RP: The Upper Hand
When: Saturday, October 31, 1998, Evening Character/Pairing: Ginny and Blaise Rating: R Warnings: UST Summary: After a failed attempt at intimacy with Harry, Ginny returns to Hogwarts and runs into Blaise at the Halloween party in the "8th year's" common room.
Of all the - That bloody bastard! - Un-fucking-believable! How could he? What was the damn point?
Ginny's mind was a whirl of frustrated outrage. Sure, she'd played the understanding girlfriend to Harry, but inside she was completely infuriated. She'd been patient, hadn't she? She'd waited for him, hadn't dated all of last year - and not just because she was so busy trying to stay alive under the death eater's rule at Hogwarts, but because she'd wanted to wait for Harry. And then it had been over, Voldemort had been defeated, and Harry had lived. So why the hell wouldn't he let them have a real relationship now?
He had been her dream ever since she'd been a little girl. She'd always fantasized about Harry Potter, and now he was hers, but was he really? Maybe it was shallow of her, but she just wasn't sure how much longer she could be patient with him. Was being with him, her childhood fantasy, worth waiting for?
She'd apparated to just outside the gates to Hogwarts, stormed up the long walk to the castle, intending to head up to Gryffindor tower and try to get over this night. A part of her really wished the Room of Requirement hadn't been destroyed, as she desperately wanted to go to it and have it give her something she could destroy. That had been the plan, anyway, but as she passed the corridor that led to the "eighth" years common room, she remembered that they'd planned a Halloween party. Hermione had told her about it, mostly because she'd intended to stay far away from the common room.
Hermione, she knew, had followed through with that thought and was spending time with Ron tonight - and Ginny was trying her damnedest not to think about how frustrating it was that her idiot of a brother had a better relationship than she did. But knowing Hermione wouldn't be there and that the odds that there would be alcohol there had Ginny detouring from her plan, heading toward the older students' common room, thankful that Hermione had given her the password.
Striding in confidently, she looked around not for someone she knew, as she knew basically everyone there, but for the alcohol, as she knew there had to be some.
Eighth year common room had been a great inspiration by Professor McGonagall, Blaise thought. They had different places and different rules, and though it could be rough on occasion when the Gryffindors or some others teamed up, Blaise liked having space away from the younger kids.
There were a few Slytherins and a couple others he knew wouldn't stab him in the back, which was why he decided to attend the party. There was alcohol, some of which he'd contributed, and some pretty people and in some cases interesting people to talk with.
He lounged in a chair near the "bar" that had been set up. He had played bartender for a few people over the course of the night and hadn't poisoned anyone - yet, at least - so he thought things were going rather well. He looked up as someone else walked in the door. He figured someone had given her the password, several Seventh Years had it, and wasn't surprised. He'd seen her here before. However, he could have sworn she would have plans with her boyfriend tonight of all nights, and so he smirked as she zeroed in on the bar.
"Well well well, look what the cat dragged in," he drawled.
When she spotted him and heard that infuriating drawl, Ginny nearly groaned and turned around and left. Nearly. What stopped her was the sight of the well-stocked bar and a stronger desire to drink than to avoid him. She was, at least, dressed to impress, imperative considering what she'd hoped would happen with Harry tonight. Her dress was green, cut in a very flattering way, stopping a few inches above her knees, and she had on black stockings. Her only concession had been her shoes: the flats she was wearing were comfortable and she could actually walk in them.
A simple, gold locket hung from her neck, a gift from her parents for her birthday. Inside was a picture of her parents on one side and a picture of Fred on the other. Although she wasn't much of a jewelry person, this particular bauble was near and dear to her.
After a brief hesitation, Ginny tilted her chin up stubbornly and headed to the makeshift bar. "And aren't you charming as always?" she retorted with a touch of sarcasm as she reached the bar. She held her black traveling cloak over one arm, and then leaned against the bar slightly. "Are you pouring drinks tonight, or is this a pour your own sort of thing?" she asked, though she fully anticipated some sort of sarcastic and obnoxious response from him.
His eyes had already taken in her and her charms tonight. Well, she did have some taste, wonder of wonders, though she would have looked better in heels. "Of course I am. Charm is requisite for a gentleman," he replied, knowing he invited scoffing and purposefully leaving it there just so he could snipe at her some more.
"Depends on what you want, darling," he told her. "I do a mean Screw Against the Potions Bench, but you'd probably need heels to make that work." He winked, letting his eyes linger on her legs.
"Of course," she drawled, not really convinced he was a gentleman. In her experience, gentlemen didn't speculate about a woman's sex life to her face. But then, she wasn't really sure a gentleman was the kind of man for her. Which may, perhaps, be part of the problem in her personal life.
At his words, she quirked a brow, head tilting slightly in anticipation of what he would follow it up with. And he certainly didn't disappoint. "You really shouldn't underestimate a girl. I'd love a Screw Against the Potions Bench," she retorted, challenge lighting her eyes, enjoying the banter with him as it ignited something in her, reminding her of his words when they'd first interacted in the unused classroom earlier that day.
"Well then," he murmured as he stood, sliding up next to her, almost touching but not quite. His eyes were warm, though he smirked at her. "I'd be more than happy to oblige, especially since you'd fit right in down in the dungeons in that lovely shade of green."
It was a genuine compliment, if cloaked because well, she was a Gryffindor. He reached behind her, almost brushing his arm against hers, as he grabbed what he needed to mix her a drink.
It was remarkable how quickly her anger had been suppressed merely by Zabini's presence, and without her even realizing it. Perhaps he was the perfect distraction.
The way he moved in, close but not touching, had her skin tingling, though she wasn't acknowledging any anticipation she might be feeling. Notably, she made no move to put space between them, though. At the compliment - which she recognized because what was more attractive than this shade of green to a Slytherin, after all? - she smirked slightly and glanced down at her dress. "Do you like it?" she asked, ignoring the hint of flirtation in her tone. She wasn't flirting with him. She had no reason to flirt with him.
She was Harry Potter's girlfriend, after all.
Blaise looked down at the dress again, and then down the dress, since this angle afforded quite the view and he'd had enough to drink that while he wasn't throwing caution to the winds, he wasn't being extremely cautious either. "Oh yes. It's a very nice dress," he said, his breath brushing her ear.
He conjured up a fresh glass with a flick of the wrist and started to mix her drink. "How strong you want it?" He was tempted to make it a heavy one, but he resisted because he wasn't, despite what some might say, that kind of person. Unless asked.
Ginny was quite aware of his eyes on her, but she'd been so starved of that sort of attention, that she welcomed it now. She shivered faintly as his breath whispered over her ear, sending rather pleasant chills through her.
Although she was willing to let him mix her drink, she wasn't stupid enough to not watch the process. Not that she thought this particular Slytherin was of that particular danger to her, but one could never be too cautious in these matters - constant vigilance and all. She took the question as a challenge of sorts, and she smirked and leaned in toward him, her lips now a breath away from his ear. "Surprise me," she answered.
He wondered if she had slept with all the guys she'd dated, like some rumors said. Though easy could be nice, she was a challenge in so many ways that the pursuit of her could be a lot of fun. He didn't really care that she was Potter's girl, even though it could be his skin if the boy found out. Well, not really, he didn't think that highly of Potter.
"Hard it is, then," he said wickedly, resisting the urge to shiver. "Hard and fast screw against the bench, then. Think you can handle it?" His voice was dark and silky and filled with innuendo. His hands were steady as he mixed, though he felt a surge of illicit attraction.
Rumors were fascinating things, as they nearly always had at least some root in the truth, and the rumors about Ginny's sex life were no different. No, she hadn't slept with every guy she'd dated, but she was definitely not a virgin and happened to like sex very much, hence her current frustration with her rather prudish boyfriend.
And good god, did he have to say the things he was saying?! Especially because he wasn't the one she was currently in a relationship with. The innuendo stirred her further, and her knuckles ghosted over his forearm as her hand prepared to take the drink once it was ready. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she purred, continuing on with the innuendo. And she was confident she could definitely handle a hard and fast screw against the bench - oh, and the drink he was making her.
Attraction definitely sparked between them. He felt it in the heat of her touch, light against his skin but still tantalizing. He pressed the drink into her hand, his fingers brushing hers, and then against her inner wrist. He sensed she was naughty - and oh it tempted him. He should respect a relationship, except he didn't respect Potter despite the things the boy had somehow managed.
"I think I'd make you scream as I screwed you," he whispered right into her ear. He'd had enough to venture into crudeness, and so far she'd shown no aversion. "I'd make you take it, right there at the spot where you take lessons every week, and the next time you went in you'd remember the entire lesson what it felt like." He let his lips just brush her ear. He'd do it, too - though he hoped that now next time she went into the potions classroom she'd get so wet she could hardly stand it.
"But of course, that's only if you like your screws strong," he reverted back to normal speech, pulling back with a little smirk playing around his lips, as if he'd said nothing of the sort at all.
If Ginny were to describe what was happening in that moment, she would have to say that she'd gone mad from the pent up unresolved sexual tension in her life, for that was the only reason she could imagine she'd found herself in this position, having this sort of conversation with this man. There was no deluding herself that it was just banter or innuendo for the fun of it - no, this was something so much more than that, and a part of her desperately yearned to see it through.
Though far from proud of it, she whimpered wantonly at the words, and she knew that she was wet already. She shifted, legs rubbing together as if it might release some of that tension in her. "Is there any other way?" she breathed, not quite able to revert back to normal speech as he seemed able to, despite the fact that he'd been drinking and she was, sadly, sober.
The whimper went straight to his cock. He couldn't help it, but then, he'd already been feeling it anyway. "Oh, but my dear... I can think of ever so many ways," he murmured, his smirk deepening. "And I have quite the imagination." White teeth flashed against dark skin as he grinned hotly at her. His fingers touched just the inside of her elbow, along the sensitive skin there.
"Bloody hell," she moaned, her eyelids dropping closed, head tipping forward a bit, which made her hair fall forward and hide half her face. You have a boyfriend. You have a boyfriend. You have a bloody boyfriend. She had to repeat the mantra over and over in her head because, and she was far from proud to admit this even to herself, there was a large part of her that wanted him to take her somewhere private and fuck her senseless.
As if suddenly remembering that she had a drink in her hand, she brought it to her lips, trying to buy some time and figure out just what the hell she was supposed to do now. It was good. Definitely strong, and probably stronger than she would have made it herself, but she handled it in a way that implied it wasn't her first time drinking strong liquor. "I don't doubt you do," she murmured finally, peeking up at him through her lashes, not coyly, but in a way that expressed the conflict in her - the strong desire to follow her fleshly urges and the moral high ground which would have her turning away from him and staying true to her boyfriend.
Hell, bloody hell, he echoed in his thoughts. He wanted to bend her down a little farther right here and pull up that little dress and fuck her senseless, never mind the audience.
He met her gaze directly, eyes hot, and didn't look away. A small smile played around his lips, definitely meant to tempt. "You are such a bad, bad girl," he said, and it was a compliment. He reached out and swiped a finger under her lip, wiping away a drop of liquor. "Swallowing that down so very easily."
As his finger swept under her lip, she instinctively nipped playfully at him, not managing to catch his finger. Meeting his gaze a little more fully, she said, "A bad girl with very bad ideas," on a breath. Like coming here tonight. This had clearly been a very bad idea. Gods, but the temptation - and oh, what a temptation he was! "I've had... practice."
She couldn't seem to turn it off, and she wasn't actually sure she wanted to. She knew that she should, but she didn't have the best track record when it came to doing what she should.
Blaise brought his finger to his lips and flicked his tongue out to consume the droplet. Oh, a vixen. Minx. Little scarlet letter waiting to happen. "I'm sure you have," he said softly.
He glanced around briefly, seeing that for the moment everyone was still involved with other things and not them. At least for now. "A bad bad girl who needs to be taken to task," he said, smirking faintly. He could imagine his hand against her arse, dispensing discipline. "I think I should bend you over, Weasley, and see if you learn a lesson."
Ginny watched his tongue capture the droplet, unable to stop the onslaught of images, fantasies she'd had countless times before, but with him as the star of the show - his lips on hers, on her breasts, between her legs, and on and on it went, her mind playing out many of the naughty things they could do together so quickly it had her head spinning.
When he glanced around, it pulled her out of the moment just enough, reminding her that they were in a room full of people who knew her and Harry well, who knew they were dating, and who could very likely get word to him that his girlfriend was perhaps not quite as committed to him as she seemed. And then Zabini had to go and open that damned delectable mouth of his again, and her mind was definitely imagining herself bent over his lap, on the receiving end of some delightful spankings.
Ginny pulled in a deep breath and let it out on a shuddering sigh. Reaching out with her free hand, she rested her fingertips lightly on his chest. "Stop. You've got to stop, or I might spontaneously combust, and for Merlin's sake, I have a boyfriend," she said as much for herself as for him. Her voice was soft, though, and it was clear that she was not upset with him. If anything, she was upset that she wasn't free to explore whatever this could be.
Blaise tilted his head and regarded her through half lidded, contemplative eyes. He enjoyed sparring with her, pushing her, and he didn't particularly wish to quit. In fact, he wanted to see it through. But the way she asked him made him stop to think for a moment. He still didn't care that she had a boyfriend. If it were someone other than Potter, he might, but the arrogant boy didn't have much in his eyes.
"You have a boyfriend, yet you come alone to this party, making a beeline for the alcohol, in that pretty dress that isn't wrinkled the least little bit." He spoke softly, still looking at her. "Some boyfriend."
That he pointed out all the things wrong with this scene considering the fact that she did have a boyfriend had her shoulders squaring defensively. "He's in auror training," she retorted. "He doesn't have much free time." And she had to believe that was the reason he turned her away, that there wasn't something wrong with her, that he really was just exhausted from training. She wasn't used to feeling insecure in these things, and in fact hated the feeling.
"But you're right, I shouldn't have come to this party alone," she said, just a hint of bitterness in her tone. Turning and bringing her cup to her lips again, she scanned the room, trying to decide if she could make any kind of graceful exit at this point - not that graceful had ever been a particular trait of her.
Blaise made a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. He looked her over again. "Even the most tired idiot would find time for a fuck, I would think. Though maybe if you'd worn heels..." the tone was downright teasing, even as he needled lightly. "Maybe you should Ennervate him if you want to see him sprung when he's tired." Though honestly he'd rather fuck her himself. Though watching could be interesting, though Potter wasn't that attractive.
He leaned against the table next to her, also regarding the room languidly despite the fact that his trousers were far too tight under his robes. "Alas for your beloved, he is a fool," he said. He looked over at her again. "But if you decide to stop being such a goody goody and try to be really good, you know where to find me." As he stood fully again, he used her body to shield how he squeezed her arse firmly. He smirked at her, grabbing a glass and toasting it at her before he started to stroll away.
Her thoughts exactly... right up until that jab about her shoes. She hardly thought her shoes had kept Harry from fucking her senseless. Though she did wish she knew just what his hangup was about it. "Perhaps I should," she repeated sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
Oh gods, the invitation there was clear, and she had very little doubt as to where exactly he was referring, and then he had to go and squeeze her arse, and good gods, she really wanted to be able to go with him. As she watched him stroll away with that confident stride, the lust spiked and then ebbed just enough for the anger to return. Anger at Harry for not wanting to pursue the physical side of their relationship, anger at Zabini for tempting her to betray her relationship, and anger at herself - though she wasn't focusing on that last one!
After downing the rest of her drink - and yes, she had probably had way too much practice with that - she stormed out after him, eyes flashing, intending to give him a piece of her mind. It was okay to follow him, because she wasn't doing so to fuck him, but to yell at him, and that just might feel as good. Okay, probably not, but it would at least help. Possibly. The walk to the unused classroom was short, though by the time she got there, her face was red. "Just where the hell do you get off, Zabini?!" she yelled at him as she stormed into the room, though she notably did close the door behind her.
Without waiting for a reply, she practically stomped over to him, poking his chest with a finger. "You know nothing - nothing about my relationship with Harry, and it's none of your damn business anyway! If we haven't fucked yet, that's between him and me. And why in the hell do you think it's okay to try to seduce me? Putting images in my head of you taking me on the potions bench, bending me over your knees to spank me, fucking me senseless. I'm bloody spoken for, you prat!" But good gods, those images in her head were incredibly arousing!
Well, he hadn't quite expected this, Blaise thought with bemusement as a red faced, shouting Weasley descended upon him. Though her wand wasn't drawn and he really didn't get any real threat vibe off her. And honestly, she looked even more fuckable now.
"Darlin'," he drawled, deliberately slow, "my business is anything I want to make my business, and if you haven't noticed, you and your beloved are still quite in the spotlight currently. You're fair game." And honestly if he had wanted to write an article on her, he could.
"And besides," he snared her hand, fingers wrapping around her wrist and pressing lips against the inside of it, "you haven't exactly said no yet, either. If you had a man I thought worth the spit to shine my shoes, I'd respect your relationship, but a man who disregards his woman is no kind of man at all." Also, in his experience, very dangerous to do so. At least in his family. He leaned in close, eyes dark and shielded. "If you don't want a good fucking, say so, though I bet your knickers would call you a liar. I'll go away tonight, and then tomorrow I'll pass you in the hall and pinch your arse and you'll get all worked up again because your boyfriend has no time for you." He was bluntly honest, because that was him at the core - hard truth was worse than almost any lie.
No, her wand wasn't drawn, and that was because while she was angry at him for doing the things he was doing, that was only because of her own current relationship predicament. Her eyes were narrowed at him, and she huffed in frustration at his pointing out she and Harry were still quite firmly in the spotlight.
Her pulse fluttered when he took her wrist and brought it to his lips. That was... Damn everything! It was just making it harder to keep from throwing caution to the wind and giving in to him. She had to be strong, though, to own her body and her decisions, to not feel like she was being manipulated into something that would undoubtedly feel amazing but would have terrible repercussions. Pulling her arm away from him, her eyes flashed, and she took a step back. "You will not touch me again unless I give you express permission," she said sharply, and her hand did now rest on the handle of her wand, though without pulling it out.
"Yes, mistress," he drawled, deliberately insolent and not in the least submissive. He wasn't a submissive person to many and definitely not to her, especially at the moment. His mother was probably the only person to ever really cow him into submission. His eyes all but dared her to hex him - he would fight back, and as good as she probably was, he knew he probably had an edge or three on her.
How was it possible to want to hex, kiss, and slap someone all at once? It was infuriating and conflicting, but he hadn't intruded on her personal space again, so slapping or hexing him seemed a bit extreme of responses, and kissing him was, of course, not an option. It left her staring at him, her frustration and conflicting feelings clear in her expression. "It's a wonder you ever get a good shag with an attitude like that," she snarked at him unintentionally. Really, she should have just walked away at that point. No good could possibly come from continuing to engage him.
He shifted his weight slightly, toward her, not really moving but still somehow sliding his presence toward her, imposing. Not precisely intimidating, though he could if he wanted. Though he didn't realize it, it was a talent he'd picked up from his mother, who could dominate a whole room if she wished.
"And it's no wonder you haven't been shagged with an attitude like that," he said back. "Unless it really is just your way of begging to be had." He could see her conflict on her face, wanted to push her, though he wasn't sure which direction he preferred at this point. He wasn't interested in having his head taken from his shoulders during sex, though neither did he want some sweet passive submissive thing.
The change, small though it was, did not go unnoticed, and she squared her shoulders stubbornly, not willing to back down. There was a good possibility, though, that this was a battle of wills he very well could win. She hadn't decided yet if it would be worth it to find out.
"What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean? You think I'm actually trying to beg you to fuck me by calling you out on your bullshit? You are unbelievable!" Glaring at him, she took another step back. "I will never shag you!" Of course, she was speaking in the heat of the moment, and her words couldn't be guaranteed as a 100% true, because there certainly was a part of her that would very much like to shag him. It was just a part of her that she was trying very hard to suppress.
This time it was he resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm not the one who followed me out of the party," he said pointedly when she told him he was unbelievable. His eyebrows rose disbelieving at her declaration. Sure she wouldn't, he thought. It was all over her, from the way she stood, her color, the way her chest thrust out, that she wanted to shag him. Each step she took back, he took one forward, following. Just barely crowding her. But not touching her. No. Not just yet. "Hmm." He knew the simple sound would likely infuriate her.
And she certainly was infuriated. With every step back she took, he followed, all the way until her back was pressed up against a wall. Her breathing wasn't quite steady, and her color definitely was up, her eyes flashing, but it wasn't all anger. Oh, how she wished it was! This whole situation would be far simpler if she was just furious with him. "Just because I followed you doesn't mean I want to shag you, you bloody egocentric prat! I followed you to tell you to back off!" Though, notably, she didn't push him out of her bubble, she didn't draw her wand on him, she didn't do anything but stare defiantly up at him.
He followed her, liking to push her, enjoying it. She was so angry, and in that anger she was also very attractive. He put a hand on the wall on either side of her, somewhat hemming her in though she could escape -- if she really wished to. He leaned in, close but not touching, his presence very much there. "Back off or get off?" he taunted. "Because I think you came in here to get off, personally. You're wet, and aching, and you want a cock in you so bad it hurts, doesn't it? And being told no isn't something you want to hear. So what would happen, then, if I turned around and said no?"
As his hands closed her in, she didn't flinch, but her eyes did both warm with curiosity and lust and narrow in suspicion. It was an odd combination, but she somehow pulled it off. She couldn't deny, to herself at least, that his words were having a definite effect on her, and she couldn't help the way her hips moved almost imperceptibly away from the wall and toward him at the truth of it - that she did want a cock in her desperately - but she didn't touch him. She had to keep at least some space between them. He was deftly backing her into a figurative corner, and it was becoming increasingly difficult figuring out how the hell she was supposed to respond and remain in control - if she even had control at all, which she wasn't actually sure about.
"Why don't you do it and find out?" she challenged. It seemed the safest thing to say, considering the conflict occurring within her that she had a feeling he was quite aware of.
He toyed with the idea, to do it or not to do it. He did have some qualms about turning his back on her, but he could mitigate that. As much as he wanted her, maybe it would be better to walk away -- this time. Part of him thought it would serve her right to have to take care of herself tonight, so to speak, after attempting to deny why she'd followed him. Despite the way her hips leaned toward him, begging to grind against his.
Blaise's eyes glinted wickedly as he kept her gaze. He leaned in just a bit more, and quickly he nipped at her lower lip, and one hand snaked between them to grope her briefly, meant to make the ache worse. "Have a good night, Red," he whispered before she could react, smirking at her and turning sharply to stalk away, wand palmed in his hand -- just in case.
How could she admit out loud that she did want him? It was wrong on so many levels, and she didn't want to want him, it just happened that he had a delightfully wicked and clever tongue and that her boyfriend was woefully lacking and resistant in that department. She could deny it with her words but not in her expression. Her eyes lit with anticipation she couldn't quite hide as he leaned in closer, even though she knew she should push him away.
And then they touched, though it wasn't at all what she'd expected. Her eyes closed briefly as he nipped her lip, and as he groped her, she whimpered softly, wantonly. And then she cursed at her body's betrayal, narrowed her eyes at him as he walked away. "Bastard," she growled in frustration. Her wand stayed put away, though, no matter how much she did kind of want to curse him just then.
Baise looked back at her, eyes hot. "I'll thank you very much to remember my mother was married when she conceived me," he said with a hint of dark humor, not only because he was rather obliged to defend his mother despite her many ... flaws... but because pretty much everyone knew his father ended up dead shortly after his birth. He was already watched often whenever he dated, which wasn't often anymore it seemed, to make sure that his significant others survived the encounters.
Despite the situation, Ginny's lips twitched in amusement. "Right. I'll have to come up with an equally appropriate but better fitting term for you. Prat comes to mind, but it's so mild, I'm not sure it's good enough for you," she said musingly. Perhaps she was trying to engage him further to keep him around, but she was telling herself that she was just responding to him, nothing more.
"You could go with prick," he told her smoothly, smirk positively evil. "But then, that might be a little bit too close to what you've been thinking, so perhaps not." The tone was almost innocent, but with a naughty bit of velvet to it as he stopped near the door, facing her. He knew she was delaying his departure, and he chose to let her... for now.
Narrowing her eyes again, she said, "Oh, no, I think prick suits you quite well. We'll go with that." Seeming to find herself again now that he was far enough away, Ginny pushed away from the wall and walked toward him, her hips swaying slightly, all impulse and courage utterly inappropriate to the situation. When she reached him, she brushed a hand over his groin, fingers feather light. "I do hope you won't have too much trouble taking care of that later," she practically purred at him, looking up at him with a heated gaze. "Good night, Prick." And then, feeling like she finally had the upper hand with him, she turned to leave.
Blaise let her get as far as the door, following her on silent feet. As her hand reached it, he moved quickly, pressing her closer to the wall, though not to it, one hand on her breast and the other snaking around her to cup between her legs. He pressed flush up against her, hiking up her dress in the front to caress there as his hand squeezed her breast, as grinding against her rear firmly. Yes, he might have to take care of himself, but she'd damn well have to take care of herself as well. He nipped sharply at her ear lobe, growling softly there before moving her aside and opening the door, giving her an innocent smile. "Good night," he told her, and slipped outside.
She should have known. Sure, she hadn't had much personal interaction with Zabini before today, but today had been more than enough to have made her realize that he wouldn't let her have the last word tonight. As he pressed against her back, she leaned back against him instinctively, and she bit her lip on a moan as his hands touched her, as she felt his erection rubbing against her arse. Gods, she really did want him to fuck her, but it was a serious conflict in her because she still knew that she shouldn't want it with him. And when he was gone, she whimpered faintly at the loss of contact, eyes closing. Yes, she was definitely going to have to take care of herself.