For the next few days, Blaise's mind was everywhere but where it needed to be-studying for exams. He knew his Potions final was going to be terribly difficult. At times, he wished feverishly that he was Draco Malfoy. Draco had always been awful at Potions, but Snape always gave him top marks anyway, despite the fact that he couldn't even properly brew an effective Pepper-Up Potion.
He knew he needed to forget about Ginny Weasley; he needed to quit her cold turkey. He had never met a girl that he couldn't erase from his memory with a good hookup or two, but she was different. Ginny had left an image so vivid in his mind that somehow, unfailingly, everything led back to that image of her undressing next to the lake.
I'd better go over the Drought of Living Death again, he thought, sighing heavily and leaning back in the library armchair, which had been his second home for the past couple weeks.
Flipping lethargically through his Potions book, the opening page of the Love Potions chapter fell open in front of him. The page that he had so strategically paused at was adorned with a picture of a beautiful red-headed woman smirking seductively up at him, her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"Goddamnit!" he hissed angrily, slamming his book shut. I can't take this anymore. Maybe I'll go find Daph. She's pretty good at taking my mind off things. Throwing his unused ink and parchment into his bag, he whirled around, pummeling the girl walking past him in the stomach with his bag.
"Sorry," he said impatiently, not even looking at the girl. He hadn't even hit her that hard.
"You're lucky my ink bottle didn't smash. You'd be buying me a new bag, Mr. Moody," came the scathing reply.
His temper flaring, he spun around to see who could be so insolent as to speak to him that way.
"How dare you speak to me like that!? Do you know who I-" He cut off when he recognized the long, red hair of the girl who had haunted his dreams all week. She was wearing an emerald green V-neck shirt that dipped dangerously to reveal her chest, and it was all he could do to keep his eyes firmly locked on her face. Come on Blaise, you already know what they look like…
"I do actually know who you are Blaise Zabini. Just because you're a Slytherin and you have Galleons coming out of your arse doesn't mean you're any better than the rest of us," she hissed, her eyebrows forming a delightful crease on her forehead. It was almost cute.
He almost smiled, in spite of himself. "I'm surprised you came up with a clever comeback like that, being a blood traitor and all," he said with a smirk.
He could practically see the fire in her bright brown eyes. "I'm shocked you even have room for a brain in that big head of yours."
"Speaking of big heads-"
"You're disgusting," she spat, her pretty features contorting into a look of revulsion.
"Don't jump to conclusions, Weasley. I would never touch a filthy traitor like you," Blaise snapped, the lie tasting bitter as it passed through his lips.
"I would rather gauge out my own eyeballs before I come anywhere near you, so I don't think we'll have a problem," she retorted, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do with my time."
With that, she spun on her heel and stormed away, her hips swiveling the way they did the night at the lake. He watched her until she disappeared among the shelves. He felt a pang somewhere in his lower navel when he remembered what she had said.
"I would rather gauge out my own eyeballs before I come anywhere near you!"
He caught his reflection staring back at him in the glass cabinet housing the library's most important documents. His skin was the color of coffee, and his vivid green eyes gave him a somewhat exotic look. He had high cheekbones, a gently curving jaw line and teeth that practically sparkled when he smiled. His body was lean and muscular from years of working out and playing Quidditch with Draco.
Surely she can't have meant that, he thought anxiously. I am practically the best looking guy in Slytherin. Much better than Draco he added as an afterthought. She'd be absolutely absurd to not want me.
He left the library smirking, pleased with his own logic. Despite his outward appearance, the butterflies of doubt still lingered underneath his perfectly chiseled set of abdominals.