AN: I should be writing a seven-page essay about Andorra, but here I am, writing this third chapter and getting drunk on apple cider that isn't even fermented.
Pathetic? I would say so.
Disclaimer: Do you actually see a mob of reporters lunging at me?
Me neither ¬-¬
So let's just leave it at that, we all know that I'm not J.K.-ye be blessed!-Rowling.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Oh really?" The silky voice spurred warning signals all over her spine. She almost shuddered. Almost being the key word. She swallowed noiselessly and waited for him to continue. She wasn't about to bite his dangling bait.
Suddenly this call didn't sound like such a good idea after all.
"And exactly how are you planning to do just that?" he asked narrowly and Ginny allowed herself quite a husky chuckle.
"You will see soon enough."
"Who are you?" Again that silky caress that was delicious to the bone and dangerous to the mind.
"Depends on how you want to see me," Ginny paused as she heard Blaise's laugh. Too much perfection for her taste. Her grip on the phone tightened, her knuckles whitened and her eyes narrowed. She waited for him to finish so that she could continue. "I can either be your friend or your enemy. It's all your choice Blaisey dear." She chuckled internally upon hearing him growl at the nickname. "Now where do you want us to meet?" Ginny asked sweetly, pleased with herself once again for having won over the control over this anonymous conversation. Who had the upper hand in these mental games was technically crucial
"This better be good, girl," Blaise snarled.
"Oh, trust me, it is, boy," Ginny said with a laugh at his short temper.
"Tomorrow, Charmed Wand at nine," Blaise growled.
Then the line went dead.
Now Ginny was here, standing before a full length mirror while observing her reflection intently. She had changed dresses for at least a dozen times, and now she was barely satisfied. She had to look pre—no, gorgeous—before Blaise Zabini. She didn't want to be rated. If Blaise Zabini was accustomed to beautiful, then beautiful he would get.
But that was quite a difficult task to accomplish if you considered the fact that you were not even pretty.
Plain wouldn't do.
Not at all.
Azure eyes gazed steadily back at her, and her curly hair reached her waist. She had always been rather fond of her long hair, and that was the only asset she possessed that she thought of as delightful. Parted to one side, the curtain of red hovered teasingly before her dark blue eyes. A sapphire blue dress clung to her waist, almost like a second skin. She was almost uncomfortable already.
She wasn't used to wear such…indecorous garments. But Blaise was…
'To hell with what Blaise Zabini is accustomed to!' Ginny internally cursed. She wasn't about to pass a hell of uncomfortable hours just because a boy wasn't accustomed to plain women. He could go and meet Hades for all she cared.
Yet, she didn't change apparel. One look at her clock prevented her from doing just that. Yelping in surprise, she grabbed her purse and cloak and ran downstairs, almost snapping, more than once, her stiletto heels.
"Foutre," she hissed in French as she skidded to a halt before her fireplace.
'Floo's disconnected, you moron,' a voice sneered.
'Really? Thanks for the unnecessary reminder, arse,' she added as an afterthought.
But then, she had never been one lover of the Apparating allure. It just made her too queasy. She eyed the star-shaped box that contained her beloved Floo powders with longing. What she did for her career…
Quickly making her decision and before she could change her mind, Ginny took a deep breath, pursed her lips, and squeezed her eyes shut.
A loud 'crack' after she was not there.
--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Stupid whore!" The roar reverberated against the crystal chandeliers as Draco Malfoy flung a magazine against the far off wall. "How does she dare insult me like that? The vicious bitch doesn't even know me! Sucking parasite that wants to become famous at my ribs!" His gorgeous features were set in an ominous scowl and his eyes flashed against the dull shine that was thrown off by the dimmed lights. "I'll just rip her—"
A caressing hand upon his chest stopped him from sending something, anything, crashing against the walls.
"Draco, sweetheart, come on, don't you think you are exaggerating a bit here?" a brunette cooed as she started to rub his lower stomach insinuatingly and to nibble his neck in the most tentative way.
"Heatheburn, fuck off," Draco growled. Obstinately—or brainlessly—the girl still clung to him. "I said fuck off!" he yelled as he flung her away from him and into the sofa. He started the pacing again while the woman simply snarled at him.
"Fine! I will fuck off Draco Malfoy. Just don't come later on begging me to return, because I won't!" Slinging her designer purse into her shoulder angrily, Victoria Heatheburn disappeared from view with a resounding crack.
Draco resumed his ranting after she had left and started to curse under his breath, pacing to and fro. He knew he had totally lost control, but in his enraged state he couldn't bring himself to care. He was thinking about the many ways he would kill this precocious journalist that had just ventured too far into uncharted territory.
As he heard some light footsteps behind him, he growled dangerously.
"Didn't I just tell you to fuck off?"
"Here my dear Drakie-pooh? Oh my, aren't we a bit urgent? Why don't we go to your bedroom, eh? Maybe there I can satisfy you better…" an insinuating and sardonic voice replied from behind him and a smirk grew in his lips as he recognized the owner of the voice.
"Zabini," he said pleasantly.
"Malfoy."
The last vestiges of his anger reduced to nothingness as he elegantly swirled around to come face to face with the aristocratic features of a green-eyed Sex God. Midnight black hair and delicately satirical lips. Elegant, straight, Roman nose and mischievous emerald green eyes that promised lustful fantasies fulfilled—to women of course. That was the description Draco had received from a female that had recently enjoyed Blaise's—err, rather pleasant attentions.
"Getting an eyeful, aren't we?" Blaise smirked arrogantly and lounged in a comfortable settee, not even bothering to wait for Malfoy to give any indication that he could.
"Bastard," Draco muttered as he circled the place, causing Blaise to let out a husky chuckle. There was a moment's silence as they both eyed each other discreetly.
"So, what were you grunting on about before that wonderful arse of a woman left and I made my appearance?" Blaise drawled lazily.
"You checked out my girlfriend?" Draco asked; an eyebrow up, half-amused, half-annoyed.
"Allow me, Draco dearest. Girl-space-Friend, got that? Or fuck buddy, whichever you prefer, since for you, those two phrases seem to be synonyms," Blaise threw back thoughtfully. "But for her to be your girlfriend-without a space-she would need to be visited more than once a month after you have finished out your other—rounds. She would need to be here on a daily basis, and let me assure you that I know that she's not, so spare me the chase," Blaise drawled lazily. Draco narrowed his eyes, chose to let it go for the moment, and pointed heavily at the magazine that now lay sprawled on the floor—greatly mistreated—open exactly at the offending article. Raising an eyebrow, Blaise sauntered over to the place. Both of his eyebrows shot up as he read the title of the otherwise insignificant column.
"'Lover Boy'?" Blaise let out a chuckle as he now read the title of the magazine. "'Witch Weekly'? Since when do you entertain with this pile of crap, Malfoy?" Then an amused, sly grin spread over his face. "Oh my, Draco!" he commenced sarcastically. "Why didn't you tell me?" Blaise inquired amusedly.
"Inform you of what Zabini?" Draco snarled imperceptibly.
"That you swung that way, of course? I mean, we all saw the signs, but we took them to be just another part of your rather, um, queer character, but now I understand."
"You ceased to be amusing the precise moment you opened your trap," Draco ground out. "For your mere information, that is Miss Heatheburn's magazine." Draco lounged on the settee that was across from the one Blaise had been sitting on. "The wonderful arse of a woman," he added as he saw the quizzical look on Blaise's face. "She told me to read the article."
"Aw, and you, being the sweet and obedient little boy that you are, jumped up and just asked her 'What page?'" Blaise asked as he sat once again.
"Something to that extent, yes," Draco replied as he sipped from a delicate, glass goblet of Médoc. Blaise snorted, unbelieving.
"She must've given you some tight sex. She probably had you begging to read the goddamn article before eight o'clock," Blaise simpered conceitedly.
"Yes, something of the like," Draco repeated with a smirk of his own.
Blaise scanned the article rapidly, his mouth pursing to keep the bubbles of laughter from spilling out.
"See what that—that—that woman wrote about me? It's preposterous, really!" Draco muttered furiously and Blaise had to swallow the bouts of hilarity that menaced to spill forth.
Sober once again, he shrugged carelessly at Draco and thrust the magazine at his chest. He started to walk towards the liqueur counter to serve himself a good drink, but his steps were stopped short. Something stopped him, something about that article. He took the magazine from Draco's hands and read it all over again. He narrowed his eyes as his eyes hit on the otherwise insignificant letters. LG. Somehow those two letters, those initials, rang a bell in his mind. Trying to act calm and collected—he was after all a Zabini—he reached for his silver pocket-watch and checked the time: 8:35.
"It was a lovely and rather lively discussion Malfoy, but now, if you'll excuse me, I've got another business to attend to." Blaise started to walk away, but Draco spoke before he could go any further than two steps.
"Zabini, you came here for a reason, and I expect you to explain your rather abrupt departure from what had promised to be a rather long and tedious visit."
With a sigh, Blaise turned around to face Draco once again.
"I know you don't want me to leave you Drakie-pooh, but really, can't he wait 'till tomorrow?" Blaise asked as he looked meaningfully at Draco's pants. Draco growled and pointed a finger at the door.
"You are now very much welcome to leave."
"Aw, pity. I was getting ready to have some fun," Blaise said with a pout.
"Out!"
"No need to get cutting there, Draco baby. I know when I'm not well-received in a house—"
"Zabini, just shove your poor and pathetic excuse of an arse into the fucking street," Draco said vulgarly.
"Hey! Let me tell you that my ass is one of my best assets! It has been drooled upon by quite a few hot chicks…Literally. I've actually got firmer buns than what you would ever dare wish for in your godam—" Draco practically threw Blaise out of his house and slammed the door behind him. From outside, there came a rather faint, "Au revoir my beloved one! We shall meet again!" and Draco had to smile. They had been friends for twelve painful years and he still wasn't completely sure if Blaise swung that way. Hell, he had seen him shag more than his plenty share of women, but sometimes…
Draco shook his head, and with a chuckle he directed his steps towards his bedroom, undressing on his way there.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Blaise presented a Cheshire grin into the cold wintry night.
"Merlin knows I love women, but it doesn't mean that some teasing will hurt." He grinned wickedly and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his roquelaure. He quickened his steps. He was late to meet the Sexy Drawl, as he had nicked the chick that had phoned him last night. Way late. He now understood about what she meant about 'Drowning Draco Malfoy', but if she thought that some simple girlish articles would get his boxers in a twist, or barely mean something to this mate, she was quite mistaken. He broke into an almost run when the town clock let out nine beats.
Then, suddenly, he stopped.
'Your foolhardiness astounds me, Zabini.' He could almost hear Draco's voice.
Rolling his eyes at his stupidity, he closed his eyes softly and a 'pop' was all that was left of Blaise Zabini after the fraction of a second in which he decided to Apparate.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Ginny asked the maître d' what time it was for what seemed to be the eleventh time that night.
Looking at her with somewhat akin to pity in his eyes, he dutifully announced that it was now 10:30.
"Do you wish to order now, mademoiselle? Or perhaps you are willing to wait…?"
The bastard.
After narrowing her eyes at him and assuring him that she would be ready to order in a few minutes, Ginny laid her head down upon the table dejectedly. It seemed that she had been officially stood up. But the worst part wasn't that she wasn't having dinner with the hottest guy she knew, but that she was uncomfortable as hell. Three men had already asked for her phone number and two more had offered her a glass of champagne.
Men, honestly.
Just because she was wearing a long, glittery, dark, blue dress that clasped around her neck, leaving her shoulders-oh so incredibly exposed!-with slits up to her thighs and stiletto heels didn't mean that she was on a freaking hunt mode. That proved that when men saw some flesh, they thought with their dicks instead of their heads. But then again, what was that gag about men not being able to cross their legs because then they would crush their brains?
'Well, maybe the fact that you're alone is what keeps luring them' the voice snickered.
Ginny growled at it and a woman seating at a nearby table turned to look at her weirdly. She bared her teeth at her and the woman hurriedly returned to her studying of the carte.
How could she have been so stupid as to believe that Blaise would actually come? She was Ginevra Weasley after all. But Blaise didn't know who it was that had called him so late that night.
'Well, he probably recognized my voice,' she reasoned with herself, but she couldn't quite convince herself of it.
So what was the reason he hadn't come?
'Probably forgot,' Ginny told herself, but that voice again interrupted.
'Or he is with a girl and they're shagging like bunnies right now.'
She scowled and gripped her menu tighter.
Oh, but he would pay for this. He wouldn't even know what the hell would be happening. It would be just like that. BAM! And he would be-a slow and delicious smirk spread across Ginny's lips-castrated.
She was savouring her perfect vengeance when the delectable voice she was just despising purred in her ear.