Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or places mentioned, only the plot from my lovely imagination.

A/N: This story comes from a challenge set by Wiccan98. I'm rating it M for some language and references - no smut in this. I think it's a bit fluffy. So yeah, happy reading - and review! This is my first published BlaiseGinny - I'm so happy!!! This is also dedicated to Wiccan98 for inspiring me to write and publish my first BlaiseGinny!!!

The alarm on the bedside table went off, and I automatically opened my eyes, regretting it instantly. The light burned, and my head started pounding instantly. What the hell had happened last night? I vaguely remembered the party; I mean, sure it had been something that almost all students would remember, had the professors found out?

I vaguely registered the person lying next to me, his dark hair mussed up, both hands shielding his face from the light, green cover draped over him casually, barely covering his well toned body. I smiled sleepily and rolled over to spoon him, wrapping my arm round him.

"Dean, when did you get green sheets, I didn't think you could choose the colour?"

"Who the fuck is Dean?" answered the male, and instantly I knew this wasn't a joke. That voice was not the voice of my boyfriend; it was much smoother, much deeper. It most definitely wasn't Dean.

I reacted much too quickly, and practically jumped out of the bed, clutching at myself to make sure I was still dressed. I was; but barely.

My dress was twisted so badly it was hitched up so that it almost revealed everything, and my underwear was gone. Oh shit.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked, my voice shaking with apprehension.

He turned over, and I instantly knew the face.

Blaise Zabini.

Slytherin seventh year. This meant only one thing. I was in a dorm with five boys who hate my family, and would gladly hex me without a second thought. I was breathing heavily by this point. Gods, had I cheated on Dean? Or was this all just a huge misunderstanding.

"I think you know who I am Weasley – interesting to see you here in my bed,"

"Interesting! What the hell is interesting about this?"

"You're a Weasley – I think it speaks for itself,"

"I – Gods I just – did we have sex?" I asked, cringing in anticipation of the answer, praying for a no.

"I don't know – do you feel like we had sex?"

My mouth dropped open, had he really just asked me that. Did I feel like; well how would I know. Clearly I had been drunk, and unless he forced it on me...well I don't think I would have any pain, but my underwear was gone.

"I don't know, maybe I should just go and we should just f—"

"Well well well, Blaise, what have we got here. You brought the Weasel back for some fun"

I stopped dead in bending over to look for my underwear, closing my eyes, screaming internally. This was not fair. Everything seemed to be against me now; the whole school would know about this now.

"I don't know if we had fun, I certainly don't remember – I don't even remember talking to her,"

"Doesn't mean you didn't fuck her," Draco answered, and I chanced a glance upwards, to see him standing by his bed, clad only in Boxers.

Any other time, I think I would have been speechless – but right now, I was just; I had to get out of there. Grabbing my bag and slipping into my shoes – thank god for flats - not caring about the underwear, I glanced one last time at Blaise, who was looking at me strangely, and ran.

I ran through the halls, fixing my dress as I ran – wondering what exactly happened last night.

I was never going to drink again.

18 hours earlier...

Ginny slipped into the sleek black dress she had chosen for the party tonight. It was taking place in the Room of Requirement – one of the seventh years had arranged it, and everyone in their sixth and seventh year was invited. Everyone, from every house.

Her hair and makeup were simple – just straight hair, a little bit of eye shadow, some eye liner, and she was ready. Her friend linked arms with her and they headed out of the common room, walking quietly in flat shoes; heels were too loud for them to walk in.

When they reached the room, the party was in full swing. They donned the masks that were compulsory for the party, and smiling at each other, headed into the crowds to find their dates. Ginny was meeting Dean – her boyfriend of 3 months. They had gotten back together when things with Harry didn't work out; Harry was in here somewhere too, with Ron and Hermione as usual.

She peered through the crowd, spotting him at the drinks table, leaning against the table, looking through the crowd. She sidled up to him, smiling up at him when she reached him. He looked so handsome in a dark shirt and jeans.

"Hey,"

"Hey, how are you?" he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder instantly and pecking her cheek in the small area of skin that was left exposed.

"I'm good, how are you?"

"Better now that you're here; want to dance?"

They had made their way onto the floor, and wrapped in each other's arms had danced all night. It had been perfect. At some point in the night, they started drinking – someone had spiked the punch, and the more she drank the better she felt about things.

Their dancing was getting more intimate, she was moving closer to him now, moving herself against his body rather than alongside it. Strange feelings were coursing through her, so when he finally kissed her, she was so elated she turned to jelly.

This kiss was different, it was passionate, and she wanted him.

More drinks were consumed; she danced with different people, but the whole time she was looking out for him, making sure that she could get back to him. In their final dance together she whispered in his ear that she wanted him. He wasted no time, moving swiftly out of the room, kissing her the whole time.

She was locked in a tidal wave of feeling; she barely registered where they were going. Her mind felt fuzzy, she was sleepy, but the hand roaming her body made her feel like she didn't want to sleep. She wanted more.

She remembered entering a room, a door banging shut, she fell back onto the bed and he moved with her, pulling her mask off, and then things became fuzzy, and she blanked out, lost to the alcohol; unaware of the rest of the events of the evening.


I walked through the corridors, six days after the Blaise incident. Things were bad. Dean had found out – I had to tell him, I couldn't lie to him anymore about things; he didn't believe me when I said I didn't remember what had happened. It had ended messily – thinking about it still hurt slightly, though I guess I knew we wouldn't last.

I had played the night over in my head so many times, yet still I couldn't find an answer. How had I not seen the differences – the different voice, the muscle tone – height, the way he moved? It was all so different to Dean. Yet I had failed to see that it wasn't my boyfriend.

What kind of a person was I exactly...?

I couldn't have blamed the alcohol, which came later. But that was what was frustrating me – I couldn't remember if I had slept with Blaise. How I couldn't remember...I didn't fully understand it. But I knew that I didn't know what had happened; and it seemed neither did he.

It was just a big black empty space in my memory.

As I walked through the halls that morning I could feel eyes on me, but it was a common thing nowadays. It had spread around the school that I had been in the Slytherin dorms. The girls of course were all jealous. I was probably one of few females who had had the privilege of seeing both Draco and Blaise in only their underwear.

Not that I was rejoicing in the fact. It was one of those moments I wished I could forget – but for now I seemed to run into one of the Slytherin boys at least once a day. Malfoy – smirking and nudging everyone around him. Blaise, who just looked at me as I went past, making me blush as only a Weasley can.

It bothered me, because try as I might; I could not forget the black haired boy so easily. The lean shoulders and toned stomach, how smooth his skin was, the feel of his lips on mine, and his hands on my body. I blushed from head to toe every time I even thought of his hands roaming my body as we danced that night. That uncomfortable wetness that I associated with knowing that me and him could have slept together.

I was definitely losing it.

So it was carefully that I made my way back from Potions that afternoon, glad to be done with classes after the end of the day. Slughorn had wanted to speak to me about my latest assignment; kept me back five minutes, so I was now walking alone through the dungeons.

I was being careful, but not careful enough; I didn't see the hand come out, didn't feel the grip on my robes, until I was already in the classroom, staring into a pair of vivid blue eyes. Blaise, he had me cornered, and I didn't know why.

"Hello Weasley,"

"What do you want?" I said, trying to sound brave, knowing that I'm anything but.

"I wonder if you could guess." He said, lowering his hands and letting me go, pacing into the room and turning swiftly and looking at me once more with that piercing gaze. I shuddered involuntarily.

"I wonder if you can tell me why I can't seem to stop thinking about you?"

His words shocked me – thinking about me?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Weasley – that your pretty little face won't get out of my head. Everywhere I go I see you – I think about you quite a lot, and I find myself wondering even now; what exactly happened on that night, which is not like me...normally, I wouldn't care..." he said, slowly, as if every word was carefully thought out.

"I don't know why you keep thinking about me,"

"I have a theory – I would like to test it."

"And what is that t—"

I was cut off abruptly by a pair of lips pressing against my own. Somehow in the seconds following his statement and my answer, he had crossed the room and captured me in a kiss so searing that I'm sure if he hadn't been holding my arms, I would have collapsed.

Slowly his tongue probed for entrance, which I eagerly allowed him, draping my arms over his shoulders and allowing him to ravish my body. I felt a sense of foreboding, but how could I care.

I knew who he was, yet for some reason when he kissed me – I just didn't care. I wanted him, I wanted to know him, and I wanted to be with him...

He pulled back, much to my chagrin, and smiled slightly, raising his eyebrow.

"I was right!" he said, laughing slightly.

"Right about what?"

"That you were different, that you weren't like those other girls. Right in thinking that I want you; not just your body – but I want you, all of you,"

I was...gobsmacked was an adequate term, from the way I could feel my jaw slackening as I let my jaw drop in the most unattractive way possible.

"What...what the fuck?" I asked, unable to form any other thoughts, registering that my hands were still wrapped around his neck. I tried to withdraw them but he stopped me, placing his hands on my wrists, squeezing lightly and running his thumbs over the thin flesh. I shivered.

"Do you not want me?" he asked, his voice a whisper against my cheek,

Could I resist? His voice was like liquid velvet, and I felt myself breaking with every word. Would it really be so bad to give him a chance?

"What if this is all a joke?" I asked, running my lips lightly along his throat, feeling him swallow and shiver.

"Is the little Gryffindor scared of the big bad Slytherin?"

"Not a chance," I said, twisting us around so that he was against the wall and I was pining him, catching his lips hungrily with my own.

I didn't know how it would all end...

But I was going to have some fun finding out.