"Waiting for someone, m'dear?" He relished the slight shiver she managed to control at the contact of his lips in her ear. He placed a delicate kiss just barely behind her earlobe, and this time Ginevra Weasley couldn't do anything but grit her teeth.
Only minutes before Blaise had still tried to discard the option of her being the culprit behind that laughable-but-capable-of-driving-Draco-nuts article. It had been just a coincidence that the initials at the bottom of the page concurred with the initials of a nickname he had applied to one vixen.
A redheaded one at that.
He had tried to convince himself, as he had entered the restaurant, that the redhead at the far end table wasn't the same as the one he had been thinking about, that there were many scandalous redheads in the magic world with sensuous, long legs and with that appetizing neck and…
And those shitty excuses came tumbling down when that slow and so-damn-sexy smirk crept over those moist and delectable lips. The one the cat always has after he has eaten the canary.
"So much for coincidence," he had muttered as he silently made his way towards her, his eyes trained on her while his mind furiously worked to decipher what the hell Ginevra Weasley had against Draco Malfoy that made her hate him so much.
Except for the fact that he was Draco Malfoy, of course.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Ginny had almost growled deep in her throat as she had heard him speak, but had tightly reined it in. No use acting all mad when he didn't even know that she was the one he was late to the date with.
"Blaise!" she exclaimed, choking her throat to a most cheerful note. "Whatever are you doing here?" she asked, trying to play dumb.
"I was expecting you to answer me that question, sexy," he said as he confidently took the chair directly in front of her. The only chair at that.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine, Blaise. You want to go straight to the point—stop gazing at me so steadily. Gives me the shivers, you know it," Ginny stated, but gazing back nevertheless. "What? You're surprised to find me here, of all possible women in this expensive restaurant that I just can't afford?" she questioned defensively, eyes narrowed, after a long silent interval.
"It's…nice to see you again Ginevra," Blaise drawled as he eyed Ginny's clothing, as if she hadn't just spoken.
"Don't bother," Ginny snapped as she lay back on her seat, arms crossed, pouting like a child. She was exasperated by now. She suddenly remembered just why their relationship hadn't ended in the best of terms. Blaise was too arrogant for his own freaking handsome, gorgeous self.
And Ginny too when you came down to it.
The only difference had been that Blaise accepted the fact and Ginny stubbornly refused to talk to him after he had pointed that out for two weeks, telling him she didn't talk to 'underlings that didn't know how to respect their betters'.
Talk about self-centred.
"Meeting someone?" Blaise asked.
"Should have by now," Ginny shot. "But it seems that he didn't have enough, hm, balls? To present himself." The double entendre seemed to be lost on Blaise as he gazed at her white folded hands on top of the table.
That pair was one marvel.
If you didn't know Ginny, but spent a day watching her hands, you would know her inside out.
Whether you wanted to or not, it was not an option.
The way they arched when she was about to start telling you something really interesting, the way they fidgeted when she was hiding something really naughty that she had just done; the way they twirled her hair when she was trying not to look you in the eye because she had just fed you the biggest lie imaginable, the way they posed when they were about to write and create, the way they danced through your hair when she was trying to say feelings that were too big for her so supple lips; the way her fingers curled up on themselves when she was disappointed—yet again—by some bastard, the way they seemed to itch when she was angry but wanted to simply snog you senseless anyway, the way they held her head when she was crying, the way they elegantly ripped through your senses when they met yours, the way they went limp, dead when she realized that she wasn't loved back anymore by…
"We've never been on good terms Ginevra. Not even when we snogged were we on good terms. So would you care to explain? Enlighten me, perhaps?" Blaise asked sort of curiously.
"Enlighten you?" Ginny asked sarcastically. Blaise was never the one to use fancy speech patterns.
"Why, yes, would you mind too terribly?" Blaise replied.
"Fancy that," she muttered. "As to what? As to the fact that we're both here for the same phone call that I made, but you insist on denying?" Ginny asked bluntly. "Or as to explain why was it that I called you, specifically of all the people I could've called?" Ginny waited as if to hear Blaise's answer although they both knew that none would come. "I can't assure you that I have the answer," she said quietly, both knowing that she was referring to the last thing she had just said.
She had known that by calling Blaise she would be stepping into dangerous territory. Not only would she be revealing her identity, but she would be playing a fairly wicked game when it came down to Blaise and, well the raw facts.
"Remind me again why you dumped me?" Blaise questioned, and Ginny couldn't help but chuckle.
"I believe you should be the one answering that question since it was you who graduated and didn't seem to have a use for me anymore after gorgeous Pansy Parkinson decided that she did want you after all," Ginny replied with a casual shrug that belied the anger she had felt for being forgotten to the favour of a woman prettier than she.
"Ouch. You injure me, dear. You sure conserve your nerve, but gentlemen don't have memories, savvy? So I'm guessing that you're the one who got rid of me."
"Well, then it would be because I wouldn't stand a second more your cheating on me, or to the fact that I was a simple bet?" She tilted her head to her left as she drilled through Blaise, her gaze steadier than fire.
"I declare myself mortally wounded. Dare deny forgiveness to a man in his deathbed?" Blaise asked with the same intensity, his intended to be cynical words coming out like anything but. Certainly Ginny had made some radical changes in her personality. He wondered who had caused them…
"You," Ginny interrupted his thoughts simply, answering his unspoken question—unintentionally? "Are here for a reason, are you not?" she continued after a while. She didn't even wait for his answer. "So why don't you get down to business?"
"I thought that you'd be the one here on business Ginevra. I never knew you to go out with anybody just for pleasure," Blaise responded with a smirk.
Oh, he was a bastard.
And he loved every single minute of it.
"And that's why I dumped you," Ginny smirked in return. "Insensitive bastard. Perfect reason, no? Ah, well, life does go on."
"I've done worse," Blaise replied laconically, the double meaning knifing through Ginny, even though she made neither comment nor expression.
"Yeah, you probably have, no? I mean, you've fucked Pansy," Ginny shot back disdainfully, knowing very well that nobody would ever put Pansy and her in the same sentence as to comparing their beauties. Or lack thereof in Ginny's case.
"Jealous, Ginevra?" Blaise asked, an eyebrow rising maliciously.
"Of what, Pansy?"
"Your grammar is appalling, love. It's of whom," Blaise scolded, his index finger wagging from side to side.
Ginny suddenly had the impulse to bite it off his hand, but she didn't want to end up throwing up just because she had tasted shit, so she settled for glaring at, instead.
"In Pansy's case it is a what, dear," she replied venomously, her voice dripping feigned sweetness.
The maître d' came up with a simpleton smile, cutting off any further discussion. "May I offer the two lovers a bottle of our best French wine?" he asked as he lowered the bottle for the two of them to appreciate, as he directed a painfully obvious wink to Ginny. The girl just rolled her eyes and settled back against the plush chair she was sitting on.
Blaise eyed the waiter and then at Ginny, catching the continuous wink that didn't seem to stop from his left eye.
"Do you have something in your eye?" he asked, deadly serious, but Ginny could see right through him and grinned wickedly.
"Um, no sir," the guy answered, quickly sobering up.
"Then you're hitting on my girl?" he growled, and the waiter's face turned a chalky white as he noticed Blaise's menacing posture even while sitting.
"Oh no sir! Definitely not! How could I? I mean…" The waiter stuttered helplessly as they both watched with confined amusement as he tried to make out a half-decent comeback. "Not with her, sir!"
"Are you calling me unattractive?" Ginny cried falsely, her scandalized voice rising to an alarming high pitch. At this, the wine waiter became even more nervous and started darting his beady eyes up and about.
"Definitely not, Signora! Please let me…"
"Blaise, he's calling me unattractive! Do something!" Ginny wailed as she stood up, her face already blotchy from her pretended tears.
"Are you calling her unattractive?" Blaise growled, standing up and looking down to the attendant. The poor guy couldn't do anything but cower upon coming up with Blaise's formidable and imposing figure.
"N-n-no sir! Please allow me to mend my erring selection of words by bringing you and your beautiful companion the best Veuve Clicquot of the house. My sincerest apologies for any misunderstanding I have caused." The waiter went away, half of the time bowing his apologies to Blaise and Ginny in the midst of disapproving murmurs coming from the people in the restaurant.
As Blaise pulled back the chair for Ginny to seat back on, he leaned to her ear and whispered, "You better stop smirking like that if you really want us to discuss business."
Ginny arched a haughty eyebrow and turned her face towards his, leaving their lips only millimetres apart. "Or else, what?" she murmured daringly, barely moving her lips.
"Or else we will be in my flat, and we won't exactly be discussing business."
Ginny had to laugh at this. But she caught herself and turned that smile into a ferocious scowl.
"Shut up, Blaise."
"Such a swinging humour we have today, love. PMS, much?"
"I'm with you, love, what did you really expect?" she asked sweetly.
Blaise's eyes gathered an impish shine. "Hot sex," he answered blatantly.
If Blaise was searching for a blush he sure as hell hadn't known her ever. She had grown up with six brothers and it had been to avail. "Maybe another day, love," she answered disdainfully with a smirk.
"Too much for you to absorb, sweetheart?"
"Not really. I would say that I'm rather disappointed in you, Blaise. Your move on me was far from smooth," Ginny grinned as she drummed her fingers against the expensive table. "One would think you're losing your touch." A damn lie if she'd ever told one. He was as suave as that day when he had made his first move on her.
"My, my, aren't we on the feisty side today?"
"No, I'm just happy. Finally I have Draco Malfoy's anger. Every girl's dream come true," she supplemented sarcastically.
"Why do you assume that you provoked any reaction whatsoever in Draco? How do you even know he read your article?"
"You're here," she answered simply. "It means that you have a reason to be here. This could only mean that Draco did get mad and that your curio has been piqued as to what my plans are whatsoever."
Blaise observed those dark blue eyes with rating. He saw determination definitely flashing and settling camp there, and also pride that rivalled his. Smart girl. She knew what she was doing. And hell, was he interested. He wanted to know what hot yarn ball this ardent wildcat was toying with now.
"What are you planning to do, Ginevra?"
"I thought I already had made that clear, Blaise. I'm drowning Draco Malfoy," Ginny answered, her head tilted to the left, her hair cascading in blood waves.
Bloody masculine hormones. Why did she have to look so bleeding sexy when she did that?
"Stop. You're making me nervous." Ginny could've hit herself then and there as she saw the Cheshire grin that curled Blaise's lips the moment she had uttered those words.
"Am I now, little vixen?" he asked sultrily.
"Thanks for the nickname, really helps my already low self-esteem to lower another two points," Ginny said uneasily, trying to change the topic to more comfortable areas. Making a huge effort trying to appear anything but uncomfortable as hell.
"So I still stir reactions from you, don't I?" Blaise asked.
"Dream on, Blaisey. Quit the games," she snapped. "Aw, hell," she said exasperatedly after a while. "Why do you have to be so fucking hot?" She took out a beige envelope from somewhere and laid it against his cup of wine. His name was scrawled at the top with the most beautiful calligraphy that could have only come from her own hand since it reeked of her essence. She stood up and turned to leave.
"Leaving so soon, sexy?"
She waved her gloved left hand dismissively.
"Yes, gorgeous," she called back.
"Aw, why? I was having so much fun!" Blaise pouted.
"Because then we will be on your flat, and we won't exactly be discussing," she repeated with a smirk and started to walk away.
It took him a fraction of a second to react to her swaying and departing hips.
With lithe steps he reached her and hugged her from behind, his right hand splayed against her lower stomach, and the other snaking her waist.
Murmuring in her ear, he asked, "That wouldn't be so bad, now, would it?" He planted a kiss just below her ear lobe, and he could feel her shiver.
"Bastard," Ginny gasped.
He sure as hell remembered her weak spots.
"Answer me, love."
Arching her neck, Ginny answered in an airless whisper, "Yes it would Blaise. Addictions are not good."
She released herself from his grasp and sauntered out of the restaurant.