8

The redheaded girl entered an empty classroom, a smile that threatened to spill into laughter on her lips. "Crabbe didn't even look up, just told me where to find you."

The blond boy smiled back at her. "I told you he'd learn."

Her smile stayed as she dropped next to him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. A cauldron simmered in front of him, sitting atop a magically flameless fire. Various bits of plants and other substances scattered in piles around him.

"Pass me the root of asphodel," he said, never taking his eyes from stirring the cauldron as he stretched out a hand.

The redhead placed bits of plant into his hand, raising an eyebrow at the cauldron. "Draught of Living Death? Why?"

"Never mastered it. Do you need help with your…" He finally glanced at her, breaking off as he saw she had already pulled out a roll of parchment, copying onto it from a textbook. With a smile, he returned to his potion.

They worked in silence for a time, the girl stretched out on the ground in front of her book, her legs kicked up behind her. Finally, she groaned, her head dropping onto her book. "Why couldn't one of the Carrows have taken over Transfiguration? McGonagall's too bloody hard."

The boy laughed. Setting his potion to simmer, he leaned over her book, trying to read through the strands of red hair spilling across it. A purpling bruise on the back of her neck snagged his attention. "What's this?" he asked, one finger brushing her hair away from the bruise.

Immediately she sat up, pulling her hair over her shoulder to hide it. "It's nothing."

His face was stony. "I told you to use the fourth-floor corridors. They don't patrol there."

"Yes, and I can't always be on the fourth floor, can I?" she snapped. He looked away, and she sighed. "You've already gotten Crabbe to fill my schedule with detention. There's not much else the Inquisitorial Squad can do beyond duels, and I give better than I get. I'm fine." The blond boy still wouldn't look at her. She watched him, then flipped back a few pages in her textbook. "Now, we're well into human Transfiguration but I still haven't managed to even change the color of my hair. It's a ruddy nightmare."

"I bet it's the red. I've heard that's a stubborn color." He leaned over her shoulder to read the pages she'd flipped to. "Or maybe it's the people who are stubborn and the red hair's been falsely maligned this whole time."

Smiling at his tease, she watched him reading her book. Then, without any warning, she turned and kissed him.

Shock paralyzed the blond boy. The girl flushed as bright red as her hair. She fled from the room, leaving her book, bag, and papers behind.

•           •           •

Blaise Zabini stood awkwardly in his living room, staring at the even more awkward girl stepping out of his fireplace.

"Well, this is… unexpected," he stated, scratching his head.

Weasley flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't think. I didn't mean to intrude. I'll just be… going?" She scrunched her nose. "These work both ways, right?"

Blaise put his hand on her arm, gently steering her towards a couch. "Don't worry, love. The alarms already woke me up. Now I'm just flat-out curious."

"Oh." She chewed on her lip. "We weren't… close, were we."

It was a statement, not really a question, but Blaise answered anyway. "No, not at all."

"Could you explain a little? Because now I'm completely confused as to why your name is one of the five I actually remember."

He frowned. "Your memory really is buggered."

She ticked them off on her fingers. "Hermione Granger, Charlie Weasley, Luna Something-or-other, Blaise Zabini, and my own."

"Guess which one is not like the others," he muttered softly. "That is odd. Well, I guess you could say that, of Draco's friends, I was the one you got along with the best."

Ginny said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate.

"I was the only one that never took the Mark. You never trusted me, because I didn't like the Order, either. Or Dumbledore." He got tea for them from a House Elf and continued brightly. "If I'd been forced to pick a side, though, I would've joined the Order."

The words were out before she could stop them. "Because they won?"

Cup halfway to his lips, Blaise stopped. He snorted. "Five points to Gryffindor."

She blinked. "Seriously?" Blaise nodded. "Gee, I wonder why I never trusted you."

He shrugged. "I never said you were wrong for not trusting me." Blaise took another sip of his tea. "Still never told me why you Flooed to a random name that popped into your head. Still waiting. Still not very patient."

Ginny cleared her throat. "I don't really remember much of my life. What I do remember, I don't feel connected to."

Blaise snorted. "And you want me to fill those gaps for you? Tell you who all your wittle Gwiffindork friends were, what your favorite color is, what you like to eat in the mornings? Fat chance of that."

She shook her head sadly, strands of red hair falling into her face. "No, not at all." Ginny took a breath. "Draco said I didn't… know who he was. And I have a feeling he's not going to tell me what I need to hear. I picked your name because you were the only one I remembered Draco introducing me to."

Blaise put the tea down. Now he understood. "You want the good news, or the bad?"

"Everything." Her eyes flashed with determination. "And don't sugarcoat a single bit."

He leaned forward. This was not the time to joke. "He's a Malfoy and you're a Weasley. There aren't two families any more opposite than that. He's rich, powerful, influential and comes from a line of blood-purists. His father was Voldemort's right-hand man. Draco grew up with everything, while you had nothing."

Blaise could see her attempting to squash down the infamous Weasley temper. "That's his family. What about him?"

He shrugged. "Draco made Potter's, Granger's, and your brother's lives living hell for six years. Other Gryffindors, too. Maybe you. I honestly don't know."

She eyed the man in front of her. "When was it you and I met, then?"

Blaise instantly sobered. "Day before Draco refused to take the Mark and ran off to throw himself on the Order's mercies. Which weren't as many as either of you had hoped." He smiled fondly. "I was the only one Draco told about your engagement. Even with his life falling apart, he was so excited. I was going to be his Best Man. Till you died, that is."

Ginny's smile was slightly watery. "I think I would have liked that."

•           •           •

The vicious boy looked surprised as the red-haired girl entered the room. "You're serving your detention with me, today?"

"Yes," she replied with stubborn determination.

The vicious boy smiled. "Knew Draco would wise up. Now, I've heard you do-gooders don't like using Dark Magic. So I'll give you a little extra practice. Every time you fail to cast the Cruciatus on yourself, I'll show you how it's done. And trust me, I'm very good at it."

Gritting her teeth, the girl raised a wand to her arm. "Cruc—"

The door slammed open. The blond boy stood in the doorway, glaring at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She lowered her wand. "Serving detention."

The blond turned his glare on the vicious boy. "Out. Now."

With a mutter about, "Never getting to have any fun," the vicious boy left.

The blond turned his glare back on the girl. "You're literally torturing yourself to get away from me."

The redhead wouldn't meet his eyes. Her words came with a forced detachment. "Yeah, well I messed up and I didn't want to have to hear you tell me that. So I guess just say it and get it over with and then we can go study. At least Transfiguration's better than the Cruciatus."

The blond boy had moved closer to her. "That's not why I'm here." She looked up into his face, curious, as he stepped within arm's reach. "I'm here to continue where we left off."

Tilting her face up, he kissed her softly. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him flush against her body as she kissed him thoroughly back.