Chapter 11: Comparing Specs
"Red!" A muscular arm was draping around Ginny's shoulders, but she shrugged it off. To her surprise, Zabini didn't seem to argue. "Glad you showed," he elbowed her, grinning.
She looked up at him, returning his smile, her cheeks rosy from the glass of pumpkin ale she held in her hand. She wasn't sure how (self-filling glasses, perhaps?), but she'd managed three cups of the stuff in the last hour. It made her feel pleasantly fuzzy, but she knew she should hold back on more – for her own safe return home, if nothing else. "It's kinda fun," she admitted. She was trying to look Blaise over, but they weren't in the best light, and she didn't exactly have the sharpest sight at the moment.
Catching her glance, he backed away, holding his shirt out from his body so she could see it.
It fit him well, she noted, appreciatively. The way the white fabric hugged his tan body – oh… oh dear, Ginny, keep in mind this is a Slytherin. She glanced doubtfully to her glass, wondering if maybe she'd managed more than three cups. She didn't usually have those sorts of thoughts about Slytherins. Then again, she reasoned, most Slytherins weren't shooting her dazzlingly charming grins while wearing shorts and boat shoes and proudly displaying their well-fit printed t-shirts. What was it even printed as? She narrowed her eyes, and it took a moment for her to interpret the design. When she realized what it was, she let out a little not-so-ladylike snort.
The fabric was printed to resemble the classic boffin* uniform: a button up shirt with a pair of braces*, a bow tie, and a pocket filled with writing implements, a pair of specs similar to those Ginny currently had as part of her costume were printed hanging from the pocket as well. "Well, don't you look the bookish anorak,"* she teased, poking him in the bow tie. "We match," she added, reaching for the specs she'd tucked into the front pocket of her blouse.
She frowned. That was strange. She could've sworn she'd had them when she walked in. She looked down, pulling the fabric of her pocket open, as though they had suddenly shrunken and fallen into the pocket itself. Nope. She pulled the buttons of her shirt away to see if they'd fallen down her shirt. Nope, not there either (though she missed the smirk that move earned from Zabini). "I could've sworn-"
"Here, Red-" he tapped his wand on the printed image on his shirt, and drew the glasses from thin air, "-You can have mine." He leaned against the wall and closer to her, setting the specs on her delicate nose.
She probably looked more awed than was entirely necessary. She was sure she must've seen something like that before, but the pleasant pumpkin fogginess clouding her head certainly made that feat more impressive. The slight 'o' shape her mouth took make the black-haired boy laugh aloud. "I had no idea you were so easily impressed, Weasley," he joked, tapping the bridge of the specs.
The use of her surname brought to mind another Slytherin seventh year, and Ginny wrinkled her nose slightly. "Is Malfoy here?" she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
Blaise shook his head in incredulous amusement, unable to comprehend how her mind flitted from one thing to another, then shrugged. "Yeah, of course. He's wandering somewhere around-"
"Mentioning me, Bl—?" the blonde faltered as he saw Ginny, who had just opened her mouth in another small 'o,' surprised at the coincidence. He sent a quick glance over her, and had to admit she looked… well, she looked fit. The skirt hugged her curves far better than her robes would, and it had ridden up slightly, making her petite figure appear more long-legged than she usually did. Maybe it was just the firewhiskey he'd been nursing all night, but she looked… decent.
She was eying him incredulously, but not with the same sharp viciousness she usually reserved for their interactions. "Party pooper," she accused with a slight pout, gesturing her glass at him, sloshing a bit over the edge and hurriedly licking it up before it could drip down her wrist.
Draco didn't understand at first. Or maybe he was just distracted by the way her tongue darted out to—no, no, he definitely was having trouble comprehending just what she was- oh. He glanced down and realized she thought he wasn't wearing a costume. Well, in truth, he wasn't. He wasn't exactly the sort to put effort into things like fancy dress parties. "Am not." Even he was surprised by the immature choice of words, though the insolent tone was par for the course.
"Are too," she didn't seem to take enough notice to berate him about it, instead staring at his black-clad chest. "What sort of costume is that supposed to be?" Her tone was accusatory, but held none of the biting anger usually hidden behind her words.
He raised a delicate blonde eyebrow. "I'm Death." Obviously. As she stared incredulously, he simply rolled his eyes and took another sip of his whiskey, shaking his head as he walked away.
A/N: *Boffin and anorak are both terms for nerds or geeks; braces referring to the kind that hold your trousers up (suspenders), not dental braces.
Thanks again to Nutmeg44 for letting me run new chapters by her (just finished 20!). I can promise you that next chapter is one of my absolute favorites, wherein we meet drunk!Ginny. Well... drunker than she is in this chapter.
While I won't hold the chapter hostage, I can say that the more reviews I get the more likely I am to post the chapter before 3am EST. Just saying.
-Turner
