“Blaise and I were not dating,” said Draco. “We had planned to attend the reception together, as friends, but since she has found love — albeit somewhat farther down the food chain than I had hoped — I can hardly stand in her way.”
“Your forbearance is appreciated,” said Blaise, sounding very Slytherin for a moment. Then she grinned. “Of course, us going to the reception as friends didn’t stop you trying to get my knickers off in the carriage on the way over.”
“I was just testing whether you were still susceptible to my charms,” said Draco loftily. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m not sure I can say the same about you,” said Ron, eyeing Draco as if the idea of knocking him down a flight of stairs was distinctly appealing.
“I do love it when you’re all possessive like that,” said Blaise, slinking over to Ron and putting her arms around him. Ron looked pleased, if slightly embarrassed, by this public show of affection. Blaise glanced over her shoulder at the others, her lips curling into a smile. “There’s about to be a certain amount of snogging in this room,” she informed them. “If you don’t want to watch, I suggest you leave now.”
Harry, Hermione, Draco and Ginny exited the room so swiftly that there was a minor bottleneck at the door, resolved only when Harry put his hands on Draco’s back and pushed. They all emerged into the hallway at high speed, Harry reaching back to slam the door shut behind them.
“Honestly!” said Hermione, looking flabbergasted. “Blaise Zabini and Ron.
Who would have thought? — I mean, honestly.”
“Why not Blaise?” said Ginny. “She’s really nice.”
“She’s a Slytherin,” said Harry, looking dubious; then, catching Draco’s look, added hastily, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He grinned. “Some of my best friends are Slytherins.”
“Nice save, Potter,” said Draco. Then, glancing past Harry, added, “Isn’t that your door, Ginny?”
She followed his glance. “Yes — mine’s the room next to Blaise’s.”
“It looks like someone left you a note.” He pointed, and Ginny saw that he was right — there was a folded square of parchment wedged into the doorframe.
“That’s odd,” she said. She bent to retrieve the paper, conscious that the others were watching her curiously. There was nothing written on the outside of it, not even her name. She unfolded it. Dear Ginny, it began.
“It’s from Seamus,” she said, surprised, and rose to her feet, still reading.
When she was done, she read it again, just to be sure. Then she raised her eyes, slowly, and looked at the others. “It’s a goodbye note,” she said slowly. “He’s leaving.”
“I guess when he said ‘leaving’ he meant ‘already left’,” said Draco, dryly.
The four of them stood in the doorway of the guest room that Seamus had been staying in, staring around them. The room was neat as a pin, the bed made and the towels folded neatly on a chair. All of Seamus’ belongings were gone.
“But why?” said Harry, sounding totally bewildered. “Why would he just leave like this?” He ran a hand through his mop of dark hair. “Should we
… owl him or something?”
“No,” said Ginny, so abruptly that it took her a moment to realize someone else had spoken at the same time she had. Hermione.
“No,” Hermione said again, this time quietly. “If he wants to go, let him go.”
Ginny stared at her for a moment. “You went after him at the wedding,” she said. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing,” said Hermione, but she flushed a dark red when she spoke, and couldn’t seem to meet Ginny’s eyes.
“You’re a terrible liar, Hermione,” Ginny said coldly, then whirled and walked out of the room, clutching Seamus’ note — now a balled-up knot of paper — inside her tightly closed fist. She kicked open her bedroom door and stalked inside, turning to slam the door behind her.
It didn’t close. Someone was standing on the other side of it, holding it open. Ginny pulled her hand back with a scowl, and the door opened.
“Draco,” she said, wearily. “What do you want?”
He looked at her, then down at the note in her hand. “So,” he said, bluntly. “Is he gone for good?”
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped. There was a sharp, burning feeling in the back of her throat — she wasn’t sure if it was tears, or something else. She was very conscious of the room behind her, especially the flask of love potion sitting out on her bedside table in plain view.
“Let me guess,” said Draco. “He needs some time to think.”
“Not in so many words,” she said, grudgingly. She wanted to blame this on him, somehow, but the phrases in Seamus’ letter rose up behind her eyes, unbidden, I love you, but I can’t do this. Something’s wrong and we both know it. I don’t know how long I’m leaving for but I’ll come back. It always comes back to that, she thought tiredly, doesn’t it? Those four words. I love you, but.
“If he’s gone off to think, it could be quite some time,” said Draco, his light eyes glittering. “Finnegan’s brain always struck me as a bit like the Hogwarts Express — reliable, but slow.”
“Unlike yours,” said Ginny tightly, “which, if you’re going to stick with the metaphor, is more along the lines of a rural Welsh railway.”
He widened his eyes at her. “How’s that?”
“Narrow, one-track and dirty.” She felt herself smile at him, almost against her will. “Surely you’ve heard that one before.”
“I am not narrow-minded,” he said. “Though the other two…”
