A Gift for the Comm: Home for Christmas, Ginny/Blaise

[rarepairs_mod]

Author: ayii
Recipient: rarepair_shorts 
Title: Home for Christmas
Pairing: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini
Rating: T
Word Count: 2,494
Summary: Ginny refuses to allow Blaise to spend Christmas alone
Author's Notes: Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy! And thank you for the prompts!


It was now just a few days until the end of winter term of Ginny’s final year, and she trailed out of History of Magic, her eyes barely staying open long enough to stop her from tumbling in a suit of armour.

“Thank Merlin, it’s over,” she said as Blaise sidled up next to her. It was their usual Wednesday routine: History of Magic together, spending time in the Prefects’ Common Room before heading down to dinner. “Can a ghost go senile? I think he repeated Grindelwald’s childhood three times.”

“He definitely did,” Blaise said, who was repeating the year like so many others.

Since the War, History of Magic had become a mandatory subject — because ‘those who did not learn history, were doomed to repeat it’. And while Ginny definitely agreed with the sentiment, she didn’t enjoy listening to Binns any more because of that.

“And we have that essay due for Potions — who gets anything done after History?” she said, shaking her head.

“I have one of those ‘stay awake’ biscuits your brother makes,” Blaise said, “if you want one.”

“Sleepless Shortbread? Oh no, I’ve seen what George puts into those, no way,” she said, grimacing.

“Should I ask?” Blaise said.

Her discovery had made her gag at the time. “You don’t want to know.”

They reached the Prefects’ Common Room and took their usual places: Blaise sitting in the wingback armchair, Ginny sprawled out on the nearby sofa. On Wednesdays, Hufflepuff had Quidditch practice, and the Ravenclaw prefects studied in the library. It meant they usually had a few hours to themselves.

“Looking forward to Christmas at home?” Ginny asked.

“I’m not going home this year,” he grimaced.

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up. “How come? I thought you and your mum—“

“It’s not her that’s the problem,” Blaise said. “Husband number eight is still around.”

Ginny grimaced. She had heard all about husband number eight, whose love for the British dark wizards was almost as much as his hatred of Blaise. Apparently, Blaise’s staying behind, unlike most of his House to fight, against Voldermort rather than with him was a terrible character flaw, but she hadn’t realised how bad it had become.

“Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” he said, shrugging.

“No, it isn’t,” Ginny said. “You don’t have to pretend.”

She was rewarded with a small smile. “Thanks, Gin.”

“So what are you going to do instead then?”

“Stay here,” he said. “What else is there to do?”

She was about to start agree with him, when a thought struck her. She sat up to look at him properly.

“You could come home with me.”

Blaise laughed. It was a deep, earthy laugh, and she liked hearing it usually — but not now.

“You’ve lost your mind,” he said simply. He folded his arms and sat back, shaking his head.

“Come to the Burrow!” she said.

“Ah yes, I can just imagine it: Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and your son who absolutely loathes me, thanks for having me round.”

“Ron doesn’t hate you!” But a quirk of his eyebrow was enough to realise that it was a fruitless argument. “Okay, fine, but he’ll get over it. Is he the only reason?”

“No,” Blaise said. “I just don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

Ginny stood up now.

“Appropriate my arse,” she huffed. “This is Christmas! You shouldn’t have to spend it alone just because of your mum’s taste in men. Honestly. You don’t even have to come the whole time — just Christmas Day, even.”

“Do you even have room for me?”

Ginny smiled. He was clearly backing down now, if that was his only concern.

“There’ll be plenty room.”

He pursed his lips, but she could see from the look on his face that she had won.

***

Ron was better than even Ginny had expected him to be — despite what she’d said, she’d secretly worried that she might be very wrong. But when Blaise arrived in the late afternoon — long after they’d opened presents, to ensure he didn’t feel obligated to buy them any (although Molly had still knitted him a jumper, of course, which he dutifully wore) — Ron had been good as gold, even making jokes about the Slytherin Quidditch team and grabbing him some famous Weasley punch from the kitchen. Ginny had never been so relieved.

Over Christmas dinner, it was a delight to see Blaise loosen up around other people, laughing at some of George’s jokes and discussing his favourite creatures with Charlie. To Ginny’s surprise, she caught him calling nifflers “adorable” which was not a word she had expected to hear out of Blaise’s mouth. Ginny strongly suspected that the punch was doing some of the work there — dad was not mean with the spirits.

Finally, after dinner, and after he’d insisted on helping out with the majority of cleaning up, Ginny went into the kitchen. He was stood alone, with a gravy boat in hand, looking through the cupboards.

“Where does this go?” he asked, turning to her with a look of helplessness on his face. “I’ve looked everywhere!”

Ginny smiled, and grabbed it off him. He looked good, in their kitchen, his jumper rolled up at the sleeves to reveal some very muscled forearms, his eyes glittering in the low kitchen lighting. She bit her lip.

“It goes in here,” she said, and opened the cupboard he had just been looking through. “Just at the back.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“Are you okay?”

Blaise nodded enthusiastically, a little too much. Definitely feeling the punch, Ginny decided.

“We usually go on a walk, you know, up the lane, after dinner. You up for it?’

“Sure,” he said. “Let me just finish—“

“You’ve done enough, mister. Let Ron finish anything when we get back. He never does the clearing up.”

Blaise looked like he was going to protest more, so Ginny gently took the dishcloth off his shoulder and put it down on the counter.

“Relax, come for a walk,” she said.

“But your family’s being too nice to me,” he said, and there was a strangle note of…something, in his voice. It wasn’t the first time that Ginny wondered whether anyone had ever truly shown Blaise that they cared about him. Certainly, from stories of his childhood, she was quite sure that wasn’t the case.

“They’re exactly as nice as you deserve,” she said softly.

She was suddenly aware of how close they were standing when she realised she could smell his usual pine-like smell. They weren’t exactly toe-to-toe, but they were closer than normal. His eyes, dark and round, were still glistening, and his lips were slightly parted. Ginny took a sharp intake of breath. She knew he was a good looking guy, she had always known that. But it had never seemed particularly relevant until this moment.

She took a step back as she heard footsteps approaching. Charlie stuck his head round the corner.

“You two coming?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Ginny said. She straightened out her jumper, buying time before she flicked her gaze back up to Blaise. He was still looking at her, but she couldn’t tell if he’d felt the same intensity as hers. The only indication was that his breathing seemed a little fast, but that might have been the influence of the very large meal they had just eaten. “Let’s go.”

She wrapped up tight in her coat and scarf and hat. It was chilly outside and she had no intention of getting sick. But when Blaise went to march out, she grabbed his arm.

“Wait a second,” she whispered. “You don’t want to walk with my dad.”

“Why not?” he said, giving her a bemused look. “I thought he liked me.”

She rolled her eyes. “He does, but he also likes to give us a lecture about ‘the Christmas traditions of Muggles’ every year. You don’t want to be caught having to pretend to care.”

He laughed, that earthy sound again.

They went out together: Arthur walked in front, giving that promised lecture, which Ron had been caught in. Molly was talking to Bill about something, and Charlie and George walked together. Blaise and Ginny brought up the rear, and Ginny purposefully walked a little slower, so they could hang back.

“So, does this beat Hogwarts?” she asked. She was still thinking about their moment in the kitchen, her cheeks still flushed despite the frigid air. “I know my family can be a lot but—“

“They were lovely,” he said firmly, before she could even make a joke about her brothers. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so welcomed or at home before.”

Ginny looked up at him, frowning.

“Don’t give me that look, Weasley,” he said, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“What look?”

“The look you always give me when I say something a bit sad and you look like you want to stop it.”

Ginny grinned. “So what, I’m meant to laugh at your misfortunes?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Blaise said, his smile getting bigger. “I like your laugh. Any excuse to hear it.”

“I like drunk Blaise,” Ginny said, looking down so he wouldn’t see the way her cheeks were flaring red. “He’s very complimentary.”

She felt rather than saw him shrug.

“Maybe I find you too intimidating to compliment without some liquid courage.”

Ginny stopped walking so she could gape up at him — to hell with whether he could see her blushing or not.

“Blaise Zabini finds me intimidating? Mr. Brooding-in-the-Corner-at-Parties? Mr. I-Only-Read-Serious-Literature-and-Know-All-the-Latin-Translations? Mr —”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he said, barely containing a smirk. He brushed her off and took a few steps forward. But when it became clear she wasn’t going to follow him, he stopped again and turned back to her. Ginny noted, with much annoyance, that he somehow still looked attractive, even in one of Molly’s jumpers. Apparently he just looked good in forest green, regardless of how chunky and ill-fitting the garment.

“Am I going to regret having said that?”

“Obviously you’re going to regret having said that,” she said shaking her head, though she couldn’t quite wipe the gleeful look off of her face. “I intimidate you! This is so much power I didn’t know I had!”

He gave levelled her with a look. “You don’t know the power you have here?” He waved a hand between them.

Maybe the Weasley punch had gotten to her too, because she could only look at him with confusion.

“Have we got a Unbreakable Vow going that I don’t know about or something?”

He seemed to consider this for a moment, and Ginny worried for a second whether they really had had a Vow she’d forgotten about.

“I think you’re messing with me,” he said finally. “You must know how I feel about you?”

Ginny took a sharp inhale, the cold air not helping her shock any. Her face flushed, and she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him.

Blaise frowned.

“Oh, I really thought you did know,” he said. He closed his eyes. “Shit. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

It was hard for Ginny to think, with the churn of emotions cycling through her. Shock, yes. Happiness, definitely. A dreadful need to kiss him? In spades. But confusion was winning out.

“No, I’m glad you have. It’s just that… Do you remember, when we first started spending time together, and I teased you about Pansy having the hots for you? Do you remember what you said?”

Blaise shook his head.

“You said you weren’t interested in the dating anyone. And then — dammit Blaise, what about only a few weeks ago, I asked you to go to the Yule Ball with me to test the waters again, and you said you no!”

“I wasn’t interested in dating anyone but you,” Blaise said. Then his mouth dropped open. “Wait, the Yule Ball would have been a date?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “What the heck else would it be?”

“I thought you were asking me as a friend! Because you didn’t have anyone else to go with!”

“I told you that two people had already asked me!”

Blaise opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.

“Oh my gosh, I just realised,” Ginny said, shaking her head.

“What?”

“I fancy a complete idiot,” she sighed.

She was rewarded with a laugh.

“You have chosen unwisely, if I may say so myself,” he said. His face had settled into a grin, and he took a step towards her. “Do you think, perhaps, this idiot might be cleared to kiss you?”

She pretended to think about it, just to tease him, but the thought of him kissing her, after all those months of waiting, was too much for her to play it up for very long.

“I suppose he could try his luck.”

Blaise took his face in his hands, and she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. Their lips met, and at first it was slightly hesitant, soft and testing, but then she couldn’t resist it anymore. She leant further into him, feeling his safe and satisfying warmth against her, his mouth warm and tasting like plum pudding, and she was secretly very pleased with the little grunt that just a kiss was able to elicit from him. His tongue probed, and she responded in kind, and they were both out of breath by the time they pulled back.

“Wow,” Blaise said. Even his dark skin couldn’t hide his flush.

“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip. She looked up the lane: her family were almost out of sight, rounding the corner. She saw Charlie look back briefly, but he carried on walking.

Blaise followed her eyes.

“We should probably catch up,” he said, thought there was a hint of regret in his voice. “I am starting to freeze just standing here.

“Petition to say screw it to the pub, and go back to the house to make out and drink hot cocoa?” she said.

Blaise didn’t even think about it for a second before he’d turned on his heel and started back towards the Burrow. She laughed, and jogged to catch up with him, grabbing hold of his arm and wrapping her own around it.

“So, do you think you’ll go back to Hogwarts tonight?” she said. “I was thinking maybe you could stay the night. We always need an extra chaser for Boxing Day Quidditch.”

“Is there any room for me?”

Ginny grinned. “You could stay in my room.”

When she looked up to see the look on Blaise’s face, she swatted at him.

He laughed. “If you’re sure, I’d like to stay anyway.”

“I’m sure, but don’t get to excited, my room is right next to my parents’” she said, and squeezed his arm. “Although, you know, I do cast a mean silencing charm.”

THE END