(A/N: Sorry about the delay on this and The Meaning of War. My computer died on me. It's back up, but It took a while.)
Chapter Three
Sunday Came and trashed me out again...
Ginny leaned her head back against the window behind her.
It was a hot October sunday. By all rights, Ginny should have been out on the pitch, getting back into practice from a summer off. But she wasn't. Instead she sitting here in the library, waiting for the illusive Blaise Zabini to show so they could get this over with.
He had called her out earlier the day, at breakfast to be precise.
"Weasley."
"Dork. What do I owe this dubious pleasure?"
"We need to set a couple of things straight."
"You mean like that nasty rumor that you and I did it? I can't imagine who spread that one."
Blaise had the decency to blush. "That and who you're going to the Weasley/deLacour wedding with."
"Oh, you mean the one with my brother and his fiance? Well I was rather hoping my family would take me. Or do you suppose I might be to young?"
"Just meet me in the liabrary at three."
So here it was at quarter after and there was still no sign of the prat. Ginny ground her teeth together and tapped the seat with her fingers, sounding an impatient martial cadance.
She looked up as a figure approached, weaving in a very bizarre manner. Ginny felt her jaw drop as a very drunk Blaise Zabini made his way over.
"Ginny!" He exclaimed, earning a glare from Madame Pince and a wince from Ginny. Ginny left her bench and grabbed his elbow.
"What the hell are you doing!" She whispered feircely. She nodded apologetically at Madame Pince and dragged him out of the room.
"Are you drunk?"
He grinned lazily. "NooOOoooooOOoooo."
Ginny crossed her arms over her chest.
He giggled. "A little."
"That's it! First you call me out, then you get drunk? This is a waste of my time." She pointed in the direction of the Infirmary. "Back to bed young man!"
"But..." He whined.
"No buts. Now."
He suddenly leapt forward with such grace and accuracy that she would later doubt the authenticity of the drunkness, and kissed her.
It wasn't a simple drunken peck or a slippery sloshed kiss. It was full out, full frontal snogging. His tongue slid easily into her open mouth and performed acts that no drunk man could hope to acheive. For a moment Ginny stood there stunned. Then she did the first thing to come to her mind.
She kneed him in the groin.
He gave a little whimper and pulled back.
"The hell...?" he muttered in a voice a full octave above normal.
Ginny was flustered. She wasn't sure how to respond. On the one hand, the snog had felt nice. On the other, he had no right. Finally she settled for.
"Next time you kiss me, don't be sloshed so I can kick your ass with out feeling bad!"
Then she stormed off to find Hermione.