Written for the Almost Kiss Competition run by HedwigBlack. It's short, but I like it anyway. :) As we all know, Harry Potter is not mine. Remember, reviews make an author super happy!
Raw
Their relationship isn't beautiful. It isn't polished and pristine, something shiny to put up on a wall and leave there on display. It's raw and honest and sexy as hell.
They don't ever kiss. Blaise would never dare kiss her. A kiss means much more than a simple expression of affection. It implies love, and caring, and commitment, and everything their relationship is not. So they don't kiss.
They fuck, though. It's not making love, because that would be too pure. When they're together, all fiery hair and dark, smooth skin, it's passionate perfection, a union of two souls so alike that they differ. And Ginny has to admit, she almost likes it better this way.
Sure, it gets lonely from time to time. But in the darkest hour of night, when she's clutching at Blaise's back and screaming to high heaven, she can't bring herself to regret it. It's not a real relationship. It's a comradeship, a joining of two lonely people who can't bring themselves to trust one another, not just yet. It's a broken piece in her heart that she doesn't want to lose just yet. It's everything she ever needed, and it happened to come in a man called Blaise Zabini.
Blaise is honest. Blaise is brutal. Blaise knows the real world, and he welcomes it with open arms. Blaise is not perfect. Blaise is not kind. Blaise is nothing like Dean or Michael or Harry. Blaise is a stormy harbor, her place of safety and her place of danger.
But they don't kiss. Because a kiss would mean too much. And their relationship is not a relationship of kisses or hugs or gifts or dates. Their relationship is a quiet meeting in the back of an alley and a luxurious bed surrounded by darkness.
And yet one day, as Blaise sleeps after a night together, Ginny leans forward and plants a soft kiss on his forehead. The subtle move excites her simply because of its danger. But as she leans towards Blaise's warm lips, lips she's so familiar with that have yet to grace her own, Blaise stirs, opens his eyes groggily, and slowly pushes her back, keeping her at a distance. The message is clear enough. So Ginny doesn't actually kiss him, but instead falls down next to him on the silky sheets lining the bed, curling in on herself, never touching him.
Because Blaise is fire and ice and rain and thunder. Blaise is a hawk and a wolf and venomous snake. Blaise is a forest fire and a hurricane and a raging flash flood. Blaise is not kisses and hugs and loving affection.
But Blaise is home, and Ginny loves him anyway.
