No one came.
Silence fell heavily over them for what seemed like several minutes.
"You knew it would come to this as well, didn't you?"
He had said it so quietly and so bleakly; so different from the aggravated Blaise just moments ago that Ginny had looked up at him in surprise.
She knew he wasn't talking about getting caught by Filch.
He gave her a knowing, lost look and a wry upturn of his dark, perfectly shaped lips.
"Hey," he said, giving a small shrug, "it's not like I haven't prepared myself for this, you know? I always knew the past would some time or another come back and bite me in the arse." He looked down, the cynic half-smirk faltering from his lips as he shuffled his feet. "I just didn't think it would do it just yet."
Ginny felt a rush of sympathy for him, sending color to her cheeks and her eyes instinctively found her own feet as she leaned against the cold stones of the Tower.
"I know," she said, subdued. Worrying her lip, she continued, as if reassuring herself as well as him, "There was nothing we could do. We knew that. And I talked to McGonagall first; I think that helped."
When he didn't react, she panicked and babbled on, "It could have gone worse, you know? It could have attacked a First Year or some other unlucky kid and drained the life out of –"
"Stop! I don't want to hear it," he grounded out between his teeth, fear tightening his voice.
Ginny blinked. "I'm sorry. I wasn't – I didn't mean-" she halted and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes in frustration of the situation.
What could she possibly say or do that would make all this good again?
They stood for a while in strained silence, both trying to come up with some distracting topic of conversation, but at the moment they were far too affected and stubborn to be the first one to make peace.
"FUCK!" he suddenly exclaimed, jerking her from her musings, followed by a bony 'crack!' against the wall beside him where he apparently had chosen to take out his frustration.
As he once again slowly turned, body tense, he was slightly more composed, but his eyes blazed with silent shame and anger and she felt obliged to look away in shame herself at having been witness to his private moment.
Deliberately choosing not to comment on his reaction, she just continued to lean against the wall beside him and said nothing, letting him cool down in the light rain against their faces.
After a while, she shot a glance at his now subdued and quiet disposition beside her, wondering what was going through his mind. Unwittingly, she let her gaze travel down his tall, lean frame which was now uncharacteristically slumped against the wall but nonetheless still a head or two taller than her.
She noticed his right hand was rather bruised from his earlier 'wall knock-out'.
Such a stupid thing to do.
"Your hand," she all but whispered, but he heard it, looking down at her and followed her gaze to his hand.
"Oh. Right," he merely muttered, unaffected, hissing slightly when he accidentally rubbed it.
"Don't do that! You may have injured it badly!"
He gave a meek shake with his head. "Nah, it's not so bad. I'll live." He laughed humorlessly. "I do that all the time. When I'm alone. Hit something." He paused. "It's nothing."
Her brows knitted together in concern. "Why?"
"Because –," he faltered and then seemed to regret speaking at all, "Just because."
"Please. Blaise," she implored softly and put a hand on his arm.
He looked down and stared at where her hand once again lay, both of them feeling like it burned a hole in his shirt at the contact. He stared so long and so intensely – like it was the most fascinating thing in the whole world – that she instinctively squeezed her grip, becoming desperately aware of how firm and warm his arm was.
She gulped, momentarily closing her eyes.
"Because it makes the pain go away, doesn't it?" she tried.
He swiveled his black eyes back to hers and they seemed bottomless; raw and trembling in a way that she had only witnessed twice before with him. Each time a slightly different version of this unguarded Blaise.
"Y-yes," he rasped in half-surprise, his rough voice so close she had to close her eyes again and nodded, naturally gravitating closer to him in the dark. When she opened them again, she found his questioning, exposed eyes still roaming her face – as if he really saw her – for the first time.
She felt her face grow hot under such intense, close scrutiny. His face, too, seemed to transform his usually arrogantly handsome and stony features into something open and honest and … innocent. She was transfixed by it.
"How- how do you know?" he asked in a strained whisper.
She gulped and hesitated, "Because I – because I do it too."
She could have elaborated and told him of the times right after Fred's death and the war where she had allowed herself to withdraw from friends and family, their concerned, grieving faces, dry hands in hers, wet eyes buried in her neck, arms squeezing the life out of her; never giving her room to breathe. The air was too stifling anyway. When she had finally come out of her mother's tight grasp, skirting her father's and brothers' haggard faces, away from Harry and Hermione's sympathetic looks, feeling ill at witnessing George's near decay into nothing – away from all of it! – only then, when alone and isolated, she allowed herself to yell and scream and smash; everything within her sight – everything breakable – everything worthless – which was everything compared to what they had all lost! Whom she had lost!
Ginny felt her eyes water, throat thickening, and she dared to tilt her face up towards the dark, young man – her supposed nemesis and former Slytherin! – who now stood so close, somewhere in-between having grasped her hand in his large, tapered ones, letting her lean some of her suddenly all too burdened weight on him. And he looked at her with such unchecked, uncharacteristic emotion – somewhere sharing an understanding but not like anything she had received before. And she realized she didn't mind for once. None of it. Not at all!
She was about to open her mouth, to say something, when a shrill, self-satisfied meow behind them drew them apart, startled by the sound as they both looked around to see Mrs Norris regarding them haughtily.
"Fuck," Blaise swore and stepped out of Ginny's grasp, making her instantly miss his body heat. She blamed the cold drizzle.
"How the fuck did that thing find us up here?!"
"Must have sensed us when Filch and Peeves passed the Tower entrance," she suggested, sending the cat a wry face as they both skirted around its annoying presence and glaring, yellow eyes trailing them. "Filch will probably be here soon."
"Damned, old cat," Blaise grumbled, loud enough for the cat to give an offended mewl, alerting its owner once again.
Deciding to make themselves scarce as quickly as possible, they darted down the winding stairs and exited the Tower, returning the way they came from and scurried down the hallways.
At last, they reached the third-floor corridor from where they had first bolted, luckily without any grumpy caretaker in sight.
A tense silence now hung between them.
"So," Blaise droned without looking at her, his usually cool posture seemingly conflicted whether to stay or to go.
"So," Ginny repeated, her heart still beating wildly from the incident that had occurred between them just moments ago.
After a beat he spoke again, voice overly nonchalant, "I guess I'll be seeing you at the party tonight?"
She darted a look at him, unsure how to respond. "I guess so."
Another moment of silence.
Blaise sighed as if bored but somehow determined to make awkward small talk.
"Glad we avoided getting caught. I'd rather not have spent my evening being questioned by Filch."
"Me neither," she replied flatly.
Merlin, could this get any more awkward?
He gave up then. "Well, then. See you."
"See you," she muttered.
So different from yesterday, Ginny thought as she watched the lean wizard turn and walk away. And yet, the same. Every time ending in a circle she didn't seem to be able to break away from.
Neither did he, it seemed.