Lack of Sense

*What you won't do, do for love * You've tried everything * But you won't give up *
In my world only you * Make me do for love * What I would not do*
("What You Won't Do For Love," Bobby Caldwell)

Lack of Sense

Hermione, heart beating erratically in her chest, glared across the Great Hall at Blaise Zabini as he calmly ate his lunch, chatted with Malfoy, and completely ignored her. "It's ridiculous!" she hissed to the table at large.

"I'm not so sure, Hermione."

Hermione shifted her anger to the redhead next to her. "What do you mean? He did it on purpose!"

"Well," Ron started, suddenly finding himself in the unusual position of defending a Slytherin, "I can't see why he would want to get the highest mark on the Arithmancy quiz just to spite you."

"He's never cared about his grades before, has he?" Hermione pointed out. "And now, all of a sudden, he's doing nothing but studying. It's sickening." She sank down in her seat and scowled at her potatoes.

"Perhaps he's just, you know, getting ready for the N.E.W.T.s?" Harry offered, a bit warily.

Hermione snorted. "And I'm getting ready to kick his arse," she returned.

"But, that doesn't make any sense--"

"Shut it, Neville," Ron whispered out of the corner of his mouth, elbowing him sharply in the ribs. "Ah, Hermione," he said, nodding over to her, "Harry's got a point..."

But Hermione was no longer listening. "I'm just going to have to study harder," she muttered to herself, pushing her full plate away from her and rising from the table.

Ginny, worried, rushed after her as she left the hall. "Hermione, I know you're upset--"

"I'm not upset," she snapped, and then completely negated that statement by bursting into tears.

Ginny quickly grabbed her arm and steered her into an empty classroom. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly as she closed the door behind them.

"No," Hermione sniffed, wiping her cheeks. "I just want to transfigure Blaise into a mouse and let Crookshanks eat him."

Ginny bit her lip and clasped her hands behind her back. She had no idea what had happened between Zabini and her friend nearly two weeks before, but Hermione had been on the edge of miserable ever since. "It might help," she said.

Hermione choked back a sob and leaned into Ginny's side. "He's a bloody horrible git and I don't want to talk about him," she said.

"It's okay," Ginny said, wrapping one arm around the other girl's waist. "We don't have to."

"Oh, God, Gin, everything's messed up," she whispered in between sniffles and hiccups. "I miss him so much. He would tear up my lists right in front of me, you know, and make me laugh 'til my sides hurt."

Knowing that Hermione was notorious for foisting her Organizational Lists on everyone within studying distance, Ginny thought it a bit odd that Zabini disregarding them so easily would make her laugh, but she nodded her head encouragingly.

"He'd even sneak me hot chocolate in the library, the sweet bastard. And all I did was bother him about studying--"

"But you bother everybody about studying," Ginny broke in.

Hermione ignored her. "And then I found out that the only reason he went out with me in the first place was to get closer to you."

"What?" Ginny's eyes widened and she stepped away from Hermione.

"He was using me," Hermione said bitterly, her tears rapidly drying. "And then he had the gall to say it didn't matter anymore. That he loved me."

Ginny stood there, stunned, watching as Hermione started pacing the length of the classroom.

"The dumb arse," Hermione mumbled. "The stupid sod. He thinks he can just confess something like that and then expect me to jump for joy? What about everything else? The kisses, the notes he'd send me in class, the little cutout hearts he'd hide in my books that made my chest hurt? Did he think he could just toy with me and that I'd be okay with it?" Her voice rose to a shout as she stopped in front of Ginny. "And you didn't have any idea, did you? That he'd sneak into the Gryffindor Tower to see you, not me?"

Ginny opened and closed her mouth dumbly, not knowing what to say. Finally, she sputtered, "B-but Hermione, he said he loved you and--"

"And what? How can I believe that when everything else was a lie? He was probably just trying to get a shag out of me before leaping on you." The anger suddenly faded, leaving her tired and drawn. "I think I love him, Gin," she confessed dejectedly.

******

I think I love him... Hermione's words ran through Ginny's head as she made her way down to the Slytherin dungeons. How dare he hurt her friend like that? She stopped at a statue of an ugly-as-sin snake and knocked sharply three times on the wall opposite. The stone slowly creaked open and Ginny faced a looming Goyle with a scowl. "Out of my way, Goyle," she snarled.

"Draco doesn't want to see you," he said.

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently. "Did I say I wanted to see Malfoy? No, I don't believe I did."

Goyle gave her a confused frown.

"For Merlin's sake, Goyle. Let me in." Much as she hated to touch the giant Slytherin, she reached out to push him aside. He gave little resistance and shifted so she could squeeze past him into the Slytherin common room. Malfoy, however, was hovering close behind.

"What the devil are you doing, Goyle, letting in stray Gryffindors?" Malfoy glowered over at her. "And especially this Gryffindor," he added scathingly.

"I'm not here for you, Malfoy. I'm looking for Zabini."

Malfoy's eyes widened at this pronouncement, then he scowled and shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. "Like hell you are," he growled.

"I'm not playing this game with you today," she replied, widening her stance and crossing her arms under her breasts. "Where's Zabini? And if you don't tell me right now, I swear I'll never snog you again."

"Keep it down, Weasley," Malfoy hissed. "Do you want the whole house to know?"

"I don't care whether the whole sodding school knows, Malfoy," she said, her voice tinged with exasperation. "You're the one who's so damn paranoid. Now," she took a deep breath, "where's Zabini?"

Malfoy looked thoughtful for a moment, then strode forward three steps and hooked his hand around her neck, pulling her towards him. His mouth descended on hers for a brief, searching kiss and his hands slid down her back to press her against him.

When he released her, Ginny stumbled slightly, gripping the front of his robes for balance. She was always amazed at how someone so thoroughly annoying could make her take leave of her senses so easily. He had the most wonderful mouth, so supple and warm and... Ginny shook her head and stepped away from him, schooling her features into a disapproving frown.

"What?" he asked innocently, a smirk lurking in his eyes. "You said you didn't care."

"I don't, particularly," she said smoothly. "But before you start to beat your chest and drag me off to your lair, I'd like to go kill Zabini."

"Kill him, you say?" Malfoy queried, not in the least bothered that she'd pointed out how blatantly possessive he was acting. "Well, I suppose that's allowed."

"I'm so very grateful you've given me your permission, Malfoy," Ginny said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She cocked a brow, waiting for him to continue.

Malfoy shrugged. "He's in the library, stalking Granger."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Perfect." She started to turn, but caught sight of Pansy glaring at her, moving swiftly across the common room towards them. Cursing under her breath, Ginny grabbed Malfoy by his tie and curled her other hand around his nape, bringing his mouth down to hers again. She felt his lips curve in a smile against hers briefly before she swept her tongue across the seam, and then licked inside as he parted them for her. She hummed in her throat and then stepped back, inwardly grinning at the bemused expression on Malfoy's face. Outwardly, she narrowed her eyes and whispered dangerously, "If I hear anything about you and Pansy, you're a dead man."

Not at all worried, he grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Pansy's in a snit behind me, isn't she?"

"Draco?" Pansy whined, as if on cue.

Malfoy sighed, but kept his eyes fastened on Ginny, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her lower lip. "Go away, Pansy," he growled.

"But what are you doing with her?"

His mouth crooked up slightly and Ginny saw amusement sparkle in his eyes, warming the gray. "I'm distracting her," he said.

"Oh. Draco?" Pansy asked again, this time tugging on his robes. "Distracting her from what?"

Malfoy snaked an arm around Ginny's waist so she couldn't pull away. "From killing Blaise," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Why you..." Ginny struggled in his grip, pushing against his chest, but his arms remained entwined solidly around her.

"Oh," Pansy said, sounding a bit happier.

"Now, go away Pansy, so I can tell the little Weasel that I love her," Malfoy said with a mischievous smile and a slight arch to his left eyebrow, gazing into Ginny's widened chocolate eyes.

"What?" Pansy and Ginny said in shocked unison.

"She's an infuriating piece of baggage," he went on calmly, "and I'm going to take her upstairs and show her exactly how much I love her." He bent down and swung Ginny up into his arms and she automatically wrapped hers around his neck. He carried her over to the stairs, leaving Goyle and Pansy and a handful of other Slytherins staring open-mouthed after them.

"Are you really doing this to distract me?" Ginny asked, stunned and a bit breathless.

"Yes," he said shortly, effortlessly ascending the steps.

She lowered her voice and whispered huskily, "Do you really love me?"

"Yes." He glanced down at her askance. "And if you expect me to spout poetry and love words left and right you're as barmy as your brother."

"I don't expect anything from you at all, Malfoy," she said softly.

He nodded and looked rather pleased with himself. "That's why I'm going to marry you some day."

"Are you proposing?" She laughed, familiar with the saying and knowing full well that he wasn't.

He gave her a serious frown. "One of these times I'm going to really mean it, you know; and then what will you do?"

"Before or after my brothers kill you?"

******

Zabini sat studying in the library, two tables down from Hermione, doing a fine job of pretending she wasn't there. Or, at least, that's what it seemed like to her.

Hermione blinked down into her Advanced Potions text, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on the words and not on the dark-haired Slytherin. How can he just ignore me? she thought, beyond irritated and heading rapidly towards despaired. The sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and the tears that stung her eyes in between bouts of rage were enough to convince her that she was in love with him, completely and irreversibly.

It was quite possibly the stupidest thing she'd ever done.

Falling in love with a Slytherin who clearly wanted someone else, and who was trying his very best to stomp on every shred of confidence she'd ever had... What had she been thinking? How could she have ever thought that he'd wanted her for her? She was short, round-faced, bushy-haired, and, as Seamus was wont to say, completely unappealing... although he managed to convey that in a slightly more insulting manner.

"I've got one and a half feet of parchment left for McGonagall," Ron said, dropping down into the seat across from Hermione and effectively blocking Zabini from her view.

Grateful for the distraction, Hermione gave him a small frown. "It's due tomorrow, Ron."

His lips curved into a cheeky grin. "Could I take a look at yours, then? Just to get some ideas?"

Mustering up some indignant muttering, Hermione riffled through her bag. "Whatever are you going to do when we graduate, Ron? I won't be there at you job with you, will I? You're going to have to learn to do things on your own." Slipping the essay out of her bag, she handed it over to him.

Ron appeared to give this serious thought, then shrugged. "I'll just have to make sure I either play professional Quidditch, coach Quidditch at Hogwarts, take over for Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, or marry you and let you worry about keeping me in the manner of which I'm accustomed."

She snorted. "Over my dead body."

"It'll be a lovely wedding then, won't it?" Ron laughed and hastily hopped up from the table. "You're the best, Hermione," he said, patting her lightly on the head before striding out of the library.

Hermione stared after him, somewhat dumbfounded at being treated like a golden retriever puppy. Did he just pat my head? She groaned and rubbed her palms over her eyes. How utterly embarrassing.

She glanced up quickly to ascertain if Zabini had caught Ron's gesture, but he was busily studying away, his books piled around him, only... hadn't he been farther away? Hermione cocked her head and bit the end of her quill. Zabini was now at the table opposite hers, but she could have sworn he'd been two down just moments before. She frowned and picked up the large Potions book, propping it up in front of her as a barrier.

It didn't improve her concentration, however, one wit. Instead, she found herself straining to hear the rustle of his papers, the scrape of his quill, the little thoughtful hums he made when taking notes. It was clear that she wasn't going to get any work at all done in the library.

Sighing, she dropped her book back down onto the table and straightened in her seat. Zabini, though, was no longer at the table next to hers. His books were still scattered haphazardly on the surface, his bag hanging askew on the back of the chair, but Zabini himself was nowhere to be seen.

Curious, Hermione scanned the room, keeping her glance as furtive as possible. She jumped when two warm hands unexpectedly landed on her shoulders.

"We need to talk, Hermione," he said gruffly.

Hermione grew rigid at the sound of his voice, although she felt slightly gratified that he'd apparently been aware of her the whole time. "I've got nothing to say to you, Blaise."

"Hermione," Zabini said, his tone edging very close to a plea.

Hermione bit her lip to keep her resolve from faltering. She wanted to listen to him. She wanted to believe every word that slipped from his nearly perfectly shaped lips. But her trust and her confidence had been, if not shattered, cracked almost irreparably.

"Will you at least look at me?" he ground out.

"Just leave me alone, Blaise," she whispered brokenly.

"Fine," Zabini growled, "but you can't keep pushing me away, Hermione."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not."

"You are," he argued harshly, squeezing her shoulders beneath his hands. "For Merlin's sake, stop being so bloody stubborn and listen to me." When she remained steadfastly silent, he cursed and strode angrily away. He gathered his books together and, with one last disgusted glance at her over his shoulder, left the library.

She suspected it was a sign of emotional distress that all she could really process at the moment, as the door swung shut behind him, was that he filled out his jeans admirably with his tight Quidditch bum. Hermione sighed and sank her head miserably onto the scarred surface of the table, rolling her forehead against the cool wood. She was being punished. Surely, she'd done something horrible in a past life and was being punished for it. There was no other explanation.

******

"Explain to me what we're doing again?" Ron whispered, pressing back into the shadows of the darkened corridor.

Harry frowned. "We're spying on Zabini."

"Yes, but why?"

"To find out what's going on between him and Hermione," Harry said in a frustrated hiss.

"But why would spying on Zabini tell us anything?" Ron puzzled.

"It's got to tell us something."

"Well, yes, I suppose spying on anyone would tell you something," Ron agreed. "But really, I think spying on them together would be more useful."

"They're never together anymore," Harry said, exasperated.

Ron smiled smugly. "Exactly."

"Exactly, what?" a voice whispered behind them.

Both boys spun swiftly, squinting into the shadows. "Who's there?" Harry demanded, clutching his wand firmly. "Lumos."

Blaise Zabini held his hand up to shade his eyes in the wake of Harry's glowing wand tip.

Ron turned ruefully to Harry. "Don't think we've got this spying thing down quite right," he whispered.

Harry ignored Ron, narrowing his gaze at Zabini. "How did you get down here?" he asked, knowing that they'd made sure this particular corridor had a dead end before stationing themselves near the Potions classroom.

Zabini dropped his hand and rolled his eyes. "Really," he drawled, "I thought you two would've figured out by now what the snake at the end of the hall stood for."

Harry frowned in puzzlement and Ron gave him a blank stare.

"Snake statue? Slytherin common room? Any of this making sense to you now?" He shook his head in disgust. "Not that it matters. What are you doing down here?"

"Er..." Ron started, biting the inside of his cheek as he searched his mind for possible explanations, "nothing?"

Harry groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, briefly dislodging his glasses. He glanced over at Zabini, took in the Slytherin's slightly haggard appearance; the smudges beneath his eyes, the gaunt hallows at his cheeks. He didn't seem to be fairing that much better than Hermione. "Look, Zabini," Harry said, "We're worried about Hermione. She's acting... odd."

"Say," Ron piped in, "You didn't beat Hermione in Arithmancy just to rub it in her face, did you?"

Zabini's eyes widened. "No."

Ron snapped his fingers and muttered, "I knew it."

"Is that what she thinks?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "I don't mean to pry," he said, holding his hands up, palms out, "but I think maybe you should talk to her."

"Don't you think I've tried?" Zabini snarled.

"Well, try harder," Harry retorted.

"She won't listen to me," Zabini countered, shaking his head.

"Make her listen."

Zabini growled low in his throat. "How do you propose I do that? Nothing seems to be working," he continued, frustration leaking into his voice. "I actually follow one of her Organizational Lists for once, get good grades, and she thinks I'm doing it to one up her. I confront her and she won't even look at me. I've told her I love her, damn it, what more can I do?"

Harry and Ron stared silently at Zabini. Finally, Ron cleared his throat and said, "Mate, you're getting a bit wound up about this..."

Zabini looked ready to snap, his face turning the shade of dangerous red Harry had previously only seen on a Weasley, and, reverting to DADA tactics, he quickly put in, "You're going about this the wrong way, Zabini. You've got to break down her defenses before hitting her with your own spell."

Intrigued, Zabini cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. "Expelliarmus?"

Harry nodded. "Leave her vulnerable for an attack."

"Are you talking about hexing Hermione?" Ron asked, incredulous.

Ignoring Ron, Zabini rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'm going to need to get her alone, then. No distractions."

"I think we can figure something out," Harry said, rocking back on his heels.

"Harry," Ron said, bouncing his gaze between the two boys. "Have you lost your mind?"

Harry clapped his hand on Ron's shoulder. "You're missing the big picture, Ron. Admitting she has a problem is the first step."

"I resent being called a problem," Zabini said, but with a bit of a sly turn of his lips. He finally had some hope. If he could get Hermione to admit she loved him, she'd be hard pressed to ignore his own professions. He was willing to play a little dirty to get what he wanted. Hell, he was always willing to play dirty if a prize was in reach.

Ron kept his mouth shut, but scowled warily over at Zabini as he and Harry discussed their nefarious - at least in his opinion - plans. The wolfish grin on Zabini's face had him half convinced he should warn Hermione that something was up. But Harry was involved, he thought. It couldn't be that bad. Still, he moved a few feet away from them, not at all anxious to overhear them chatting about Hermione's downfall.

Harry glanced over at him and caught his mutinous expression. "It's about love, Ron," he insisted.

Only slightly mollified, Ron snorted. Although, he figured it might benefit him to listen in - Hannah had been giving him the runaround for months. Ron, unfortunately, knew next to nothing about love. "All right, then," he said, grudgingly. "What do you have planned...?"

******

Ginny was considerably more mellow when she went in search of Zabini again. She'd spent a wonderful, lazy afternoon with Malfoy and her mood was decidedly fluffier. Maybe she'd cut Zabini a little slack; let him explain himself first. And then she'd kill him.

When she finally got to the library, however, all she found was Hermione, slumped down in her seat, biting the end of her quill and staring blankly at Madame Pince as she straightened a row of books.

She decided right there and then that killing Zabini was entirely the wrong way to go. What she had to do, she resolved, was make him grovel at her friend's feet. The flip side of that, of course, was that she had to make Hermione willing to forgive him. "Hermione?" she queried, sidling up next to her.

Hermione slowly turned her head to look at Ginny, her eyes red-rimmed from suppressed tears. "Hullo, Ginny," she said dully.

Ginny quickly took the seat across from her friend. "What's happened?"

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Stupid?" Ginny thought those were the dumbest words to ever pass Hermione's lips, but she wisely kept that bit to herself. "Why in the world would you ever ask that?"

"Zabini got two whole points higher than me in Arithmancy."

Ginny arched a brow at Hermione's childish tone. "This isn't about Arithmancy," she said, silently thanking Merlin that her and Malfoy's relationship wasn't nearly so complicated. "Hermione," Ginny said firmly, "I'm going to make this as simple as possible. Do you love Zabini?"

Hermione flinched at Ginny's direct questioning. "Yes," she said, her voice small.

Ginny nodded. "All right, then. What, exactly, would it take for you to forgive him?"

"I don't need to forgive him," Hermione said briskly, her back suddenly broomstick straight. "I just need him to stop lying to me."

"Or maybe," Ginny suggested gently, "you need to believe him."

"But how? After all that he's done? And let's face it, we'd don't exactly fit, he and I. He's a..." Hermione fumbled about for an adjective to sum up the total of his magnificent parts; the handsome planes of his face, the loosely curled black hair that tended to fall over his right eye, the broad shoulders and solid, six-foot frame, the smooth expanse of tanned skin. "He's a blue-eyed god and I'm a squat hag," she exclaimed bitterly.

"Squat hag?" Ginny blinked. "Have you actually been listening to Seamus' babble? Hermione, love, you realize he calls me Flame Head, don't you?"

"Flame Head isn't so bad," Hermione argued.

"And he's named Lavender, Gigantor, and Parvati, Tweedle Dumb," Ginny continued. "He's got a horrid nickname for everyone. Is it any wonder he can't get a date to save his life?"

Hermione's mouth twitched and then spread into a reluctant grin.

"You are not a squat hag," Ginny said emphatically.

"Fine," Hermione agreed. "But really, why would he want me if he could have you? You're tall and lovely and sweet and you don't shove lists in people's faces and hustle them into study sessions..."

Ginny let Hermione drone on about her supposedly better qualities, which didn't seem all that better to her - she'd always wished she'd been born more subdued and focused, like her friend - and refrained from pointing out that Zabini could most assuredly not have her. Not if Malfoy had anything to say about it. And, judging from that afternoon's performance, he would have plenty.

"What?" Hermione asked, biting into Ginny's musings. "What's the grin for?"

"Nothing," Ginny said, shaking her head. "You know, I could draw up an entire list right now of all the reason's Zabini could possibly be smitten with you. But I won't. It would mean much more coming from him."

Hermione sank her head into her hands, sighing morosely. "I just can't believe what he says anymore, Gin. He's a Slytherin. I'll never forget that fact again."

******

Hermione came awake slowly, stretching her body languidly against the cool sheets, widening her mouth in a large and surely unattractive yawn.

"Hermione?"

She fluttered open her eyes and gave Zabini a sleepy smile, snuggling deeper into the covers and reveling in the warmth of his... Hermione snapped upright with an indignant squeak. "What are you doing?" she cried.

Zabini placed his hands on either side of her hips, swiftly moving to straddle her upper thighs and effectively pinning her legs to the bed. "Making you listen to me," he replied calmly.

"Are you insane? You can't just sneak in... here..." She trailed off, glancing around at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Blaise, what have you done?"

"Made damn sure you can't squirm away," he growled.

The draperies surrounding her bed were pulled open, letting a damp spring breeze float over their bodies. The first fingers of light from a fiery orange sun striated the low horizon, but the sky was still blue-black and dotted with stars. "But... we're on top of the castle!" she exclaimed.

"The Owlry, to be exact," he said, a low hoot from an owl returning from his hunt unwittingly proving his words.

"How did you manage to get me, and my bed, on top of the Owlry?" She gazed up at him, her eyes wide, slightly stunned that he'd go through such trouble to get her undivided attention.

He shook his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I have my ways."

"Undo this, Zabini," Hermione demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

He arched a mocking brow. "You should know by now that I don't take orders."

"Fine, I'll do it myself. Where's my wand?" She twisted her torso, groping the covers for her wand and knowing without being told that it wasn't there, or anywhere near. Now she was mad. She bucked up against him, and Zabini, not expecting her maneuver, shifted just enough so she could slip out from under him.

"Not so fast, Granger," he said, snatching her wrist before she could roll off the edge of the bed.

"Let go," she yelped, twisting her arm to loosen his hold. "Zabini, you ass, let me go!"

He gripped her firmly and pulled her back over to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, but she wasn't about to give in so easily. She kicked her legs back and smiled in grim satisfaction as her heel connected with his shin. He grunted and flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face into her pillows.

She struggled madly, turning her face to the side to gulp air. "Trying to suffocate me now?" she gasped.

"Are you going to calm down?"

"No," she growled.

Slipping his arms underneath her, he hoisted her up into his lap, breathing hard when he finally managed to still her, tucking her head under his chin. Disarm her. Okay, so simply changing the scene hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped.

**

"What're they doing?" Ginny hissed, leaning out the Owlry window. They were stationed on a platform at the very top of the west tower, perched precariously on the topmost opening, and she had, at that moment, one of Ron's ankles in a firm grip as he stood on the sill and peered over the top of the tower. Harry had the other one.

"Erm... arguing, it looks like. And... Jesus, Hermione's got a vicious right hook. Uh oh, I hope Zabini doesn't... Ow," he finished in a small voice.

**

Zabini clenched his teeth and concentrated on breathing. Luckily, her knee hadn't connected directly, but it was close enough to make his vision fail for a split second and to make him completely incapable of speech.

"Blaise? Blaise, are you alright?"

Hermione appeared above him, her face anxious and pale. He groaned.

"Really, Blaise, it wasn't that hard a hit," she said, but her voice lacked conviction. She shifted closer to him. "Blaise?"

"I'm fine," he breathed. "Just... stay where you are." He placed his hand on her thigh to keep her from leaning into him.

Her eyes grew shiny and she gave a soft sniffle. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he said, pushing her away as he struggled into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. He placed his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. "This isn't going to work, is it?"

**

"What'd he say?" Harry asked, tugging on the hem of Ron's trousers.

Ron glanced down at them. "He said it wasn't going to work."

"Not going to work?"

"It bloody well better work," Ginny said darkly. "After all this trouble we've gone through. I'll sic Malfoy on him if he messes this up."

Harry gave her a quizzical frown. "What's Malfoy got to do with this?"

**

Zabini shifted and gazed over his shoulder at Hermione. She looked so unhappy. He liked it better when she was hitting him. "This doesn't have anything to do with Ginny anymore, you know."

Hermione remained silent, her brows drawn together and her mouth grim.

He turned around to face her fully. "You have to know that, Hermione. Even if you don't care for me at all, you've got to know that I didn't do all this for Ginny." His voice was getting slightly thick with desperation. "Right now, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. Or anything." God, he was doing this all backwards... she was supposed to open up to him first. "I don't care about anything else. I don't care if you insist on walking away from me now, as long as you know that I really love you. Please just say you believe me."

**

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, incredulous. "You're dating Malfoy? Didn't he just call you a skinny-arsed bitch yesterday?"

**

"I... I'm not sure what to believe, Blaise," she said slowly, moving closer to the edge of the bed, her knees brushing against his. "You said--"

"I was being honest," he cut in quickly, not wanting to hear his own folly thrown back at him. Taking one of her small hands in his, he said, "I just wanted everything to be perfect... to be right between us."

"But you lied before," she said, her eyes welling with tears. "How could you do that to me?"

**

"Hermione's crying!" Ron stage whispered down to them. "Hey, what're you two arguing about?"

"Your sister," Harry replied, nodding his head derisively in Ginny's direction, "is snogging Malfoy."

"What?" Ron shouted, nearly losing his balance on the sill.

**

"I was a stupid git. And you were... lovely." He lifted his hand and brushed away a tear with his thumb. "You still are," he gave her a small smile, "even all soggy with tears."

She made a half-hearted attempt to push his hand away, but it really felt too wonderful against her cheek. "You're being very un-Slytherin, you know," she whispered.

**

"You are not going out with Malfoy, Gin," Ron said emphatically.

Ginny laughed up at him.

"Laugh all you want, Gin. It's not changing a thing." He nodded to Harry. "Harry, you in for a little bloodshed? Specifically of the Malfoy type?"

Ginny ignored his threat - which she knew all to well he wouldn't be able to carry out, since she'd transfigure him into a monkey before she'd let him near Malfoy - and leaned out the window again. "Are you going to tell us what's going on up there, or not?"

**

Zabini dropped his hand and stood up. "I'll fix all this and get your bed back to the dorms," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and averting his eyes.

"Okay," she said softly.

He flinched involuntarily at her quick agreement. "I'll get you your wand, too," he went on.

Swallowing hard, she gazed at his face in profile against the dawn, studying the pinked light curving under his jaw and the shadows that hooded his eyes.

He took her silence as acquiescence and nodded curtly in her direction before turning to stride to the end of the tower.

"Blaise."

He froze at the sound of her voice, barely above a whisper and brought to him on the slight morning breeze.

**

"You're not getting off the hook now, no matter what's going... on... Oi!"

"What?" Harry asked excitedly, yanking once again on Ron's trouser leg.

Ron kicked out slightly. "Stop that or you'll make me fall."

"What is it, Ron? What's happened?" Ginny asked, scrambling up on the sill to join her brother.

"Gin, get down! What're you doing? You'll make us both fall!"

Ginny gave Ron a withering glare. "You're rubbish at commentating, Ron. Just let me look."

"I want to see, too!" Harry exclaimed.

"Fine," Ron bit out, disgruntled. "Join the party, Harry. We're all going to end up splattered on the ground anyhow."

Harry clutched Ron's trousers and pulled himself up. Soon, all three Gryffindors were gripping the top of the castle tightly, peering out onto the tower roof.

**

"Blaise," Hermione said again, this time slightly louder and more forceful.

He turned slowly, his breath held.

"Don't leave."

"Don't?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "Please don't leave me."

Blaise stared at her intently, trying to read the emotions playing across her face. "Why?" he asked.

Hermione blushed scarlet and she bit her lip, dropping her gaze to her hands. She took a deep breath and clenched her fists together.

"Hermione?"

She lifted her head slowly, her eyes soft as they caught and held his. "Because I believe you, Blaise. And because..."

"Yes?" Blaise prompted, a smile now hovering around his lips.

"Because I do love you. You know I do," she said in a rush, pressing her palms to her hot cheeks.

"Now I do."

**

Ginny sighed. "Oh, that's marvelous. That's absolutely the most romantic thing I've ever seen. Don't you think so? Don't you think it's... just...?" Ginny paused, her eyes going wide. "Oh. My."

"Erm..." Ron shifted back and forth on his feet. "Does anyone else feel just a tad...?"

"Uncomfortable?" Harry supplied.

"Voyeuristic?" Ginny suggested.

"Disgusted," Ron concluded.

Although none of them seemed able to rip their eyes away from the sight.

"Um..."

"Perhaps we should leave..."

"In a minute..."

"Harry!" Ginny hissed.

Harry blushed. "Sorry."

The three remained quiet for a few more moments.

"We really should leave," Ginny said finally. Firmly.

Both boys nodded, their eyes fixed in mute horror and fascination at the scene unfolding before them.

"I mean it. Let's go." She took hold of Ron's arm and urged him back inside, then did the same to Harry. She sat down on the edge of the sill, swinging her legs back and forth. "Well."

"Yes. Well," Harry said.

"Now, Gin," Ron started sternly.

Ginny hopped off the window ledge. "If you say one word, one word about Malfoy, Ron, I swear--"

"Malfoy," Ron continued, in total disregard of his imminent death at Ginny's hands, "is pure evil."

Ginny sniffed. "I'm well aware of his faults, Ron."

"Faults? Faults?" he sputtered.

She gave him an exasperated sigh and started down the rickety stairs that rimmed the tower. "He may be family soon," she threw over her shoulder. "You're just going to have to learn to get along with him."

"Family?" Ron choked out, a hand pressed to his heart. He staggered over to the open window, gulping the fresh morning air. "Oh, God, I'm dying."

Ginny grinned ear-to-ear as she trooped down the Owlry steps. Well, it was all out in the open now. The Kneazle was out of the bag. She couldn't wait to tell Malfoy; make him squirm a little at the thought of being ripped to shreds by a pack of indignant, furious Weasleys. She rubbed her palms together in anticipation. Ah, love was sweet. Glorious and insane, but sweet.