A/N: Thanks for beta services to Thalia and Scarlett. This chapter is dedicated to Tanya, Heather, Karey, and everyone else who knew me from before I became a hack fanfic writer .. and has followed me into this chapter of my life.
~*~
Dear Gred and Forge:
I am writing because your favourite sister needs some help in a time of need.
I've been assigned a Potions project, for which it would be incredibly helpful to procure a bit of doxy venom. About a vial's worth would do, I believe. Did you ever manage to extract it from the doxies you pulled out of 12 Grimmauld the summer before your seventh year, and can I count on you to send me some?
All in the name of advancing your sister's education, I swear!
Ginny
~*~
Virginia Weasley! Mum would have a fit if she knew what you were up to at school.
Having said that, expect a delivery by owl sometime this weekend.
Come to think of it, WE don't even know what you're up to at school! With any luck, you've found a way to poison old Filch. Please tell us that you've at least not turned into an ickle Percy-doppelganger; one of them is frightening enough!
Your favourite brothers
~*~
The twins made good on their word. That Saturday morning, Ginny was surprised by the arrival of a good-sized owl bearing a rather substantial package. She happily surrendered part of a toast point to the bird, and worked her small fingers through the knots in the string and wrapping paper as it flew away.
"Oi, Gin! What's that?" Ron said loudly from his own plate several seats down.
She opened the flaps of the box, and smirked. Holding up the box for the table to see, she announced, "A care package. From the twins." She delighted in seeing many of her housemates stop chewing the bites of breakfast in their mouths, some paling visibly.
Setting the box down again carefully, she slipped one hand inside. Pushing the various-coloured sweets in their white paper wrappers aside, she felt at the bottom of the parcel for the one thing she truly cared about. Something long and slender, carefully wrapped .. it had to be the vial of doxy venom.
She sent a carefully-controlled look of smug victory over to where at least two of her groupmates were watching. Pushing the rest of her breakfast aside, she collected the box and its discarded wrappings and got up from her seat. Against her better judgement, her feet walked her over to where her groupmates sat, in the middle of Slytherin table.
"Weasley," Pansy said congenially, to the horror of most of her tablemates.
"Parkinson," Ginny returned. She shook the box gently, eliciting a small rustle. "I got it." She aimed a nasty little smile directly at the Head Boy. "As I said I would." When the blond leveled a glare at her, she took one of the twins' concotions out of the box and tossed it at him. "A toffee. To wipe that ugly look off your face."
Privately chuckling over the look of alarm that generated, she left the Great Hall.
~*~
Ginny -
We've managed to secure use of Professor Snape's Potions workroom for brewing our project potion. Meet us in front of the Potions classroom after dinner tonight.
Blaise.
PS - What WAS in that toffee, anyway? Malfoy gave it to Crabbe, who is STILL in the hospital wing.
~*~
Ginny pocketed the note from Zabini without much thought. Her mind was distracted by thoughts of Quidditch practice later that morning; Ron had been reading strategy books again, and had a "few ideas" he wanted the Chaser corps to try out.
Ginny had suggested that since Gryffindor didn't play again until February, perhaps they could take a bit of a breather. Her brother looked at her as though she'd turned into a canary, and proclaimed her "completely nutters". As Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were preparing for their own November match, however, Ron found his ability to book the Quidditch pitch limited to one long session on Sunday mornings.
Ginny dreaded them already. She knew her brother; she knew he was still upset over their loss to Slytherin, and she knew that he was going to drive them to exhaustion practicing maneuvers that would just be lost amongst the countless bits of knowledge their teachers would fill their brains with during the intervening week between practices. She knew he was unlikely to see reason - especially where Quidditch was concerned.
She resigned herself to three hours of torture at the hands of her brother and his friend as she grabbed her broom and Quidditch kit and headed for Gryffindor locker room.
An hour and a half later, as she was practicing full-speed quaffle passes with Colin and Kirsten, she remembered that she still hadn't warned her brother about her upcoming .. date, she supposed she should call it .. with Blaise Zabini.
"Ginny, what was that?" Colin shouted, as she spectacularly missed a pass that she could have, and should have, caught at any other time. "Are you quite all right?"
"Fine," she grumbled. "Just .. distracted." Distracted not exactly being the word. Try "anticipating death by Beater's bat at the hands of my brother when he finds out I'm going to Hogsmeade with a Slytherin Quidditch player."
Colin looked at her with concern. "Are you sure, Gin? If you're not feeling well, you should go have Pomfrey take a look."
Ginny shook her head in alarm. The last thing she needed was for Ron to catch wind of this conversation. "Colin, I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. Really."
Until a hand clapped her on the shoulder, and its owner's voice said "What's this about Pomfrey? Is ickle sister unwell?"
I will be, before the end of the week.
Ginny contemplated her dilemma while she sat in Hospital Wing, wearing her Quidditch kit and an unhappy expression as she waited for the mediwitch to finish administering Skele-gro to an unlucky first-year flying student. She contemplated it further sitting in Advanced DADA with Neville, who'd cornered her in the common room and wheedled her into confessing her problem after being sworn to secrecy and pain of death should the covenant be broken. (Neville, having neither siblings nor a Slytherin sweetheart, could give her only general sympathy, not solid advice.)
She contemplated sending her brother an owl while sitting in Potions that Thursday afternoon, but realized that even if she sent it Saturday morning she would still suffer the problem of returning to the castle afterwards. In no way would she be able to make her brother see reason, she concluded, and so sending an owl would only delay her humiliation and suffering at her brother's hands (or, more likely, his loud mouth).
On the other hand, if she told him in person, she might not even get to Hogsmeade. While she knew that her brother would never hurt her, he might just resort to a well-placed Stupefy or Petrificus Totalus to keep her behind. That would not do at all.
~*~
Darling brother you irritating git,
I thought it best that I inform you of this by owl, as I do not wish you to do something stupid rash that would interfere with my plans for Hogsmeade today. I have the horrific pleasant duty of informing you that I will be attending with someone from my Potions group a friend from class Blaise Zabini.
I do not intend to visit the Astronomy Tower with him, elope, or join the Death Eaters. It is just a trip to Hogsmeade. I thought that you might wish to hear it from me beforehand instead of discovering it in town.
Nothing you do short of Petrificus Totalus is going to change my mind. Don't even think about it.
Your sister
~*~
Blaise,
I just notified my brother of our plans for Hogmeade tomorrow. You may wish to consider eating breakfast early, as I do. I'm afraid I can't be held responsible for any rash behaviour he may choose to express.
Ginny
~*~
Ginny awoke early, her usual weekday hour for rising. On any other Saturday, she would pull the covers back over her head and go back to sleep .. but not this day.
Creeping over to the wardrobe, she pulled the doors open and considered its contents for a moment, drumming the fingers of one hand against her lips. What to wear? She was about to go to Hogsmeade with a boy who had, if perhaps not as much wealth as the Malfoys, at least a well-defined sense of style.
What business had she, little Ginny Weasley, accepting his invitation? She rested her head against the cool wood of the cabinet in front of her, and sighed. He must have been able to look past her worn uniforms if he could get to the point of asking her out on a date, she reasoned. Summon your Gryffindor courage, girl.
She squared her shoulders and reached into the wardrobe, selecting her least-disreputable pair of jeans. Her fingers skimmed over a pile of jumpers, silently cringing at the thought of meeting her date at the front doors of Hogwarts wearing a jumper of atrocious colour with a large G on front. She'd rather wear a uniform oxford than suffer that!
After some thought she selected one of her newer shirts, an ivory knit that was a birthday gift from Bill the year he'd returned from Egypt. Having made her selections, she took them and her bathing things and padded down to the Gryffindor girls' bath. She was exceedingly pleased to notice that only a few other people were up at this hour on a Saturday morning, and none of them were named Potter or Weasley.
Some time later, her skin scrubbed and her hair washed, she exited Gryffindor Tower, her winter cloak draped over her arm. After all her preparations, she felt as though she looked presentable enough for a day in Hogsmeade - even a day in Hogsmeade spent with a Slytherin. She made her way to the Great Hall in the company of a few of the younger Gryffindors.
Breakfast was an uneventful affair. The rest of the school began to trickle in, humming with excitement over a Hogsmeade day. Ginny had spent a few minutes sharing her experience with OWLs with an overeager fifth year, only to look up from her bacon and toast to see Blaise sitting directly across from her at the Slytherin table. She favoured him with a secretive little smile before turning her attentions back to the fifth year.
They talked for a few more minutes before the girl's friend turned to Ginny. "That arse Zabini is staring at you," she said quietly.
"Oh, is he?" Ginny replied, her tone unconcerned. "You know that Slytherins obsess about the most ridiculous things. He's probably thinking right now how idiotic I look with my red hair and my faded clothes. But you know what?" She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're just Slytherins."
The girl gave her a grin.
Ginny looked down at her watch, to discover that it was time for Filch to take his place in the Entrance Hall with his scowl and his list of students eligible for a Hogsmeade visit. Taking one final bite of toast, she bid the fifth-years a pleasant day, picked her cloak up from its resting place on the bench, and made her way out to the front doors.
The moment Ginny had received her Prefect's badge, she'd resolved to become able to converse with persons of authority who irritated, intimidated, or just plain scared her. So when her date finally joined her at the doors, she was engaged in polite conversation with Filch, having enquired about Mrs. Norris' health.
She felt a hand on her arm, and she turned her head to meet Blaise's dark eyes. "Ready to go?" he asked smoothly. Smirking, Ginny nodded, and said her goodbyes to the stern, cranky man before her.
Her companion waited until they were a good distance from the castle before saying, "I'll have you know I was thinking no such thing."
Ginny gave a little chuckle. "I realize that," she replied. "I rather thought that confessing our date to an unknown individual might put our .. enjoyment of the day in jeopardy, should that person make the news known to my brother."
"Indeed," he agreed. He covered the gloved fingers tucked into the crook of his arm with his own hand.
"So instead I fed her some stereotypical line about Slytherins, to mislead her, and leave the identity of my companion undiscovered." She smirked, as though she would have expected one with such an education in cunning as himself to understand this without explanation.
Blaise's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "My dear Miss Weasley, there is something entirely not Gryff about the way your mind works," he said lightly.
"Oh, I'm aware of that." Ginny's face was serious, but her eyes glinted with mischief. "I believe you'll find me to be most unlike any other Weasley you may have encountered before."
He lowered his lips to her ear. "That's part of the reason that I asked you to accompany me today," he whispered, before brushing a kiss across it. He felt her shiver under the contact, and the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a smirk. He was completely enamoured of this girl, forbidden by her name and her House - perhaps that very restriction was part of her charm. Even so, she was vivacious and intelligent, not nearly as shallow as most sixteen-year-old witches intent only on Witch Weekly and snogs in Astronomy Tower. She loved quidditch - was as fierce a competitor as bloody Malfoy, and that was saying something - and her passion for the game in particular and life in general excused a good many shortcomings.
"So what does Miss Ginny Weasley do when she normally visits Hogsmeade?" he
asked lightly, effectively shielding the extremely serious nature of his previous thought. He had no wish to scare this spirited girl off.
"Normally I'd be here with Luna or Neville, and attempting to avoid my prat brother," she replied, her tone matching the Slytherin boy's. "Not so different from today."
"You wound me, Ginny," he smirked. "And here I was thinking today would be unlike any other."
"There's still the chance," she commented archly.
Blaise looked at her face, and noted the mischief there. "You little minx," he said with humour in his voice. Slipping an arm about her shoulders, a smile gracing his fetures, he asked, "So where shall we go today?"
Ginny thought for a moment. "I need to go by the scrivener's shop, as my quills are a mess. Other than that .." she looked at her companion. "I'm open to suggestion."
"Are you, now." The smile on his face turned predatory. "Let's see what sort of trouble we can get into."
The arm around her shoulders tightened as they walked into Hogsmeade. They stopped in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Blaise ogled the new Nimbus model for a moment before saying, "We'll come back. First, your quills."
It was several doors down at Papyrus, Hogsmeade's premier outlet for quills and
scrolls, that Blaise and Ginny got into their first argument. He delighted in watching her browse in the store - he'd always enjoyed spending his father's innumerable Galleons on pretty girls, and Ginny Weasley was prettier than most. He felt an urge to buy whatever caused that expression to cross her face, but decided that might be a little excessive on the first date. Instead, when she approached the storekeeper, her hand clasped around a number of plain brown and black pheasant quill, he put his hand over hers, and gently removed them.
"What are you doing?" Ginny queried, her brown eyes dark.
"Buying your quills," Blaise replied nonchalantly.
"I can pay for those myself," she retorted.
He gave a little chuckle. "Sure thing, sweet." He turned to face the clerk again.
"No, Blaise," she said slowly. "I can pay for them."
Her pressing the issue again startled him. He stared at her a moment, his confusion evident on his face. "Excuse us a moment," he said to the clerk at the counter. Tugging Ginny's arm, he pulled her aside. "What's the matter?" he asked, frustration evident in his tone.
"I don't need your help!" the Gryffindor replied hotly.
Blaise looked at Ginny as though she'd sprouted wings. After a few moments, the problem became clear.
"Ginny," his voice gentle now," I know you don't. Are you afraid this is about your family? It's not, you know." Taking her face between his hands, he looked at her seriously and continued, "I have been dying for the opportunity to spoil a pretty girl shamelessly for months, and you are far more beautiful than I could have imagined."
Her face pinked and she nodded, looking at the floor. "I .. see."
Blaise turned back to the shopkeeper and paid for the quills. Taking the bag that was handed to him, he took Ginny's hand in his own and guided her out of the shop. "All right?" he queried, slipping his arm around her.
"I'm such an idiot," she said quietly.
"You are no such thing," he replied. "I don't date girls unless they have exceptional minds, I'll have you know." He punctuated his statement with a gentle kiss to her cheek, and tightened his arm around her shoulders.
They stopped in several other shops, where Blaise further decimated his father's Gringotts account purchasing a winter cloak for himself and a pair of warm black gloves for Ginny - secretly ordering a beautiful green winter cloak for her to be sent up to Hogwarts and kept until Christmas. They spent a good deal of time in Honeydukes, where they purchased a ridiculous number of Chocolate Frogs between them - and more time than Blaise would have liked in Zonko's, because Ginny simply had to take the opportunity to do some market research for her brothers. After yet more time spent at the Quidditch shop, in which Blaise further considered his need for the Nimbus X-2, they found themselves sitting in Madam Puddifoot's, sipping at hot chocolates between glances at the other.
"I was surprised that you didn't try to bankrupt your father by buying me a broom," she said cheekily, the sting of her experience at the scrivener's having eased.
"Now that I couldn't abide, sweet," he replied. "I couldn't do anything to give Gryffindor an advantage, not with Slytherin in such a good position for the Quidditch Cup." He smirked. "Besides, it's not as if you weren't already a menace on the broom you have."
"Good man," a voice from behind Ginny commented. Turning, she saw Draco bloody Malfoy and Pansy standing there, matched smirks under shining blond hair. "Are you trying to sabotage my Chaser, girl Weasel?"
"Of course not, Mal-ferret," she retorted. "Rest assured that I'd taint your pumpkin juice before Blaise's."
"Of course," he said, raising one eyebrow. "And what possessed you to come .. here?" he indicated the surroundings. "Certainly not a place for Slytherins."
"That's it exactly," Ginny replied. "I knew we wouldn't be bothered by the likes of you. How would you ever convince a girl to join you here?"
"What am I, kneazle food?" Pansy said in jest.
"No, but you told me some time ago that you'd never date this gold-plated git, so you don't count in this regard."
Draco's pale face darkened slightly, as though he were about to tell Ginny where she could stick the "gold-plated git" remark, if not for an interruption with bright red hair and a redder face.
"GINNY WEASLEY!"
Ron.
Dear Gred and Forge:
I am writing because your favourite sister needs some help in a time of need.
I've been assigned a Potions project, for which it would be incredibly helpful to procure a bit of doxy venom. About a vial's worth would do, I believe. Did you ever manage to extract it from the doxies you pulled out of 12 Grimmauld the summer before your seventh year, and can I count on you to send me some?
All in the name of advancing your sister's education, I swear!
Ginny
Virginia Weasley! Mum would have a fit if she knew what you were up to at school.
Having said that, expect a delivery by owl sometime this weekend.
Come to think of it, WE don't even know what you're up to at school! With any luck, you've found a way to poison old Filch. Please tell us that you've at least not turned into an ickle Percy-doppelganger; one of them is frightening enough!
Your favourite brothers
The twins made good on their word. That Saturday morning, Ginny was surprised by the arrival of a good-sized owl bearing a rather substantial package. She happily surrendered part of a toast point to the bird, and worked her small fingers through the knots in the string and wrapping paper as it flew away.
"Oi, Gin! What's that?" Ron said loudly from his own plate several seats down.
She opened the flaps of the box, and smirked. Holding up the box for the table to see, she announced, "A care package. From the twins." She delighted in seeing many of her housemates stop chewing the bites of breakfast in their mouths, some paling visibly.
Setting the box down again carefully, she slipped one hand inside. Pushing the various-coloured sweets in their white paper wrappers aside, she felt at the bottom of the parcel for the one thing she truly cared about. Something long and slender, carefully wrapped .. it had to be the vial of doxy venom.
She sent a carefully-controlled look of smug victory over to where at least two of her groupmates were watching. Pushing the rest of her breakfast aside, she collected the box and its discarded wrappings and got up from her seat. Against her better judgement, her feet walked her over to where her groupmates sat, in the middle of Slytherin table.
"Weasley," Pansy said congenially, to the horror of most of her tablemates.
"Parkinson," Ginny returned. She shook the box gently, eliciting a small rustle. "I got it." She aimed a nasty little smile directly at the Head Boy. "As I said I would." When the blond leveled a glare at her, she took one of the twins' concotions out of the box and tossed it at him. "A toffee. To wipe that ugly look off your face."
Privately chuckling over the look of alarm that generated, she left the Great Hall.
Ginny -
We've managed to secure use of Professor Snape's Potions workroom for brewing our project potion. Meet us in front of the Potions classroom after dinner tonight.
Blaise.
PS - What WAS in that toffee, anyway? Malfoy gave it to Crabbe, who is STILL in the hospital wing.
Ginny pocketed the note from Zabini without much thought. Her mind was distracted by thoughts of Quidditch practice later that morning; Ron had been reading strategy books again, and had a "few ideas" he wanted the Chaser corps to try out.
Ginny had suggested that since Gryffindor didn't play again until February, perhaps they could take a bit of a breather. Her brother looked at her as though she'd turned into a canary, and proclaimed her "completely nutters". As Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were preparing for their own November match, however, Ron found his ability to book the Quidditch pitch limited to one long session on Sunday mornings.
Ginny dreaded them already. She knew her brother; she knew he was still upset over their loss to Slytherin, and she knew that he was going to drive them to exhaustion practicing maneuvers that would just be lost amongst the countless bits of knowledge their teachers would fill their brains with during the intervening week between practices. She knew he was unlikely to see reason - especially where Quidditch was concerned.
She resigned herself to three hours of torture at the hands of her brother and his friend as she grabbed her broom and Quidditch kit and headed for Gryffindor locker room.
An hour and a half later, as she was practicing full-speed quaffle passes with Colin and Kirsten, she remembered that she still hadn't warned her brother about her upcoming .. date, she supposed she should call it .. with Blaise Zabini.
"Ginny, what was that?" Colin shouted, as she spectacularly missed a pass that she could have, and should have, caught at any other time. "Are you quite all right?"
"Fine," she grumbled. "Just .. distracted." Distracted not exactly being the word. Try "anticipating death by Beater's bat at the hands of my brother when he finds out I'm going to Hogsmeade with a Slytherin Quidditch player."
Colin looked at her with concern. "Are you sure, Gin? If you're not feeling well, you should go have Pomfrey take a look."
Ginny shook her head in alarm. The last thing she needed was for Ron to catch wind of this conversation. "Colin, I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. Really."
Until a hand clapped her on the shoulder, and its owner's voice said "What's this about Pomfrey? Is ickle sister unwell?"
I will be, before the end of the week.
Ginny contemplated her dilemma while she sat in Hospital Wing, wearing her Quidditch kit and an unhappy expression as she waited for the mediwitch to finish administering Skele-gro to an unlucky first-year flying student. She contemplated it further sitting in Advanced DADA with Neville, who'd cornered her in the common room and wheedled her into confessing her problem after being sworn to secrecy and pain of death should the covenant be broken. (Neville, having neither siblings nor a Slytherin sweetheart, could give her only general sympathy, not solid advice.)
She contemplated sending her brother an owl while sitting in Potions that Thursday afternoon, but realized that even if she sent it Saturday morning she would still suffer the problem of returning to the castle afterwards. In no way would she be able to make her brother see reason, she concluded, and so sending an owl would only delay her humiliation and suffering at her brother's hands (or, more likely, his loud mouth).
On the other hand, if she told him in person, she might not even get to Hogsmeade. While she knew that her brother would never hurt her, he might just resort to a well-placed Stupefy or Petrificus Totalus to keep her behind. That would not do at all.
Darling brother you irritating git,
I thought it best that I inform you of this by owl, as I do not wish you to do something stupid rash that would interfere with my plans for Hogsmeade today. I have the horrific pleasant duty of informing you that I will be attending with someone from my Potions group a friend from class Blaise Zabini.
I do not intend to visit the Astronomy Tower with him, elope, or join the Death Eaters. It is just a trip to Hogsmeade. I thought that you might wish to hear it from me beforehand instead of discovering it in town.
Nothing you do short of Petrificus Totalus is going to change my mind. Don't even think about it.
Your sister
Blaise,
I just notified my brother of our plans for Hogmeade tomorrow. You may wish to consider eating breakfast early, as I do. I'm afraid I can't be held responsible for any rash behaviour he may choose to express.
Ginny
Ginny awoke early, her usual weekday hour for rising. On any other Saturday, she would pull the covers back over her head and go back to sleep .. but not this day.
Creeping over to the wardrobe, she pulled the doors open and considered its contents for a moment, drumming the fingers of one hand against her lips. What to wear? She was about to go to Hogsmeade with a boy who had, if perhaps not as much wealth as the Malfoys, at least a well-defined sense of style.
What business had she, little Ginny Weasley, accepting his invitation? She rested her head against the cool wood of the cabinet in front of her, and sighed. He must have been able to look past her worn uniforms if he could get to the point of asking her out on a date, she reasoned. Summon your Gryffindor courage, girl.
She squared her shoulders and reached into the wardrobe, selecting her least-disreputable pair of jeans. Her fingers skimmed over a pile of jumpers, silently cringing at the thought of meeting her date at the front doors of Hogwarts wearing a jumper of atrocious colour with a large G on front. She'd rather wear a uniform oxford than suffer that!
After some thought she selected one of her newer shirts, an ivory knit that was a birthday gift from Bill the year he'd returned from Egypt. Having made her selections, she took them and her bathing things and padded down to the Gryffindor girls' bath. She was exceedingly pleased to notice that only a few other people were up at this hour on a Saturday morning, and none of them were named Potter or Weasley.
Some time later, her skin scrubbed and her hair washed, she exited Gryffindor Tower, her winter cloak draped over her arm. After all her preparations, she felt as though she looked presentable enough for a day in Hogsmeade - even a day in Hogsmeade spent with a Slytherin. She made her way to the Great Hall in the company of a few of the younger Gryffindors.
Breakfast was an uneventful affair. The rest of the school began to trickle in, humming with excitement over a Hogsmeade day. Ginny had spent a few minutes sharing her experience with OWLs with an overeager fifth year, only to look up from her bacon and toast to see Blaise sitting directly across from her at the Slytherin table. She favoured him with a secretive little smile before turning her attentions back to the fifth year.
They talked for a few more minutes before the girl's friend turned to Ginny. "That arse Zabini is staring at you," she said quietly.
"Oh, is he?" Ginny replied, her tone unconcerned. "You know that Slytherins obsess about the most ridiculous things. He's probably thinking right now how idiotic I look with my red hair and my faded clothes. But you know what?" She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "They're just Slytherins."
The girl gave her a grin.
Ginny looked down at her watch, to discover that it was time for Filch to take his place in the Entrance Hall with his scowl and his list of students eligible for a Hogsmeade visit. Taking one final bite of toast, she bid the fifth-years a pleasant day, picked her cloak up from its resting place on the bench, and made her way out to the front doors.
The moment Ginny had received her Prefect's badge, she'd resolved to become able to converse with persons of authority who irritated, intimidated, or just plain scared her. So when her date finally joined her at the doors, she was engaged in polite conversation with Filch, having enquired about Mrs. Norris' health.
She felt a hand on her arm, and she turned her head to meet Blaise's dark eyes. "Ready to go?" he asked smoothly. Smirking, Ginny nodded, and said her goodbyes to the stern, cranky man before her.
Her companion waited until they were a good distance from the castle before saying, "I'll have you know I was thinking no such thing."
Ginny gave a little chuckle. "I realize that," she replied. "I rather thought that confessing our date to an unknown individual might put our .. enjoyment of the day in jeopardy, should that person make the news known to my brother."
"Indeed," he agreed. He covered the gloved fingers tucked into the crook of his arm with his own hand.
"So instead I fed her some stereotypical line about Slytherins, to mislead her, and leave the identity of my companion undiscovered." She smirked, as though she would have expected one with such an education in cunning as himself to understand this without explanation.
Blaise's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "My dear Miss Weasley, there is something entirely not Gryff about the way your mind works," he said lightly.
"Oh, I'm aware of that." Ginny's face was serious, but her eyes glinted with mischief. "I believe you'll find me to be most unlike any other Weasley you may have encountered before."
He lowered his lips to her ear. "That's part of the reason that I asked you to accompany me today," he whispered, before brushing a kiss across it. He felt her shiver under the contact, and the corner of his mouth quirked upward into a smirk. He was completely enamoured of this girl, forbidden by her name and her House - perhaps that very restriction was part of her charm. Even so, she was vivacious and intelligent, not nearly as shallow as most sixteen-year-old witches intent only on Witch Weekly and snogs in Astronomy Tower. She loved quidditch - was as fierce a competitor as bloody Malfoy, and that was saying something - and her passion for the game in particular and life in general excused a good many shortcomings.
"So what does Miss Ginny Weasley do when she normally visits Hogsmeade?" he
asked lightly, effectively shielding the extremely serious nature of his previous thought. He had no wish to scare this spirited girl off.
"Normally I'd be here with Luna or Neville, and attempting to avoid my prat brother," she replied, her tone matching the Slytherin boy's. "Not so different from today."
"You wound me, Ginny," he smirked. "And here I was thinking today would be unlike any other."
"There's still the chance," she commented archly.
Blaise looked at her face, and noted the mischief there. "You little minx," he said with humour in his voice. Slipping an arm about her shoulders, a smile gracing his fetures, he asked, "So where shall we go today?"
Ginny thought for a moment. "I need to go by the scrivener's shop, as my quills are a mess. Other than that .." she looked at her companion. "I'm open to suggestion."
"Are you, now." The smile on his face turned predatory. "Let's see what sort of trouble we can get into."
The arm around her shoulders tightened as they walked into Hogsmeade. They stopped in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Blaise ogled the new Nimbus model for a moment before saying, "We'll come back. First, your quills."
It was several doors down at Papyrus, Hogsmeade's premier outlet for quills and
scrolls, that Blaise and Ginny got into their first argument. He delighted in watching her browse in the store - he'd always enjoyed spending his father's innumerable Galleons on pretty girls, and Ginny Weasley was prettier than most. He felt an urge to buy whatever caused that expression to cross her face, but decided that might be a little excessive on the first date. Instead, when she approached the storekeeper, her hand clasped around a number of plain brown and black pheasant quill, he put his hand over hers, and gently removed them.
"What are you doing?" Ginny queried, her brown eyes dark.
"Buying your quills," Blaise replied nonchalantly.
"I can pay for those myself," she retorted.
He gave a little chuckle. "Sure thing, sweet." He turned to face the clerk again.
"No, Blaise," she said slowly. "I can pay for them."
Her pressing the issue again startled him. He stared at her a moment, his confusion evident on his face. "Excuse us a moment," he said to the clerk at the counter. Tugging Ginny's arm, he pulled her aside. "What's the matter?" he asked, frustration evident in his tone.
"I don't need your help!" the Gryffindor replied hotly.
Blaise looked at Ginny as though she'd sprouted wings. After a few moments, the problem became clear.
"Ginny," his voice gentle now," I know you don't. Are you afraid this is about your family? It's not, you know." Taking her face between his hands, he looked at her seriously and continued, "I have been dying for the opportunity to spoil a pretty girl shamelessly for months, and you are far more beautiful than I could have imagined."
Her face pinked and she nodded, looking at the floor. "I .. see."
Blaise turned back to the shopkeeper and paid for the quills. Taking the bag that was handed to him, he took Ginny's hand in his own and guided her out of the shop. "All right?" he queried, slipping his arm around her.
"I'm such an idiot," she said quietly.
"You are no such thing," he replied. "I don't date girls unless they have exceptional minds, I'll have you know." He punctuated his statement with a gentle kiss to her cheek, and tightened his arm around her shoulders.
They stopped in several other shops, where Blaise further decimated his father's Gringotts account purchasing a winter cloak for himself and a pair of warm black gloves for Ginny - secretly ordering a beautiful green winter cloak for her to be sent up to Hogwarts and kept until Christmas. They spent a good deal of time in Honeydukes, where they purchased a ridiculous number of Chocolate Frogs between them - and more time than Blaise would have liked in Zonko's, because Ginny simply had to take the opportunity to do some market research for her brothers. After yet more time spent at the Quidditch shop, in which Blaise further considered his need for the Nimbus X-2, they found themselves sitting in Madam Puddifoot's, sipping at hot chocolates between glances at the other.
"I was surprised that you didn't try to bankrupt your father by buying me a broom," she said cheekily, the sting of her experience at the scrivener's having eased.
"Now that I couldn't abide, sweet," he replied. "I couldn't do anything to give Gryffindor an advantage, not with Slytherin in such a good position for the Quidditch Cup." He smirked. "Besides, it's not as if you weren't already a menace on the broom you have."
"Good man," a voice from behind Ginny commented. Turning, she saw Draco bloody Malfoy and Pansy standing there, matched smirks under shining blond hair. "Are you trying to sabotage my Chaser, girl Weasel?"
"Of course not, Mal-ferret," she retorted. "Rest assured that I'd taint your pumpkin juice before Blaise's."
"Of course," he said, raising one eyebrow. "And what possessed you to come .. here?" he indicated the surroundings. "Certainly not a place for Slytherins."
"That's it exactly," Ginny replied. "I knew we wouldn't be bothered by the likes of you. How would you ever convince a girl to join you here?"
"What am I, kneazle food?" Pansy said in jest.
"No, but you told me some time ago that you'd never date this gold-plated git, so you don't count in this regard."
Draco's pale face darkened slightly, as though he were about to tell Ginny where she could stick the "gold-plated git" remark, if not for an interruption with bright red hair and a redder face.
"GINNY WEASLEY!"
Ron.
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