So this is a one-sided Blaise/Ginny. I can't believe I'm writing this pairing, who would've thunk?
"Zabini!" a voice from the front of the room wheezed. Languidly, Blaise raise his head to address the voice.
"Yes, Professor?"
"Take this to McGonagall. It's a list of those in her house who have recently earned a dentenion." said Amycus Carrow, giving a maliscious look to Neville Longbottom who simply rolled his eyes. Blaise heard the Gryffindor girl behind her suck in her breath sharply at the idiot boy's impudence.
He meandered from his seat in the back of the room up front and ripped the note from the wheezy professor's hand. He left the room without another word, listening as Carrow turned his attention back to the class, his voice drifting down the corridor.
"Now, we'll be administering detention for the next twenty minutes. Goyle, start us off and…" the rest of the sentence was drowned out by the screams of the third year that had been anxiously standing in the corner for the first half of class.
Blaise walked down the hall purposefully toward Gryffindor tower. He was happy to get out of class. He hated giving detention, especially to the younger kids. He was in seventh year for Merlin's sake. He should not be torturing third years.
He heard her before he saw her. A faint moan around the corner. It wasn't the way he was heading but his curiosity got the better of him.
He turned the corner to see her staggering out from behind a statue, the one of the one-eye witch. Behind it he knew there was a corridor, which (like any other passage in the school) was guarded by Death Eaters. Ginny Weasley had apparently found this out too.
She was far too thin. Her robes hung so loosely that she appeared to be drowning in them. Her long fiery hair was dirty, held in a dirty, disheveled ponytail. Her face was bruised and battered, with a particularly nasty one on her right temple.
He had seen her every so often during the year, walking defiantly down the hall, head held high. The younger Gryffindors (and quite a few of the older ones) ones looked up to her. She was their spark, the light of the Gryffindor house.
But now it appeared the light had been put out. If he hadn't seen she was so beat up he would've had to assume she was drunk, the way she was staggering about. She gave another step before slumping to the ground with a faint thud. She didn't move.
Blaise struggled with himself for a moment. Why should he help the little blood-traitor? But at the same time, how could he not help someone who looked as if they could kick the bucket at any moment. He sighed and walked over to where she lay collapsed on the floor, cursing his sudden kindness.
He took out his wand and muttered to her. Nothing happened and she remained quite still on the floor. He tried again and again and still nothing. He was growing increasingly worried.
He put his hand to her face, touching the soft freckled skin and pushing the hair out of the way. She looked so calm and innocent and under all the cuts and scratches, he knew she was beautiful.
He would never admit (though he was sure Pansy suspected) that he had always found the youngest Weasley attractive. For one thing, there was the fact that she a Weasley, part of the biggest blood-traitor family probably ever. Then she was a Gryffindor, who as a Slytherin, he was supposed to hate on principle. Oh yes, she also was Harry Potter's girlfriend.
Was. A little annoying voice in his head kept whispering. She was. Blaise shook it off as if it was some irksome fly.
Quickly he looked around the corridor, making sure there was no one near. He bent down and picked her up gently, cradling her in his arms. She was oh so light and he enjoyed how her pale, freckled skin contrasted his own dark skin.
He set of in a brisk walk toward the Hospital Wing, pausing every time he heard a voice and ducking behind a pillar or suit of armor. If anyone saw him (namely, any Slytherin or Gryffindor) he would be royally fucked.
Using his elbow, he pushed open the door to the Hospital Wing.
"Hello? Madam Pompfry?" he whispered. Someone yelped from behind him.
"My word! What happened?" the healer exclaimed stepping out of a storeroom. She took the Weasley girl out of Blaise's arms and for a fleeting moment, he wanted to take her back.
"I'm not really sure… She was just lying there collapsed in the corridor when I found her. I tried to wake her up but, she wouldn't." He received a slightly skeptic look that he choose to ignore.
"Well then. Good thing you found her, I shall inform.."
"NO!" Blaise exclaimed. She simply looked at him. "I mean, um, could you please not tell anyone?"
Madam Pompfry raised her eyebrows in slight disbelief.
"Well alright then, off to class with you."
Blaise reached the door and stopped, leaning on the frame. He thought about class and detentions and death eaters and the beautiful girl who was lying behind him, unconscious. Gulping he turned back around.
"Is it possible that I could stay here? Could you tell Professor Carrow that I felt sick?" (Because he did, sick to his stomach)
The Healer's eyebrows practically hit her hairline but she considered before giving a curt nod and disappearing into her office.
He sat down beside the Weas—Ginny. He ran his hand through her hair and (wondering what the bloody hell had gotten into him) kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he rocked back in his chair, watching her, determined to make sure she woke up.
He had dozed off, dreams flying through his head, all of which involved her. It was pleasant, to be here dreaming, not in class. Until,
"Zabini! What the bloody hell are you doing here?" a voice hissed. Blaise opened one eyes to see two brown ones staring at him, pissed. He sat straight in his chair.
"Well G—Weasley, I wasn't feeling well so I came to the hospital wing. It's not a crime is it?" he said, catching himself, calling her by her surname and putting as much haughtiness into his voice as he could muster.
And it was slowly getting harder.
Ginny glared at him and turned to face the wall. Blaise sat back in the chair and gave a small smile.
She was still the spark.