It was all the bloody Weasley twins. Even when they weren't actively declaring war on normalcy and peace and quiet, they still somehow managed to destroy the natural course of events—the way things ought to be—with some uninvited chaos. It was bad enough when they were still at school, sneaking into the kitchen and causing everyone's hair to turn wild shades of neon at lunch. Thanks to the humiliating state of her hair, she'd been forced to run from Seamus and hide in her dorm right before he'd been about to ask her to Hogsmeade! It was worse now that they'd opened their own shop and were spreading their particular brand of mischief like a plague of dragon pox.
She'd been walking out of Madame Malkin's, enjoying the feel of silk running through her palms and imagining the new robes at the Greengrasses' Midsummer Ball, when a blaze of purple leaped into the sky less than a meter away, bursting into an umbrella of crackling, sinking sparks. Shrieking and leaping away, she collided into a taller figure as her robes slipped to the cobbled streets. Staggering to her feet as she simultaneously gasped her apology, the words died on her lips as she saw the dark, slender figure standing poised and positioned as a marble statue, like he hadn't even stumbled.
"Zabini," she greeted him shortly.
"Brown." The arched eyebrows and arrogance perpetually trailing the corners of his mouth insinuated more clearly than any actual words. He casually raked his gaze across her, and the waves of condescension emanating from him flushed her cheeks. Recovering herself with a scornful tilt of her head, she strode off, if not with grave at least with determination, refusing to look back.
That was 5 hours ago, and the encounter was quickly forgotten amidst makeup charms, applying Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, and slipping into the cerulean colored silk. She was standing in the ballroom, surrounded by swirling colors highlighted by the fractured light thrown down from a diamond-encrusted chandelier, reveling in the beauty and sound when she saw him walking by.
"Brown." The smirk was still in place, but the eyes looked slightly glazed and unfocused.
"Are you actually drunk right now?"
"That's the problem with you Gryffindors-so moral and uptight. It's just a bit of Firewhiskey. Try some." The offer was less friendly and more of a sarcastic dare. Under any other circumstances she wouldn't have accepted, but Parvati was still on vacation and she couldn't see anyone else her age nearby. She grabbed the goblet from his hand and gulped a quarter of the glass. She almost choked and her throat was burning, but the surprised and potentially impressed look on Blaise's face definitely compensated. She turned to grab a goblet of her own and walked onto a balcony as Blaise trailed behind. By the time she was halfway through, she felt a little dizzy, and her head felt lighter.
She leaned against the stone wall, next to an alcove covered by layers of red silver and green gauze rippling gently in the light breeze. Lavender realized that Blaise's face was close to hers, and she could see the sharp angles of his cheekbones beneath deep brown eyes illuminated by the soft moonlight. He was looking at her, but without any of the scorn that had seemed to be a permanent fixture of his features. Then he was leaning his head towards her and his lips were touching hers, and he was pushing her into the alcove, their bodies tangling through gauzy fabric. Blaise gripped her hair, pulling back her head so he had full access to all the contours of her neck. He bit her lightly and she yelped quietly. She was increasingly aware of the stringed instruments mingling their sounds with the summer night air and the soft murmur of conversations from people on the far side of the balcony. They were dangerously close to being exposed, separated only from the people dancing and laughing and talking by a thin curtain. It was nerve wracking but also exhilarating, especially with her worry tempered by the Firewhiskey pumping carelessness through her blood and Blaise's tongue and lips moving along her neck and further down as he pulled at the neckline of her robes...
"Alarte Ascendare," Blaise whispered. Suddenly she was floating in the air, head whirling from the alcohol buzz and her sudden horizontal position. Then his fingers were skimming over her legs grazing her calves and tracing his way teasingly up the inside of her thighs. Lavender whimpered as she felt tingles of pleasure sparking up her body. Then Blaise was slipping his fingers inside of her as his tongue massaged her clit. He kept rhythmically pumping his fingers inside of her and tracing her with his tongue until she shuddered, arching her back as she came. With a flick of Blaise's wand she descended slowly to the ground. She fell to the floor when her trembling legs gave way, and Blaise picked her up. He pushed her against the stone wall and slipped inside her while she wrapped her arms around his neck. Gasping each time her back hit the cold stone wall, she buried her head in Blaise's neck and felt his hot, panting breath on her neck. She whimpered as he continued pounding her against the wall, feeling the thickness of him pushing inside of her. Then he groaned quietly and slumped forward, and they both fell to the floor in a sweaty tangle of bodies. By the time they'd put on their clothes and quietly walked out of the alcove, there was no one nearby to even notice were they'd been.
The next few weeks were a flurry of activity with getting ready for school and buying books and supplies and clothes. By the time she saw him again, she was hugging Parvati and they were walking, arm in arm, down the hall to their compartment. Then she heard Malfoy's scornful voice saying something about Ginny Weasley. Parvati wrinkled her nose in disgust, but Lavender turned her head a little too quickly to catch a glimpse of the compartment's occupants.
"Even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!" Blaise's eyes, unreadable, met Lavender's. Then he moved his gaze to a corner of the compartment and scoffed.
"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood-traitor like her whatever she looked like," Zabini said coldly. Lavender felt her cheeks flushing with a mixture of emotions flooding her face too quickly to name. Parvati looked at her curiously.
"You okay, Lav?"
It's fine, they're just always so awful." She sniffed and tossed her hair. "What can you expect from Slytherins though, right?"
The next week she almost collided with him after hours, walking down the corridor towards her. Her uncertainty gave way to fury when she saw that he wasn't even going to so much as glance at her while he walked by. She grabbed his arm to prevent him from walking away. "Shouldn't you be in bed? It's after hours."
"Interesting that you ask that question, particularly given that I don't recall you becoming a prefect this year." He was still refusing to look at her, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere over her shoulder. A light sneaking its way around the corner announced the accompanying footsteps making their way down the corridor. For the first time, Blaise looked concerned. There was a door that Lavender didn't remember seeing before right beside them, and too anxious to puzzle over her sudden salvation, she seized the handle and pulled as they both scrambled inside the room.
It was surprisingly comfortable, with a beautiful soft carpet and a large plush couch dominating the small room lit by the soft light of a single lamp. Too irritated to study her surroundings long, Lavender turned to Blaise.
"What the bloody hell is your problem? You can't just have sex with someone, insult them and then pretend like they never even existed in the first place!"
"Merlin, Brown, get over it. It was just sex and it happened one time. It meant nothing. It was just a drunk mistake sleeping with a blood traitor." Horrified, Lavender felt hot tears welling up in her eyes. Blaise curled his lip in disgust.
"You're almost as good as my mother. She could always cry on command—especially when the fourth one died and the Aurors finally started catching on. She enjoyed using poison…quiet and not at all messy, and sobbing into an open casket made for a better photo opportunity. Your preference is apparently death by suffocation."
"You prat! I am upset because you're a heartless tosser who's clearly too wrapped up in his own issues to be able to recognize genuine emotion when it's coming from a female standing a foot in front of him! Don't you think it's a little strange that you're too antisocial to even have real friends in your own house, much less have a normal, functional relationship with a girl?"
You're not the pure-hearted little Gryffindor you like to think, darling. I saw you eyeing up Weasley. Not that it required anything but the most trivial observational skills, what with you fluttering about like a lovestruck First Year. Convenient, isn't it, that your most recent love interest is a Quidditch Keeper and a member of the Golden Trio?" The last two words came out less as a series of syllables and more as a mixture between a dignified snort and a scoff. "I see that you're moving up in the world, love."
A sharp crack rang out through the room as Lavender's hand connected with the side of Blaise's shocked face. Despite his surprise, he never moved but remained poised as Lavender quivered with anger, lips parted and chest heaving. "You want death by suffocation?" she half challenged, half gasped as she moved her hand from his cheek to his neck. In a burst of anger she pushed Blaise against the wall. Wide-eyed, he grabbed at the wall to steady himself. A mixture of something—a rush of power and satisfaction at breaking his practiced poise or a thrill of passion or pure lust—jolted through her blood and raced up her arms and through her hands. She wrapped one hand through his dark locks and skimmed another searchingly, possessively along the muscles of his arm up to his shoulder and pushed him to the ground.
She uttered "Obscuro," and Blaise was plunged into darkness, his sense of touch heightened as Lavender's hands slid down his chest and wandered up his shirt, moving teasingly down towards the waistband of his paints, lower and lower, but always stopping and moving over his hips and back up the sides of his body. He shuddered from the sensation of Lavender's hands exploring his sensitive sides, the smallest gasp of breath escaping his parted lips in frustration by her teasing. He reached his hand to her head to guide her down, but she jerked it away and slapped him again, hard. Lavender grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, and the stinging sensation merged with a shot of pleasure when Lavender dipped her lips to his neck, grazing and kissing and gently nipping the soft skin as she moved from each little valley of skin up to his ear and down to his chest. Then her she was tracing her mouth down his chest to the waistband of his pants. He heard metallic jangle of his belt coming off and felt her slide his pants off his body. Resting her hand on top of the thin cloth of his boxers, she gently stroked him up and down as her lips moved up his thigh and then to the waistband of his boxers again. He couldn't restrain the low moan, the closest to begging her that his pride would allow. She slid off the thin cloth, and he felt the warmth of her breath and the barest graze of her lips as she moved to his other thigh. Then her tongue was swirling around the tip, and her soft, moist lips were moving up and down, sucking as one hand gently gripped the base of his shaft, moving up and down in tandem with her mouth. She alternated between sucking, twirling her tongue around the tip, and trailing her tongue in longue strokes from the base to the top, gently massaging his balls in one hand as she flickered her amber eyes up, gazing at his parted mouth and half-closed eyes through her eyelashes. Blaise moved a hand down to her head, curling his fingers through her curls and gently pushing down.
Lavender immediately pulled her head up, grabbed her wand, and said, "Incarcerous," as thin ropes wrapped around his wrists, winding around his torso and binding him so he couldn't move. Smirking at his obvious frustration, she swung her legs over his and stood up. She slipped her skirt over each foot, then sat down on his waist, straddling him. Grinding against him, she slowly slipped her shirt up, over her chest, revealing a toned stomach and breasts covered in black lace. Lavender dipped her head to his neck, simultaneously moving her hands to brace against his chest and still moving her hips slowly, agonizingly over his, pausing just above his penis and pushing down teasingly so he could feel her, separated only by the thin cloth of her underwear. Blaise was breathing raggedly now, glazed eyes half closed, and at this point she was just punishing herself. Purposefully she stood up, pulled off her bra and underwear and tossed it onto the floor, and sank down onto Blaise, her moan of pleasure mixing with his. She started out slowly, moving up and down on top of him, hands gripping his shoulders and hips grinding slightly forward as she came down. Blaise fixed his eyes on her, watching as she pushed inside him each time. Lavender looked at him, lust-filled eyes meeting his, and gripped his dark hair with one hand as she kissed him.
"Relashio!" She said, releasing Blaise and guiding one of his hands to her sensitive clit. He circled it with his thumb steadily and she whimpered and bit her bottom lip. Now he was thrusting his hips up, meeting her as she moved up and down, faster and deeper. Blaise continued to circle her clit, increasing pressure and speed slightly, and Lavender let out a sound that was half gasp and moan as she came, while Blaise groaned from the feel of her muscles spasming and came as she was. Lavender fell forward, one hand balancing on Blaise's sweaty chest and the other on the ground as she rested her head against his chest. "Maybe we should get angry like that more often."
Blaise rolled his eyes. "Just as long as you don't start crying when I don't acknowledge you in the hallway." The former malice was gone from his voice. "I do have a reputation to maintain."