Chapter Seven: Roomies
Unbelievable!
Ginny had gone straight to the source to find out if Blaise was telling the truth. Dumbledore, as it turned out had just left for a Ministry meeting, so she'd received a lecture from Professor Flitwick, the new Deputy Headmaster, on how she was an adult and should be able to get along with a colleague.
"Damn it. I'd like to see him share a room with someone he dislikes! Like Lockhart!" Ginny grumbled to herself as left McGonagall's office.
"I think I'd pay to see that, Ma'am," came a voice from behind her.
Ginny jumped nearly a foot in the air. What was it with people sneaking up on her these days?! She turned around to find herself facing the new Divination professor. She knew that there was another new professor starting this term, as her eyes landed on the Hogwarts emblem on this persons cloak, she assumed this was other new staff member. What surprised her, was that the new Divination teacher was... a guy.
"I'm sorry... I do have a tendency to unintentionally sneak up on people." He smiled amicably and held out his hand. "Professor Brock Lanston, ma'am."
Ginny returned the smile, "Professor Ginny Weasley, I teach Potions. I assume you're the new Divination teacher?"
"Ah, you assume correctly, check your tea leaves today did you?" he asked jokingly.
Ginny laughed, she liked this new guy. He was certainly an improvement from Professor Trelawney, who, like Professor McGonagall, had retired at the end of the previous school year.
After a few moments of polite conversation, in which he followed Ginny to her door, they said good night and she promised to save him a seat at breakfast the next morning.
"So... is that who you dumped Potter for?"
It came as soon as she entered her darkened quarters, she looked around but Blaise was nowhere to be seen. So the bastard has an invisibility cloak. She stored a mental note of this in her mind.
"Lose the invisibility cloak, Zabini."
A few moments of silence passed, but she stood firmly where she was.
"Fine, act like a two year old. I'm going to take a shower."
She had no idea she was talking to an empty room.
Angry at the prat, aptly named Blaise, she flung the bathroom door open, sending the door knob into the wall. The noise didn't shock her. A half nude Blaise Zabini certainly did though. He had definitely filled out since their days together at Hogwarts. But many scars had been added since then as well, she gasped at the lash marks across his back. Blaise forced himself not to jump as the littlest Weasley made her presence known.
Ginny expected him to yell at her for walking in on him, but he didn't. It was almost as if he knew what she was thinking. He merely stared at her, almost daring her to find something to insult. Still, he didn't ask her to leave.
Instead, he advanced upon her slowly.
Ginny instinctively backed away from him, trying courageously to keep her eyes on his face and not his chest. Eventually, she hit a wall and Zabini was on her in a second. He placed a hand on either side of her head.
"Like what you see, runt?"
Her eyes, which had been concentrating on a spot on the wall behind him, flew to his, surprised. He hadn't forgotten the incidents during her sixth year. She was unsure why she was glad, but she was anyway.
"Are you going to answer me?" he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice. Her eyes fell to her feet and she stared at them, ignoring him completely. She was trapped by him. It was the Chamber of Secrets all over again.
Amused at her reactions, Blaise grumbled when she still didn't reply, "Damn it, and look at me."
Her eyes rose steadily to meet his, but he noticed a glimmer of fear in them. All amusement in the situation drained out of him and the hands on either side of Ginny clenched and stiffened until his knuckles were pale. He moved away from her swiftly, his movements jerky and unsteady.
"Get out of here, Weasley." She hurriedly complied, not even stopping to close the door.
He slammed the door behind her, and braced himself against the countertop. What was she scared of? He had meant to be intimidating, not frightening. Blaise froze, and looked up at the mirror in front of him, his eyes falling on the ruddy patch on his arm.
"Damn it all.." So this had scared her? There was no Dark Mark showing, but he had obviously been unconsciously been rubbing at it, and she'd noticed the position of the mark, even if it was invisible to her eyes. Well she'd better get used to it. He couldn't change his past, as much as he wanted to. And he was here to stay.
After a scalding shower, he emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, his arm particularly red from where he'd scrubbed it. As he'd neglected to bring clothes into the tiny bathroom, he opened the door slightly wary and peered out, checking to see if the coast was clear. The door to what appeared to be Ginny's room was closed and he heard muffled sounds from the room. Crying.
A strand of curses flew from his lips as he realised that he was the reason she was crying. He was always the reason for her pain it seemed. Before he could stop himself or think about the rationality of his action, or even his state of undress, he knocked lightly on her door. When she didn't answer, he tried the door. It was locked. Frowning, he started to grab his wand, before remembering it was in his room among his other things.
Shaking his head, he headed towards his room. Throwing open his suitcase, he plucked the first things he saw, a knit black sweater, and black slacks. While he dressed he struggled, as his mind grappled with the fact that Ginny was crying. And then, with a wry laugh he thought, 'well she isn't Miss Innocent either'.
She wasn't the only one always being hurt, though he'd be damned before he'd let her know it.
But then he would be living with her for two months, and needed to get along with his room-mate. Maybe he had come on a little strong in the bathroom. He'd apologise (yes, he'd finally learned how to do that) and they'd work out a schedule for the bathroom, and that'd be that.
Clearing his thoughts, he sat and wrote out a schedule, and grabbing his wand, returned to her room. After knocking and once again receiving no reply, he whispered "Alohomora" and opened the door quietly. He frowned as he saw her sprawled in a chair, snoring softly.
He walked over to the edge of the chair, and nudged her lightly. No doubt she'd scream if she came to with him in her room, towering over her precious Gryffindor-self. He rolled her eyes as she wrinkled her nose.
"Please, Weasley... Don't tell me you dislike me in your sleep as well," Blaise muttered.
He should've just left her. Had it been anyone else. Parkinson, Granger, he would have. Hell, he wouldn't have even bothered with trying to apologise to them. But he couldn't seem to help himself when it came to Ginny. For some reason this little sprite wielded control over his mind and body.
What did it matter if she woke up in the morning with a neck ache because she was too stupid to fall asleep in a bed like a normal person? Of course, there was definitely nothing normal about this Weasley. Scowling at the thought, Blaise moved to her bed and pulled down the sheets, startled - for some reason - to find them quite soft and inviting.
Next he gingerly scooped her up in his arms as if she was a rag doll, and laid her gently in the bed, careful not to stumble over anything in the darkened room as he carried her. Before he pulled the blankets up over her, his eyes flickered down the length her body of their own accord. So sue him, he was a Slytherin.
Even in sleep and a dark room, he considered her beautiful. But he didn't need a lighted room to know that she had one freckle on her top left cheek a bit below the eye. He'd memorised her face long ago from a pictured he'd pilfered from Potter and crew. One of his long, tapered fingers moved lightly across her cheek as she slept, before he covered her with the sheets and blankets.
"Harry..." she whispered softly in her sleep.
He froze, his body stiff as a board. So she was still enamoured with the ruddy boy who lived. Go. Fucking. Figure. Pulling the bathroom schedule from his back pocket, he placed it on her nightstand. Barely suppressing the urge to growl ferociously, he stalked from the room, somehow managing not to slam the door.
~*~
The other occupant in the room smiled. True, he'd nearly died of a heart attack when the former Death Eater had entered. Zabini was trained, like all the others, to notice all presences in a room. But Zabini hadn't noticed him. Wouldn't the master have been sad?
He chuckled at his luck. Blaise had never been fully alert when he'd entered the room, all his attention was focused on the wench asleep in her bed. This was going better than he could ever have imagined. Practically giggling, he rose from the corner where he'd hidden and placed a dried, white rose, sprinkled with grass, on the table by Zabini's note, and slipped quietly from their residence.
~*~
Hours later, Ginny awoke with a start. She opened her eyes, which were crusty from dried tears, and wiping away the residue, she looked around contemplatively, wondering faintly how she'd gotten there. Must have sleep walked, she decided. Her eyes were unconsciously drawn to her nightstand, and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she saw the display on her table.
Flowers? Dried flowers… and grass, no less? She picked the paper beside them up, and again her eyebrows rose. So Zabini had written down a bathroom schedule. That still didn't explain the odd floral display. Slytherins… she would never understand the gits. Heck, even though she liked Malfoy, she still didn't understand him.
Sighing she picked herself lazily up from her bed and began to prepare for her day at work. She truly loved working at Hogwarts. It was perhaps the greatest place to work, she thought. But who wouldn't with Albus Dumbledore as your boss? How the man seemed constantly in a cheerful mood, she never new, but it was contagious.
Humming, she tugged her Hogwarts robe over her jeans and shirt, and then pulled her long hair back into a low pony tail. Some of the more elderly faculty, such as McGonagall, frowned upon the casual wear beneath her school robes, but in Potions she was a hands on teacher who didn't mind getting her hands dirty. And so she could move more freely and comfortably, she'd explained to her colleagues that was why she wore the necessary, casual garments, and Dumbledore agreed.
Gathering all she would need until dinner into a nifty muggle contraption her father had introduced, called a backpack, she dashed from her room and quickly out the door of her common room, not wanting to face Blaise this early.
She felt a little silly about the whole thing. It's not like he would, or even could, hurt her, she told herself as she walked down to the Great Hall. She was tough and it was only two months right? Eight weeks? Yes… that would be simple enough. Just keep to his idiotic little bathroom schedule, and he'll be out of there before you know it, she thought.
Her face fell as she entered and noticed he was already at the breakfast table, in her usual seat between Malfoy and Hermione. Great way to start the week, she grumped to her mind. Just peachy. She fell into a seat between Dumbledore and Hermione, shooting a slightly mean look at the obnoxious former Head Boy. Hermione smiled at her sympathetically.
"I told him it was your usual seat, Gin, but he told me you could try and make him move if you wanted it so bad."
Ginny's eyes narrowed. This day was getting worse by the minute.
"Ugh. What should we expect, Hermione? I mean, he is a Slytherin. God forbid if any of them should actually take responsibility for their actions or care about anyone else's feelings."
She spoke loud enough for Draco and Blaise to hear her, and then smiled genially at them. Hermione coughing back laughter and Draco's eyebrows merely rose. Blaise Zabini, however, looked murderous. With shaking hands he reached for his goblet and took a sip of the tangy orange juice provided via house elves. Ginny was surprised that the glass didn't break beneath his grip, but then Dumbledore probably had unbreakable goblets. Honestly, that man thought of everything.
Lifting her chin defiantly, she turned her gaze away from him and to Hermione, trying to ignore the fierce blue eyes staring a hole through her head. Grasping for something to talk about, she brought up the odd flower arrangement to Hermione. When Hermione asked what type of arrangement it was, Ginny explained that it was a weird dried white rose with grass sprinkled upon it.
Hermione just about choked on her bacon and abruptly excused herself for a bit of research.
"That woman is going to have that entire library read by the end of the term, assuming she hasn't read already," Malfoy stated, watching the brown haired beauty head for the library. When no one responded, he looked at his companions, Blaise and Ginny.
Companions was a strong word for two people locked in a staring contest. Yes, much too strong a word. Perhaps the title 'two year olds' would suit them better.
Ah, yes.
Two year olds.
Perfect.
~*~
She was lucky she was a girl, Zabini thought to himself. Damn lucky. Had it been a guy making the same comments she had so rudely made this morning, she would probably be in the Hospital Wing with Pomfrey right now. But instead she'd had the final word. Again. She was now down in the dungeons teaching those snivelling ankle-biters called students.
Well, the students weren't really that bad, he mentally amended, as he paced the cramped quarters. Of course, this being Hogwarts, his reputation had gotten around like wildfire. So now, whenever he roamed the corridors, students almost literally scurried from his path, whispering 'Death Eater Zabini's on the prowl, pass it on!'
Well, he could be a more effective teacher if they feared him, he reckoned, so it really didn't bother him that much. At least they stayed out of his way. Now if only Weasley would, or could rather, keep her smart sodding comments to herself, he'd be grand.
Blaise's jaw clenched as he recalled the events of earlier this morning at breakfast. Did she really think that? Would he have tucked her in last night if he'd been a slimy, Slytherin git who cared about no one but himself? He sighed to himself. Why did he even try? It sure as hell didn't do any good.
"Something the matter, Mr Zabini?" a warm voice questioned.
His head shot up, surprised he wasn't alone and hadn't heard his companion's entrance. Then again, it was Dumbledore. He eased his rigid stance slightly, and even managed a forced smile to his face.
"Nothing whatsoever, Headmaster."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Somehow, I'm not convinced, Blaise. Does this have to do with your room mate, Miss Weasley? "
At the mention of her name, Blaise's body tensed once more.
"Ah, I thought so." Dumbledore sighed, "I thought, perhaps that you two would be able to get along, now that the war is over and life is getting back to normal."
Blaise refrained from reply to Dumbledore's question. What did he think would happen? Slytherins and Gryffindors did not mix. Neither did Weasleys and Zabinis.
"Well, you leave me no choice, Mr Zabini. I'm afraid I'll have to make other arrangements for you two."
At this, he looked up from the floor he was studying.
"I'm getting a new room then?!" Blaise asked, somewhat relieved, and yet also somewhat disappointed.
"I'll tell you and Miss Weasley together. How about tonight after dinner, hmm?" When Blaise nodded in agreement, Dumbledore continued. "Very well, see you two in my office then."
Blaise barely nodded his agreement before Dumbledore was out the door. Despite the fact that Dumbledore had given him a chance when he knew many wouldn't have, he still thought him to odd at times. Well, at least he hadn't unpacked everything yet.
~*~
Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat at dinner that night. Her eyes flitted between Dumbledore and Zabini for possibly the twentieth time that evening. After Dumbledore's visit, Blaise had sent an owl to her informing her of the meeting to take place in the headmaster's office tonight, but he'd left no clue as to what it was about.
The bastard, she thought a tad ruthlessly, he wouldn't even speak face to face with her, he'd sent a bloody owl.
Also troubling her was the research Hermione had shared with her. The dried, white roses, as it turned out, meant that 'death was preferable to loss of virtue'. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. And the grass turned out to symbolise 'submission' as Hermione had put it. Zabini was one twisted cookie, she'd give him that, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had intimidated her at all.
As the evening bell sounded, a warning for all students to be heading back to their dormitories before curfew, she rose from her seat and noticed Zabini doing the same from the corner of her eyes. With all the hordes of students, she made her way to the entry way of the castle.
Without warning, the doors to the castle flew open, and Fang ran in with a steak in his mouth, with Hagrid chasing after him.
"Fang!" he roared, "Come back with me dinner!"
The dog continued running and skidding across the marble floor, and then for some reason started heading straight towards her. She froze in terror.
Give her a Dementor, she'd handle it with a swift Patronus. But a dog?! No, she definitely was not fond of dogs. Sure of certain death, 'okay' she told herself, 'maybe I'm being a little dramatic', she stood rooted to the spot, watching Fang barrel helplessly towards her. She vaguely her shouts of her name, and was expecting to be pushed to the cool marble at any moment.
She never felt herself being pulled safely to the ground and covered by another body protectively.
One of her eyes opened, though she never remembered closing them in the first place.
"What?" she inquired softly, slowly coming to the realisation that she was curled up into the arms of a stranger. No, Blaise, she corrected herself. His eyes bore into hers and his arms gradually loosened.
"You know, you really need to quit falling on me, Weasley."
His arms relinquished their hold upon her completely, and he pushed himself up, offering a hand down to Ginny, who was still visibly frightened. The other professors had already cleared most of the students out of the area and shooed them off to bed, so with nothing else to do, they started towards the headmaster's office.
"What happened back there?" Blaise questioned thoughtfully. "You acted as if you were scared of the big mutt."
Only her large, brown eyes answered him.
"You're not serious… are you?"
Sniffing, she picked up her pace.
"It doesn't matter, Zabini. Thank you for your help, but my fears are no concern of yours." With that she lifted her tiny little chin proudly, and they continued the rest of the way in silence.
"Chocolate Frogs," they spoke at the same time.
"Jinx," Ginny murmured. Blaise stopped and looked at her.
"What was that?"
She sighed. "Didn't you ever play that game as a child, Zabini? Someone says the same thing as you at the same time and the last person to say jinx owes the quickest jinxer a butterbeer."
"So is that how you Weasley's keep entertained all summer?" he asked jokingly.
Ginny was less than amused.
"Look, just because you had everything handed to you as a child, doesn't give you the right to insult me and my family. We're honest, hard working people, Blaise!"
He was slightly taken aback at her vehement reaction. "I... I meant no offence, Ginny. I was just joking."
Ginny stopped a smile from forming.
Blaise grimaced to himself. Was he actually stuttering?! He needed to cover this pesky insecurity thing and fast!
"Yeah, well my advice, don't try to joke anymore."
As she pushed Dumbledore's office door open, she heard a soft, "At least you had a childhood."
And together, they entered his office.
~*~
"Miss Weasley, Mr Zabini, good to see you both. I'm afraid I'll have to be brief, as I have to attend another meeting in a few moments."
At their nods, he continued.
"Miss Weasley, Mr Zabini, it is important that we all get along. Especially colleagues. I mean, what kind of example to the students would you be if neither of you can stand to be in the same room as the other?"
"So you're giving us our own rooms?" Blaise asked shrewdly, getting the feeling that the old codger had something else in mind.
"No, Mr Zabini, you're not getting another room. Instead, you and Miss Weasley will spend two hours together every evening after dinner - getting to know one another."
"WHAT?!" Blaise reacted incredulously before he could stop himself.
"Professor, are you mad?!" Ginny cried, horrified at the mere suggestion.
They both paused to glare at one another's comment, giving the old headmaster time to recoup.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," he responded, gesturing to the mean looks they sent one another. "The students will feel this tension and react to it. Now you two will spend time together, and learn about each other. Even Severus and Minerva got along better than you two."
Before they could start their arguments up again, he shot them a look of his own, effectively silencing both of them. Dumbledore smiled genially at them both.
"Good, I'm glad you agree. Now if you'll wear these, you may leave and start your two hours together right away."
"What... are they, Professor?" Ginny asked warily, picking one up.
"They're charmed jewellery, Miss Weasley, to make sure you and Mr Zabini stick to your meetings each night."
"Oh..." Somewhat resentfully, she fastened the light, jingling bracelet on her slender wrist. Blaise picked up a studded bracelet and snapped it onto his wrist as well.
"Now that the bracelets are on, I feel it safe to tell you that they won't be coming off until after Christmas break."
They started to protest once more, but stopped noticing a flickering in the fireplace. Professor Dumbledore's next meeting was apparently in the fireplace.
"Well, our meeting is concluded, I'll see you both bright and early in the morning. "Pleasant dreams"
~*~
"Bah. Pleasant dreams my ass. Damn Dumbledore and his Gryffindor tricks."
"Oh do shut up, Blaise."
Blaise halted from his fast-paced walk, and turned to face her, a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"You know, Weasley, this is all your fault. You and your smart mouth. It's always gotten me in trouble and involved in things I'd normally not have anything to do with."
"Aw… poor ickle Blaisey, do you need some cheese to go with that whine?" she retorted, just as angry as he was.
"No. You know what I don't need, Weasley? You. I don't need you as my room mate, I don't need you in my mind, I don't need you in my dreams, I don't need you as a friend. Hell I don't even need you as a foe. So do yourself a favour, Weasley, stay the hell away from me and my room."
With that he stormed off down the hallway to their room, leaving a stunned Ginny Weasley behind him.
He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
~*~
Unbelievable!
Ginny had gone straight to the source to find out if Blaise was telling the truth. Dumbledore, as it turned out had just left for a Ministry meeting, so she'd received a lecture from Professor Flitwick, the new Deputy Headmaster, on how she was an adult and should be able to get along with a colleague.
"Damn it. I'd like to see him share a room with someone he dislikes! Like Lockhart!" Ginny grumbled to herself as left McGonagall's office.
"I think I'd pay to see that, Ma'am," came a voice from behind her.
Ginny jumped nearly a foot in the air. What was it with people sneaking up on her these days?! She turned around to find herself facing the new Divination professor. She knew that there was another new professor starting this term, as her eyes landed on the Hogwarts emblem on this persons cloak, she assumed this was other new staff member. What surprised her, was that the new Divination teacher was... a guy.
"I'm sorry... I do have a tendency to unintentionally sneak up on people." He smiled amicably and held out his hand. "Professor Brock Lanston, ma'am."
Ginny returned the smile, "Professor Ginny Weasley, I teach Potions. I assume you're the new Divination teacher?"
"Ah, you assume correctly, check your tea leaves today did you?" he asked jokingly.
Ginny laughed, she liked this new guy. He was certainly an improvement from Professor Trelawney, who, like Professor McGonagall, had retired at the end of the previous school year.
After a few moments of polite conversation, in which he followed Ginny to her door, they said good night and she promised to save him a seat at breakfast the next morning.
"So... is that who you dumped Potter for?"
It came as soon as she entered her darkened quarters, she looked around but Blaise was nowhere to be seen. So the bastard has an invisibility cloak. She stored a mental note of this in her mind.
"Lose the invisibility cloak, Zabini."
A few moments of silence passed, but she stood firmly where she was.
"Fine, act like a two year old. I'm going to take a shower."
She had no idea she was talking to an empty room.
Angry at the prat, aptly named Blaise, she flung the bathroom door open, sending the door knob into the wall. The noise didn't shock her. A half nude Blaise Zabini certainly did though. He had definitely filled out since their days together at Hogwarts. But many scars had been added since then as well, she gasped at the lash marks across his back. Blaise forced himself not to jump as the littlest Weasley made her presence known.
Ginny expected him to yell at her for walking in on him, but he didn't. It was almost as if he knew what she was thinking. He merely stared at her, almost daring her to find something to insult. Still, he didn't ask her to leave.
Instead, he advanced upon her slowly.
Ginny instinctively backed away from him, trying courageously to keep her eyes on his face and not his chest. Eventually, she hit a wall and Zabini was on her in a second. He placed a hand on either side of her head.
"Like what you see, runt?"
Her eyes, which had been concentrating on a spot on the wall behind him, flew to his, surprised. He hadn't forgotten the incidents during her sixth year. She was unsure why she was glad, but she was anyway.
"Are you going to answer me?" he asked, a trace of amusement in his voice. Her eyes fell to her feet and she stared at them, ignoring him completely. She was trapped by him. It was the Chamber of Secrets all over again.
Amused at her reactions, Blaise grumbled when she still didn't reply, "Damn it, and look at me."
Her eyes rose steadily to meet his, but he noticed a glimmer of fear in them. All amusement in the situation drained out of him and the hands on either side of Ginny clenched and stiffened until his knuckles were pale. He moved away from her swiftly, his movements jerky and unsteady.
"Get out of here, Weasley." She hurriedly complied, not even stopping to close the door.
He slammed the door behind her, and braced himself against the countertop. What was she scared of? He had meant to be intimidating, not frightening. Blaise froze, and looked up at the mirror in front of him, his eyes falling on the ruddy patch on his arm.
"Damn it all.." So this had scared her? There was no Dark Mark showing, but he had obviously been unconsciously been rubbing at it, and she'd noticed the position of the mark, even if it was invisible to her eyes. Well she'd better get used to it. He couldn't change his past, as much as he wanted to. And he was here to stay.
After a scalding shower, he emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a towel, his arm particularly red from where he'd scrubbed it. As he'd neglected to bring clothes into the tiny bathroom, he opened the door slightly wary and peered out, checking to see if the coast was clear. The door to what appeared to be Ginny's room was closed and he heard muffled sounds from the room. Crying.
A strand of curses flew from his lips as he realised that he was the reason she was crying. He was always the reason for her pain it seemed. Before he could stop himself or think about the rationality of his action, or even his state of undress, he knocked lightly on her door. When she didn't answer, he tried the door. It was locked. Frowning, he started to grab his wand, before remembering it was in his room among his other things.
Shaking his head, he headed towards his room. Throwing open his suitcase, he plucked the first things he saw, a knit black sweater, and black slacks. While he dressed he struggled, as his mind grappled with the fact that Ginny was crying. And then, with a wry laugh he thought, 'well she isn't Miss Innocent either'.
She wasn't the only one always being hurt, though he'd be damned before he'd let her know it.
But then he would be living with her for two months, and needed to get along with his room-mate. Maybe he had come on a little strong in the bathroom. He'd apologise (yes, he'd finally learned how to do that) and they'd work out a schedule for the bathroom, and that'd be that.
Clearing his thoughts, he sat and wrote out a schedule, and grabbing his wand, returned to her room. After knocking and once again receiving no reply, he whispered "Alohomora" and opened the door quietly. He frowned as he saw her sprawled in a chair, snoring softly.
He walked over to the edge of the chair, and nudged her lightly. No doubt she'd scream if she came to with him in her room, towering over her precious Gryffindor-self. He rolled her eyes as she wrinkled her nose.
"Please, Weasley... Don't tell me you dislike me in your sleep as well," Blaise muttered.
He should've just left her. Had it been anyone else. Parkinson, Granger, he would have. Hell, he wouldn't have even bothered with trying to apologise to them. But he couldn't seem to help himself when it came to Ginny. For some reason this little sprite wielded control over his mind and body.
What did it matter if she woke up in the morning with a neck ache because she was too stupid to fall asleep in a bed like a normal person? Of course, there was definitely nothing normal about this Weasley. Scowling at the thought, Blaise moved to her bed and pulled down the sheets, startled - for some reason - to find them quite soft and inviting.
Next he gingerly scooped her up in his arms as if she was a rag doll, and laid her gently in the bed, careful not to stumble over anything in the darkened room as he carried her. Before he pulled the blankets up over her, his eyes flickered down the length her body of their own accord. So sue him, he was a Slytherin.
Even in sleep and a dark room, he considered her beautiful. But he didn't need a lighted room to know that she had one freckle on her top left cheek a bit below the eye. He'd memorised her face long ago from a pictured he'd pilfered from Potter and crew. One of his long, tapered fingers moved lightly across her cheek as she slept, before he covered her with the sheets and blankets.
"Harry..." she whispered softly in her sleep.
He froze, his body stiff as a board. So she was still enamoured with the ruddy boy who lived. Go. Fucking. Figure. Pulling the bathroom schedule from his back pocket, he placed it on her nightstand. Barely suppressing the urge to growl ferociously, he stalked from the room, somehow managing not to slam the door.
~*~
The other occupant in the room smiled. True, he'd nearly died of a heart attack when the former Death Eater had entered. Zabini was trained, like all the others, to notice all presences in a room. But Zabini hadn't noticed him. Wouldn't the master have been sad?
He chuckled at his luck. Blaise had never been fully alert when he'd entered the room, all his attention was focused on the wench asleep in her bed. This was going better than he could ever have imagined. Practically giggling, he rose from the corner where he'd hidden and placed a dried, white rose, sprinkled with grass, on the table by Zabini's note, and slipped quietly from their residence.
~*~
Hours later, Ginny awoke with a start. She opened her eyes, which were crusty from dried tears, and wiping away the residue, she looked around contemplatively, wondering faintly how she'd gotten there. Must have sleep walked, she decided. Her eyes were unconsciously drawn to her nightstand, and her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she saw the display on her table.
Flowers? Dried flowers… and grass, no less? She picked the paper beside them up, and again her eyebrows rose. So Zabini had written down a bathroom schedule. That still didn't explain the odd floral display. Slytherins… she would never understand the gits. Heck, even though she liked Malfoy, she still didn't understand him.
Sighing she picked herself lazily up from her bed and began to prepare for her day at work. She truly loved working at Hogwarts. It was perhaps the greatest place to work, she thought. But who wouldn't with Albus Dumbledore as your boss? How the man seemed constantly in a cheerful mood, she never new, but it was contagious.
Humming, she tugged her Hogwarts robe over her jeans and shirt, and then pulled her long hair back into a low pony tail. Some of the more elderly faculty, such as McGonagall, frowned upon the casual wear beneath her school robes, but in Potions she was a hands on teacher who didn't mind getting her hands dirty. And so she could move more freely and comfortably, she'd explained to her colleagues that was why she wore the necessary, casual garments, and Dumbledore agreed.
Gathering all she would need until dinner into a nifty muggle contraption her father had introduced, called a backpack, she dashed from her room and quickly out the door of her common room, not wanting to face Blaise this early.
She felt a little silly about the whole thing. It's not like he would, or even could, hurt her, she told herself as she walked down to the Great Hall. She was tough and it was only two months right? Eight weeks? Yes… that would be simple enough. Just keep to his idiotic little bathroom schedule, and he'll be out of there before you know it, she thought.
Her face fell as she entered and noticed he was already at the breakfast table, in her usual seat between Malfoy and Hermione. Great way to start the week, she grumped to her mind. Just peachy. She fell into a seat between Dumbledore and Hermione, shooting a slightly mean look at the obnoxious former Head Boy. Hermione smiled at her sympathetically.
"I told him it was your usual seat, Gin, but he told me you could try and make him move if you wanted it so bad."
Ginny's eyes narrowed. This day was getting worse by the minute.
"Ugh. What should we expect, Hermione? I mean, he is a Slytherin. God forbid if any of them should actually take responsibility for their actions or care about anyone else's feelings."
She spoke loud enough for Draco and Blaise to hear her, and then smiled genially at them. Hermione coughing back laughter and Draco's eyebrows merely rose. Blaise Zabini, however, looked murderous. With shaking hands he reached for his goblet and took a sip of the tangy orange juice provided via house elves. Ginny was surprised that the glass didn't break beneath his grip, but then Dumbledore probably had unbreakable goblets. Honestly, that man thought of everything.
Lifting her chin defiantly, she turned her gaze away from him and to Hermione, trying to ignore the fierce blue eyes staring a hole through her head. Grasping for something to talk about, she brought up the odd flower arrangement to Hermione. When Hermione asked what type of arrangement it was, Ginny explained that it was a weird dried white rose with grass sprinkled upon it.
Hermione just about choked on her bacon and abruptly excused herself for a bit of research.
"That woman is going to have that entire library read by the end of the term, assuming she hasn't read already," Malfoy stated, watching the brown haired beauty head for the library. When no one responded, he looked at his companions, Blaise and Ginny.
Companions was a strong word for two people locked in a staring contest. Yes, much too strong a word. Perhaps the title 'two year olds' would suit them better.
Ah, yes.
Two year olds.
Perfect.
~*~
She was lucky she was a girl, Zabini thought to himself. Damn lucky. Had it been a guy making the same comments she had so rudely made this morning, she would probably be in the Hospital Wing with Pomfrey right now. But instead she'd had the final word. Again. She was now down in the dungeons teaching those snivelling ankle-biters called students.
Well, the students weren't really that bad, he mentally amended, as he paced the cramped quarters. Of course, this being Hogwarts, his reputation had gotten around like wildfire. So now, whenever he roamed the corridors, students almost literally scurried from his path, whispering 'Death Eater Zabini's on the prowl, pass it on!'
Well, he could be a more effective teacher if they feared him, he reckoned, so it really didn't bother him that much. At least they stayed out of his way. Now if only Weasley would, or could rather, keep her smart sodding comments to herself, he'd be grand.
Blaise's jaw clenched as he recalled the events of earlier this morning at breakfast. Did she really think that? Would he have tucked her in last night if he'd been a slimy, Slytherin git who cared about no one but himself? He sighed to himself. Why did he even try? It sure as hell didn't do any good.
"Something the matter, Mr Zabini?" a warm voice questioned.
His head shot up, surprised he wasn't alone and hadn't heard his companion's entrance. Then again, it was Dumbledore. He eased his rigid stance slightly, and even managed a forced smile to his face.
"Nothing whatsoever, Headmaster."
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Somehow, I'm not convinced, Blaise. Does this have to do with your room mate, Miss Weasley? "
At the mention of her name, Blaise's body tensed once more.
"Ah, I thought so." Dumbledore sighed, "I thought, perhaps that you two would be able to get along, now that the war is over and life is getting back to normal."
Blaise refrained from reply to Dumbledore's question. What did he think would happen? Slytherins and Gryffindors did not mix. Neither did Weasleys and Zabinis.
"Well, you leave me no choice, Mr Zabini. I'm afraid I'll have to make other arrangements for you two."
At this, he looked up from the floor he was studying.
"I'm getting a new room then?!" Blaise asked, somewhat relieved, and yet also somewhat disappointed.
"I'll tell you and Miss Weasley together. How about tonight after dinner, hmm?" When Blaise nodded in agreement, Dumbledore continued. "Very well, see you two in my office then."
Blaise barely nodded his agreement before Dumbledore was out the door. Despite the fact that Dumbledore had given him a chance when he knew many wouldn't have, he still thought him to odd at times. Well, at least he hadn't unpacked everything yet.
~*~
Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat at dinner that night. Her eyes flitted between Dumbledore and Zabini for possibly the twentieth time that evening. After Dumbledore's visit, Blaise had sent an owl to her informing her of the meeting to take place in the headmaster's office tonight, but he'd left no clue as to what it was about.
The bastard, she thought a tad ruthlessly, he wouldn't even speak face to face with her, he'd sent a bloody owl.
Also troubling her was the research Hermione had shared with her. The dried, white roses, as it turned out, meant that 'death was preferable to loss of virtue'. Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. And the grass turned out to symbolise 'submission' as Hermione had put it. Zabini was one twisted cookie, she'd give him that, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had intimidated her at all.
As the evening bell sounded, a warning for all students to be heading back to their dormitories before curfew, she rose from her seat and noticed Zabini doing the same from the corner of her eyes. With all the hordes of students, she made her way to the entry way of the castle.
Without warning, the doors to the castle flew open, and Fang ran in with a steak in his mouth, with Hagrid chasing after him.
"Fang!" he roared, "Come back with me dinner!"
The dog continued running and skidding across the marble floor, and then for some reason started heading straight towards her. She froze in terror.
Give her a Dementor, she'd handle it with a swift Patronus. But a dog?! No, she definitely was not fond of dogs. Sure of certain death, 'okay' she told herself, 'maybe I'm being a little dramatic', she stood rooted to the spot, watching Fang barrel helplessly towards her. She vaguely her shouts of her name, and was expecting to be pushed to the cool marble at any moment.
She never felt herself being pulled safely to the ground and covered by another body protectively.
One of her eyes opened, though she never remembered closing them in the first place.
"What?" she inquired softly, slowly coming to the realisation that she was curled up into the arms of a stranger. No, Blaise, she corrected herself. His eyes bore into hers and his arms gradually loosened.
"You know, you really need to quit falling on me, Weasley."
His arms relinquished their hold upon her completely, and he pushed himself up, offering a hand down to Ginny, who was still visibly frightened. The other professors had already cleared most of the students out of the area and shooed them off to bed, so with nothing else to do, they started towards the headmaster's office.
"What happened back there?" Blaise questioned thoughtfully. "You acted as if you were scared of the big mutt."
Only her large, brown eyes answered him.
"You're not serious… are you?"
Sniffing, she picked up her pace.
"It doesn't matter, Zabini. Thank you for your help, but my fears are no concern of yours." With that she lifted her tiny little chin proudly, and they continued the rest of the way in silence.
"Chocolate Frogs," they spoke at the same time.
"Jinx," Ginny murmured. Blaise stopped and looked at her.
"What was that?"
She sighed. "Didn't you ever play that game as a child, Zabini? Someone says the same thing as you at the same time and the last person to say jinx owes the quickest jinxer a butterbeer."
"So is that how you Weasley's keep entertained all summer?" he asked jokingly.
Ginny was less than amused.
"Look, just because you had everything handed to you as a child, doesn't give you the right to insult me and my family. We're honest, hard working people, Blaise!"
He was slightly taken aback at her vehement reaction. "I... I meant no offence, Ginny. I was just joking."
Ginny stopped a smile from forming.
Blaise grimaced to himself. Was he actually stuttering?! He needed to cover this pesky insecurity thing and fast!
"Yeah, well my advice, don't try to joke anymore."
As she pushed Dumbledore's office door open, she heard a soft, "At least you had a childhood."
And together, they entered his office.
~*~
"Miss Weasley, Mr Zabini, good to see you both. I'm afraid I'll have to be brief, as I have to attend another meeting in a few moments."
At their nods, he continued.
"Miss Weasley, Mr Zabini, it is important that we all get along. Especially colleagues. I mean, what kind of example to the students would you be if neither of you can stand to be in the same room as the other?"
"So you're giving us our own rooms?" Blaise asked shrewdly, getting the feeling that the old codger had something else in mind.
"No, Mr Zabini, you're not getting another room. Instead, you and Miss Weasley will spend two hours together every evening after dinner - getting to know one another."
"WHAT?!" Blaise reacted incredulously before he could stop himself.
"Professor, are you mad?!" Ginny cried, horrified at the mere suggestion.
They both paused to glare at one another's comment, giving the old headmaster time to recoup.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about," he responded, gesturing to the mean looks they sent one another. "The students will feel this tension and react to it. Now you two will spend time together, and learn about each other. Even Severus and Minerva got along better than you two."
Before they could start their arguments up again, he shot them a look of his own, effectively silencing both of them. Dumbledore smiled genially at them both.
"Good, I'm glad you agree. Now if you'll wear these, you may leave and start your two hours together right away."
"What... are they, Professor?" Ginny asked warily, picking one up.
"They're charmed jewellery, Miss Weasley, to make sure you and Mr Zabini stick to your meetings each night."
"Oh..." Somewhat resentfully, she fastened the light, jingling bracelet on her slender wrist. Blaise picked up a studded bracelet and snapped it onto his wrist as well.
"Now that the bracelets are on, I feel it safe to tell you that they won't be coming off until after Christmas break."
They started to protest once more, but stopped noticing a flickering in the fireplace. Professor Dumbledore's next meeting was apparently in the fireplace.
"Well, our meeting is concluded, I'll see you both bright and early in the morning. "Pleasant dreams"
~*~
"Bah. Pleasant dreams my ass. Damn Dumbledore and his Gryffindor tricks."
"Oh do shut up, Blaise."
Blaise halted from his fast-paced walk, and turned to face her, a dangerous gleam in his eye.
"You know, Weasley, this is all your fault. You and your smart mouth. It's always gotten me in trouble and involved in things I'd normally not have anything to do with."
"Aw… poor ickle Blaisey, do you need some cheese to go with that whine?" she retorted, just as angry as he was.
"No. You know what I don't need, Weasley? You. I don't need you as my room mate, I don't need you in my mind, I don't need you in my dreams, I don't need you as a friend. Hell I don't even need you as a foe. So do yourself a favour, Weasley, stay the hell away from me and my room."
With that he stormed off down the hallway to their room, leaving a stunned Ginny Weasley behind him.
He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
~*~