Chapter 30: Something old, something new

The tall boy grinned, eyes crinkling as he held out his arms. "Why so gobsmacked, Princess? Not pleased to see your favourite wizard again? I mean, your second favourite, of course." He winked and flashed her a disarming smirk, reminiscent of the old days.

Closing her mouth, Ginny took a second to banish the initial image of a certain other wizard from her mind and took in the sight of her old friend. He looked good. Better than good; especially since the last time she saw him, just after the Battle of Hogwarts. The fresh air of Ireland's coast and Seamus' company must have done him good.

The fact that he and the Irish wizard had found each other in midst of all the chaos had never once struck her as odd or unforeseen. She had always known their relationship was close, though she didn't think either of them was aware just how deep it ran before Dean was forced to go on the run during the war. Never once did she suspect Dean's attention had been on anyone else but her while she was dating him, nor that he was somehow 'confused', but, at the time, she didn't exactly want to confront him if he hadn't quite come to the realization himself yet. As long as he had wanted to be with her, she hadn't really cared that his tastes could be running in more directions than one.

She was happy for him. A bit saddened initially when he and Seamus had decided not to come back to school but instead chose to open a pub and a studio gallery (an unusual combination) together in Ireland. It was a selfish touch of sadness, really. She couldn't have imagined a better outcome for him.

Looking him over now, she smiled widely. Oh, she had greatly missed him! "What are you doing back here? Weren't you and Seamus deciding to stay in Ireland for good?"

Dean scoffed. "I came here to pay you a long-overdue visit, yeah?" He proceeded to pout dramatically. "And here I expected you'd be glad to see me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Of course I am glad to see you, Dean. Arse!" She slapped his chest affectionately. "I just –" she paused, joy and relief swarmed her chest, "I just can't believe... you're here!" She laughed in time with him and they flew into a hug. She smiled as she leaned into his comforting embrace, now holding a different meaning than before, but, nonetheless, savouring his welcoming feel, scent and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat; the exact thing she didn't know she needed right now.

A slight yet pronounced cough sounded behind them and Ginny opened her eyes to see another dark hand come into her line of sight to tap Dean's shoulder twice. "Sorry to break up the rather heartfelt reunion," came the deep, cool drawl and they stilled in their embrace; Dean loosening his hold on her as she was slipping from his arms and they both turned to face their unexpected intruder.

Blaise was standing before them, back straight and arms crossed in his usual poised fashion as if he found the whole situation entirely distasteful and mundane. Only the hard eyes fastened on Ginny's face betrayed his unmoved front.

Where had he suddenly come from?

"Zabini?" Dean spoke in evident confusion, having, of course, no idea of this past year's history between the two of them.

Blaise raised one eyebrow, only just now deigning him with a glacial look. "Thomas."

Dean frowned, looking between Ginny and the former Slytherin in silent question. Ginny bit the inside of her cheek, feeling caught between a rock and a hard place. What could she possibly say to explain this? Lie? Both wizards were far too discerning for their own good, currently observing her with anticipating miens. No matter what she said to try and sound convincing, Dean would see through her lie and Blaise would likely just gloat and use his wiles to embarrass her further.

Why did she continue to strike up with the eerily perceptive ones?

Feeling quite overwhelmed under the gazes of the two wizards, she couldn't help wondering at their similarities and evident differences. She had so much history with Dean, and when he looked at her it felt the same way as when she looked into the eyes of Harry; like being swaddled in an old, cuddly blanket from her childhood. Blaise, on the other hand, was all new and raw and confounding, leaving her rattled and nerves prickling across her skin. His shrewd stare seemed to be able to look right through her with an intensity that formed twisting knots in her gut, almost as if he was–

No. That couldn't be it. The 'great and mighty' Blaise Zabini... jealous? But he had no reason to be. And of what exactly? There was nothing between her and Dean anymore, other than the bond of close friendship. And it wasn't like there were anybody around to witness this or question the nature of her and Blaise's pretend relationship. And should someone see them right now, so what? Ever since they supposedly hooked up, there had been enough rumours going around about the current status of her relationship with Harry (honestly, who still cared?) but she had long since developed a thick skin against such gossip. It didn't matter so much anymore. At least, not to her.

Perhaps it was a different case with Blaise. He always seemed to be more concerned with reputation than her. But given his carefully deflecting, serene behaviour in last two weeks' time, this display was a bit of a turnabout.

"Care to tell me what's going on here?" Dean kept frowning and turned fully towards her. "Gin?"

"Um... I...eh, this– it's not –"

"What Weasley here has so clearly trouble formulating," Blaise interjected with sardonic equanimity, ignoring her glare, "is that she and I have chosen to engage in a special arrangement, one of mutual benefits, and I'm afraid that there's no room for any third or fourth participants. At least, not for the time being." Ginny silently seethed as Blaise shot her a caustic look, secretly pleased. "Although, from the looks of it, she hadn't meant for the news to reach your sainted ears quite so soon."

As it slowly dawned on him, Dean turned to her again, disbelief emanating from him. "You what now?"

Ginny cringed. "Ah, eh, well, it's not quite what you think – nor is it so crudely put," the last words were wrung out between her teeth, directed towards the other wizard who was regarding her with a challenging expression two feet away.

"Then please explain," Dean proceeded in a clipped tone, causing Ginny to wince. "'Cause I certainly don't understand what's going on here."

Her throat constricted, and she licked her lips before pressing them together. How could she even begin to tell him anything of what had happened to her the last couple of months? How could she explain how exactly she had ended up in this odd pact with Blaise when it had all come about as some sort of flippant comeback to his taunts; an unwitting, out-of-the-blue challenge? Her original reasoning didn't really hold up any longer. It sounded pathetic now, and Dean would for sure doubt any attempts of other sad excuses for having kept it going this long. He always expected her to be honest with him.

Realization zinged through her and she snapped her eyes to Zabini who was gazing back at her with a decidedly smug expression, likely seeing every thought plainly written in her face.

That devious, two-faced – snake! He had deliberately put her on the spot.

Why? Why would he put her in a position like this – and in front of Dean? What did he hope to gain? Or, more perplexing: What did he hope to hear?

That she had, somehow, somewhere along the way, started to develop feelings for him? Feelings that ran deeper than a basic instinct to shield a fellow human being from a Dementor attack? Deeper than being thrown together into this mess, practically two strangers; being the only two witnesses present? Deeper than the more or less unspoken agreement to stand by one another in the face of prejudiced slander in the aftermath? Deeper than acknowledging the brief, superficial attraction in a moment's blunder or drunkenness? Deeper than the congenial gratitude for jumping in and barely saving a situation from going awry here and there?

What did he want her to say?

Her eyes flickered over Blaise's carved features and the unreadable expression in them before Dean broke in once more. "Gin? Is it true?"

Biting down on her lower lip, she closed her eyes in consternation and with a painful swallow, she gave a disinclined nod with her head. She didn't admit to anything of what Blaise probably wanted her to admit, but neither did she have the will or courage to outright deny anything and lie to Dean about it.

Dean practically lost his mind at her silent admission. "What the–!? Are you being serious? Are you two dating?"Again, she nodded gingerly, unable to look him properly in the eyes. "Are you telling me you've forgiven him for all that shite he's put you through? All of us?" he gestured, outraged. "For all those times, he and his mates –" he snarled, pointing over his shoulder at the other wizard, "just sat there and laughed whenever the Carrows would pull you or Neville or any of DA by the hair into interrogation?!"

The accusation shocked Ginny into silence and she sensed Blaise's body go rigid across from her. Somehow, she had not been prepared for Dean to throw in that 'little detail' of their past.

Behind him Blaise growled lowly. "The bloody fuck, Thomas?" But she didn't have time to contemplate on how much Zabini had gathered on his own; she was too stunned by the hurt inflicted by Dean.

The latter glared for a second longer before his eyes widened and his breath caught. "Fuck... shite, Gin. Gin, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have said that." He slid a palm across his face. "This wasn't how I had planned my first visit to go."

"Then how the fuck did you plan it to go?" Blaise grumbled, hard eyes boring into the back of the other wizard's head.

"Blaise..." she tried to caution but Dean held up a hand.

"It's alright, Gin. I deserve it." He sent a tiny glower towards the Italian. "Not that I'm the only one deserving but I already put my foot in it, so..."

Intercepting whatever scathing comment Blaise intended to throw in next, she folded her arms across her chest, tapping her foot, and regarded Dean angrily. "Why did you then? Why did you bring that up?"

Dean lowered his head. "Gin, look, I said I was sorry about the–"

She shook her head. "Just spill it, Thomas."

His head snapped back up, knowing it was a bad sign when she addressed him by his last name. "Wha–? I was merely trying to point out the fact of what we are all dancing around."

"What fact?"

He practically gaped. "The fact that that bloke," he once more gestured harshly to Blaise who merely rolled his eyes, "has done nothing to make up for his past deeds!" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Is he even remotely remorseful? Or am I totally in the wrong here?"

She swallowed, looking between the two of them. He wasn't entirely wrong. Nor entirely right. "You know nothing of what has happened."

Dean threw up his hands. "Then tell me!" he implored.

Worrying her lip, Ginny had to look away, knowing full well that she hadn't exactly been truthful in her letters to him. She could have told him. But she hadn't. She had pretty much glossed over all of it. She didn't want him to worry, she reckoned. Just like with everyone else left in her life. One day she would tell him, she had told herself.

She gazed back at him, once again struck by the familiarity of his concerned gaze. But did he need to rip up old wounds like that? The line of her mouth grew thin. "You have no right to decide whom I should possibly date, Dean. Not anymore."

With a heavy sigh, Dean ran a hand down his face. "I know. I know. But you cannot expect me to just stand here and see him whisk you off into the sunset without pointing out the obvious. I'm simply trying to understand here, yeah?"

"Then perhaps you shouldn't begin by throwing wild, prejudiced accusations at me – at both of us – if you don't know the whole story!"

"But you haven't told me any of it! I had no idea you were even seeing, much less talking to the bloke!"

Blaise cleared his throat. "Standing right here if you want to address me more directly anytime soon, Thomas."

"Stay out of this, Blaise," she shot back.

He scoffed. "Think that's a bit too late for that now, Princess." She glared daggers at him.

Dean's eyes almost popped out of his head as they shifted rapidly back and forth back between them, trying to grasp what was happening. "He calls you 'Princess', too?!"

Not taking her narrowed eyes from the Italian's challenging stare, she responded drolly. "The first I have heard it."

A wolfish smirk curled Blaise's lips. "You only have to ask and I'll call you anything you'd like, Princess," sounding more like a promise than an invite. He was taunting her, though she couldn't rightly say if his meaning was as callous as the exterior he exuded. He still secretly enjoyed getting a rise out of her and seeing her momentary fluster but, in the last couple of days, ever since their agreement began, she had noticed the slight change in his gaze whenever he did so. Something was added to his mercurial shifts, subtle and smooth as they were. And, slowly, she realized that something had shifted within her too. It was all the more disconcerting and she couldn't name why yet.

Dean looked between them with a befuddled expression and scratched his head like he very much wanted to spring more questions on her but seemed to think better of it. "I'm- I'm just having trouble understanding this. To see you with him – well, it's a bit of a shock, you must give me that."

Blaise decided to step around Thomas and up to her, placing a supportive hand on the small of her back. "She doesn't seem to have any trouble with me, Thomas, and as long as that's the case I can't see what's wrong. However much your ego wills it otherwise." Dean blistered at the comment, his eyes momentarily fixed on the position of Blaise's hand. Blaise continued unaffected in that same smooth manner of his. "You are not her brother. You have to trust that she can decide for herself, which is why I probably should stop talking now." He chuckled a bit at himself, the action so jarring given the tension that Ginny whipped her head up to stare at him. No sooner had the casualness in his attitude appeared before it slithered into a dangerous calm, hand tightening lightly at her waist before it slipped away. "I'll say this though: Do yourself a favour, Thomas, and be her friend instead."

Dean blinked, studying the other wizard for a moment. Perhaps seeing some sense in his words, his stance eventually relaxed a smidgen though he still didn't appear quite comfortable with the notion. He looked back at Ginny, his voice resigned but sincere. "Sorry, Gin. Didn't mean to act so overprotective all of a sudden. I know you do not have to explain yourself or that you somehow 'belong' to me anymore. Not to anyone, for that matter, you never have; not even your brothers, though I might be in for the fight of my life if they heard me say that, so don't pass it on."

Blaise smiled sinisterly beside her. "I'd be more than happy to do just that, mate."

Dean glared at him. "And what makes you so sure they haven't beaten you to a pulp by then?" Seeing the warning look on Ginny's face, Dean relented somewhat. "I can't say I understand this, whatever this is," he gestured vaguely between them, "or how it possibly came to be that you've hooked up with the most notorious womanizer on the school, perhaps the entire UK–"

"Why, thank you, Thomas," Blaise drawled, mock-leering. "I'm ever so humbled by the praise although I'm not entirely sure I can accept the title regarding the latter as well."

Grumbling under his breath, Dean cast him a dark and, for once, direct look while pointing a finger at him. "Shut up, Zabini. You'd better have repented for past misdeeds or at least be remorseful if you're going to be with her. And I promise you, if you so much as hurt her, there'll be hell to pay."

Blaise stayed unperturbed by the threat. "I am not sure what you on about, Thomas, but I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

Going back to pointedly ignoring him, Dean addressed Ginny. "Look, I've been somewhat of an arse, and if you're... happy," he seemed to have trouble uttering the word given its connection to the person at her side, "then... well, then I'm happy." He gave a tremulous tilt of his lips and a shrug. "I should be the last one to judge, right?"

Ginny's mouth twitched and felt the corner of her eyes beginning to water. Without further hesitation, she stepped forward and enveloped Dean in a hug once more, not caring if Blaise made another protest. Luckily, the Italian didn't say a peep. "Don't say that, Dean. I know, I'm sorry too," she whispered against the front of his shirtfront. "And I didn't expect your reaction to be any different. I didn't expect this outcome at all, in fact." She meant it in a positive way and pulled back with a small smile, feeling relieved and slightly bad for feeding Dean a temporary white lie like this, but, at least, his final reaction gave her hope that her family's was manageable.

Dean returned her smile. "I'm not going to hug you anymore, I think. I don't want to rile your 'Italian Stallion' over there any further," he murmured good-humouredly, making sure it was loud enough for Blaise to overhear, receiving a low snort from the latter.

Ginny huffed a wet laugh and slapped his chest lightly before stepping back. "How long are you staying?"

"Just for this afternoon, unfortunately. I'm off to London to visit the lads next for a little 'boys' night out'. Besides, I promised Seamus to do some shopping while I'm near Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. You know how he loves those Pepper Imps." He winked.

"Oh, how is he? I hope to see him soon, too," she inquired eagerly, the earlier falling-out quite forgotten.

"He's– he's good," Dean smiled, a bashful look appearing in his eyes. "We're both good, actually."

"And how's the studio gallery going? And the pub? How are you settling in Ireland?" Ginny continued to assault him with questions she already knew most of the answers to; given the letters they had sporadically exchange for the past year. Yet, it was so different to actually have him here, being able to speak to him face-to-face. Of course, he answered them in his usual patient demeanour, one at the time; a small, amused smile hanging on his lips as he regarded her. By then, he either tolerated Blaise's presence or had simply forgotten he was there as he became engrossed in his animated chat with Ginny.

Meanwhile, Blaise took the time to covertly observe the redhead's visibly changed persona in front of her ex. He knew they had been mates before dating and it was obviously an amicable break-up given their easy interaction – when all was said and done. He couldn't proclaim to be an ardent fan of the other wizard but he knew a little of Thomas' history during the war and respected him enough to not interfere in their reunion any further. Besides, the wizard's popularity was unquestionable given the commotion surrounding his sudden arrival this afternoon. It had happened just as Blaise had been studying in the Great Hall. Out of the corner of his eyes he had watched the younger students fawn over the war hero and he had snorted, wondering why the other wizard even bothered returning. Of course, overhearing the redhead's name being mentioned, it made sense. An eager debate broke out amongst the students of where they had last seen Ginny until that artless Head Boy had passed by and overheard the question, pointing in the direction from which he came, saying something about the Second floor corridor. Thomas had appeared grateful for the information and squeezed past the flurry of students, leaving Attwater staring after him in slight bemusement before turning his attention to the tittering students, shooing the crowd away from blocking the entrance. Seeing his chance, Blaise slipped out while the students dispersed in all directions. He had continued to the Second floor corridor and stopped to peer around one of the corners, just in time to catch sight of Thomas putting down a very flustered Weasley. She turned around spluttering until she saw who had just taken her for a spin and the level of shock painted in her face almost had Blaise guffawing. He had pulled that exact same move on her once or twice during the past two weeks and he knew exactly who she had been expecting to face.

And then, when they pulled each other into a rather tender hug, he thought it better to make his presence known.

Now he watched with barely concealed annoyance as Thomas once again put an overly familiar hand on her upper arm, squeezing it lightly, grinning. And Ginny's face as it lit up in a smile over a particular heartfelt anecdote shared between the two of them. Hmph. How sickeningly Gryffindor.

Seemingly their little tête-a-tête was coming to an end, perhaps remembering the presence of the former Slytherin nearby. Seeing it as his cue, Blaise resumed his position by Ginny's side; his demeanour hostility-free this time though his voice hadn't lost its mocking edge. "Just make sure to bring your boyfriend along next time and make him do his own damn shopping. Honestly, Thomas, I wouldn't have picked you as the errand boy in the relationship." Ginny shoved an elbow into his side just as Dean opened his mouth with an affronted frown, about to retort. Blaise, having the air momentarily punched out of him, relented with a grunt. "Fine. OK. Sheez, woman. Sorry about the jab, Thomas. Thought it might establish some frictionless banter between us, but apparently the lady doesn't find that idea very amusing. Too bad, really. I'm sure we would have had a blast." He flicked him a cocky smirk and Dean eyed him warily.

"Um, right. Sure. That's... fine. I guess." His gaze shifted back to Ginny. "See you soon, Gin, yeah? I promise I'll not up and disappear like last time. Let's see each other whenever you're in London again – or come and visit us in Ireland! Seamus would love to see you too – and you could see our pub and my studio."

"I'd love to, Dean," she nodded with a smile, eyes prickling slightly. Propriety be damned, she went for another hug. "Give my love to Seamus until then."

"Will do." He let go and waved and Ginny watched him go with a tinge of sadness settling in her chest once more. It wasn't like he'd be gone forever.

"Well. That could have gone much worse." Blaise's sobering voice cut through her deflated mood. "Ouch, Red. What?" He winced and rubbed the spot where her sharp elbow had landed once again.

"It couldn't have gone much worse than if you had told him we were bloody shagging!" she hissed out between her teeth, practically stomping her feet. Blaise thought she cut a rather cute picture; quite contrary to the epitome of mature composure she had tried to present to Thomas.

He grinned. "Well, we aren't, so that's that." He scratched his chin. "A shame, really."

"What?" she turned around with a snarl.

"Oh, I was merely pondering if there were more benefits from this arrangement that we could make good use of." He was enjoying himself far too much, he knew that. Soon steam might be coming out of her ears.

"What?" she repeated, voice bordering on a screech.

He bent down, mouth close to her temple, taking note of the way she shivered lightly from his breath fanning her skin. "There are more ways to let out steam than just throwing tantrums or playing Quidditch, Weasley. You should know." With a salacious smile on his face, slowly pulling away from her, he waited for her reaction, knowing it would be good.

"Arse," she merely grumbled, with a swat to his chest, glancing away but not rising to his bait. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she couldn't help herself being smitten by the obvious enjoyment he took from making everyone around them more uncomfortable about their little arrangement than her. She wasn't oblivious to the move he had just pulled; putting her on the spot in front of Dean, but she wasn't sure just why yet and that was one of the many puzzling traits about him; not being able to discern the intent behind his words and contradictory behaviour at times. He was too...Slytherin for that. And though she never knew where she had him, he had also shown her a degree of respect and support when confronted by Dean – whether the act had been to uphold the facade of their 'relationship' or not. He had seemed oddly genuine when he had spoken.

Two knuckles gently tabbed her temple. "Knock, knock, Weasley," came the rumbling voice beside her. "What's going through that busy head of yours?" She glanced up and was met by his amused face.

She made a gruff sound. "We need to talk about what we are going to do. We need to somehow redirect Rowe's attention towards Zelenko."

Blaise blinked and studied her for a second at her sudden change of subject. So, she's on the road of Deny and Deflect, huh? No matter. He went with it. "Brilliant idea, Weasley. But what exactly are we accusing him for and what evidence do we have to present him with, if I may ask?"

"That's what I'm asking." She rubbed her forehead, gesturing out a hand in exasperation. "We can get the truth out of him with Veritaserum." Blaise shot her a pair of raised eyebrows. "I don't know, okay?"

"Interesting," he drawled sardonically.

She glared at him. "Do you have a better idea then?"

"You hardly presented a fully-formed idea, my dear." Ginny felt like throttling him. He smiled calmly and puckered his lips. "Well, since you're asking, I propose we return to the Prefect quarters and have us a nice cup of tea before we rush ahead with our accusations and confront the adults."

With a frown to her mouth, she regarded him surly before she relented. "Fine. Alright." She could do with a cup of tea to replenish her spirit. Not that she wanted to admit to him that he had read her mood right but chancing a look at him, she sullenly surmised he already knew.

They started off in the direction of the Prefect quarters, walking together in silence as they had found themselves doing more times than once lately. It seemed it had become their refuge. Thankfully, this time, there were no one else to be found in the common room when they reach it and Blaise, ever the gentleman-wizard, gestured for her to take her usual spot in front of the fireplace while he called for a house-elf to order some tea and biscuits to be served for them which arrived only a minute later.

"Noticed that Podsworth and that blonde Head Boy of yours have left us in welcoming peace, lately?" Blaise's impervious drawl reached her from behind the paper after a while of companionable silence - as if he was merely relaying the latest Quidditch results. He flipped down a corner, locking eyes with her. "Seems our plan is working out perfectly."

She opened her mouth, but faltered, at odds with what to say. He was right, after all. She had observed as much about their situation herself. "Perfectly," she repeated lamely, regarding him in silence.

He emitted a thoughtful hum, not taking his dark eyes off her, and she found herself immersed in the darkness of his gaze.

Just then, a young student skidded inside the Prefect quarters, snapping their attention away. He had a searching, frantic look on his sallow face until he spotted Blaise and Ginny by the fireplace and ran up to them. "Quickly! You must come!" he panted.

Ginny sat upright at his obvious alarm. "What? What is it?" The boy was leaning forward, hands on his knees as he was trying to catch his breath.

Blaise calmly placed the Prophet down and regarded him with a vaguely annoyed expression. "Whatever is the matter, Wedley? Speak."

The student, presumably a First or Second Year from Blaise's House, gulped. "It's- it's Theo."

That got an immediate reaction from Blaise who leaned forward with a frown. "Theo? What are you talking about?"

"He–," the boy swallowed, "he attacked a student."

A/N: A minor follow-up to the whole Dean situation if you think it's a bit weird that Dean didn't choose to stay for longer: I tried to imply his wariness towards Blaise's presence as one part of his excuse besides meeting up with Harry, Ron and Neville in London that same day. He's over Ginny but he is also surprised and weirded out about her dating Blaise of all people though he seems appeased by the end of their conversation. Thus the idea of staying any longer within their vicinity feels a bit awkward (who can really blame him?) until he's gotten used to the idea of them being together.