Chapter 29: Fuel to the fire

She had entered the Great Hall the following morning in the hopes that she could go about her business as usual, not having forgotten their little 'arrangement', but still hoping (and inwardly begging) Zabini had the decency to leave her alone most of the time.

Of course, she was proven wrong the minute two strong arms descended on either side of her where she sat by the long-table, engulfing her in a clean masculine scent from behind which she by now, begrudgingly, recognized belonging to only one individual.

"Why, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" The rumble of his satiny baritone stroked down her spine.

I need a hole to swallow me whole. Briefly closing her eyes in chagrin, Ginny took a deep breath. Opening them again, she saw Theodore Nott come into view on the opposite side of the table and take a seat while eyeing the two of them with a bemused expression though not entirely shocked by the sight. Perhaps Blaise had already let him in on the whole joke?

Because that's what it was. A joke. A charade.

She blistered inwardly, projecting her spite upwards to the Italian who was still calmly leaning over her, likely smiling slyly down at her head.

She was just about to slam her fork down and preferably into the back of his hand splayed on the table when she heard – or rather felt – a warm chuckle wafting against her hair and then his body was moving seamlessly away, the arms around her disappearing as he took a seat on her right side, playful smirk in place.

The nerve–!

Sure, they had both agreed to this little diffusion – one that she had proposed in the first place (why, oh, why?) – but did he have to wipe it in her face and be so smug about it?

"Hello-o?" Nott waved at them with a piece of toast from the other side of the table. "Are you two going to eat your breakfast any time soon? I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible. Everyone is staring and I have an inkling it's because of you guys. And I must agree with them; it is rather weird," he reeled off.

Ginny blinked, catching the momentary twitch in Blaise's strong jaw before he turned his head, once more all smooth nonchalance as per usual. "Piss off, Theo," he grumbled with no real bite, and Nott merely huffed, going back to devour his breakfast.

Pressed up against the Italian's hard warmth, Ginny suddenly felt very self-conscious and she tore her eyes away from his profile which she realized she had been studying intently. As if sensing her inner turmoil, the wizard darted a glance down at her and she wriggled a bit, scooting in the opposite direction.

"So," came the muffled voice from across the table as Theo munched on his eggs and toast. "What have you two been up to this weekend?" His face was folded in an innocuous mask but Ginny knew Slytherins well enough to know not to be fooled by this act.

She squinted at him. "Just because we happen to be sitting at the same table at breakfast, I'm not about to make small talk and indulge in the details of my private life, Nott," she spoke tersely.

The boy's eyes widened comically and he swallowed the big lump in his mouth, making her nose wrinkle in disgust. "Why, I never heard!" he protested dramatically. "Here I am; trying to be friendly to my mate's lady – which I thought one was only obliged to do – and all I get is lip!"

Wincing, she leaned forward, hissing under her breath. "Would you mind?"

"What?" Nott's eyes stayed round in his face, doing a very good job of playing the innocent victim, Ginny had to admit despite herself.

"Cut it out, Theo," came Blaise's levelled drawl beside her, its reproachful timbre sweeping over her. She had briefly forgotten how close he was sitting to her.

"What?" Nott repeated as if offended. "I'm only trying to build a bridge here, Blaise." He gestured rapidly between Ginny and himself across the table, trying to make a point. "Don't toss me under it before it's built!"

Zabini merely exhaled through his nose, leaned back and, to Ginny's surprise, slung an arm around her back; a light yet assertive presence, as he carried on in a bored demeanour. "I'm not in the mood for your antics this early in the morning, Teddy. I'll need at least three cups of coffee before I can do that." Sitting rigid, she felt her nerves tingle in warning as he leaned closer and, with a sultrier note to his voice, he drawled dangerously close to her ear, "And I would very much like for my girlfriend to pour me a cup from that steaming pot over there."

Without turning her face to him, she sensed the direction of his request and shakily reached for the pot on her left, praying it would all just go away if she did what he asked for the moment. She could feel his eyes burning slowly along the side of her face, and reached for his cup, biting back a tiny gasp when it appeared in front of her in his hand, having beaten her to it. Gingerly, she took it from him, steadfastly ignoring the small flares under her skin from where the tips of fingers briefly touched his. With heated cheeks, she poured him the hot coffee, attempting to appear calm and not spill the entire pot onto the table.

"Thank you, luv," he said as she returned the cup to him, a breath of sinful promises hit her neck, making it difficult to suppress a shiver.

She hated him for doing that to her.

Absolutely. Hated. Him.

It was almost too cliché. Like one of those soppy Muggle movies Hermione had shown her where the two leads were pushed together through some sort of contraption or mutually beneficial business arrangement and, unintentionally yet predictably, they end up falling in love.

Safe to say, she wasn't a huge fan.

"Knut for them."

"Hm?"

Blaise's arm moved down along her back so that his hand landed on her hip and she bit her lip to stifle another sharp intake of air. "Your thoughts. A Knut for them."

He took a sip from his coffee and there was a glint in his eyes and a flash of a handsome grin; a grin she very much wanted to wipe from his face, once again far too close in proximity.

Oh, he's so enjoying this.

Narrowing her eyes, she decided to give back just as good. Shooting him one of her old-timey thousand-watt smiles, she bumped her hip a little too harshly into his, making sure to their onlookers that it looked like she was flirting back. "Why, I was only thinking of how I could get back at you, sweetie-pie," she cooed, a dark promise underneath the words, and fluttered her eyelids at him.

Unfortunately for her, Blaise seemed more humoured than thrown off by her little performance. In fact, at the moment, he looked like he was trying hard to control his features from reacting though there was a distinct twinkle in his eyes, intent on her face, as his hand on her hip gave a small push back, promptly gluing her side against his again with no extra force required.

Her breath became stifled.

This whole game of subterfuge was starting to go to her head.

"Ugh, that is fucking disgusting!" Snapping their heads to the side, a bit caught up in their own little world, they looked over at Nott who was putting down a squishy Berliner with an obvious look of revulsion plastered on his face. That boy truly had no idea how to keep a low profile. "Who the fuck eats this shite?"

Blaise snorted; pulling slightly back though the hand on her hip didn't move. "Are you quite finished?" He cocked an eyebrow at Nott who was now gulping down large quantities of coffee to rid himself of the taste.

Finishing, Theo rounded his eyes on him. "Huh? Oh, right, yeah." He wrinkled his nose at the oozing thing on his plate and moved to stand up, brushing off his hands.

Blaise flicked his gaze down to her in similar question and she was struck by the lack of overbearing disparagement in his face, as if truly offering to wait while she finished her breakfast before he moved as well. He produced a light chuckle, the corners of his almond-shaped eyes crinkling ever so slightly. "My, my, lost for words, are we now? Oh, I can be chivalrous, Weasley. If I want to." As if aiding her addled brain, he winked, and she found herself picking up her jaw from the floor.

"Um, right. I- I'm done." She more or less scrambled from her seat; silently begrudging the way Blaise stood up along with her and moved around elegantly, showing no signs of discomposure. Briefly, she surveyed the Great Hall. Several curious eyes rested on them, but no one seemed to be that interested in her momentary blunder. Rather, they eyed the tall Italian in front of her. Two individuals, however, caught her eye in that exact moment: Professor Zelenko's indecipherable gaze darting away, smiling in that disturbingly carefree manner of his and pretending to converse with the professor next to him at the teachers' table, and next, Rowe, who was unashamedly peering down at them with his singularly steely attention from the sidelines.

"Coming?" Zabini's voice snapped her out of her stupor. He stepped in the direction of the entrance and paused, awaiting her. Nott had already cleared out, apparently.

"Uh."

He quirked an eyebrow, faintly amused. "What, you are not going to join me for the rest of the morning until class?" Simulating something close to a pout, he sounded almost disappointed. She wanted to pinch herself. Who was this Blaise Zabini? Was he just as much an act, like the casual use-and-throw-away Casanova she had witnessed at a distance so many times before? He was so at ease with this whole thing that she had a hard time picking up cues of when she should be suspicious of the intentions behind his 'sweet' words.

The corners of his mouth flicked upwards as he reached out a hand for her to take. Dazedly, she became fixated on that rare occurrence of a smile and, with no extra thought, lightly grasped his hand. Immediately there was an outbreak in the tittering whispers around them and she let him lead her out of the Great Hall at a leisured pace and away from the worst brunt of the unwanted attention.

Once out, he calmly let go of her hand, and she just managed to miss the touch before he turned towards her again, hands down his pockets. "So, where to next?"

"Huh?"

She briefly got a flash of teeth, his otherwise listless orbs dancing briefly. "Goodness me, Weasley. Is that going to be your response all day? Sure you aren't feeling ill?" He stepped forward, up close, and she swallowed as she felt the cooling pressure of the back of his hand against her forehead. He tsked. "No, not sick. Perhaps a bit flushed." Stepping back, he scanned her in mock-consideration, a humoured tinge in his gaze. "I guess it's just a momentary glitch then." There was a beat as he surveyed her and she caught a reflective look in his eyes before he gestured to lead her onwards. They proceeded down the corridor to the stairs and she stumbled a bit up the steps to the next floor, heart still in her throat.

You're only playing, Ginny. You're only playing.

It was a– a business arrangement.

She cringed at how shallow it sounded, even to her ears. Deep down, she knew that nothing of what she was feeling right now could be described as shallow. Everything seemed to surface, prickling under her skin, particularly where his fingers had briefly grazed the underside of her arm when she had stumbled, presently coming to rest casually behind her shoulder. It didn't feel possessive, hardly even deliberate this time. There was really nothing untoward about the gesture, nothing that grated her nerves or set her teeth on edge. It felt like it naturally belonged there.

Then why couldn't she calm her body around the genuine possibility that he was simply acting out of some sort of rare bolt-of-lightning politeness?

They arrived at the Prefect quarters; more precisely, the common room which was presently occupied by two other Prefects (luckily no Head Boy in sight). Ignoring their curious glances, Blaise headed towards the fireplace, a favoured part of the room, and settled down in one of the old leather chairs in front of the roaring fire. Picking up the Daily Prophet, he looked over and serenely indicated for her to join him. Gingerly, and not really having any better idea what to do, she went over and took the opposite chair, not taking her eyes off him – as if he, all of a sudden, would do something unanticipated.

However, he only sent her a patient look, a small smile gracing his lips, and then turned to his paper like nothing was amiss and this wasn't the most absurdly domestic setting the two of them could find themselves in together. He said nothing to provoke her, behaving entirely cordial and unassuming (if doing nothing could be regarded as such) while they occupied themselves with their respective reading materials for half an hour or so, perhaps not fully engaged in the words in front of them and more preoccupied with pondering upon the person sitting opposite them.

Once in a while she felt his eyes on her and she frowned down at the section of the Prophet that she had retrieved from a nearby coffee table. She couldn't concentrate, however. The flaring warmth of the fire calmed the ends of her frazzled nerves (when did she learn that she was not a morning person?) but the space between them still remained raw and opened, more so than before – like a question tingling on the edge of her lips; a question she was reluctant to even consider, much less ask.

She wondered how her brothers would react when they found out. Because they would. At some point. Not that their opinions could sway her in general, but she still dreaded their varied looks of displeasure. No Weasley had ever befriended a Slytherin, much less dated one – even if it was only an act. She was sure she could look forward to a round of unnecessary censure and lack of understanding when all this was over. Especially from Ron and likely also her mum.

I wonder if Hermione would be any different? Well, she knew parts of it already. Perhaps Ginny would gain more understanding and little less rebuke from her. And Harry–

Oh, Godric.

Harry.

How wouldn't he react?

They had parted amicably but Ginny couldn't be so sure he wouldn't feel a bitter sense of entitlement over her in view of her 'new romantic choices'. It was not like he had a right, but it was still relatively soon after their break-up for her to find a new dalliance (no matter how fake it was). She felt a trickle of dread; the fact that she didn't really know how Harry would react anymore. It was as if she had already grown apart from him; having not seen or spent time with him in the last year, apart from Christmas, nor having that much insight in the dealings of the Auror department. Who knew how much he had really changed? Because surely previous year's events must have had its effects on him. If she had felt just a splash of it, he would have felt the whole bucket. Not that he should be pitied for it; he had always been burdened with more than any kid should. Plus, Harry was stronger than he looked. Yet, Ginny still couldn't help herself; she cared and worried about him, naturally. The strains of his current job included. She was glad he had Ron and Neville around at work in London; someone with similar experiences who didn't stick around out of pity. Someone who was willing to accept whatever shadows buried deep and perhaps even shared them.

"Ready?"

She was pulled out of her ruminations, blinking over at Zabini who was regarding her in question. When she came up with no apt response, he sighed, scratching the back of his neck, accompanied by a low chuckle as he stood up and she belatedly copied his movements. "Well. It seems it is only my duty as your newly-acquired boyfriend to accompany you to class." She swallowed thickly at his wording and a dark glint appeared in his eyes. "Maybe I'll even get a reward for it, afterwards?" He smirked and the effect was instantaneous; her muddled brain jolted back to reality and she stepped away with a grunt.

"In your dreams, Zabini."

Instantly regretting her phrasing when his response came out as a slow, indulgent hum, she quickly started off towards class, astutely aware of his presence trailing behind.

X

She almost expected something bad to happen in the following days; however, they passed by without any major incident. She and Blaise were still objects of curiosity but its daily occurrence proved to be a lesser interference than she had initially expected.

Except, of course, for Parvati.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me about this, Gin!" The latter all but squealed as she came up to her in the Great Hall with a couple of friends. "I mean, you are dating the number one most eligible bachelor on the entire school!" Ginny cringed as Parvati gave her arm a friendly swat, eyes sparkling in excitement. "Tell me everything. Or – wait – don't tell me everything just yet. Spill the juicy details when we are alone. Only Firewhiskey can get you talking, woman, and you know it!" She winked and the others giggled, probably at the prospect of more, raunchy gossiping. Ginny wanted to kill herself right there and then.

"I bet it does." The sound of the richly amused voice behind her took her by such surprise that she staggered slightly and the group stopped giggling, eyes practically popping out of their heads. Blaise had chosen that exact moment to saunter up beside her, intercepting the conversation with a light chuckle. "Why, she can be so secretive sometimes and there are only so many ways I can get it out of her." The comment was delivered with suave brazenness which promptly threw the group into a flurry of flushes and titters. Meanwhile he draped an arm around Ginny's shoulders to pull her close. She went more or less willingly, trying to muster a saccharine smile that hopefully masked her stupor at his sudden appearance. Parvati shot her an unmistakable grin – which made Ginny blanch – before continuing to swoon in Blaise's presence alongside her mates. Blaise remained his charming self, deflecting their nosy inquiries and heavy insinuations with studied ease, his arm staying secured around Ginny's shoulders, either in order to make a statement or to ensure she didn't bolt.

He continued to make these little gestures during the following week; sporadically seeking out her company, joining her at breakfast or dinner when she least expected it. Some days he would even come up behind her in the hallway, making her yelp in surprise when his arms lightly found their way around her waist and bent his long torso down to rest his chin on her shoulder with a pout or lift her slightly up before putting her carefully down again with a languid grin in his voice as he teased her playfully for not being vigilant enough; 'some Gryffindor she was'. Sometimes he would catch her eyes across a crowded room and his lips would curve into that knowing, indulgent smirk, free of the usual mockery as in the past; a newfound secrecy shared between them, causing her heart to beat quicker.

He seemed to expect nothing from her but her cooperation to keep up the act, however nothing untoward beyond not blowing their cover and proclaim the truth in front of the entire school. He easily could have, though; tried to extract unwanted touches, kisses and sweet words from her, but all he ever did was silently ask with a look and the graze of a lazy smile to use this little 'affair' to their advantage – to the point where she unwittingly found herself being mildly entertained by his attempts to make everyone around them more flustered than her and immediately stop whatever prying inquiry or gossip coming out of their mouths. His cunning mind always beat them to the punch by stating something even more outrageous about their supposed relationship and how it all began; each time more creative than the other. It should have made her furious; fanning the fire like that, but it only made her want to hide a snicker behind her hand whenever he did so. He had an unnerving ability to dissuade whatever notion one had in one's head with this 'innocent' sort of behaviour, no matter how audacious it was.

Merlin's pants, what had she become?

Somewhere along the way she had forgotten to check if their little arrangement was actually working; if Paloma and Clarence got the gist to keep a disinterested distance. It appeared so, since she had hardly seen the Head Boy beyond their brief Prefect meetings and even during those he seemed to keep any interaction at a minimum, acting rather restive, ready to make himself scarce at any given moment. Nor had there been any jealous outbursts from Podsworth that she knew of; only a couple of slighted glares from across the Great Hall whenever Blaise would join Ginny by a table. Whether or not Clarence and Paloma had gotten some sense knocked into their heads and gotten together in the meantime, Ginny couldn't tell nor did she really care anymore. She was simply glad to be able to keep any unnecessary drama out of her life, for the time being.

And that was the crux of this entire farce, wasn't it? The very reason for its beginning?

She could no longer recall how she had convinced herself to commit to this. And why keep going if it seemed to work as intended with no immediate repercussions of any party involved?

She found herself studying the Italian more often than once, trying to decipher why they kept this up – whatever this was. She knew he was playing with her, secretly enjoying himself, but he wasn't thick either. Even pretending being in a relationship, no matter how tactical they behaved, meant spending more time together than before, definitely more than normal, and often in more intimate settings in order to keep up appearances. That also meant risking the mask to slip. Even Zabini wouldn't be able to behave completely nonchalant all the time. Even he had to let his guard once in a while.

Right?

She had been pondering that question over the last week, especially when she was within his vicinity, stealing furtive looks in his direction (although now she had every right to look, she seconded, not sure how to feel about that) – almost as if she wanted to be there to catch him when he let his mask slip for just a second. Her fascination with him and indignation that she felt so warred with one another, frustrating her to no end; wanting to be mad at him but ended up being mad at herself.

She had been so on edge that she was utterly prepared to bite the head off of that damned Slytherin, bane of her existence, when, one day, two dark, strong hands grabbed her from behind out of nowhere as she was putting up flyers about extra-curricular Muggle Studies in the Second floor corridor. She let out an undignified squawk as the person enthusiastically swung her up and around before putting her back down.

"What the–" She opened her mouth, whipping around, but stopped short when she was met by a totally different yet very familiar face. "Dean?!"