Disclaimer: I - do - not - own - Harry -Potter. It's so hard to admit that. I think I'm dying.
Note: HAH, finally another Ginny and Blaise. I dedicate this to my best freund. As well as those of you who love this pairing and hate Ginny and Draco. Die, whomever likes Ginny and Draco. Burn!
She Was His
She laid down on the velvet duvet covers, sucking on the end of her Sugar Quill. She was reading over Snape's latest homework assignment. Her eyes scanned over the page, finding the information she needed to use on the four-foot long essay. Morgana, the untamable sorceress, had killed over five million wizards and witches with a spell that had been and still is kept in the confines of the Ministry Department of Mysteries.
Ginny's red hair splayed across the cover, nicely blended with the duvet's cover. She tried getting up and found her hair trapped under her elbow. With a sharp pain she quickly lifted her elbow, and rubbed her sore head.
"Bloody hair," she mumbled, gathering all the homework in her bag and swiftly dislodging her broom from the confines of a case she kept under her bed. "At least, I have free time to practice some Quidditch," she sighed.
She crept in the background towards the portrait, just incase Hermione spotted her. Too late.
"Ginny?" Hermione's incredulous voice rang through the Common Room, "Have you finished your assignments for the day?"
She paused in the middle of a long stride and spun the words out of her mouth, "Sure Hermione, I finished. So now I'm going to go out and play some Quidditch. Bye." She exited the room before Hermione could realize that Ginny had lied and chase after her with some sort of full-bind body spell, insisting her to finish her homework.
The partly clouded night sky helped Ginny forget her troubles. The heavy burden of what awaited her in the world. The homework, the OWLs, the many, many detentions with Snape and Filch. (Those two cruel, nasty, evil bastards.)
For some strange and curious reason, the pitch had always soothed her no person could ever. Even at home she'd just fly out the window and hover around the backyard, which the boys sometimes left transfigured into a Quidditch pitch.
She fingered the broom in her hand, feeling the smooth handle, the carved name in the broom, Nimbus 2001. She remembered how Harry had given it to her, when her old one had broke in a foul-play game with the Slytherins. She had been so happy, and hugged Harry gratefully.
Kicking off the ground, she felt the chilly air rush past her ears and shivered. Of course, it was around late February, so she had already expected the cold weather. Using one hand, she was able to wrap her cloak around tighter, still flying higher.
Hovering about the three hoops, she dove straight down to the sandpit, and just before there was any contact, she swerved around and headed towards the other direction of the pitch.
She nearly fell off her broom, when she heard loud clapping coming from the Slytherin stands. Landing safely on her two feet, the broom in her left hand, she furrowed her brows in frustration. Who would be up at this hour at the pitch? With the exception of her. She tried to make out the shape of the boy in the high stands.
He had black hair, with a shocking colour of indigo eyes. The boy smiled lightly at her. Her heart felt aflutter. No boy actually paid attention to her, with any feeling other than platonic. She hoped, she wished with all her might, that he would be the first to like her. Because she had already fallen in love him.
Blaise Zabini, the quiet one, the gentle one, the reclusive one in Slytherin. There was just no other boy like him. He had quite the sad past, like Harry. But Harry was never as good-looking, Harry was never as smart, witty and—she shouldn't be thinking about him like this. She had told herself over and over again, an infatuation with a Slytherin was a death sentence with her brother.
Having one older brother was hard enough. But with an amount of six brothers, she was destined with a life consisting of nine cats in an old house, growing older and older.
She snapped out of her reverie when Blaise beckoned her up towards him. She raised an eyebrow and couldn't help but feel rather suspicious at this boy. No Slytherin would willingly associate with a Gryffindor, much less a Weasley.
Impatiently the boy quickened his arm movements. "Weasley! Get up here," he hollered below.
Ginny tilted her head upwards and frowned. "What do you want Zabini?"
He shook his head in silent laughter and mock. "Just come up here, I've got something to show you Weasley."
She hesitated and stayed rooted to the spot.
"It's not as if I'm going to do off with you Weasley, stop being so suspicious and get your arse up here!"
"Well," she retaliated, "The reason of you being a Slytherin is all the evidence I need, to know there is some ingenious plot to kill me."
He cocked his head to the side and a smile graced his lips. "What makes you so sure that my ingenious plan isn't to ravish you?"
Ginny was quiet, and a blush crept across her face. Grumbling, she flew towards the Slytherin stand and landed a fair distance from Blaise. She sat down on one of the seats, holding her broom close, and glaring menacingly at Blaise.
"Stay away," she muttered, "Just say what you have to say and I'll be on my way." An angry flush graced her already rosy cheeks.
"Well," Blaise said looking into Ginny's eyes, "I was wondering. Whether—"
Ginny forgot to have an intake of breath, anticipating his answer.
"—you'd like to—oh never mind."
She frowned, yet again. "What were you going to say?" she asked impatiently.
"Nothing," Blaise replied nonchalantly. A smile played across his lips. He was teasing her!
Ginny looked at Blaise, and was about to give him an earful, when a cold blow of wind made her shut up. She wrapped her cloak even tighter to her body and continued to try and warm herself up.
"Are you cold?" Blaise asked. She silently raised her pretty little head and glared at him.
"Kiss—my—arse," she replied to him. She had goose bumps all over her body; arms and legs.
Blaise sighed. "Here," he said, "I've got a spell to heat your cloak." Without any uncertainty, he waved his wand and muttered the spell.
Immediately she felt the spell take place, and a wave of warmth washed over her body.
"Thank you," she murmured.
"You're welcome."
An uncomfortable silence followed after, and Ginny couldn't help but fidget around in her seat. From a young age, she was unable to stay still after a few minutes.
"Is that all?" she finally said, breaking the silence. But Blaise wasn't paying attention, he was lying down on the benches, looking at the darkening sky. "Hello? Zabini?" With a clap of her hands, she was able to get his attention.
"What—" he said startled, "What?"
"Is that all?" she asked, "Because I need to get down to the Great Hall, before everyone thinks I'm missing."
"Didn't you tell anyone that you were coming out here?"
"Yes, Hermione but—"
"Well then, she'll be the one telling your incompetent brother."
"I guess so, Ron really is an idiot sometimes—excuse me? My brother is not imcompetent!"
"I quote Ron really is an idiot sometimes."
"It slipped."
"Well so did mine."
Without realizing it, Ginny had edged her way to Blaise, only sitting two seats away.
"What was it that you wanted to tell me?" she asked.
"Look," he replied, pointing up to the great night sky.
She lifted her eyes to scan the star-sprinkled sky and was silenced in awe. She looked at the twinkling dots and was unable to do anything but admire the beauty.
"Wonderful," he said, "Isn't it?" He sat up. "Sometimes you wonder whether there really is an all-powerful being out there."
Ginny nodded in agreement.
"Well," she said sadly, "I guess I'd better be going." She stood up and prepared to walk away when he stopped her.
"Ginny," he said, "Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me? I won't take no as an answer." He had a confident tone but his face gave away his anxious thoughts.
She was stunned for two reasons. One, a Slytherin had asked her out. Two, he had called her Ginny, he had actually remembered her name. Everyone else just called her Ron's sister or Weaslette or just Weasley.
There was a pleading look in his eye that she just couldn't refuse. "I'd love to go," she replied with a loving smile.
The happiness that rushed through him that moment, gave Ginny the most exuberant feeling. Blaise had rushed over to her and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace.
"So you're my girlfriend?"
"Yes, I guess that would make me your girlfriend."
"Did you know that Malfoy is in love with Granger?"
Ginny's eyes widened. "Really?"
"He sort of let it slip when he was asleep."
Draco was not the type to mumble things in his sleep. Truthfully, Blaise had found Draco's diary, which he was already quite surprised about. But when he saw the many pages of sketches consisting of Granger he was shocked, and happy for the poor boy. When Draco burst into the room in a fit of rage, Blaise had to swear into secrecy. Either that, or get castrated.
Over the past few weeks, Blaise had noticed that Hufflepuff boy Ernie Macmillan look anything but nonsexual at Ginny. He had reminded himself to watch out for that boy in the corridor.
He slipped his arm around her waist in a protective manner and whispered in to her ear, "You're mine."
His words sent shivers down her spine.
She was his.