Chapter 25: Misfortune seldom comes alone

Tabbing her pen against the paper, Ginny finally finished off the last sentence of her Transfiguration essay and tossed the pen on the table.

Her mind played back to the run-in with that tosser of a Head Auror and his jarring threat, and whether or not he could be in earnest. He certainly seemed like the type who followed through. Shuddering lightly, she wondered if their plan would hold up. Admittedly, it was grasped out of the blue. Spying on Zelenko simply because he was a slick sort of type seemed a bit far-fetched. How could he possibly have connections to the Dark Arts or Voldemort, for that matter? Really, what did they have to base their suspicions on?

Pulling back with a sigh, she stretched her sore muscles. She had been stiff ever since the incident with the Bludger, and being tied up in excessive homework and extra-curricular Head Girl activities didn't exactly help relieve any leftover tension, nor give her a whole lot of leisure time. She hardly remembered the last time she had been able to read a book in front of a fireplace without going out like a light within the first five sentences of the page.

Now, she sat in her quarters, on a Friday afternoon, apprehensively waiting for the evening to come. Once again, she had no idea how Parvati had persuaded her to go to yet another party at the school.

No matter how much Ginny tried to reason with herself that she had too much on her mind to ever bother with a House party ever again, apparently her will had little strength left and she relented before she even tried arguing otherwise. Or, well, she had, but Parvati gave her that whole speech about letting loose and having fun in midst of all the worries, and so, in the end, Ginny's mouth had taken on its own life and promised the twin that she'd show up for a couple of hours. To a costume party, no less.

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose. On the one hand, she longed to let go of whatever dark shadows that hung over her head for the last two years; the effects of alcohol, loud music and festive mood of her schoolmates still having its nostalgic pull despite everything. On the other hand, she also feared letting go. Totally. Completely. Even for a couple hours. Hours which easily could extend to more than a night, if she knew herself well.

It was as if she had gotten used to those shadows. It scared her more than ever; the thought that they had become her burden and her comfort; a way to pull away from the living and breathing world around her. Again, not in terms of giving up life literally, but slowly isolating herself and her mind; compartmentalizing and focusing in on the only long-term aspect of life which she could bare to focus on: Work. Work at school and work afterwards; Quidditch... and whatever followed.

She couldn't really allow herself to go elsewhere in her mind. Not right now, at least. Retelling the past to the younger students wasn't the same; oddly enough, it acted as a gateway to be at a scholar's distance to such sensitive subjects as the ones she had experienced firsthand. And dealing with children was easier than dealing with herself.

But she couldn't wholly allow herself to open the floodgates either, so to speak. Which was a high-risk scenario once she had enough liquor poured down her throat. And this up-coming party certainly sounded like a scenario where people would, well, binge. The theme was literally called 'Glam-Wizard-Rock', and given the decade it referred to, it could only go wrong.

Ugh. Since when had she become such a killjoy?

She had asked the Head Boy, Clarence Attwater, along – not as a date but just to have the added company. It had just flown out of her mouth one afternoon when they had been the only ones left in library, making sure no underage students hid in the Restricted Section. He had accepted the invitation, perhaps a little too eagerly, making her sigh inwardly, briefly regretting it. Clarence was sweet, intelligent and even-tempered. She didn't want to mislead him. However, she had to move on with her life, leave her shell and socialize more. She realized that now. And Clarence...well, he was an obvious choice to bring along to a party. An easy choice.

Parvati had practically squealed when she heard, as usual making a big deal out of it. She had no qualms pointing out more superficial qualities about the Head Boy, such as him being about the same height as Harry (though that's where similarities ended, or, rather, Ginny was quick to shut them down), with wavy, honey blonde hair and even sporting a gold earring in one ear. And even though Ginny certainly didn't deny the fact that he was cute, she just wasn't interested...that way. Besides, it wasn't a date. She had made that clear to him (and Parvati as well), but she feared Clarence perhaps carried a small hope that the evening was a start of something else.

Crud. She shouldn't have asked him at all, should she? Why was it so difficult for boys and girls to go as just friends, without any speculation or misread signals? If it had been Luna in her place, there would be no problems. The blonde witch was practically oblivious to how she was perceived or affected other people, and Ginny both missed and envied that. Most importantly, she missed her best friend. She started feeling ashamed how little attention she had actually given her travelling friend, other than some selfish thoughts here and there; longing for their company but, deep down, mostly feeling resentful and abandoned by the old gang.

Groaning, she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, exhausted beyond measure. How well had she fared on an overall scale this past school year? She was never satisfied with the expression she met each morning and evening in the mirror, especially not the pallor of her skin which was colourless, almost sallow, her freckles non-existent. Her mum would have a fit if she saw her now. And though she ate (she had to in order not to faint mid-air during Quidditch training), she felt drained most of the time. Not just physically but mentally. Emotionally. She had all year, and she had started wondering if she would ever begin to feel a change coming.

From inside.

She wouldn't – couldn't – wait around for her friends to come back and cheer her up, nor for her mum to fuss around her or for her dad to worry. She couldn't wait around for anyone to come and pick her up by the bootstraps! She had to do it herself.

Sighing and pushing back from the chair she had been ruminating on, she got up and went to her wardrobe.

OK, Gin. What's it going to be?

X

Tonight's event took place in the former Slytherin Common Room, now residence of the House of Environment and Healing, though its benign name couldn't be said to fairly represent its students. Really, they were as colourful a lot as Luna's sense of fashion.

To Ginny's surprise not much had changed about the place. Its dungeon-like atmosphere still filled her with a sense of claustrophobia, while the greenish and only natural light from the surrounding Great Lake did little to help the oppressive coldness that crept over her as she entered (not to speak of 'the view' from the windows which took some getting used to). They really needed a new decorator about the place, though, to be honest, she wasn't sure how much could be done about its morose quality, and she thanked Merlin for having her new House placed in the old Gryffindor Tower, closer to the sky.

Still, and once again, she had to hand it to its new inhabitants: They knew how to throw a party. Ginny was particularly curious how the organizers had persuaded McGonagall to keep both teachers and Aurors at bay during this evening. Understandable, after the latest incidents and increased supervision of the school, everyone seemed to take full advantage of an adult-free theme party. To say people were well beyond exalted was an understatement: A loud, upbeat tempo blared throughout the closely crowded room, girls dressed in little to nothing gyrated their hips on the dance floor as they slithered down their dance partners' bodies, students who didn't seem to be able to keep their hands off each other, roaring along on popular lyrics, jumping up and down, playing drinking games and challenging each other in the most creative, obscene ways to drink the most amount of alcohol.

"Well, this is..." she muttered to herself, lacking the right words to describe the hedonistic scenery.

"The belly of the beast?" A dry voice spoke from behind her before its owner came up to stand beside her.

She turned her head, surprised that is was Theodore Nott, and regarded his profile. He looked worse for wear and clearly didn't need to dress up for the occasion; he practically looked like a reject from a punk rock vampire band.

"Nott."

He took a glance around their underground surroundings. "Strange to be back," he mused, as if both addressing her and no one in particular.

She observed him for a second. "Miss it much?"

Theo shrugged and then walked off without a word though she hardly knew him well enough to feel offended by his lack of manners. She watched him shoulder his way through the crowd and disappear just as a new song was put on, a popular one, and the crowd went nuts. Ginny backed away from the trampling of feet when the people who weren't already dancing rushed to the dance floor, and then edged her way around the room, heading towards the bar which was, more or less, abandoned at the moment.

"Ginger beer and Firewhiskey, please," she ordered over the counter to a girl dressed as 1970s' gothic rock singer Vespertine Lacrosse from Vespertine and the Spectres. The drink was handed to her a couple of seconds later and, sipping from it, she turned to watch the steaming crowd. Soon the music changed again, though no one seemed to mind, this time to something slower, more smooth and seductive, to put it mildly. At some point, she couldn't help raising her eyebrows. Well, put a bunch of drunk and randy teenagers in one room with no adult supervision and you're practically asking for it...

She gave a wry smile. It's not like you're so innocent yourself.

For a while, she just stood there, watching the party unfold while finishing her drink, feeling the whiskey warming and buzzing in her veins. And then, after what seemed an eternity, through the crowd she spotted –

Oh.

Whatever Blaise had decided to wear tonight, it was far from what Ginny had expected or ever could have imagined. She'd always pecked him for holding up to his somewhat conservative beliefs and going for a traditional style that suited his Wizarding class. Of course, she knew that said style didn't exclude flamboyance and creativity – they were rich people, after all – but all she had ever seen him wear were perfectly tailored school uniforms and expensive robes. Simple, elegant and vain. It matched his person and complimented his natural beauty. She'd never seen him let himself loose, though.

Not before tonight.

Ginny wasn't sure if she managed to stop herself from openly gaping.

He was dressed in... well, first of all, you could hardly call it dressed; his lean torso clad in nothing but a black satin vest, showcasing his defined chest and arms, down to his tapered waist, and – Merlin help her – what could only be deemed as the right kind of bell-bottomed leather pants.

Suddenly she both regretted and gloated in her own choice of wardrobe: A dark-red sequin trouser suit with a deep neckline and high-heeled boots, while her hair was parted in the middle and kept straight and loose. An altogether very bold, mature choice, she had told herself. (OK, Parvati had once again done most of the styling and persuasion).

Only... She hadn't counted on Blaise's appearance this evening. Especially this.

She felt her throat go dry as her eyes unwittingly took the road up and down his body, swaying to the hypnotic beats of the music.

Shaking her head, she moved away from the bar and around the crowd, trying to get away from the direct line of vision to the Italian on the dance floor which her eyes involuntarily kept darting towards.

"Ginny?"

She had almost walked straight into the Head Boy.

"Oh. Clarence, hi." She faltered, unsure if he was godsend or the last person she wanted to deal with right now. They had agreed to meet up at the party, but she wasn't really feeling amiable.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. Sure," she replied with a forced mien.

"Um, okay," Clarence's brow furrowed. "I'll... I'll just go and get us a couple of drinks." He patted her upper arm in a way that set her teeth on edge and walked off in the direction of the bar.

Restless, she continued round the dancing mass, determined and irresolute at the same time. Damn it, if she couldn't keep her gaze from seeking out that bloody Slytherin! It felt like she was going in circles. And she couldn't just leave now that Clarence had seen her.

She stopped and stared.

Belatedly she realized Blaise was with someone else; a clearly infatuated girl of indistinguishable appearance since she was partly hidden by the crowd, but the way he looked down at her, dancing and smiling his wolfish grin, eyes glinting knowingly... and now Ginny noticed he had painted his eyes with kohl, making the dark almond shapes stand out even darker. Even his full lips had a faint shade of colour, drawing attention to the perfect shape of his mouth. One golden earring (she'd never noticed he was pierced either) dangled from his left earlobe, and around his neck and wrists were a various assortment of tasteful jewellery that fitted the outfit and its owner to its entirety. So complementary to his physique, his persona that you could hardly call it 'letting himself loose' and yet was all more...surprising – if there even was a word for it – simply because it was Blaise wearing it.

He always pulled you in like a moth to a flame.

If you liked that sort of thing, of course.

Which she didn't.

She snorted internally. Hypersexualizing people was not a hobby of hers.

Besides, he managed do that perfectly well all by himself –

Oh, gods. He had spotted her, eyes flashing with recognition along with a small barring of teeth, and Ginny held her breath. Without taking his gaze from her, he bent his head to his dancing companion, whispered a few words accompanied by a disarming smile and the smitten girl looked somewhat perturbed by being ditched but clearly his charms did the final work. Then he was off, moving through the crowd towards Ginny and she felt the world suddenly zoned in on the small trail left between him and her.

And then he was there, right in front of her in what she would like to describe as 'all of his glory'.

"Well, hello there, Red. So glad you could come," he smirked, his darkened eyes taking a slow, appreciative trip down her body, though it didn't feel like a leer (how did he do that?), and she fought to suppress a shiver, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.

"Er, you look..." She forced her eyes to stay on his face and not letting them drift downwards.

Lifting an eyebrow, there was a husky chuckle from the back of his throat. "Ah. Posing isn't the only thing I'm good at, Weaslette," he drawled, his gaze glinting suggestively in time with the gold earring in his left ear.

Was he entirely sober himself?

She gulped, recalling her old remark – the only time she had spoken to him before all this – and felt somewhat ashamed how the tables had turned.

Not that he wasn't vain anymore, but–

Ugh! Merlin's sake, Gin, get a grip! He has absolutely no power over you!

She threw him a baleful glare. "Keep your innuendos to yourself. I'd hate to rearrange that pretty face of yours, Zabini."

His painted, sculpted mouth jerked into a crooked smile. "My, my. If we aren't particularly feisty this evening. Someone got out of bed on the wrong side?"

How could he make everything sound lewd?

Shooting him another look. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere, Zabini."

He feigned hurt. "And here I was trying to show concern and compassion for my fellow student. Isn't that what you former Gryffindors all salivate over?"

She had no idea how this conversation had gone from zero to one hundred, all of a sudden. She only felt... incensed. "Excuse me if your reputable track record regarding girls doesn't exactly make me want to trust you, Zabini."

He arched a curious eyebrow, a new-felt spark to his eyes. "So. You admit you are interested?"

Dumbstruck, she quickly retorted. "What? No."

"Who is interested in what?"

"Clarence!" For a moment, she had forgotten all about the Head Boy who appeared beside her with drinks in his hands and a quizzical look on his face. "Um, we were, I mean, Zabini here was just saying we should be more, er, vigilant at parties like this and that... he'd like to volunteer helping keeping a look-out for anything suspicious during the night." A tiny cough on her right notified her of Blaise's amused scepticism. She glared daggers at him, eyes narrowing when she saw his lips pull into a fraction of a smile.

Clarence didn't seem fully convinced that the former Slytherin would even suggest nor volunteer with such a thing. "Right," he said, eyeing the two of them before extending one of the glasses towards her. "Here's your drink, Ginny." She accepted it and he sipped from his own as an awkward silence fell between the three of them. She could sense Blaise's cool eyes studying the other wizard who, in turn, ignored the scrutiny and hummed along with the song playing in the background. Sometimes, it was so blatant that the Head Boy had been a former Hufflepuff.

"Well then, I'm off," Blaise announced flatly, sounding distracted. "Enjoy yourselves." Ginny observed that his line of gaze was directed somewhere else as he walked past them, curious to what had gotten his attention.

Clarence emitted a low huff. "Huh. That bloke's got some nerve."

Ginny swivelled her eyes back to him. "Excuse me?"

The other wizard shrugged, his oddly suspicious gaze following the Italian making his way through the jam-packed room with minimal effort.

She frowned at his shifty attitude. What was his problem?

Choosing to ignore him, Ginny kept skimming the crowd to get an idea of where Blaise had gone. At last, she spotted his dark head at the other end of the room, slightly bent towards someone –

Oh. He was talking to Paloma Podsworth. And from the few glimpses Ginny got, the other witch didn't exactly look thrilled by the conversation. She wondered if Blaise actually had the decency to go apologize to the girl for all his ill treatment of her.

Huh. That would be a first. And what had inspired this sudden set of morals?

The longer she observed the exchange, the more things seemed to escalate however. Apparently, apologizing in a genuine, repentant way wasn't Blaise's strong suit. Surprise. And by the looks of it, he seemed more and more desperate to find an exit; his temper (which she knew all too well by now) flaring under that carefully coloured mask of his.

Huffing under her breath, Ginny shot a quick glance at Clarence and was bemused to see that he too was following the exchange across the room with an intent interest.

Clarence knew Paloma? Jealous much?

Ginny chewed her lower lip in contemplation as a mad idea came to the forefront of her mind. Maybe she could spare all of them a night of continued embarrassments?

Downing the dull drink she had been given by Clarence, she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, much to the blonde's surprise. "Come on," she growled, tugging him along. "I need something stronger if we're doing this."

Clarence followed, nonplussed. "Doing what?"

A/N: I take partial credit for the figure Vespertine Lacrosse and her band Vespertine and the Spectres. I couldn't find a suitable 1970s band in the HP universe, so I took inspiration from Siouxsie Sioux from Siouxsie and the Banshees.