A/N: as I'm not J., I unfortunately don't own any part of Harry Potter…

It was so typical.

I was invisible, and I loved a guy that didn't even recognise I existed. But its not really love. I could only really, truly love him if it worked both ways. This was just merely some form of infatuation.

It's pretty silly, I know, he's a Slytherin, and I'm a Gryffindor. But not just any Gryffindor, I'm part of the silver trio, and the one and only Fiery Princess. Its rather silly I think, these names that are bestowed upon me, but it makes me laugh, I can always get a good laugh out of it with Neville and Luna, the other member's of "The Silver Trio". It's our last year together, but at least I'll still have Luna.

But it's also his last year. Sure the war's over and all that, but we run in different circles, we're different people. He's different to everyone I know. Perhaps that's why he intrigues me so much.

*

I went down to the library with the intention of doing work, because it just wasn't working in the Gryffindor Common room everyone was being noisy and the desk I had been planning to do my work on faced the window. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but he was out there, playing Quidditch, thus why I found myself retreating to the library.

And all was going well. Like the diligent and interested-in-her-work student that I was, I had finished my essay for charms, and had just started some spare reading from the aptly named 'Book of Jinxes' Fred and George had given me that given me for my 17th, when he walked in.

The silly git, but he was oh-so adorable. Which was why I was trying to subtly look at him over my book. He had obviously just had a shower after Quidditch –his dark brown hair hung in a charmingly messy way around his head, some of it fell enchantingly into his eyes, sticking slightly to his forehead from his shower. His eyes were a deep, chocolate-coloured brown, and his tanned, dark olive coloured skin was visible from were his sleaves were rolled to the elbow. Oh, and he was about 6 foot 2. Picture perfect, in my mind.

I was so surprised at what happened next I forgot to pretend to be reading my book. He sat down on the bench next to me, a satisfied smirk appearing on his face as he caught me out. I merely replied with what I hoped was a dignified nod in his direction.

He didn't open any books, just lounged back, looking at me. Then he spoke.

'When are you going to stop pretending to read your book?'

'What? I have been trying to read it!'

'Well, you're not turning any of your pages, and your eyes seem more focused on me than on it's pages'

'That's because you keep staring at me!' I mentally chided myself, the one time he notices you and lose your cool, no, it was not on. Time to return to one's usually sassy self.

'So, does my lovely, long chestnut red hair tempt you Blaise?' I asked smoothly shutting my book, and playing with a stand in my fingers, as I looked lazily up at him.

'But of course it does Ginny dearest, just as you would love to melt into the pools of my chocolate brown eyes' he replied smirking. His eyes were dancing as he surveyed me, waiting for my reaction.

It caught my attention. So we were playing a game of wits now, were we? Ha. It's my specialty… especially when it has to be seductive, but negligent.

'Melting in the pools of your chocolate brown eyes? Personally I would have gone for being unable to resist immersing my hands in your hair, but… each to their own'

She could feel her heart hammering away in her chest; she didn't think she would have been able to say stuff like this to him. She couldn't believe he was actually noticing her, and when he did he was being ever the smirking and charming Slytherin; and that she was enjoying herself, and that she was being completely and utterly mad for doing so. She couldn't wait till something happened with him; she had craved him, his caress, for too long. She knew something would happen, and soon.

Because it was just so typical, it had to. But just as typically, she didn't guess the ultimate result.

Her mind returned to their conversation.

'Ah, well I thought that would have come after you see, usually one would melt into my eyes, before I draw them in' Blaise slid closer to her 'and tilt their heads like this' he brushed his hand slowly up her arm, up her neck, until he held her jaw gently in his hand. He tilted her face up. And brought his face closer.

She fought to keep her face impassive. She could feel herself giving way to his touch. It made chills run up and down her spine; it made her hair stand on end with anticipation; and she probably figured her pupils were dilated as well.

He really knew how to bring it. It didn't make it any easier that he had been the object of her fascination and barely acknowledged her existence until now. It just intensified the burning she felt towards him.

'Then you would what, go in close; let your lips just hover teasingly above hers? Isn't that rather typical? Admittedly although, at that point my hand would probably be resting on his knee' she slid her hand on his right knee, and turned herself toward him 'and it would probably be sliding upwards…' Her eye's sparkled as she saw his eyes flick down towards where her hand was, where she had indeed slid it up his thigh, and was drawing patterns lightly with her finger.

'Would they now, and of course it's a rather typical move, love, but' moving his face directly over hers he whispered 'wouldn't you say it's rather effective, what I'm doing' he brought his lips closer, and down near the corner of her mouth, he continued in the same, melodic, soft voice, 'it's much like those patterns your tracing on my leg, they let me know exactly how close you are,' her fingers traced upwards even more, but were careful to not make their implied destination, 'and how much closer I'd like them to be'.

Then he finally kissed her.

*

She never wanted to let go of that memory, of his lips finally on hers, even though it was only part of a game, only part of a fancy, it was the only piece of the roguish Slytherin she had.

It was a light kiss, a teasing, tantalizing, temptation, but she had never wanted something more, and now she was left craving more, because she knew there was just so much more. It like how she loved to get every last bit of the chocolate icing from the bowl, she wanted to know, to have, to taste every last inch him.

It was so typical, because he felt the exact same way.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this (if you read it) so please do let me know 