International Quidditch tour and she leaves Harry behind with the kids and somewhere along the way she ends up in Mexico and there's tequila and dancing and she laughs and falls into a chair at a table and looks across and there's Blaise Zabini of all people, smirking back at her.
"I saw you play," he says. "Fife's better. You're smarter. That's good."
"Aren't the Aurors looking for you?" she asks, without any real malice. She's tequila chilled, mescal mild, smoothed out to the bongo beat.
"They fire-call now and then. I've got my own Unspeakable," Blaise says, nodding across the way, and there's Dennis and Natalie, giggling together in the firelight, drunkenly coordinated.
"It's a goddamn reunion," Ginny snorts, and Blaise laughs and leans across the table with his shot-glass and they clink them together and chorus "Hogwarts" and knock them back and knock them down on the table, together, bang bang, mondo bongo.
"You want to dance," Blaise tells her as she wipes her lips on the back of her hand.
He's really fucking pretty. Those high cheekbones, that sweet chocolate skin. She knows her hair burns in the firelight, that the night flatters her. That when she sits like this, her top stretches against her breasts in intriguing ways. That his eyes give away what his deliberate casualness does not.
"But will you still respect me in the morning?" she asks, already standing.
"Gina, love," he says, "I don't even respect you now."
She pours the mescal on him, just a splash, no need to waste, and he laughs and comes out of his chair after her, and she pulls his head down and licks the sweet fire from his skin and he steals the bottle and gives it back to her in kisses.
"You know he's fucking Draco, right?" he asks.
"Whose idea do you think it was?" she says right back, not even flinching. "I give him a family. Malfoy gives him--"
"A happy Harry hard-on?" Blaise sneers, pressing against her.
"You've never had groupies?" she asks, pressing right back, against the heat of him, the length of him, making him feel her, sway and grind. "Mister, I've got my own Unspeakable. Mister, I saw you play."
"I've seen all your games," he says, and bites her shoulder.
Heat and the drums and her and him, all moving together, apart, together, together, yeah, just like that, and she says, "the worm's an aphrodisiac," and he says "you're the fucking worm," and she laughs and wraps a leg around him and upends the bottle and pulls his head down to her breasts. And the drums still beat, and they move, and someone tries to stop the music and they both send curses blurring without even looking, and the drums still beat, beat, beat, and sometime later, she's backed up against some wall they've painted devils on, and he's fuck fuck fucking into her and swearing and she's scratched the blood out of his back and doesn't feel guilty, not at all, just calls him names, and "Harry" just for the fuck of it and his teeth close against her nipple and she arches and fuck and yes and comes and so does he, four, five strokes behind.
Sweat slides slowly down. They've lost the bottle somewhere and his shirt and her underwear. She's sore and wet and sated. He winces every time her fingers ghost against his back.
"I've wanted you since I was fourteen," he confesses.
"How fucked up are you?" She laughs wildly, drags his mouth to hers, kisses, bites his lip.
He spins her around and around and they stumble together across some bodies, and it dawns on her that those drums are distant gunfire and explosions and Ginny has just worked out that, oh, shit, they stunned a whole bunch of Muggle Aurors, when Dennis and Natalie come laughing out of the darkness and it turns out they have accidentally kicked off a new Mexican revolution and, "Hey, Ginny!"
"Den," she says, and "Nat," and, "hey, this means tomorrow's game is probably off."
"We were going to fix it anyway!" Dennis says, and "what?" when Nat elbows him.
"Fourteen," Ginny says.
"Twelve," Blaise says and, "I know! I know."
They grin at each other in the last lingering firelight.
I was going to say "It's cheap, woefully out of character semi-smut, but thanks for the vote of confidence." but then I thought that maybe telling people who liked stuff that the stuff was actually crap was really insulting, so instead this comment reads "Yay!" leaving you none the wiser.
International Quidditch tour and she leaves Harry behind with the kids and somewhere along the way she ends up in Mexico and there's tequila and dancing and she laughs and falls into a chair at a table and looks across and there's Blaise Zabini of all people, smirking back at her.
"I saw you play," he says. "Fife's better. You're smarter. That's good."
"Aren't the Aurors looking for you?" she asks, without any real malice. She's tequila chilled, mescal mild, smoothed out to the bongo beat.
"They fire-call now and then. I've got my own Unspeakable," Blaise says, nodding across the way, and there's Dennis and Natalie, giggling together in the firelight, drunkenly coordinated.
"It's a goddamn reunion," Ginny snorts, and Blaise laughs and leans across the table with his shot-glass and they clink them together and chorus "Hogwarts" and knock them back and knock them down on the table, together, bang bang, mondo bongo.
"You want to dance," Blaise tells her as she wipes her lips on the back of her hand.
He's really fucking pretty. Those high cheekbones, that sweet chocolate skin. She knows her hair burns in the firelight, that the night flatters her. That when she sits like this, her top stretches against her breasts in intriguing ways. That his eyes give away what his deliberate casualness does not.
"But will you still respect me in the morning?" she asks, already standing.
"Gina, love," he says, "I don't even respect you now."
She pours the mescal on him, just a splash, no need to waste, and he laughs and comes out of his chair after her, and she pulls his head down and licks the sweet fire from his skin and he steals the bottle and gives it back to her in kisses.
"You know he's fucking Draco, right?" he asks.
"Whose idea do you think it was?" she says right back, not even flinching. "I give him a family. Malfoy gives him--"
"A happy Harry hard-on?" Blaise sneers, pressing against her.
"You've never had groupies?" she asks, pressing right back, against the heat of him, the length of him, making him feel her, sway and grind. "Mister, I've got my own Unspeakable. Mister, I saw you play."
"I've seen all your games," he says, and bites her shoulder.
Heat and the drums and her and him, all moving together, apart, together, together, yeah, just like that, and she says, "the worm's an aphrodisiac," and he says "you're the fucking worm," and she laughs and wraps a leg around him and upends the bottle and pulls his head down to her breasts. And the drums still beat, and they move, and someone tries to stop the music and they both send curses blurring without even looking, and the drums still beat, beat, beat, and sometime later, she's backed up against some wall they've painted devils on, and he's fuck fuck fucking into her and swearing and she's scratched the blood out of his back and doesn't feel guilty, not at all, just calls him names, and "Harry" just for the fuck of it and his teeth close against her nipple and she arches and fuck and yes and comes and so does he, four, five strokes behind.
Sweat slides slowly down. They've lost the bottle somewhere and his shirt and her underwear. She's sore and wet and sated. He winces every time her fingers ghost against his back.
"I've wanted you since I was fourteen," he confesses.
"How fucked up are you?" She laughs wildly, drags his mouth to hers, kisses, bites his lip.
He spins her around and around and they stumble together across some bodies, and it dawns on her that those drums are distant gunfire and explosions and Ginny has just worked out that, oh, shit, they stunned a whole bunch of Muggle Aurors, when Dennis and Natalie come laughing out of the darkness and it turns out they have accidentally kicked off a new Mexican revolution and, "Hey, Ginny!"
"Den," she says, and "Nat," and, "hey, this means tomorrow's game is probably off."
"We were going to fix it anyway!" Dennis says, and "what?" when Nat elbows him.
"Fourteen," Ginny says.
"Twelve," Blaise says and, "I know! I know."
They grin at each other in the last lingering firelight.
"Bring the bongos," Ginny says.
They do.
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Even though the comment reads only "Yay!"
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