Disclaimer: ...please read previous chapters for my abusive disclaimers...
Unconscious Abuse
"Now tell me, what was it you wanted?" She stepped into the brightly lit room, clutching tightly onto her small black handbag. Blaise entered after her, glancing at the white marbled floor and expensive furniture. He nodded in approval- it was very unweasleyish indeed. Nothing like eating in style.
He grinned. "I thought I've told you more than enough times, Weaselette. I would take you out to dinner, because of your obvious lack of skills in the kitchen," Ginny turned and hit him on the shoulder, "and in return, you would teach me how to lose weight the muggle way." He rubbed his shoulder in mock pain, pushing her lightly from behind as payback.
"And why does it need to be the muggle way?" Ginny strode over to the reception desk and was greeted by a stiff waiter with an oddly styled moustache and hair gelled back.
Blaise gave an exasperated sigh, peering over her head and suppressed a smile at the man's ridiculous dress-up. "It's a manly thing to do. By handling the pain," He could see that the waiter had done a very good job at it- there were faint comb marks on his scalp, "I would be able to render the fem-"
"Zabini."
Blaise scowled at her. "What is it this time?"
Ginny peered up at him with amused eyes. "I wasn't talking to you, idiot. The waiter needed to know if we had a reservation or not." She followed the man as he showed the way to their table, proudly walking with his suit tail trailing behind him.
"And you used my name because?" He raised his eyebrows at her back, marveling at how the simple black dress could look so dashing on someone who could be called a child.
"As you're paying for the meal, you also get the honor of having your name marked down for table number 7 at 6:45 pm, in a hard cover records book." Ginny thanked the waiter quietly, as he pulled the chair out for her. "Exciting isn't it? You're famous." She smiled mockingly at him as he sat down.
"Madam, sir, may I take your beverage order?"
"Give me your best red wine, and the lady would have?" Blaise gestured to Ginny as she stared uncertainly at the waiter.
"Do you happen to have any juice? Preferably apple?" Ginny blushed as the words left her lips, and Blaise blinked.
"Juice, madam?" The waiter slightly raised an eyebrow at her.
"Yes, I do believe that the young lady said juice." Blaise challenged the waiter, the corner of his lips turned upwards.
The waiter coughed an apology, excused himself with a "Your order will arrive shortly.", and scurried away with a flustered face after he had left the menus on the table.
Blaise turned to Ginny. "Juice?"
She glared at him, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. "You mean to tell me that you don't know, even after you told him that juice was what I wanted?" The napkin on her lap had creases after being repeatedly strangled by a pair of small hands in humiliation.
"You're how old? Twenty one and you still drink juice? You'll ruin restaurant property" Blaise mumbled the last part to himself and leaned over to pluck the mangled napkin out of her grasp. "Have you even tried wine? Some types taste better then juice, you know?"
She frowned at him and stared longingly at the cloth held in his large hand. "I'm twenty." Ignoring the quiet "Know wonder she picked juice.", Ginny went on. "Juice is healthy, tastes wonderful, and I have low alcohol intolerance. Plus, you would be paying for anything that I destroy." She made a move to retrieve her napkin, but the waiter had returned with their drinks.
"Ah, right on time." Blaise held up the napkin. "Would you be so kind as to give this young lady another one? She seems to have crushed the cloth in her sudden state of madness. Do forgive her, she's only a child. Twenty, I hear."
The waiter accepted the napkin in shocked silence. Having an upper class male insulting a lady was new. Very new. He cleared his throat. "May I take your orders? Madam? Sir?"
Blaise handed the unused menus in smug satisfaction while the female before him fumed in silence. "We'll both have today's special. It does sound wonderful, like all the other dishes on hand." Lying through his teeth, Blaise took a sip of his wine.
"Excellent choice, sir." The waiter walked away in pompous grace.
"You will die." Ginny took in a large mouthful of apple juice to calm her anger. "You will suffer. I will not help you lose weight. Out of the question. No. Impossible. Never in my life."
"Think about your kitchen, and those hands. What about your taste buds?" He offered his glass to her. "Try some. Excellent stuff."
"Anything's better then helping you." She swiped the glass from his hands and drank half of its contents; mindless of what it was, having already finished her own glass down to the last drop. "And it wasn't a fair deal. Dinner isn't worth much when I have to pay for your entry fee to the gym or pool. It's beautiful."
"What? The pool?" Blaise stared at her in amusement.
"No, no, don't be stupid." She smiled wryly at him. "This!" Ginny waved the glass with extreme hand movements, the wine sloshed dangerously, threatening to spill over the white tablecloth. Blaise reached out and steadied her hand.
"Calm." He looked into her eyes. "You do know what this is right?" He saw the slight confusion in them.
"A drink?" She laughed. "Stop pushing me off the subject. You know its unfair right? Where were we…" She extracted her hand and the glass from him and took a sip.
Blaise sighed and wrestled the glass from her. "It's called wine." He made sure to keep the glass away from her wiggling fingers. "Talk about low alcohol intolerance."
"Blaise!" She whined and stretched her small form across the table, reaching for the glass.
"Wait! Eat first, drink later. I'll give you as much as you want later if you behave." Blaise sighed in relief when the food arrived. "Please, take this away for now. She can't handle too much alcohol." Blaise smiled apologetically at the waiter who nodded, staring at the drunken, red haired woman.
"Blaise…" Ginny stared woefully up at him.
"Ginny," He spoke warningly. "Eat."
She stared down at her salad, her face darkened by deprivation of wine. "You're not my father, you know. I'm not a child either." She picked up her fork and stabbed at an olive.
"No, not your father, but I'm older then you, and with the way you're behaving, one would mistaken you for a child." Blaise gave her a small smile and gestured at her plate. "Eat and stop picking on the olive. No matter how much you wish for it, that olive can never be me."
Ginny placed a piece of tomato in her mouth and chewed on it. "You're not much older then me though." She continued to empty her porcelain plate.
"Not much older, but still, I'm almost twenty three." Blaise forked some of his lettuce into his mouth.
"An adult? And you still need my help?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "I never really found out why you wanted to lose weight. You look perfectly fine to me."
"I look perfectly fine to you because you're drunk. I can bet on my wallet that you're seeing a pole, not a man." He finished off his lettuce quickly and watched her nibbling on the cheese.
"No, you look fine. But tell me, why do you want to do this? Guys don't usually care about their appearances. It's the girls who do all the worrying. Unless… You can't be! Blaise!" Ginny stared at him in shock, her fork poised in mid air, ready to launch another attack on her vegetables.
Blaise stared at her, clueless.
"You're gay! That is so cute!" She squealed and clung to his shirt sleeves. "Who's the lucky man?"
Blaise turned a deep shade of red and glanced around, smiling nervously at onlookers. "There is no lucky man!" He glared at her and freed himself from her hold.
"Oh… You poor thing!" Ginny had brought the napkin up to her mouth in horror, tears welling in her eyes.
Blaise sighed and buried his head in his hands. "Look, I don't have a 'lucky man' because I'm not gay." His head came up to stare at her expression.
Her mouth was opened in a delicate 'o', and the tears quickly evaporated leaving behind shocked blue orbs. "Not gay?" She stood up. "Excuse me… I think I'll take a trip to the lavatory…" Her face sported a bright red hue as she walked away.
"I'm not gay." Blaise muttered to himself and signaled for the waiter to bring their next course. Rib cage. Superb.
"The lady's salad, sir?" Blaise noted that her plate was only half finished. "Please, take it away. She wishes to move onto the next course quickly."
Blaise turned to his food. To eat? Or not to eat? That is the question. He decided to wait for Ginny; it was, after all, a manly thing to do. Blaise sat there quietly and looked on as the small wisps of steam slowly dissipated from his meal. His hand hovered over the meat. It was cold. Blaise stood up in agitation, and followed the path to the bathrooms.
He stopped outside the female lavatory. Would there be anyone in there? Blaise leaned against a nearby wall and watched the door. It hadn't moved for several minutes. He pushed it open and scanned the room. There, sitting on the counter in the corner was Ginny- unconscious.
"Ginny, you shouldn't have taken that drink." Blaise strode over to her and shook her awake. "Wake up, sunshine." Pulling her off the counter, Blaise half dragged, half carried her over to the door. "Wake up and give me a hand. You're unbelievably heavy."
Ginny buried her head into his jacket. "Turn off the light, dimwit. Can't you see I'm sleeping?" Her mumbles that were muffled into his shirt were soon followed by light snoring.
Blaise frowned at her. "Hey, don't sleep on me!" He slapped her gently on the cheeks. "Up you get!"
She punched him in the stomach and told him to "Shut up!" before wrapping her arms around his neck and settling her weight into his arms. Blaise, grimacing at the pain, lifted her up and used her body to push open the door. "One thing you're good at…" Carrying her over to the reception area, Blaise paid the waiter for the meal.
"But sir, you have not finished yet?" The waiter was astonished that someone could push away the good food.
"Yes, well, we're a bit occupied right now. Goodnight." Blaise stalked out of the restaurant, unconscious girl and all in his arms. Stepping into an abandoned alleyway, he checked around for any muggles. "Hey, where do you live?" He took out his wand, ready to apparate to Ginny's home. She continued to snore lightly, no doubt dreaming about Potter, if that smile indicated anything. Blaise stared grimly down at her. Fumbling at her handbag, he searched for an I.D card of some sort. Instead he found a small piece of creased toilet paper:
Hey, gay! I'm not feelling tooo well right now… Everything's blurrie… Haha, what did you feeed me? You better be takking me home! I live at "Slytherins should be put to sleep"… take me… hooome.
