RP: Six Drops at Midnight
When: Saturday, October 31, 1998 Character/Pairing: Ginny and Blaise Rating: PG-13-ish Warnings: None Summary: Ginny spends time in an unused classroom she's deemed her own, but her quiet time is interrupted by Blaise, leading to a discovery that they have something in common.
Ginny had found the unused classroom in her second year. After the disaster that her first year had been, she'd been dying for some place quiet she could go and not be found, though the older she'd got, the less she'd used the old, dusty classroom. It had been nearly impossible to visit it last year, and somehow it had been damaged in the final battle at the beginning of last summer. Most of the castle had been repaired, but this room had been deemed a low priority.
Fortunately for it, Ginny had a particular sentimental attachment to this room, so she'd come here from time to time since returning in September to do some repairs to it. It mostly was returned to its former dusty "glory," if it could be called that.
Today, she was simply laying in the room on a blanket she'd transfigured, wand out and practicing charms that she'd already memorized. Her mind wasn't in it, though, as it was wandering to what she was hoping to do tonight. She and Harry hadn't had near enough time to explore their relationship, and she was worried that with her being in school and him in training (even though she'd secretly hoped Hermione would get through to him in that he should have returned to school this year, too), that their relationship would never get a chance to develop or thrive.
She was determined not to be one of those pathetic girls who pined after a boy, no matter how great of a guy he was.
Blaise was looking for somewhere to hide for a while, if he were to be perfectly honest with himself. He generally was, with himself, at least. It was other people he was capable of lying to with ease, most of the time.
There was an old classroom he knew, though, even if he hadn’t been there in quite some time. He used to transfigure a small reading nook in one corner, for studying or general pleasure reading, which he often favoured over the course work that he managed to do with ease. It was there he sought now, hoping it wasn’t in as ill of repair as certain of the other rooms he’d been in lately.
He slipped into it – it wasn’t locked and he’d have been shocked if it were – and immediately had that feeling of “occupied” that set his nerves tingling. His book slipped into his pocket as his wand slipped into his hand. Call him paranoid, but it never did to be unprepared in the face of the unknown, especially these days and most especially as a most hated Slytherin.
Quiet though it was, Ginny heard the door open, felt the change in the air that signaled another's presence in what she had come to think of as her room. Wand still in hand, she turned her head to see who it was and hopefully gather her bearings before whomever it was noticed her. She recognized the dark-skinned Slytherin right away, though she'd had next to no interaction with him before. Just moments later, she was up and facing him, wand out. "Zabini," she said, tone and stance both guarded. Just because she hadn't had any real interaction with him before didn't mean she trusted him any more than any other of the older Slytherins.
Blaise made no move to hide his wand, or to put it away. A Gryffindor and a Weasley – potentially a double threat to him. He’d been jumped in the halls more than once already this term. He wouldn’t admit that despite his skill, he’d not always successfully fended them off. He didn’t think anyone else knew, so at least they weren’t bragging, but not many Slytherins were safe right now. He wished his mother hadn’t insisted on finishing his schooling here, but he still feared her more than he feared this place, so for now, he stayed.
“Weasley,” he replied warily. He kept the wand low and generally non-threatening, but while he had cultivated a degree of wandless magic already, he didn’t want to trust himself to it completely. “Am I interrupting something? A tryst, perhaps?” He didn’t quite sneer, but it was close, and the way he let his eyes roam over her and the room was quite pointed. “Potter hiding in some corner for you?”
If there was one thing in which Ginny was quite confident, it was that she would be able to hex him quicker than he could hex her. She'd always been quick with it, a byproduct of having six older brothers. Having had, anyway, she mentally corrected, though forcibly moving her mind away from Fred's death.
At Zabini's question, she narrowed her eyes, temper flaring slightly. "If he were, do you really think he would be hiding?" she retorted slowly, as if he were too daft to understand the concept. And he just might be - many of the Slytherins certainly seemed to be. "What are you doing here?"
He smirked, a devilish look on his lean face. “How am I do know what kinks you two are into, darling?” he drawled oh-so-innocently, a hand on his chest and his eyes glinting. Knowing some of her… dating history… with other boys from Hogwarts (people did gossip, after all, most especially boys about girls and vice versa), he did have to wonder a bit.
“I,” he said, slowly – carefully – pulling his book out of his pocket, “was looking for a nice, quiet spot to read. This room is usually unoccupied.” His tone implied that it really should have been this time, as well.
That was a rather irritating question, particularly because, despite her attempts, there really weren't any kinks going on between her and Harry. Sure, he never minded a good bit of snogging, but he always seemed to find ways to put the brakes on, and she had a feeling he thought he was being subtle about it. It was incredibly frustrating for her. "What are you imagining, hide and seek sex games?" she retorted quickly, though. ....Although, that did sound like it could be fun.
Her eyes darted down to the book he pulled out, and then she raised an eyebrow at his words. "I know it is, that's why I come here," she said pointedly. She was slightly surprised that they hadn't run into one another here before if this was also his quiet place away from people.
His smirk deepened, almost hinting at a dimple in one cheek. Something about her expression spoke of… anger? Frustration? Some sort of emotion, anyway. He didn’t know her quite well enough to read her like a book, but she was a Weasley, and they couldn’t hide a lot of their emotions well. He tutted at her. “Oh dear, you mean he doesn’t get under that cloak of his,” the cloak was pretty much general knowledge at this point, “and sneak up on you, and just press you up against a wall and take you like he means it?” He sauntered in a bit farther, but not too close. He really would rather not be hexed tonight, there were parties to attend.
“Or DisIllusion himself and force you to just feel as he ravishes you on that blanket just there?” He tilted his head toward it, eyebrows raising and eyes glinting again, this time with something just as devilish but a little more base than before. She wasn’t an unattractive witch, after all. “You poor girl.”
“Hmm then, are we to duke it out over the quiet space then?” he suggested, obviously not serious. Unless… but no, a Gryffindor like her would likely try to kill him, and he’d sworn off long ago getting killed by a woman.
Ginny didn't particularly like that the cloak was general knowledge, but there was nothing to do for it. She also didn't like the way he was talking. It wasn't what he was saying - no, she actually very much liked the things he was suggesting - it was the fact that Harry definitely wasn't doing any of those things, and the way Zabini was saying them was stirring the desires in her. There was a flash of it in her eyes as he spoke, because no, she couldn't fully or even mostly hide her emotions. She didn't fully wear her heart on her sleeve, but she was a Weasley through and through. "Wouldn't you like to know," she replied, the words having far less bite than she'd intended.
"Duke it out? I think not," she said, deciding that for the moment he wasn't an active threat. She lowered her wand, shoulders relaxing slightly. "I was just practicing some charms." Though, notably, she did not have any textbooks with her.
His grin deepened slightly and he knew he'd scored some type of hit. Well, all wasn't perfect in paradise. Wasn't that interesting.
Blaise didn't put his wand up but he did keep it lowered. It was fun needling her, and though he had been seeking privacy, he rather thought now that he'd stay. He turned slightly and conjured his usual reading nook in a corner, the set of spells casual after all this time. "I see, practicing hard, aren't you?" He drawled as he went over to his nook, not completely taking his eyes from her. He wasn't an idiot, after all.
Likewise, she was keeping him within sight. She hadn't survived everything she'd been through by being careless. At least, most of it anyway. "Only as hard as I need to," she retorted with a faint smirk. It was mostly true, anyway. Charms wasn't really something she struggled in, and she felt quite confident that she'd do well enough even if she were to take her NEWTs next week. Potions, on the other hand, were another story altogether.
Her curiosity was always far too easy to stir up, and seeing him setting up his little nook was definitely doing it. "What are you doing?"
He snorted faintly, a derogatory sound, though he would admit to himself that he knew she was a good student. Especially in Defense, but her skills in other classes wasn't unknown. However, she didn't have to know that he knew, and he sure as hell wasn't about to admit that she did anything well. Not at the moment, anyway. The one class he knew her to be more poorly in was Potions, and he knew that because of course Slytherin was paired up with Gryffindor even on her level, and the other Slytherins talked just as much as the Gryffindors did.
"I'm going to read," he said, shaking the book in her general direction. "That is generally what one does with a book, and I don't want to head back after I came to all the trouble of walking all the way over here." Plus it was fun, messing with her head.
Well, it wasn't like she'd expected him to stay, and really, why should she have? This was her spot, after all, and she didn't want him to stay. He was a Slytherin, and she didn't know near enough about him. "Really?" she retorted slowly, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I had no idea that's what one does with a book."
She rolled her eyes, and yet her curiosity won out once again. "What are you reading?" She tried to justify to herself that she was just trying to figure out more about the mysterious Slytherin and that she didn't want to give up what she thought of as her special quiet place.
He hid his smirk for now, but oh he did love stirring people up sometimes. He probably got it from his mother - half the purebloods hated her, half loved her, and a portion of both had a fair measure of both coupled with an overly healthy dose of lust. She did love to create a sensation when it suited her, though. He beamed innocently at her. "I thought you might not, so I told you." Then he smirked, teeth flashing at her in a grin.
He wondered if he should tell her, but he figured in this there was no gain to be had by lying, though he was briefly tempted to say the Kama Sutra. Next time, if there was one, he thought. "Six Drops at Midnight by V. Misty Rious." It was a mystery and a thriller, and though he'd read it years ago he didn't remember the details enough to spoil the enjoyment of the twists and turns of the magical mystery.
Ginny glared at him before rolling her eyes, though she could admit to herself that something conflicted coursed through her at that smirk. And she was choosing to focus on the part of it that made her want to throw something at him. "Insufferable," she muttered in annoyance.
She almost expected him to not answer, but then he did, and his answer surprised her more than the fact that he'd answered at all. "Seriously?" She leaned up onto the balls of her feet, stretching her neck as if she would be able to see the book. It was one she'd read many times, as V. Misty Rious was one of her favorite authors. Most of her friends thought that she didn't really like to read, and it wasn't exactly false, she was just picky about what she read. Luckily, she'd discovered the mystery genre and fallen in love with it, and now other than her required reading, it was pretty much the only genre she would read. "Have you read A Quarter Past Chaos?" It was one of Rious' first novels, and even though it was a little less refined, it remained one of Ginny's favorite books.
It was the older cover version, which he preferred, and he held it up, surprising himself a little. In truth, she had surprised him, though he wouldn't show it. He had expected vague to no recognition of the name or title. Especially from her. She wasn't known for her mental prowess but rather the physical and magical in certain areas. He had not expected her to be a mystery junky especially of one of his favorite authors.
"Yeah, I have a first edition at home." One of the best gifts his mother had ever given him, really. "One of my favourites despite its flaws. I read it last week. If I'm stuck in this place, I figured I might as well do a reread." Some of his boredom did leak through, and perhaps a smidge of annoyance, though many knew he didn't precisely want to be at Hogwarts this year.
"The newest will be out next week. Darkness at Death's Door." He was excited, actually, though he tried not to show it. "Though I wouldn't be surprised at a title change." Wouldn't be the first time with one of Rious' books, much to many fans' dismay.
When he held the book up for her to get a better look, it took her by surprise, but she did get a good look, and she recognized the cover. It was in very good condition, especially compared to her own, which was a more-than-second hand copy that had seen much better days. The truth was that she just didn't have any new books other than her school books, and even then, most of those had been handed down to her. And yes, she did have a little bit of jealously go through her at the sight of his copy.
Her brows shot up at that. "First edition?" she repeated, surprised and impressed. She'd be lucky to even get a new copy of a non-school book, a first edition was like a pipe dream for her. And no, she would never let Hermione know that. "Mine too," she admitted, smiling a bit despite the fact that she probably shouldn't even be having a conversation with him, considering his unfortunate house placement.
"I know," she said, groaning just a bit because she knew it would be a while before she would be able to get her hands on a copy of it. None of her close friends new about her being a mystery junkie, not even Harry, so getting one as a gift wasn't likely at all, and her parents still couldn't afford to get it for her even if they knew she wanted it. And the fact was that she was just far too prideful to ask or let it be known that she wanted it. No, she would just have to wait until she managed to make some money. Perhaps she would enlist George's help with that. She was always happy to be the middleman for him at Hogwarts for a cut of the profits. "Oh, yeah, she's pretty well known for having corny titles that change at least once after her books are announced."
He had a pleased expression on his face when she was impressed. Someday when he had the chance he planned on getting all first editions, but with his trust still somewhat controlled he had to make do for now. If it were someone he knew and trusted, he might admit sometimes he feared reading it because he didn't want to damage it. "I want all firsts someday," he said instead, a safe admission.
Having something in common with a Weasley came as a big surprise. A Gryffindor, sure; he wasn't that bigoted. But a Weasley? "There's just something about it."
"I'm still wondering if I should place a bet on whether or not it'll be released under another title." Betting on it was half the fun. "He," he said firmly and automatically. Though it was subject to much debate, given the author had never given disclosure on gender, Blaise firmly believed the writer was male.
Of course he did. And somehow she got the impression that he would probably end up with all first editions someday. What would it be like, she wondered, to have enough money to be able to pursue such a thing? She tried to tell herself that she didn't really care that she would probably never have that kind of money.
"Yeah, there is," she agreed, her smile small and soft, but completely genuine. It was a rare occasion for a Slytherin to see, certainly.
"Hmmm, why not? Let's bet," she suggested, smirking a bit. Of course, she wouldn't be able to bet money, but she was impulsive and hadn't really thought the suggestion through before throwing it out there. She quirked a brow at the automatic correction of the presumed gender of the author. "She," she retorted. "I've never met a man named Misty." As if it were an infallible defense of her assumption.
Huh, so the girl Weasley could have a softer side. How... interesting. He had no other word for it, so like any Slytherin, he filed it away for later.
Blaise raised his eyebrows and grinned almost wolfishly. "What's the stakes?" He agreed readily, before she could change her mind. He would also lay money on the fact she wouldn't renege once challenged. He knew better, too, than to think she'd have money.
"Then you obviously haven't met some of the odder pureblood families, Ginevra," he said, placing a slight emphasis on her odd name. "I have a cousin," well, through one of his many stepfathers, "a guy, whose name is Leslie. And another whose middle name is Michelle." French origins there, and yes, perhaps the French had some odd gender choices for middle names, but still.
She certainly didn't expect him to turn down the opportunity of a bet, though she had no idea what sort of terms he would find interesting. Slytherins were just the sort you couldn't pin down with that sort of thing, she thought. "Hmm, well I'll bet that the title doesn't change, and if I win, I will get to read the book first when it arrives," she decided. And then she waited expectantly for what he would want should he win, low as the odds were of that happening.
Ginny rolled her eyes when he pointed out the oddity of her own name. Yes, she knew it was different, that's why she went by Ginny, not Ginevra, but at least her name was distinctly feminine. "Leslie and Michelle aren't gender-specific, though," she pointed out. And she knew that names often shifting in meanings or gender stereotypes, so that was hardly a deciding factor either. The truth was, she had no real reason for believing the author was a female other than her own instinct.
First? Oh that was harsh enough, he thought. Everyone died to have the next book open, even under a desk occasionally, when they finally came out. But he had to admit, it made for a good bet. His lips quirked slightly, a concession and admission that it was such. He tried to pin down a good bet on his end -- oh, he had ideas, that was for certain. They varied from her bent in various ways, wrapped around him in some way. So sue him, he hadn't been laid since he got here (and well before that for various reasons) and he was bored, and she wasn't unattractive. He could hear Draco's suggestions in his head, urging him to just do it already. He also wanted to simply shock her senseless, partly also from boredom and just to see her face. It likely wasn't the best idea in the world, and his sense of self preservation told him as much. He could always defend himself and negotiate lower, after all. What was a reward without the risk?
"If the title does change, and I win," he drawled it as if it was a matter of course, "you...." blow him, fuck him, both, heh, "give me a lap dance, in your best lingerie." He smirked at her. He really couldn't help himself. He still had his wand in hand, and he didn't move it, but he was prepared to defend himself if need be. He was naughty, not stupid. His mother had prepared him well.
"Not necessarily, but Misty might not be either," he said, content to bicker about it for now, thinking he was in the right. "And Michelle is pretty gender specific these days." Maybe not two centuries ago, but yes.
Ginny was decidedly full of anticipation to hear what he would suggest for himself as a win, as she could tell he was at least a little impressed by her end of the bet. When he finally did tell her what he wanted should he win, she raised an eyebrow as if to say: that's mild compared to what I'd expected from a Slytherin. She took a few moments to pretend to consider it, when in reality, she thought it was a pretty safe bet. She was confident the title wouldn't change, and even on the off-chance that it did, she didn't really think a lap dance would be a terrible challenge for her.
"Deal," she said, tilting her chin up in stubborn confidence and holding her pinky, as if inviting him to a pinky swear, sealing their deal. It was, perhaps, juvenile, but it was her first instinct in establishing the terms of their bet, so she went with it.
Rolling her eyes, Ginny decided to drop the subject of the gender of the author, since there was no way to figure out who was right in the matter, and going in circles of which names were gender-specific and which weren't was getting them nowhere. Perhaps that could be a bet for another day.
It was tame, especially by what his baser brain wanted, but it was a compromise as to what he wanted and something he thought she might reasonably accept. Well, maybe not reasonably, but as such things went with Gryffindors. His slight smile went to a full on grin, teeth flashing white against his darker skin. "Deal," he said somewhat smugly, his pinky wrapping around hers in the timeless, if perhaps somewhat juvenile, promise, shaking it firmly once.
Most though not all of his wariness dispelled, he sat in his nook, reclining comfortably and crossing his legs at the ankles. His wand was only halfway up his sleeve, very easily accessible on top of his wandless abilities. He flipped the book open, though he spoke while looking at it. "So just what spells were you practicing, Ginevra?" he asked idly.
She was almost surprised when he came over and pinky promised to seal their bet, but she was also pleased. It was fun and didn't feel like it was a heavy sort of bet, and she actually found herself looking forward to finding out which of them would win, even though she was certain that she would. "Deal," she repeated with a satisfied grin.
As he settled in his nook, Ginny went to settle back on her blanket. As far as she was concerned, this was still 'her' spot, and she wasn't giving it up to him. At his question, she glanced over at him with raised brows. She was surprised and a little annoyed by his use of her full first name, but she decided not to comment on it. Apparently it was used by her mother and self-entitled Slytherins. Oh well. "Flagrate," she answered, indicating the spell which creates a burning, fiery line in the air which can be "drawn" with the wand into specific shapes. It was not the most advanced spell, especially for a pureblood student, but still, it was one she happened to like.
He had the same idea she did, that this was his spot and she was the intruder, and he wasn't going to leave just because of her. His eyes scanned the book, taking in more than she probably suspected - he always had been good at multitasking. He raised an eyebrow at her over the book. "You should know Flagrate by now, shouldn't you?" he said, but not nearly as archly as he could have. In fact, with a Gryffindor, it was downright curious more than anything. "Are you trying to do something specific with it?"
It seemed that interacting with him elicited quite the response from her, as she was rolling her eyes yet again. "I do know it," she retorted with just a little bite. "No, not anything specific, just..." Really, why was she bothering to explain herself to him? "I could always start refreshing on my defense, jinxes and such," she said, redirecting from what she'd been about to say earlier. It wasn't really a threat, but it could have possibly been construed as one, especially as she was still holding her wand.
He was tempted to tell her if she kept rolling her eyes at him, one day they might stick in the back of her head (or be stuck there by someone). His house elf had often told him that when he was wee. But he rather thought he'd save that for another occasion. It was a wonder that her mother hadn't smacked the habit from her though. He stopped reading and raised both eyebrows at her archly, a small smile playing around his lips. Without saying a word, he practically shouted, oh darlin', you should try it and see what happens. "It can be good to refresh," he said mildly, almost reprovingly (just for the sake of getting to her). He flicked his wand with his left hand, pointing well away from her, and cast wordlessly.
Practice makes perfect, the flames wrote briefly, and while keeping an eye on her he went back to the pretense of reading his book.
Ginny had actually learned early on to not let her mum see her rolling her eyes, but when she was away from Molly Weasley, it was a little more difficult to recall such forms of etiquette. The challenge was clear in his expression, and she was sorely tempted to go for it. He flicked his wand, though, and she braced herself to deflect and protect herself, already bringing several jinxes she could toss at him to mind.
It turned out she didn't need to, though, and she snorted out a brief laugh at what he did. Waving her wand in an almost idle manner, she replied in similar flames: Then I shouldn't have need of more practice. It was, perhaps, not the most clever response, but it was the best she could come up with immediately.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he moved his wand, and he couldn't help but smirk faintly. She really had some obvious tells. She'd do well to work on them.
Blaise tilted his head, eyes crinkling faintly at the corners in amusement. He flicked his wand again. Your handwriting could use the practice, he wrote with a bland look on his face. And compared to his elegant script, which was nearly a match for his graceful writing, she did have a bit to go, in his opinion.
At his response, she had to roll her eyes again. Of course he would insult her. Despite their having found common ground with a love of mystery novels, he was still a Slytherin through and through. I didn't ask for your opinion, she retorted, not bothering to try to make the writing neater. In her opinion, there were far more important things than penmanship.
No, she hadn't, but she'd get it anyway. Too bad, he replied with a little smirk intended to infuriate before sliding his eyes back to the pages of his book. It was too much fun, really it was.
Oh, he was insufferable. There really was no doubt about it, and she was quite tired of it now. This was supposed to be her calm, peaceful space, and here he was mucking it up. "Right, well, it's nearly dinnertime, so I'll be going. See you around, Zabini," she said as she stood up, tucked her wand away, and gave him a slightly nod of acknowledgement.
Blaise smirked, feeling like he'd won something. Seeing as how he hadn't left but she had, in a manner of speaking he had won. "Enjoy," he drawled distractedly, and his wand swished behind her, audibly locking the door behind her.