Gift for RedCandle17!
Title: One Summer's Day
Author: bryonyraven
Recipient: redcandle17
Pairing(s): Blaise/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Blaise catches Ginny alone at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception.
Warnings: Mild dub-con if you squint.
Author's Note: Thanks to my beta for looking this over, and thanks especially to Stephanometra for her extraordinary patience.
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The village of Ottery St. Catchpole was small, quaint, and in Blaise Zabini's opinion, guaranteed to incite death by boredom before summer's end.
The death of his mother's latest husband had left her with yet another sizeable inheritance, including a vacation home on the outskirts of the village. Mother had taken one look at the building, declared it charmingly bucolic, and decided she and Blaise would spend at least part of the summer living the rustic life while she went through a proper mourning period. She hadn't grieved long, if the massive renovations to the rooms were any indication.
There was nothing remotely resembling culture or refinement in this place, no fine dining establishments, no Wizarding gentleman's clubs to pass the time. Their nearest magical neighbors were the Diggorys, still grieving the loss of their only child two years after Cedric's death; the notoriously eccentric Lovegoods, and the blood traitor Weasleys.
Calling on the Diggorys would be damned depressing at best. No self-respecting wizard would visit the Lovegoods without running the risk of ending up as batty as their hosts. And the Weasleys…Blaise's lip curled. The Weasleys, unfortunately, were marrying off one of their numerous offspring, and Mother had received an invitation, which she had unaccountably accepted. Blaise had tried to beg off to no avail.
There was nothing to do in the days leading up to the wedding but to make the best out of an unpleasant situation. Blaise would attend; he would give his felicitations to the bride and groom, and then he would make himself scarce for the remainder of the event. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, he could drink himself into a semblance of enjoyment even though he expected any alcohol served by Weasleys would probably be vin ordinaire at best.
Even that was probably too much to hope for, Blaise thought as he dressed for the occasion the morning of the wedding. Some perverse inclination made him choose the green dress robes with the silver trim. If anyone was bothered by the blatant display of House pride, so be it.
The wedding went as expected. The groom somehow managed to look dashing despite his disfiguring scars. The bride, being one-quarter Veela, would have looked beautiful in sackcloth and ashes. Dressed in ivory satin, she was breathtaking. Literally so, judging from the groom's expression as she walked down the aisle toward him, her eyes lowered demurely.
Blaise hovered around the edges of the outdoor reception afterward, observing the other attendees. Predictably, there were more redheads present than he could count, along with a preponderance of Gryffindors, most of whom ignored him. He didn't mind in the least.
Potter and Granger had been invited, he noticed. They along with Ron Weasley spent a great deal of time huddled in their own little group, whispering among themselves. Blaise was amused to see that this didn't make Ginny Weasley happy at all. He'd heard that she and Potter had gone their separate ways after Dumbledore's funeral. Ginny clearly still carried a torch for Potter, but if he felt the same he didn't show any indication. He turned away from the little Gryffindor conference, watching in amusement as the bride's sister tried to coax a scarlet-faced Neville Longbottom onto the dance floor.
Someone pushed past him, nearly making him spill his drink onto his robes. Blaise looked away from Longbottom in time to see the Weaslette storm by without so much as an apology, heading for the trees beyond the back garden. He took a casual sip from the glass in his hand, gaze sweeping the reception area. Potter was looking past him to where Ginny had gone, looking regretful. Then it was gone, and he'd turned back toward Ron and the mudblood.
His mother was still talking with Mrs Weasley. They had hit it off right away, for reasons Blaise doubted he would ever comprehend. Knowing his mother, it would probably be hours before she decided to take her leave.
Which meant he was free to seek his own entertainment.
Setting down his drink, Blaise turned around in time to see Ginny disappear into the trees. He slipped away from the gathering and followed.
He found her in a clearing, furiously stripping and shredding the leaves from some helpless shrub. Ginny straightened at his approach, her wand in hand faster than he'd thought possible and pointed directly at him. "What do you want?"
Blaise raised his hands to show he was unarmed. "I don't want anything," he replied, emerging from the trees. He could hear the revelry going on behind them, the laughter faint. "I was bored and decided to…explore."
"Explore." The flatness of Ginny's tone told him exactly what she thought of his explanation. "Why are you here, really?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was concerned?" Blaise sauntered forward, ignoring the wand in Ginny's hand. "I saw the look on your face when you shoved past me so rudely a few moments ago. Potter was being a bloody git again, wasn't he?" He hadn't; he'd only seen the back of her head as she'd not quite run toward the trees, but she didn't need to know that.
"He's not a git." Ginny's defence of her former boyfriend sounded half-hearted even to Blaise's ears. She lowered her wand, her expression still watchful. "Not usually, anyway."
Blaise chuckled as he came to stand directly in front of her. "Potter's always a git," he said softly. "You're only just now realising that fact. So, now that you know the truth, what are you going to do about it?"
"He's not a git!" Ginny's chin came up along with her wand. "Don't make me hex you, Zabini. He's only trying to be noble and protective. Not that I ever asked," she added hastily, seeing Blaise's smile widen.
She really was quite pretty, this close up, Blaise thought. Her red hair had been done in a mass of curls for her role of bridesmaid, and soft ringlets framed her face. There was a dusting of freckles along her nose and cheekbones, which was a far cry from the number of spots adorning the faces of her brothers. The silky gold material of her bridesmaid gown made her brown eyes seem even darker while bringing out the highlights of her hair.
"He'll protect you, but not his two best friends?" he drawled, reaching out and tracing her jaw with a forefinger. "I find that difficult to believe. It's time to face facts, my pretty Gryffindor. Protection has nothing to do with it. He's quite obviously excluding you, and you can't stand being left out of the fun."
Ginny's expression darkened as she shook her head. Blaise noticed the brief hesitation as she drew back from his touch. "That's not true…"
"Did Potter fuck you?" Blaise asked suddenly, hearing Ginny's gasp and paying it no attention. "Those precious few weeks you were together? Was he disappointed to discover he wasn't your first?"
"That's none of your business!"
"Perhaps not," Blaise conceded. "I admit, I shouldn't have eavesdropped the day poor Dean Thomas spilled everything to - what's his name? - Finnegan? Yes, Finnegan, in the library. You were his first as well; did you know that? No?"
"Shut up!" Ginny yelled, the hand not holding her wand balling into a fist.
Shrugging his indifference, Blaise said, "So you dumped Thomas, and then Potter dumped you, and now your pride, such as it is, is wounded. What are you going to do about it, little Ginny? Now that you're," he looked her up and down, "used goods?"
Ginny's fist swung toward him. Blaise caught it easily before it could connect and pulled her against him. "Don't tell me that getting back at him for ignoring you has never crossed your mind," he murmured, before lowering his head and kissing her.
Her hands went to his shoulders, one fluttering as if undecided upon whether to shove him back or clasp him even closer, the other still gripping her wand. Blaise knew he'd won when she began kissing him in return, her mouth parting beneath his.
"He'd talk to Hermione and my brother, but not to me," she growled, drawing back to nip on Blaise's lower lip. "I'd walk into a room and they'd change the subject. I was always the odd one out. I hate being left out, always have. I'm just as good as they are."
"I'm sure you are," Blaise said dryly. "Eager wench, aren't you?"
"Shut up, Zabini," Ginny all but snarled, kissing him again to ensure silence.
Blaise didn't know when Ginny dropped her wand, and at this point, he didn't really care. Her hands closed over his robes, tugging at the clasps. He grabbed her wrists, breaking the kiss to look down at her.
"These are my favourite robes," he said with quiet firmness. "I won't have you tearing them needlessly." Dropping her wrists, Blaise made quick work of divesting himself of his robes, dropping them onto the ground before pulling Ginny down with him so they lay on top.
"You don't want me to tear your favourite robes, but you don't mind grass stains," Ginny said, bemused, fingers brushing over Blaise's bared chest to tweak playfully at a flat, dark brown nipple.
"Tears are obvious. Grass stains aren't, not with this particular shade of green," Blaise pointed out, reaching up to unlace the bodice of her bridesmaid's robe. "Your little frock, on the other hand…"
Pushing the silken material from her shoulders, Blaise slid the sleeves down her arms, trapping them and baring Ginny's small, pert breasts. Rolling over so she lay beneath him, Blaise bent his head, taking a dusky pink nipple into his mouth. He teased the tip with his tongue, feeling it contract under the wet warmth, then grazed it with his teeth. Ginny drew a quick, indrawn breath as he bit down lightly, worrying at it while Ginny moaned.
His other hand drifted up along her ribcage to cup the other breast, rolling its weight in his palm before closing his fingers around the nipple and pinching. Ginny arched upward with a wordless cry, her head falling back, exposing the long pale column of her throat.
"Like it rough, do you?" Blaise murmured against her breast, soothing the nipple in his mouth with flat strokes of his tongue. "I can't say I'm surprised."
He bit down again, harder this time, and gave the nipple between his fingers a rough twist. Ginny moaned loudly, writhing beneath him as he ravished her breasts with increasingly harder nips and pinches alternating with long, soothing swipes of his tongue.
Blaise seized the hem of Ginny's robe with his free hand, pushing it upward until the material was bunched around her waist, freeing long, trim, smoothly muscled legs to his touch. He curved one hand over a hip, squeezing the firm flesh.
"Was Potter ever like this?" Blaise tugged a nipple between his teeth for emphasis before swirling his tongue over the tortured nub. Raising his head, he peered at her face through hooded eyes. Ginny's mouth was open, her eyes squeezed shut, caught between pain and pleasure as Blaise lazily pinched her nipple yet again.
His other hand slipped between her thighs, nudging them apart. Her knickers were damp against his questing fingers. He pressed down, rubbing the fabric over her secret flesh, feeling it slide easily through her folds. Ginny quivered at her inescapable sign of arousal, biting her lip and turning her face away from Blaise's triumphant smirk.
"Lift up, little Ginny," he said softly, tugging at her knickers. "I want to see that pretty cunt."
They were gone moments later. Blaise wadded them in his hand, lifting it to his nose and inhaling her scent before tossing them aside. He rolled onto his side, propping himself on one elbow, and reached again between her legs, sliding his fingers through coarse red curls, finding and stroking her wetness. Ginny moaned, her hips shifting, canting upward, her legs spreading more widely apart.
He plunged two fingers into her without warning, thrusting them in and out of her hot, tight cunt, watching her with avid eyes as Ginny's face contorted with reluctant pleasure, a heated blush spreading across her cheeks. Her breathing grew erratic, uneven as he continued to plunder her depths, his fingers shoving into her all the way. She clenched and shuddered around them, gasping for breath.
Blaise unfastened his trousers with his free hand, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. Rolling on top of her, he brushed over Ginny's swollen clit with his thumb with the lightest of touches. She came apart, convulsing around his thrusting fingers, her cry raw, guttural.
Covering her mouth with his own, Blaise swallowed the remainder of her cries, muffling them until she quieted. Drawing back, he hissed, "Do you want Potter to find you like this? Or your brothers? Or your mum?"
Ginny shook her head, and Blaise kissed her again, his tongue plundering her much as his fingers had moments earlier. He withdrew his fingers from her sopping wet cunt, positioned himself, and drove into her, his lips still fastened over hers, catching and stifling the sounds Ginny made as she arched upward in welcome.
Her legs wrapped around him, drawing him in more deeply as he began pounding relentlessly into her, his hands cupping her face as they traded heated kisses. She bucked beneath him, matching him thrust for thrust, tightening and loosening around him, driving him toward climax as ruthlessly as he pushed her toward her own.
Stiffening, he came with a grunt, throwing his head back, his eyes tightly closed as he spilled into her, shuddering with the force of his orgasm. He was startled into a low, breathless cry of his own when she clamped down on his softening cock, wringing him of every drop.
"Minx," he panted, grinning down at her flushed face. Ginny grinned back, unrepentant as he pulled out of her and collapsed, rolling onto his side and breathing hard.
They lay unmoving for several long moments, catching their breaths before Blaise rose, catching Ginny by the hand and pulling her onto her feet with him. He dressed slowly, watching as Ginny found her knickers and put them on before tugging the rest of her rumpled clothing into place. She smoothed the silk with her palms, trying to erase the worst of the wrinkles before retrieving her wand and spelling them back into pristine neatness. Some laundering charm she had learned from her mother, Blaise decided.
There was nothing she could do with her hair, which was hopelessly mussed. Blaise chuckled as Ginny muttered an unladylike epithet under her breath and pulled it back into an untidy braid. She tied off the end, regarding him thoughtfully, before waving her wand and removing the wrinkles from his own robes.
"Grass stains or no, there still would have been questions," she said. "We shouldn't be seen returning together. My brothers would kill you, if my father didn't beat them to it first."
She stalked back toward the reception without another word. Blaise waited until she had disappeared through the trees before following.
"There you are," his mother said, still standing beside Mrs Weasley. "I was beginning to think we would have to send a search party after you. Molly has been kind enough to invite us to tea next week; isn't that nice? I'm sure we'll have a lovely time."
"Ron won't be home, but perhaps Ginny could show you around the garden," Mrs Weasley said. "There's a pond nearby as well. You're welcome to go for a swim if the weather is warm enough."
Blaise caught Ginny's eye. She looked both horrified and excited at the prospect of future visits. He turned to Mrs Weasley, offering his most charming smile.
"I'm sure Ginny will make certain I enjoy myself thoroughly," he said, looking at her.
She was standing behind the two women, and therefore they missed Ginny's suspiciously demure blush and lowered eyes.
"Oh, I will," she replied.
Perhaps the rest of the summer wouldn't be so dull after all, Blaise thought. He glanced across the reception area, where Potter and his little friends were still deep in conversation, and smiled.
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Feedback! Loud noises!
Author: bryonyraven
Recipient: redcandle17
Pairing(s): Blaise/Ginny
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Blaise catches Ginny alone at Bill and Fleur's wedding reception.
Warnings: Mild dub-con if you squint.
Author's Note: Thanks to my beta for looking this over, and thanks especially to Stephanometra for her extraordinary patience.
-
The village of Ottery St. Catchpole was small, quaint, and in Blaise Zabini's opinion, guaranteed to incite death by boredom before summer's end.
The death of his mother's latest husband had left her with yet another sizeable inheritance, including a vacation home on the outskirts of the village. Mother had taken one look at the building, declared it charmingly bucolic, and decided she and Blaise would spend at least part of the summer living the rustic life while she went through a proper mourning period. She hadn't grieved long, if the massive renovations to the rooms were any indication.
There was nothing remotely resembling culture or refinement in this place, no fine dining establishments, no Wizarding gentleman's clubs to pass the time. Their nearest magical neighbors were the Diggorys, still grieving the loss of their only child two years after Cedric's death; the notoriously eccentric Lovegoods, and the blood traitor Weasleys.
Calling on the Diggorys would be damned depressing at best. No self-respecting wizard would visit the Lovegoods without running the risk of ending up as batty as their hosts. And the Weasleys…Blaise's lip curled. The Weasleys, unfortunately, were marrying off one of their numerous offspring, and Mother had received an invitation, which she had unaccountably accepted. Blaise had tried to beg off to no avail.
There was nothing to do in the days leading up to the wedding but to make the best out of an unpleasant situation. Blaise would attend; he would give his felicitations to the bride and groom, and then he would make himself scarce for the remainder of the event. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, he could drink himself into a semblance of enjoyment even though he expected any alcohol served by Weasleys would probably be vin ordinaire at best.
Even that was probably too much to hope for, Blaise thought as he dressed for the occasion the morning of the wedding. Some perverse inclination made him choose the green dress robes with the silver trim. If anyone was bothered by the blatant display of House pride, so be it.
The wedding went as expected. The groom somehow managed to look dashing despite his disfiguring scars. The bride, being one-quarter Veela, would have looked beautiful in sackcloth and ashes. Dressed in ivory satin, she was breathtaking. Literally so, judging from the groom's expression as she walked down the aisle toward him, her eyes lowered demurely.
Blaise hovered around the edges of the outdoor reception afterward, observing the other attendees. Predictably, there were more redheads present than he could count, along with a preponderance of Gryffindors, most of whom ignored him. He didn't mind in the least.
Potter and Granger had been invited, he noticed. They along with Ron Weasley spent a great deal of time huddled in their own little group, whispering among themselves. Blaise was amused to see that this didn't make Ginny Weasley happy at all. He'd heard that she and Potter had gone their separate ways after Dumbledore's funeral. Ginny clearly still carried a torch for Potter, but if he felt the same he didn't show any indication. He turned away from the little Gryffindor conference, watching in amusement as the bride's sister tried to coax a scarlet-faced Neville Longbottom onto the dance floor.
Someone pushed past him, nearly making him spill his drink onto his robes. Blaise looked away from Longbottom in time to see the Weaslette storm by without so much as an apology, heading for the trees beyond the back garden. He took a casual sip from the glass in his hand, gaze sweeping the reception area. Potter was looking past him to where Ginny had gone, looking regretful. Then it was gone, and he'd turned back toward Ron and the mudblood.
His mother was still talking with Mrs Weasley. They had hit it off right away, for reasons Blaise doubted he would ever comprehend. Knowing his mother, it would probably be hours before she decided to take her leave.
Which meant he was free to seek his own entertainment.
Setting down his drink, Blaise turned around in time to see Ginny disappear into the trees. He slipped away from the gathering and followed.
He found her in a clearing, furiously stripping and shredding the leaves from some helpless shrub. Ginny straightened at his approach, her wand in hand faster than he'd thought possible and pointed directly at him. "What do you want?"
Blaise raised his hands to show he was unarmed. "I don't want anything," he replied, emerging from the trees. He could hear the revelry going on behind them, the laughter faint. "I was bored and decided to…explore."
"Explore." The flatness of Ginny's tone told him exactly what she thought of his explanation. "Why are you here, really?"
"Would you believe me if I said I was concerned?" Blaise sauntered forward, ignoring the wand in Ginny's hand. "I saw the look on your face when you shoved past me so rudely a few moments ago. Potter was being a bloody git again, wasn't he?" He hadn't; he'd only seen the back of her head as she'd not quite run toward the trees, but she didn't need to know that.
"He's not a git." Ginny's defence of her former boyfriend sounded half-hearted even to Blaise's ears. She lowered her wand, her expression still watchful. "Not usually, anyway."
Blaise chuckled as he came to stand directly in front of her. "Potter's always a git," he said softly. "You're only just now realising that fact. So, now that you know the truth, what are you going to do about it?"
"He's not a git!" Ginny's chin came up along with her wand. "Don't make me hex you, Zabini. He's only trying to be noble and protective. Not that I ever asked," she added hastily, seeing Blaise's smile widen.
She really was quite pretty, this close up, Blaise thought. Her red hair had been done in a mass of curls for her role of bridesmaid, and soft ringlets framed her face. There was a dusting of freckles along her nose and cheekbones, which was a far cry from the number of spots adorning the faces of her brothers. The silky gold material of her bridesmaid gown made her brown eyes seem even darker while bringing out the highlights of her hair.
"He'll protect you, but not his two best friends?" he drawled, reaching out and tracing her jaw with a forefinger. "I find that difficult to believe. It's time to face facts, my pretty Gryffindor. Protection has nothing to do with it. He's quite obviously excluding you, and you can't stand being left out of the fun."
Ginny's expression darkened as she shook her head. Blaise noticed the brief hesitation as she drew back from his touch. "That's not true…"
"Did Potter fuck you?" Blaise asked suddenly, hearing Ginny's gasp and paying it no attention. "Those precious few weeks you were together? Was he disappointed to discover he wasn't your first?"
"That's none of your business!"
"Perhaps not," Blaise conceded. "I admit, I shouldn't have eavesdropped the day poor Dean Thomas spilled everything to - what's his name? - Finnegan? Yes, Finnegan, in the library. You were his first as well; did you know that? No?"
"Shut up!" Ginny yelled, the hand not holding her wand balling into a fist.
Shrugging his indifference, Blaise said, "So you dumped Thomas, and then Potter dumped you, and now your pride, such as it is, is wounded. What are you going to do about it, little Ginny? Now that you're," he looked her up and down, "used goods?"
Ginny's fist swung toward him. Blaise caught it easily before it could connect and pulled her against him. "Don't tell me that getting back at him for ignoring you has never crossed your mind," he murmured, before lowering his head and kissing her.
Her hands went to his shoulders, one fluttering as if undecided upon whether to shove him back or clasp him even closer, the other still gripping her wand. Blaise knew he'd won when she began kissing him in return, her mouth parting beneath his.
"He'd talk to Hermione and my brother, but not to me," she growled, drawing back to nip on Blaise's lower lip. "I'd walk into a room and they'd change the subject. I was always the odd one out. I hate being left out, always have. I'm just as good as they are."
"I'm sure you are," Blaise said dryly. "Eager wench, aren't you?"
"Shut up, Zabini," Ginny all but snarled, kissing him again to ensure silence.
Blaise didn't know when Ginny dropped her wand, and at this point, he didn't really care. Her hands closed over his robes, tugging at the clasps. He grabbed her wrists, breaking the kiss to look down at her.
"These are my favourite robes," he said with quiet firmness. "I won't have you tearing them needlessly." Dropping her wrists, Blaise made quick work of divesting himself of his robes, dropping them onto the ground before pulling Ginny down with him so they lay on top.
"You don't want me to tear your favourite robes, but you don't mind grass stains," Ginny said, bemused, fingers brushing over Blaise's bared chest to tweak playfully at a flat, dark brown nipple.
"Tears are obvious. Grass stains aren't, not with this particular shade of green," Blaise pointed out, reaching up to unlace the bodice of her bridesmaid's robe. "Your little frock, on the other hand…"
Pushing the silken material from her shoulders, Blaise slid the sleeves down her arms, trapping them and baring Ginny's small, pert breasts. Rolling over so she lay beneath him, Blaise bent his head, taking a dusky pink nipple into his mouth. He teased the tip with his tongue, feeling it contract under the wet warmth, then grazed it with his teeth. Ginny drew a quick, indrawn breath as he bit down lightly, worrying at it while Ginny moaned.
His other hand drifted up along her ribcage to cup the other breast, rolling its weight in his palm before closing his fingers around the nipple and pinching. Ginny arched upward with a wordless cry, her head falling back, exposing the long pale column of her throat.
"Like it rough, do you?" Blaise murmured against her breast, soothing the nipple in his mouth with flat strokes of his tongue. "I can't say I'm surprised."
He bit down again, harder this time, and gave the nipple between his fingers a rough twist. Ginny moaned loudly, writhing beneath him as he ravished her breasts with increasingly harder nips and pinches alternating with long, soothing swipes of his tongue.
Blaise seized the hem of Ginny's robe with his free hand, pushing it upward until the material was bunched around her waist, freeing long, trim, smoothly muscled legs to his touch. He curved one hand over a hip, squeezing the firm flesh.
"Was Potter ever like this?" Blaise tugged a nipple between his teeth for emphasis before swirling his tongue over the tortured nub. Raising his head, he peered at her face through hooded eyes. Ginny's mouth was open, her eyes squeezed shut, caught between pain and pleasure as Blaise lazily pinched her nipple yet again.
His other hand slipped between her thighs, nudging them apart. Her knickers were damp against his questing fingers. He pressed down, rubbing the fabric over her secret flesh, feeling it slide easily through her folds. Ginny quivered at her inescapable sign of arousal, biting her lip and turning her face away from Blaise's triumphant smirk.
"Lift up, little Ginny," he said softly, tugging at her knickers. "I want to see that pretty cunt."
They were gone moments later. Blaise wadded them in his hand, lifting it to his nose and inhaling her scent before tossing them aside. He rolled onto his side, propping himself on one elbow, and reached again between her legs, sliding his fingers through coarse red curls, finding and stroking her wetness. Ginny moaned, her hips shifting, canting upward, her legs spreading more widely apart.
He plunged two fingers into her without warning, thrusting them in and out of her hot, tight cunt, watching her with avid eyes as Ginny's face contorted with reluctant pleasure, a heated blush spreading across her cheeks. Her breathing grew erratic, uneven as he continued to plunder her depths, his fingers shoving into her all the way. She clenched and shuddered around them, gasping for breath.
Blaise unfastened his trousers with his free hand, pushing them down just enough to free his erection. Rolling on top of her, he brushed over Ginny's swollen clit with his thumb with the lightest of touches. She came apart, convulsing around his thrusting fingers, her cry raw, guttural.
Covering her mouth with his own, Blaise swallowed the remainder of her cries, muffling them until she quieted. Drawing back, he hissed, "Do you want Potter to find you like this? Or your brothers? Or your mum?"
Ginny shook her head, and Blaise kissed her again, his tongue plundering her much as his fingers had moments earlier. He withdrew his fingers from her sopping wet cunt, positioned himself, and drove into her, his lips still fastened over hers, catching and stifling the sounds Ginny made as she arched upward in welcome.
Her legs wrapped around him, drawing him in more deeply as he began pounding relentlessly into her, his hands cupping her face as they traded heated kisses. She bucked beneath him, matching him thrust for thrust, tightening and loosening around him, driving him toward climax as ruthlessly as he pushed her toward her own.
Stiffening, he came with a grunt, throwing his head back, his eyes tightly closed as he spilled into her, shuddering with the force of his orgasm. He was startled into a low, breathless cry of his own when she clamped down on his softening cock, wringing him of every drop.
"Minx," he panted, grinning down at her flushed face. Ginny grinned back, unrepentant as he pulled out of her and collapsed, rolling onto his side and breathing hard.
They lay unmoving for several long moments, catching their breaths before Blaise rose, catching Ginny by the hand and pulling her onto her feet with him. He dressed slowly, watching as Ginny found her knickers and put them on before tugging the rest of her rumpled clothing into place. She smoothed the silk with her palms, trying to erase the worst of the wrinkles before retrieving her wand and spelling them back into pristine neatness. Some laundering charm she had learned from her mother, Blaise decided.
There was nothing she could do with her hair, which was hopelessly mussed. Blaise chuckled as Ginny muttered an unladylike epithet under her breath and pulled it back into an untidy braid. She tied off the end, regarding him thoughtfully, before waving her wand and removing the wrinkles from his own robes.
"Grass stains or no, there still would have been questions," she said. "We shouldn't be seen returning together. My brothers would kill you, if my father didn't beat them to it first."
She stalked back toward the reception without another word. Blaise waited until she had disappeared through the trees before following.
"There you are," his mother said, still standing beside Mrs Weasley. "I was beginning to think we would have to send a search party after you. Molly has been kind enough to invite us to tea next week; isn't that nice? I'm sure we'll have a lovely time."
"Ron won't be home, but perhaps Ginny could show you around the garden," Mrs Weasley said. "There's a pond nearby as well. You're welcome to go for a swim if the weather is warm enough."
Blaise caught Ginny's eye. She looked both horrified and excited at the prospect of future visits. He turned to Mrs Weasley, offering his most charming smile.
"I'm sure Ginny will make certain I enjoy myself thoroughly," he said, looking at her.
She was standing behind the two women, and therefore they missed Ginny's suspiciously demure blush and lowered eyes.
"Oh, I will," she replied.
Perhaps the rest of the summer wouldn't be so dull after all, Blaise thought. He glanced across the reception area, where Potter and his little friends were still deep in conversation, and smiled.
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