Chapter Two: Lessons in Payback
He watched the Weasley girl across the Great Hall, discreetly. Ever since that night a month or so ago, he'd begun observing her. Before Charlie Weasley's death, she'd been a bright and vivacious girl, whom all delighted to be around. Since then, the light from her life seemed to have slowly waned, along with her health. He noted that she barely ate any food, and while she'd always been slender, she had a downright skeletal appearance about her now.
He found out that she was a good student; she excelled in potions (much to Snape's dismay) and astronomy. Instead of suffering, her grades in every single class had risen since her brother's death. It irked him vaguely to see everyone comforting her brother Ron, the mudblood, and that fool Potter, while they left Ginny alone. Couldn't they see that she needed a friend now, more desperately than ever?
While her old 'friends' seemed to want to help, they were at a loss as to how they could help her. He had manufactured an excuse to Malfoy about why she'd not received punishment and he'd taken it seemingly well, though Blaise could almost hear the wheels turning in his ferrety mind. He'd need to watch out for this littlest Weasley. Malfoy was biding his time before he got a hold of her again, and after all, he was the Head Boy, wasn't he? It was his duty to look after the welfare of students.
Of course, he needed to keep it low key or there would be severe repercussions. Sighing he stood up and made his way out of the Great Hall, with a nod to Malfoy. Once outside the castle, he leaned against the wall, the shadows hiding him from view.
He only had to wait a few moments before a small figure shot out from the doors and ran out onto the grounds. A smile twitched at his lips as he watched her. He understood the need to escape and breathing in the crisp air of early winter was quite rejuvenating. Leaving the shadows, he trailed soundlessly behind her as she made her way to the Quidditch pitch.
~*~
Every night for the last two weeks Ginny had been coming out here and sneaking into the broom shed to borrow Harry's Firebolt to fly around the pitch as a way of relaxation. It wasn't that she thought Harry would mind if she borrowed his broom, she just wanted to keep this form of relaxation close to heart. She mounted the broom easily, and kicked off, and zoomed around the pitch quickly. She was swerving in and out when she noticed a dark figure in the stands watching her. Malfoy, she thought angrily. She jerked the broom around mid lap, and zoomed toward the Slytherin stands. He was shocked when she touched down in the stands, she definitely had spunk.
"Listen here Malfoy, if you think you can intimidate me, you're wrong. I don't give a damn about you, except that you and your family end up in Azkaban along with all the other Death Eaters responsible for Charlie's death. And for Gods' sake, take that bloody hood down!"
Her jaw dropped when she saw Blaise Zabini pull the hood down, smirking at her. " Good spiel, runt."
"Fuck you, Zabini!" she spat to cover her embarrassment and suddenly remembering her anger.
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards once more as he watched her, hands on hips practically breathing fire. "Tsk, tsk, runt, I'm Head B- " A long red scratch on the side of her arm suddenly caught his eye. He grabbed her arm roughly, and studied the mark. "How did this happen?" he demanded. After watching her like a hawk for the past month, he knew she hadn't been in any fights.
She seemed surprised at the question, but quickly regained her composure and shrugged her shoulders insolently. "I fell," she replied lamely. She didn't owe him anything. Who the hell did he think he was?
"On what, a the side of a knife?" He growled.
"Leave me alone, Zabini!" She jerked her arm away, mounted the broom and took off into the sky once more, leaving him glowering at her from the stands.
He had half a mind to grab his own broom and drag her off the pitch by her hair, but she was on Potter's Firebolt, and he knew he'd never catch her. 'Fine' he thought, 'if she wanted to act stupid and get herself hurt, so be it'. With one last scowl at the red blur streaking back and forth on the pitch, he trudged back to the castle.
~*~
Several hours later, Ginny had replaced Harry's broom in the shed and was racing back through the hallways trying to make curfew. A few feet from Gryffindor she thought she heard something. Stopping in her tracks, she pivoted, looking back into the dark hallway she'd just left.
"Hello?" she called, and yelped as two hands grabbed her from behind, and a hand slid over her mouth. She squirming furiously against the body holding her prisoner, but stopped the instant she heard another voice.
"Damn! Guess she didn't take the bait," grunted Crabbe, stepping from the darkened hallway with Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle.
"Mhm," Draco murmured, shooting suspicious glances around the corridor, while Goyle, of course, only grunted his agreement by way of reply.
A few moments later after they were gone, the strong arms holding her released her abruptly and stepped away. She looked up astonished, at Blaise Zabini. Last time could be chalked up as a mistake or something else, but this was the second time he'd 'saved' her. Something was up.
"Th-thanks, Zabini," she muttered, looking at him for the first time. Her eyes ran up his tall form, and lingered over his tanned skin, wondering how on earth he could keep such a tan with so much studying.
Speaking of studying, she jerked her gaze away from his piercing blue eyes and let her eyes settle on his wavy black hair. She decided that he looked frighteningly like the sixteen year old Tom Riddle. She wondered vaguely if his hair was as coarse as Tom's had been, for there were things that went on in the Chamber of Secrets that no one but Professor Dumbledore knew of.
She shook her head once to clear her thoughts, and realised that he was still staring at her. Unsure of how to decipher the emotions filtering through his gaze, Ginny swept past him cautiously and went to stand in front of the Fat Lady. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" she murmured, and the door swung open. Hazarding one last glance in his direction, she saw that Blaise had turned to watch her, a brow raised in amusement at what the password had been. Mildly unnerved at the stare, she moved quickly through the doorway, hearing only "Be careful, little Weasley..." before it closed with a click behind her.
'What could Blaise Zabini want from her?' Sighing, she hazarded a glance around the common room, noting that, as always, the trio was huddled together in deep conversation. As if sensing her watching them, Harry looked up and smiled, waving to her. She nodded a bit curtly and headed up to her dormitory. Flopping noisily onto her four-poster, she stared blankly up at the canopy of her bed. After a few moments, she pulled her bag out and began working on an essay for Snape.
Engrossed in her work, she didn't bother looking up when the door to the sixth year girls dormitory opened. Therefore, when Harry called her name softly, she nearly jumped a foot. "Harry! What are you doing in here..?" He smiled, and sat on the foot of her bed.
"Do I have to have a reason, Gin? You're my friend as much as Ron, and you've been… quiet lately."
"I'm still in shock, Harry," she replied a little wryly, offering a small smile.
He looked up at her, noticing the tears gathering in her eyes and pulled her into a strong hug.
"I m-miss him," she choked out, starting to sob.
"Shh..." he whispered against her forehead. "We all do. I promise you Ginny, Voldemort will pay… and so will his Death Eaters." She looked up at this.
"You don't have to Harry, really."
"I know I don't," he interrupted, "but I want to. That bastard's taken enough people I care for, and now he's hurting you and Ron the same way. It's got to end somehow, and I intend to finish it."
She looked into his determined eyes warily, but nodded.
"Just be careful Harry. I don't want to lose any more family." His face softened, and he smiled pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I will, love. Now... what's this potions stuff about?" he asked eyeing her books. The remainder of the night passed fairly quickly, and with Harry's help she finally finished her potions essay, before falling into bed exhausted.
~*~
After a few weeks, and several talks with Harry, Ginny's life finally seemed to return to what could almost be called normal, though she knew she'd never truly get over Charlie's death. She knew she couldn't continue to brood forever. She even decided she'd try out for the Quidditch team in early spring, hoping to retain the coveted Keeper's position that would be left behind next year by Ron.
Harry and Ron were working with her to help train her as much as possible before they left, and she found it was good to relieve some of her tensions and get her mind off of annoying things. One night, coming back from the pitch the three were talking animatedly about a new move Ginny had learned.
"You're getting pretty good, Gin-bug, if I do say so myself. " Ron commented.
"Thanks, Weasley King, " Ginny snorted, reminding Ron of the Slytherin cheer from his fifth year.
"Hah, good bur-oww!" Harry laughed, as Ron shoved his elbow into Harry's ribs, flushing. A noise from the corner drew their attention. Ginny saw Blaise hunched over coming around the corner.
"What was that?" Harry asked curiously, drawing his wand.
"I dunno.." Ginny said, quickly averting their attention, though unsure why she was doing so. "Uh, listen you two, I need to get a book from the library for Herbology tomorrow, I'll see you later alright?"
"Want us to come with you?"
"No, that's ok. I'm a big girl Ron Weasley."
"Sure are.." Harry smirked, not noticing the glare he received from Ron. Ginny too was a bit taken back at the flirtation in his voice. Hadn't she just referred to him as a family member? Ron's eyes narrowed at the two, and he grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him further up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.
"She's right, Potter. Come on, you and I are going to have a talk."
She couldn't help but laugh, hearing Harry's audible gulp. She turned around, a smile still on her face as she looked for Blaise. 'Well, he hadn't looked well, and he couldn't have gotten far', she mused. She took a look around the entry hall. No sign of him. Brow furrowed, she headed down a drafty corridor.
Was this the way to the Slytherin common room? No, he was Head Boy. Hermione had her own quarters, he would too. A hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly, and slung her none to gently against the stone wall. She knew very well who it was the moment his hand touched her skin. His touch was different to anyone else's, and her body reacted differently to it. So she didn't fight immediately, though she started to protest at the way he always got her attention, when she was swiftly silenced by the sight that greeted her.
His face was badly bruised and his right eye was already swollen shut. Considering his hunch she realised he had probably taken hits to the stomach and sides. Swallowing a gasp, she looked at him in disbelief. "Wh... what happened?"
He opened his mouth, and she was shocked at the angry tint to his cerulean eyes, and then shut it again, as if thinking it better not to say what he wanted.
"Leave me alone, Weasley," he stated coldly, and brushed past her as if she was a pest. She was ready to give up when she heard a groan and turned to see him collapse. Running to his side, she knelt beside him. "Blaise… where's the Head Boy's room, and what's the password?" she hissed, knowing he'd soon be unconscious.
"Behind Salazar Stat... and...virgin."
Resisting the urge to laugh at the inane password, she withdrew her wand and pointed it at him. "Mobilicorpus!" Quietly, she directed his floating body to the statue of Salazar Slytherin and gave the password. She nearly lost her concentration and dropped him when she came through the narrow passageway and saw the suite. Hermione's was nice… but this was downright... elegant. The room had beautiful oak walls and a comfy sitting area, with a highly polished cherry oak desk in one corner, piled high with a stack of books.
She vaguely imagined Dumbledore at home in a place like this. In his room there was an antique bureau with bowl on top filled with silvery stuff, and his bed was a magnificent king sized bed that was fit for a king. Of course, it was all done in Slytherin colours. Suddenly remembering her charge, she floated him to his bed and then removed the spell. After looking about, she discovered the bathroom, and brought out a bowl of warm water and a few wash cloths, as well as a first aid kit.
Frowning, she dipped a washcloth in warm water and placed it against his cheek, and forehead. No… this didn't seem the right thing to do. Ah… ice! She'd forgotten that ice helped swelling. Conjuring some, she wrapped it in one of the washcloths and placed it gently over his eye. With her free hand, she reached down and started to unbutton his robes and tug at his tie, loosening it. His hand came up and circled her wrist, holding it to his chest. She looked up and realised that, even badly beaten, he was still smirking that trademark Slytherin smirk that inevitably set her blood on boil.
"Ah," he mused, "sorry Weasley, I prefer women, not little girls." Surprising him, she looked disappointed and pouted.
"Oh?" she questioned softly, sliding her hand from his and down to his thigh. His eyes flickered uncertainly as he watched her and then he yelped as she pinched his thigh. Smirking, she went back to unbuttoning his shirt, leaving him to hold the ice to his eye.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Zabini. I'm just tending to your wounds, and then I'm leaving."
He merely watched her curiously as she worked, making her fumble some of the buttons. "Just remember, payback's a bitch, runt.."
"You certainly don't look capable of being any sort of threat, Zabini," she scoffed, pushing his robes and tie aside.
"Yeah, well…" he trailed off, before looking away. Hesitating only a moment she removed his under shirt and gasped. His stomach and ribs were badly bruised and it appeared like he'd nearly cracked a rib. No wonder he'd almost passed out. She set to work quickly, mending him the best she could, as well as magically reducing some of his bruised. She frowned at what looked like a burn on his upper right arm, though it appeared fairly new and was still hard to decipher.
Noticing where her gaze had lingered, he lowered his arm so that the burn mark was facing away. "Done yet?" he asked. "I'm freezing."
Sighing wearily she nodded. "K then, throw me a white shirt from the top drawer of the bureau, please," he said cordially.
Wondering when she'd become Blaise Zabini's maid, she pulled the said shirt from the drawer and tossed it to him, and then took the bowl of water back to the bathroom. Returning, she found him in a loose pair of trousers that still showed his physique and the loose white shirt she'd thrown at him.
She'd always wondered why men thought they had to wear designer label or sporty attire to draw women's attention. The sexiest outfit, to her at least, was a pair of pants and white shirt - strangely enough exactly what Zabini's was wearing. Ignoring that thought, she yawned and stretched her arms and then tilted her head around, eliciting a pop from her neck.
Straightening up she saw Blaise staring at her with a scary intensity. She shot him an odd look and sat down at the edge of the bed. Tired as she was, she didn't want to leave just yet. He scared her, made her tummy flutter, but it was a good scare and the fluttering feeling was almost addictive. He was still staring at her. 'Damn brat! " she thought, 'Doesn't he ever speak?'
"So," she started, "are you going to tell me what happened?"
His eyes clouded over with something like disgust and he stared at the wall over her head. When he spoke his voice was calm, belying the hatred in his eyes. "If you wish.."
"I do.." His eyes hooked hers sharply, and then he looked down, muttering a sigh.
"Fine… here t'is. I was coming back from the library, and I was jumped by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Seems it got out about me helping you, and they wanted to..." he paused, grappling with what words to use. "remind me of where my bloody loyalties lie. "
"Three on one!" she yelled. "How fair is that?!"
"They're not Gryffindors, Gi-Weasley. They're Slytherin. Come on, you know what we're capable of."
She stared at him, noticing the slip where he'd almost used her name. Nodding finally she stood, and then winced, feeling him grasping her wrist.
"Blast it, Blaise.." she frowned, rubbing her wrist, remembering when he'd grabbed it earlier, "Do you always have to hurt me to get my attention?"
He seemed taken aback at her terminology, and he supposed it could be used in more ways than one. He had used excessive force earlier, and the time before. But tonight he'd already been beaten up, and there she had stood happily flirting away with that bloody Potter. "I..." He bit back an apology, he couldn't afford to apologise, he had a rep. Instead, he offered what he could. "It won't happen again."
A brow raised she nodded. "See that it doesn't," she replied crisply, starting to turn away.
"Wait," he asked, his hand tightening on her wrist marginally, stopping her from pulling free, though if she wanted to leave badly enough she could. "You're tired, rest here tonight." She looked at him dubiously, and he hurried on before she could argue. "I'm not going to try anything, if that's what you're worried about. Look at me. Like you said, I'm not in the best shape. Plus I'll need someone to re-bandage my wounds in the morning."
He wondered in the back of his mind just why he, Blaise Zabini, was trying to get a Gryffindor, and a Weasley at that, to stay with him instead of sending her away.
She too wondered the same thing, though she was wondering mainly why the offer sounded so good. Too tired to fight, she inclined her head forth and made toward the next room. "Fine then, Zabini.."
"Wait!" he called again.
"What?" she snapped, her patience had just about run out and his interruptions were getting annoying.
He seemed to take umbrage at her tone and glared at her icily. "I may be a Slytherin, but I have some honour. You're not sleeping on a sodding couch, take the bed." At this he tried to get up, but fell back. "Damn woman, how tightly did you tie those bandages."
Smirking she replied, "Tight enough obviously. And don't even think about messing up those bandages by getting outta bed. I'll be fine on the couch."
"No..." he growled angrily. Damn this girl, wait.. woman or girl? At this point his mind was hopelessly confused with the two. While she looked like a little girl, her actions were very womanly. He wouldn't be just some patient to this little Gryffindor, he'd take the upper hand back. He was a Slytherin, and superior to the mop of red curls standing annoyed in front of him. "Take the bed."
"You're in it… and don't appear to be getting out of it so, again… no."
"Then it looks as if we'll have to share, doesn't it?" he snapped back. She frowned suddenly.
"This wasn't a good idea. I'll just go back to Gryffindor, I've nothing to wear here anyway."
"By God you're stubborn. You're not walking in this corridor, right by Slytherin by the way, at midnight by yourself! I'd walk you back to Gryffindor if I could, but as you've mummified me, it doesn't appear I'll be able to do it. So pull on one of my old t-shirts, turn off the light, and get your ass in this bed, Ginny Weasley!" he exploded into the bedroom.
She stared at him unblinkingly, stunned at his outburst. She didn't know whether to storm out angrily, or to laugh. She decided on the latter and was soon wiping her eyes with happy tears.
"What's so funny, Weasley?" He demanded, crossing his arms.
"You are," she choked out between laughs, "you're acting like a two year old."
He realised she was right, and his face softened. "Hey…so are you staying?" he asked a bit sheepishly.
Nodding, she swept over to his bureau and rifled through his clothing until she found a shirt that would cover her fairly well. Blaise sighed with relief when she stepped into the bathroom to change. He'd been nervous that she would change her mind and leave, and really… there would be nothing he could do to stop her. He wouldn't really blame her either after that outburst. Damn. He prided himself on being in perfect control of his emotions.
Unlike Malfoy, who was proud to be able to appear detached at all times, Blaise observed and took note of what people liked. Therefore, he was able to play all fields. Hufflepuff saw him as a quiet but affable guy. Ravenclaw as the brilliant Head Boy. Gryffindor as the frightening but intriguing Slytherin. And Slytherins saw as him mysterious and dangerous. If he thought he was nervous, it was nothing to Ginny's nervousness.
The shirt came down just past her thighs, but would ride up in the night she feared. Tugging at the ends of it subconsciously, she opened the door and stepped out. She shot him a tentative glance.
"Want my approval, Weasley?" he asked negligently, studying every bit of her. Her hair was finally released from the pony tail she always kept it in, and the fiery hair flowed beguilingly down her back. It was a good thing she'd wrapped his ribs so tight, or he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from kissing the pretty blush tinting her freckled cheeks away. He tore his eyes away from the sight before him with great will power.
She was looking up at him questioningly. He remembered she'd immediately retorted a "No" to his inquiry.
"Too bad Weasley, you have it anyway.."
Unnerved, she flipped the lights off and crawled into the side of the bed opposite the one he was occupying. After a few tense moments, she could still feel the heat of his eyes on her and turned over on her side, drawing her knees to her side. It wouldn't matter if the shirt rode up, there was plenty of room between them, and if his hands happened to wander over, there'd be hell to pay. As if reading her mind, she sensed him moving behind her and turned over, amazed to find herself staring into his eyes. How had he gotten so close to her without her sensing it earlier? 'Well Duh', her mind replied, 'You were lost in la-la land.' She bowed her head, ducking her eyes away from his.
"Blaise… I'm sorry I was such a brat that day on the pitch, I was upset."
He lifted her chin with one of his slender fingers and smiled. "I'll forgive you if you say my name again." He enjoyed hearing it spoken kindly instead of angrily. Christ! Who was he kidding, he just liked watching her lips form his name. Her mouth quirked upwards in a lopsided smile.
"Blaise…"
Her tone was that of a lover, whispering his name quietly, almost seductively. He knew she didn't intend it that way, but it affected him just the same. He needed to get control of himself before this went farther. He needed to teach this know-it-all Gryffindor he was in charge. Then she did something unexpected - for both of them.
She reached an almost trembling hand up, and slid it through the ebony tangles of his hair, and she smiled a genuine smile at him. His hair was nothing like Riddle's, which was coarse and stringy. Blaise's, her mind delighted in saying his name, was fine and thick. Without warning he ducked his head and kissed the base of her neck, the larynx. She gasped as she felt his lips brushing over the hollow of her throat. Slowly he kissed up the side of her neck and down her jaw line, eliciting a contented sigh from her. As he was about to kiss her, he paused, his lips hovered centimetres over hers.
'Quit torturing yourself, go on!' his mind screamed, but he knew if he did, he'd be lost. She whimpered slightly, and before he made the mistake of kissing her, he slid back to the other side of the bed. He'd done it. He'd taken control… again. Great, wasn't it?
"Like I said earlier," he spoke gruffly a few moments later, "pay back's a bitch, runt." Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he turned on his side away from her, wondering who the 'payback' had effected the most. It was going to be a long night!
He watched the Weasley girl across the Great Hall, discreetly. Ever since that night a month or so ago, he'd begun observing her. Before Charlie Weasley's death, she'd been a bright and vivacious girl, whom all delighted to be around. Since then, the light from her life seemed to have slowly waned, along with her health. He noted that she barely ate any food, and while she'd always been slender, she had a downright skeletal appearance about her now.
He found out that she was a good student; she excelled in potions (much to Snape's dismay) and astronomy. Instead of suffering, her grades in every single class had risen since her brother's death. It irked him vaguely to see everyone comforting her brother Ron, the mudblood, and that fool Potter, while they left Ginny alone. Couldn't they see that she needed a friend now, more desperately than ever?
While her old 'friends' seemed to want to help, they were at a loss as to how they could help her. He had manufactured an excuse to Malfoy about why she'd not received punishment and he'd taken it seemingly well, though Blaise could almost hear the wheels turning in his ferrety mind. He'd need to watch out for this littlest Weasley. Malfoy was biding his time before he got a hold of her again, and after all, he was the Head Boy, wasn't he? It was his duty to look after the welfare of students.
Of course, he needed to keep it low key or there would be severe repercussions. Sighing he stood up and made his way out of the Great Hall, with a nod to Malfoy. Once outside the castle, he leaned against the wall, the shadows hiding him from view.
He only had to wait a few moments before a small figure shot out from the doors and ran out onto the grounds. A smile twitched at his lips as he watched her. He understood the need to escape and breathing in the crisp air of early winter was quite rejuvenating. Leaving the shadows, he trailed soundlessly behind her as she made her way to the Quidditch pitch.
~*~
Every night for the last two weeks Ginny had been coming out here and sneaking into the broom shed to borrow Harry's Firebolt to fly around the pitch as a way of relaxation. It wasn't that she thought Harry would mind if she borrowed his broom, she just wanted to keep this form of relaxation close to heart. She mounted the broom easily, and kicked off, and zoomed around the pitch quickly. She was swerving in and out when she noticed a dark figure in the stands watching her. Malfoy, she thought angrily. She jerked the broom around mid lap, and zoomed toward the Slytherin stands. He was shocked when she touched down in the stands, she definitely had spunk.
"Listen here Malfoy, if you think you can intimidate me, you're wrong. I don't give a damn about you, except that you and your family end up in Azkaban along with all the other Death Eaters responsible for Charlie's death. And for Gods' sake, take that bloody hood down!"
Her jaw dropped when she saw Blaise Zabini pull the hood down, smirking at her. " Good spiel, runt."
"Fuck you, Zabini!" she spat to cover her embarrassment and suddenly remembering her anger.
The corners of his mouth twitched upwards once more as he watched her, hands on hips practically breathing fire. "Tsk, tsk, runt, I'm Head B- " A long red scratch on the side of her arm suddenly caught his eye. He grabbed her arm roughly, and studied the mark. "How did this happen?" he demanded. After watching her like a hawk for the past month, he knew she hadn't been in any fights.
She seemed surprised at the question, but quickly regained her composure and shrugged her shoulders insolently. "I fell," she replied lamely. She didn't owe him anything. Who the hell did he think he was?
"On what, a the side of a knife?" He growled.
"Leave me alone, Zabini!" She jerked her arm away, mounted the broom and took off into the sky once more, leaving him glowering at her from the stands.
He had half a mind to grab his own broom and drag her off the pitch by her hair, but she was on Potter's Firebolt, and he knew he'd never catch her. 'Fine' he thought, 'if she wanted to act stupid and get herself hurt, so be it'. With one last scowl at the red blur streaking back and forth on the pitch, he trudged back to the castle.
~*~
Several hours later, Ginny had replaced Harry's broom in the shed and was racing back through the hallways trying to make curfew. A few feet from Gryffindor she thought she heard something. Stopping in her tracks, she pivoted, looking back into the dark hallway she'd just left.
"Hello?" she called, and yelped as two hands grabbed her from behind, and a hand slid over her mouth. She squirming furiously against the body holding her prisoner, but stopped the instant she heard another voice.
"Damn! Guess she didn't take the bait," grunted Crabbe, stepping from the darkened hallway with Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle.
"Mhm," Draco murmured, shooting suspicious glances around the corridor, while Goyle, of course, only grunted his agreement by way of reply.
A few moments later after they were gone, the strong arms holding her released her abruptly and stepped away. She looked up astonished, at Blaise Zabini. Last time could be chalked up as a mistake or something else, but this was the second time he'd 'saved' her. Something was up.
"Th-thanks, Zabini," she muttered, looking at him for the first time. Her eyes ran up his tall form, and lingered over his tanned skin, wondering how on earth he could keep such a tan with so much studying.
Speaking of studying, she jerked her gaze away from his piercing blue eyes and let her eyes settle on his wavy black hair. She decided that he looked frighteningly like the sixteen year old Tom Riddle. She wondered vaguely if his hair was as coarse as Tom's had been, for there were things that went on in the Chamber of Secrets that no one but Professor Dumbledore knew of.
She shook her head once to clear her thoughts, and realised that he was still staring at her. Unsure of how to decipher the emotions filtering through his gaze, Ginny swept past him cautiously and went to stand in front of the Fat Lady. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" she murmured, and the door swung open. Hazarding one last glance in his direction, she saw that Blaise had turned to watch her, a brow raised in amusement at what the password had been. Mildly unnerved at the stare, she moved quickly through the doorway, hearing only "Be careful, little Weasley..." before it closed with a click behind her.
'What could Blaise Zabini want from her?' Sighing, she hazarded a glance around the common room, noting that, as always, the trio was huddled together in deep conversation. As if sensing her watching them, Harry looked up and smiled, waving to her. She nodded a bit curtly and headed up to her dormitory. Flopping noisily onto her four-poster, she stared blankly up at the canopy of her bed. After a few moments, she pulled her bag out and began working on an essay for Snape.
Engrossed in her work, she didn't bother looking up when the door to the sixth year girls dormitory opened. Therefore, when Harry called her name softly, she nearly jumped a foot. "Harry! What are you doing in here..?" He smiled, and sat on the foot of her bed.
"Do I have to have a reason, Gin? You're my friend as much as Ron, and you've been… quiet lately."
"I'm still in shock, Harry," she replied a little wryly, offering a small smile.
He looked up at her, noticing the tears gathering in her eyes and pulled her into a strong hug.
"I m-miss him," she choked out, starting to sob.
"Shh..." he whispered against her forehead. "We all do. I promise you Ginny, Voldemort will pay… and so will his Death Eaters." She looked up at this.
"You don't have to Harry, really."
"I know I don't," he interrupted, "but I want to. That bastard's taken enough people I care for, and now he's hurting you and Ron the same way. It's got to end somehow, and I intend to finish it."
She looked into his determined eyes warily, but nodded.
"Just be careful Harry. I don't want to lose any more family." His face softened, and he smiled pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I will, love. Now... what's this potions stuff about?" he asked eyeing her books. The remainder of the night passed fairly quickly, and with Harry's help she finally finished her potions essay, before falling into bed exhausted.
~*~
After a few weeks, and several talks with Harry, Ginny's life finally seemed to return to what could almost be called normal, though she knew she'd never truly get over Charlie's death. She knew she couldn't continue to brood forever. She even decided she'd try out for the Quidditch team in early spring, hoping to retain the coveted Keeper's position that would be left behind next year by Ron.
Harry and Ron were working with her to help train her as much as possible before they left, and she found it was good to relieve some of her tensions and get her mind off of annoying things. One night, coming back from the pitch the three were talking animatedly about a new move Ginny had learned.
"You're getting pretty good, Gin-bug, if I do say so myself. " Ron commented.
"Thanks, Weasley King, " Ginny snorted, reminding Ron of the Slytherin cheer from his fifth year.
"Hah, good bur-oww!" Harry laughed, as Ron shoved his elbow into Harry's ribs, flushing. A noise from the corner drew their attention. Ginny saw Blaise hunched over coming around the corner.
"What was that?" Harry asked curiously, drawing his wand.
"I dunno.." Ginny said, quickly averting their attention, though unsure why she was doing so. "Uh, listen you two, I need to get a book from the library for Herbology tomorrow, I'll see you later alright?"
"Want us to come with you?"
"No, that's ok. I'm a big girl Ron Weasley."
"Sure are.." Harry smirked, not noticing the glare he received from Ron. Ginny too was a bit taken back at the flirtation in his voice. Hadn't she just referred to him as a family member? Ron's eyes narrowed at the two, and he grabbed Harry's arm, pulling him further up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.
"She's right, Potter. Come on, you and I are going to have a talk."
She couldn't help but laugh, hearing Harry's audible gulp. She turned around, a smile still on her face as she looked for Blaise. 'Well, he hadn't looked well, and he couldn't have gotten far', she mused. She took a look around the entry hall. No sign of him. Brow furrowed, she headed down a drafty corridor.
Was this the way to the Slytherin common room? No, he was Head Boy. Hermione had her own quarters, he would too. A hand shot out, gripping her wrist tightly, and slung her none to gently against the stone wall. She knew very well who it was the moment his hand touched her skin. His touch was different to anyone else's, and her body reacted differently to it. So she didn't fight immediately, though she started to protest at the way he always got her attention, when she was swiftly silenced by the sight that greeted her.
His face was badly bruised and his right eye was already swollen shut. Considering his hunch she realised he had probably taken hits to the stomach and sides. Swallowing a gasp, she looked at him in disbelief. "Wh... what happened?"
He opened his mouth, and she was shocked at the angry tint to his cerulean eyes, and then shut it again, as if thinking it better not to say what he wanted.
"Leave me alone, Weasley," he stated coldly, and brushed past her as if she was a pest. She was ready to give up when she heard a groan and turned to see him collapse. Running to his side, she knelt beside him. "Blaise… where's the Head Boy's room, and what's the password?" she hissed, knowing he'd soon be unconscious.
"Behind Salazar Stat... and...virgin."
Resisting the urge to laugh at the inane password, she withdrew her wand and pointed it at him. "Mobilicorpus!" Quietly, she directed his floating body to the statue of Salazar Slytherin and gave the password. She nearly lost her concentration and dropped him when she came through the narrow passageway and saw the suite. Hermione's was nice… but this was downright... elegant. The room had beautiful oak walls and a comfy sitting area, with a highly polished cherry oak desk in one corner, piled high with a stack of books.
She vaguely imagined Dumbledore at home in a place like this. In his room there was an antique bureau with bowl on top filled with silvery stuff, and his bed was a magnificent king sized bed that was fit for a king. Of course, it was all done in Slytherin colours. Suddenly remembering her charge, she floated him to his bed and then removed the spell. After looking about, she discovered the bathroom, and brought out a bowl of warm water and a few wash cloths, as well as a first aid kit.
Frowning, she dipped a washcloth in warm water and placed it against his cheek, and forehead. No… this didn't seem the right thing to do. Ah… ice! She'd forgotten that ice helped swelling. Conjuring some, she wrapped it in one of the washcloths and placed it gently over his eye. With her free hand, she reached down and started to unbutton his robes and tug at his tie, loosening it. His hand came up and circled her wrist, holding it to his chest. She looked up and realised that, even badly beaten, he was still smirking that trademark Slytherin smirk that inevitably set her blood on boil.
"Ah," he mused, "sorry Weasley, I prefer women, not little girls." Surprising him, she looked disappointed and pouted.
"Oh?" she questioned softly, sliding her hand from his and down to his thigh. His eyes flickered uncertainly as he watched her and then he yelped as she pinched his thigh. Smirking, she went back to unbuttoning his shirt, leaving him to hold the ice to his eye.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Zabini. I'm just tending to your wounds, and then I'm leaving."
He merely watched her curiously as she worked, making her fumble some of the buttons. "Just remember, payback's a bitch, runt.."
"You certainly don't look capable of being any sort of threat, Zabini," she scoffed, pushing his robes and tie aside.
"Yeah, well…" he trailed off, before looking away. Hesitating only a moment she removed his under shirt and gasped. His stomach and ribs were badly bruised and it appeared like he'd nearly cracked a rib. No wonder he'd almost passed out. She set to work quickly, mending him the best she could, as well as magically reducing some of his bruised. She frowned at what looked like a burn on his upper right arm, though it appeared fairly new and was still hard to decipher.
Noticing where her gaze had lingered, he lowered his arm so that the burn mark was facing away. "Done yet?" he asked. "I'm freezing."
Sighing wearily she nodded. "K then, throw me a white shirt from the top drawer of the bureau, please," he said cordially.
Wondering when she'd become Blaise Zabini's maid, she pulled the said shirt from the drawer and tossed it to him, and then took the bowl of water back to the bathroom. Returning, she found him in a loose pair of trousers that still showed his physique and the loose white shirt she'd thrown at him.
She'd always wondered why men thought they had to wear designer label or sporty attire to draw women's attention. The sexiest outfit, to her at least, was a pair of pants and white shirt - strangely enough exactly what Zabini's was wearing. Ignoring that thought, she yawned and stretched her arms and then tilted her head around, eliciting a pop from her neck.
Straightening up she saw Blaise staring at her with a scary intensity. She shot him an odd look and sat down at the edge of the bed. Tired as she was, she didn't want to leave just yet. He scared her, made her tummy flutter, but it was a good scare and the fluttering feeling was almost addictive. He was still staring at her. 'Damn brat! " she thought, 'Doesn't he ever speak?'
"So," she started, "are you going to tell me what happened?"
His eyes clouded over with something like disgust and he stared at the wall over her head. When he spoke his voice was calm, belying the hatred in his eyes. "If you wish.."
"I do.." His eyes hooked hers sharply, and then he looked down, muttering a sigh.
"Fine… here t'is. I was coming back from the library, and I was jumped by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Seems it got out about me helping you, and they wanted to..." he paused, grappling with what words to use. "remind me of where my bloody loyalties lie. "
"Three on one!" she yelled. "How fair is that?!"
"They're not Gryffindors, Gi-Weasley. They're Slytherin. Come on, you know what we're capable of."
She stared at him, noticing the slip where he'd almost used her name. Nodding finally she stood, and then winced, feeling him grasping her wrist.
"Blast it, Blaise.." she frowned, rubbing her wrist, remembering when he'd grabbed it earlier, "Do you always have to hurt me to get my attention?"
He seemed taken aback at her terminology, and he supposed it could be used in more ways than one. He had used excessive force earlier, and the time before. But tonight he'd already been beaten up, and there she had stood happily flirting away with that bloody Potter. "I..." He bit back an apology, he couldn't afford to apologise, he had a rep. Instead, he offered what he could. "It won't happen again."
A brow raised she nodded. "See that it doesn't," she replied crisply, starting to turn away.
"Wait," he asked, his hand tightening on her wrist marginally, stopping her from pulling free, though if she wanted to leave badly enough she could. "You're tired, rest here tonight." She looked at him dubiously, and he hurried on before she could argue. "I'm not going to try anything, if that's what you're worried about. Look at me. Like you said, I'm not in the best shape. Plus I'll need someone to re-bandage my wounds in the morning."
He wondered in the back of his mind just why he, Blaise Zabini, was trying to get a Gryffindor, and a Weasley at that, to stay with him instead of sending her away.
She too wondered the same thing, though she was wondering mainly why the offer sounded so good. Too tired to fight, she inclined her head forth and made toward the next room. "Fine then, Zabini.."
"Wait!" he called again.
"What?" she snapped, her patience had just about run out and his interruptions were getting annoying.
He seemed to take umbrage at her tone and glared at her icily. "I may be a Slytherin, but I have some honour. You're not sleeping on a sodding couch, take the bed." At this he tried to get up, but fell back. "Damn woman, how tightly did you tie those bandages."
Smirking she replied, "Tight enough obviously. And don't even think about messing up those bandages by getting outta bed. I'll be fine on the couch."
"No..." he growled angrily. Damn this girl, wait.. woman or girl? At this point his mind was hopelessly confused with the two. While she looked like a little girl, her actions were very womanly. He wouldn't be just some patient to this little Gryffindor, he'd take the upper hand back. He was a Slytherin, and superior to the mop of red curls standing annoyed in front of him. "Take the bed."
"You're in it… and don't appear to be getting out of it so, again… no."
"Then it looks as if we'll have to share, doesn't it?" he snapped back. She frowned suddenly.
"This wasn't a good idea. I'll just go back to Gryffindor, I've nothing to wear here anyway."
"By God you're stubborn. You're not walking in this corridor, right by Slytherin by the way, at midnight by yourself! I'd walk you back to Gryffindor if I could, but as you've mummified me, it doesn't appear I'll be able to do it. So pull on one of my old t-shirts, turn off the light, and get your ass in this bed, Ginny Weasley!" he exploded into the bedroom.
She stared at him unblinkingly, stunned at his outburst. She didn't know whether to storm out angrily, or to laugh. She decided on the latter and was soon wiping her eyes with happy tears.
"What's so funny, Weasley?" He demanded, crossing his arms.
"You are," she choked out between laughs, "you're acting like a two year old."
He realised she was right, and his face softened. "Hey…so are you staying?" he asked a bit sheepishly.
Nodding, she swept over to his bureau and rifled through his clothing until she found a shirt that would cover her fairly well. Blaise sighed with relief when she stepped into the bathroom to change. He'd been nervous that she would change her mind and leave, and really… there would be nothing he could do to stop her. He wouldn't really blame her either after that outburst. Damn. He prided himself on being in perfect control of his emotions.
Unlike Malfoy, who was proud to be able to appear detached at all times, Blaise observed and took note of what people liked. Therefore, he was able to play all fields. Hufflepuff saw him as a quiet but affable guy. Ravenclaw as the brilliant Head Boy. Gryffindor as the frightening but intriguing Slytherin. And Slytherins saw as him mysterious and dangerous. If he thought he was nervous, it was nothing to Ginny's nervousness.
The shirt came down just past her thighs, but would ride up in the night she feared. Tugging at the ends of it subconsciously, she opened the door and stepped out. She shot him a tentative glance.
"Want my approval, Weasley?" he asked negligently, studying every bit of her. Her hair was finally released from the pony tail she always kept it in, and the fiery hair flowed beguilingly down her back. It was a good thing she'd wrapped his ribs so tight, or he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from kissing the pretty blush tinting her freckled cheeks away. He tore his eyes away from the sight before him with great will power.
She was looking up at him questioningly. He remembered she'd immediately retorted a "No" to his inquiry.
"Too bad Weasley, you have it anyway.."
Unnerved, she flipped the lights off and crawled into the side of the bed opposite the one he was occupying. After a few tense moments, she could still feel the heat of his eyes on her and turned over on her side, drawing her knees to her side. It wouldn't matter if the shirt rode up, there was plenty of room between them, and if his hands happened to wander over, there'd be hell to pay. As if reading her mind, she sensed him moving behind her and turned over, amazed to find herself staring into his eyes. How had he gotten so close to her without her sensing it earlier? 'Well Duh', her mind replied, 'You were lost in la-la land.' She bowed her head, ducking her eyes away from his.
"Blaise… I'm sorry I was such a brat that day on the pitch, I was upset."
He lifted her chin with one of his slender fingers and smiled. "I'll forgive you if you say my name again." He enjoyed hearing it spoken kindly instead of angrily. Christ! Who was he kidding, he just liked watching her lips form his name. Her mouth quirked upwards in a lopsided smile.
"Blaise…"
Her tone was that of a lover, whispering his name quietly, almost seductively. He knew she didn't intend it that way, but it affected him just the same. He needed to get control of himself before this went farther. He needed to teach this know-it-all Gryffindor he was in charge. Then she did something unexpected - for both of them.
She reached an almost trembling hand up, and slid it through the ebony tangles of his hair, and she smiled a genuine smile at him. His hair was nothing like Riddle's, which was coarse and stringy. Blaise's, her mind delighted in saying his name, was fine and thick. Without warning he ducked his head and kissed the base of her neck, the larynx. She gasped as she felt his lips brushing over the hollow of her throat. Slowly he kissed up the side of her neck and down her jaw line, eliciting a contented sigh from her. As he was about to kiss her, he paused, his lips hovered centimetres over hers.
'Quit torturing yourself, go on!' his mind screamed, but he knew if he did, he'd be lost. She whimpered slightly, and before he made the mistake of kissing her, he slid back to the other side of the bed. He'd done it. He'd taken control… again. Great, wasn't it?
"Like I said earlier," he spoke gruffly a few moments later, "pay back's a bitch, runt." Ignoring the pain in his ribs, he turned on his side away from her, wondering who the 'payback' had effected the most. It was going to be a long night!