Hermione stepped through the door, her eyes lighting up as she took in the sight of them standing together in their elegant, impeccably decorated home. The place exuded warmth and class, much like its owners. She couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief—Ginny looked happy, content even, and Blaise, well, he appeared more relaxed than she had ever seen him, a subtle smile playing on his lips.
She was the first to break the silence, her face breaking into a wide grin as she rushed forward to embrace Hermione. "Hermione! Oh, I'm so happy to see you!" Ginny's voice was thick with emotion, and her hug was fierce, the kind of hug that conveyed how much she had missed her best friend.
Hermione hugged her back just as tightly, feeling a wave of affection surge through her. "Ginny, love, I've missed you too. It's been far too long." She pulled back slightly, her gaze shifting to Blaise, who stood a few steps away with his hands tucked casually into his pockets. His cool demeanor was in full effect, but Hermione had learned to read the subtle expressions in his face over time. There was something softer in his eyes, a hint of warmth reserved for this moment.
"Zabini," Hermione greeted him with a polite nod, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement.
Blaise inclined his head ever so slightly, a smooth smile playing on his lips. "Granger. The pleasure, as always, is mine." His voice was velvet, layered with charm, though Hermione could detect the sincerity in his tone. There was no animosity between them, no remnants of their school rivalry—just an acknowledgment of how far they had all come since those days.
Hermione let out a small laugh, glancing between the two of them, noticing how naturally they stood together. She couldn't help but feel a swell of pride for her friend. Shehad been through so much, and yet here she was, glowing in a way Hermione hadn't seen in a long time. "So," Hermione said, clasping her hands in front of her. "Please tell me—how are you? Both of you." Her gaze flicked between them, but it was Ginny who spoke first.
"Oh, Hermione," she said, her eyes sparkling. "Everything is... as perfect as it could be." There was a soft blush on Ginny's cheeks, a warmth in her voice that didn't go unnoticed. She sounded content, more at ease than Hermione had expected. Ginny's arms reached out to lightly touch Blaise's arm, a subtle but intimate gesture. Blaise didn't flinch or move away—instead, his eyes flickered toward Ginny, a look of quiet pride crossing his face.
Hermione felt a rush of happiness for her friend, though a small part of her remained curious. She had known Ginny for too long not to sense when there was more to the story. "Perfect, you say?" Hermione teased lightly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "No arguments? No disagreements? Everything's just... perfect?"
Her laugh rang out, light and musical. "Well," she said, glancing at him with a conspiratorial grin. "We're not saints, Hermione. We've had our moments, of course. But... It works. We work." Her eyes softened as she looked back at her friend. "I think that's what matters most."
He chuckled softly, his deep voice filling the space. "Indeed, Granger," he added smoothly, "perfection is a fleeting illusion, isn't it? But Ginny and I... we've found our rhythm."
Hermione raised an eyebrow at that, intrigued by his admission. "A rhythm, huh?" She shot a playful glance at Ginny, who shrugged with a mock-innocent expression.
"You know me," she said with a wink. "I keep him on his toes."
Hermione laughed, a warm and genuine sound that filled the room. "I have no doubt you do."
There was a moment of comfortable silence between them, the three of them standing in the quiet camaraderie that only old friends could share. Hermione took a deep breath, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. She had worried, of course—worried that Ginny's marriage to Blaise might be strained, that the fiery redhead might find herself in a situation she couldn't handle. But looking at her now, standing so confidently beside Blaise, Hermione's fears began to dissolve.
"So, Hermione, how about you?" she asked suddenly, turning the attention back to her friend. "How's life treating you?"
Hermione smiled softly, her eyes flickering with a hint of something unreadable. "Oh, you know, busy as always. Between work and... other things, I barely have time to breathe."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. "Other things, huh?" she said with a grin. "You'll have to tell me all about it later."
"Of course," Hermione replied, her gaze slipping once more to him. "But for now, I just wanted to make sure you were happy."
"I am," she said softly, her eyes locking with Hermione's in a way that conveyed the depth of her feelings. "Really, I am."
He placed a gentle hand on her back, a silent show of support. "Granger," he said, his voice low and calm, "you're always welcome here. Don't be a stranger."
Hermione smiled warmly at that. "I won't. And I'm glad to see you both doing so well."
She could feel the strength of the bond between them—the silent understanding that had grown from mutual respect, trust, and something deeper. They had built something real, something lasting, and it was enough to bring a sense of hope blooming in Hermione's heart. She felt reassured, knowing her friend was in good hands.
As soon as Blaise was out of earshot, Ginny wasted no time, practically bouncing on the sofa as she turned to Hermione, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She had waited far too long for this moment—his departure was the green light for an overdue gossip session, and she wasn't going to waste it.
"But now, more importantly!" she leaned forward eagerly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Tell me about you and Draco."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance as she took a sip of her tea. "What about him?" she asked, though the slight upward twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement.
She groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. "Oh, don't do that!" she said, rolling her eyes. "Come on, Hermione, how's the marriage going with him? Spill the details!"
Hermione's lips curled into a soft smile, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup thoughtfully. "Quite surprisingly... pleasant," she replied, choosing her words with care. There was a light in her eyes, a calm contentment that Ginny hadn't seen before.
She, however, wasn't satisfied with such a vague answer. "Pleasant?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Why are you like this, Hermione?" she waved her hands in frustration, her curiosity burning. "Is he big?"
Hermione's jaw dropped, and she nearly choked on her tea. "GINNY!" she exclaimed, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. "Why would you ask me something like that? And why on earth would I tell you about my intimate life?"
She leaned back, crossing her arms with a smug grin. "Because it's your duty as my best friend, that's why. You owe me the tea, and I'm not talking about this cup," she said, gesturing to the teapot on the table.
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. "Honestly, Gin, we've only kissed. That's it," she said, her tone a bit defensive. She paused, giving her a pointed look. "And even if I did know... you know, his... todger..." Hermione winced slightly as she said the word, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was heading, "I wouldn't tell you."
"Bummer," she replied with a dramatic sigh. "I mean, the way he acts—so confident, so put together—he must be huge. There's no way a man could have that much swagger without being, you know..." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, her smirk growing wider.
"Ginerva Weasley!" Hermione cut in, horrified, her voice rising in pitch as she glared at her friend. "Do NOT talk about my husband like that!" She could barely believe what she was hearing, though a part of her knew this was classic Ginny—fearless and unapologetic in her curiosity.
Ginny laughed, thoroughly enjoying Hermione's flustered reaction. "Oh, Hermione, you are quite boring, you know that?" she teased, though there was no malice in her voice—just the playful banter of two friends who had been through everything together.
Hermione sighed, shaking her head in mock resignation. "So I've heard," she muttered, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She had missed this—her ability to make her laugh, to drag her out of her comfort zone, even when it was wildly inappropriate.
"I'm just saying," she continued, unable to let the subject go. "You've been married to Draco Malfoy for, what, months now? Surely, there's got to be more to the story than just a kiss."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of Ginny's gaze. "It's complicated, Gin." She sighed softly, her eyes growing distant. "We didn't exactly marry for love, as you know. And Draco... he's... complicated. It's not like I can just jump into his arms and..." She trailed off, unsure how to explain the intricacies of her relationship with Draco. It wasn't that she didn't want to be closer to him—it was that there were so many layers to peel back, so much unspoken between them.
Her expression softened, her playful demeanor fading as she listened carefully. "Hey, I get it," she said gently. "It's not like you two had this fairy-tale romance leading up to the altar. But, I've seen you two together, Hermione. There's something there. You care about him, don't you?"
Hermione hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "I do," she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I care about him more than I ever thought I would." Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
She reached across the table, placing a hand over Hermione's, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And what about him? Does he care about you?"
Hermione swallowed hard, her mind flashing back to the small moments she had shared with Draco—the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention, the quiet concern in his eyes when he asked if she was alright, the gentle way he touched her hand when no one else was around. "I think he does," she said softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "But it's hard to tell with him. He's so guarded, so... closed off sometimes."
"Well, you're both guarded," she pointed out, her tone more thoughtful now. "But maybe that's why it works. You don't need to rush anything, Hermione. You'll get there."
Hermione nodded, grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Ginny," she murmured, her eyes softening as she met her friend's gaze. "It's just... I don't know. It's all so new, and I'm still figuring things out."
She grinned again, the mischievous spark returning to her eyes. "Well, when you do figure it out, I expect a full report, including all the details about... you know." She winked, her grin widening as Hermione's face flushed once again.
"You're impossible," Hermione groaned, but she couldn't help the laughter bubbling up in her chest. It felt good to laugh, to share these moments with her, even if her best friend had absolutely no filter.
She just smiled, leaning back against the cushions. "That's why you love me."
"Yes," Hermione said, her smile lingering. "That's exactly why."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They were deep into their third bottle of Firewhiskey, the warm glow of the pub's enchanted lanterns casting long shadows across the table. The night was quiet save for the occasional clink of glasses and murmurs from other patrons. Blaise, lounging comfortably in his chair with an air of unbothered arrogance, smirked over his drink, swirling the amber liquid lazily in his glass. His sharp eyes flicked to Theo, who sat across from him with a relaxed, almost contemplative expression.
"So," he began, his voice low but teasing, "I hear you're going to be a father, Theo?" His eyebrow arched as he leaned back, taking a slow sip from his glass, watching the way his old friend's face lit up at the mention of his upcoming fatherhood.
Theo chuckled, the sound rich and full of quiet contentment. He swirled his glass absently, watching the firelight catch the amber liquid within, as if contemplating the enormity of the change coming his way. "Aye," he said finally, shaking his head as if he still couldn't quite believe it. "Can't believe it myself. Feels like just yesterday we were causing mayhem at Hogwarts."
He took a long drink, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm happier than I ever thought possible, Blaise. Honestly, mate, words can't describe it." His eyes softened, his thoughts clearly drifting to Luna and the life they were building together. "My wife... she's radiant. Like a goddess, really. Botticelli himself couldn't capture her beauty now."
Blaise watched him, a glint of understanding in his dark eyes. He hadn't known Theo to be the sentimental type, but seeing his friend so content, so genuinely at peace with his new life, stirred something within him. Of course, he would never admit to such sentiment. Instead, he took another long, lazy sip of his drink, then grinned.
"Radiant, is she?" he mused with a smirk. "Well, as stunning as your goddess might be, Ginny is definitely more exquisite." There was a proud gleam in his eyes as he spoke, his chest puffing slightly. "Have you looked at that red-haired menace lately?"
Theo choked on his drink, a snort escaping him as Firewhiskey sprayed across the table, narrowly missing a snoring goblin slumped in the booth beside them. He wiped his beard with the back of his hand, laughing hard. "Ginny? Fiery?" He shook his head in disbelief, wheezing between chuckles. "Blaise, have you taken a bludger to the head one too many times practicing with Flint?"
His lips twitched into a full grin. "Come on, Nott," he retorted, leaning forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Look past the Weasley jumper for a second. The girl's got fiery hair that puts a sunset to shame, and those emerald eyes could melt a galleon at ten paces. Exquisite, I tell you!" He leaned back with a triumphant smirk, arms crossed over his chest, daring Theo to disagree.
Theo raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider Blaise's words, but the grin tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. "You're absolutely smitten, aren't you? Never thought I'd see the day Blaise Zabini would wax poetic about a Weasley."
His smirk only widened, unbothered by Theo's teasing. "What can I say? The woman's grown on me." He paused, a thoughtful glint passing through his eyes. "She's a right handful, but she's mine."
Before Theo could respond, he nudged him with his elbow, his gaze shifting to the third occupant of their table—Draco Malfoy, who sat brooding in silence, swirling his own glass of Firewhiskey as though lost in thought. The dim lighting accentuated his sharp features, his grey eyes stormy and distant.
"Look who's finally decided to join the conversation," he quipped, his voice thick with amusement. "Draco over there is awfully quiet, brooding like a thunderstorm." He leaned toward Theo, his tone dropping conspiratorially. "Don't tell me your little lion's turned into a right shrew, eh? We all know she's a handful—perfect little minx, that one."
Draco's eyes flickered toward Blaise, narrowing slightly as he set his glass down with a soft clink. He wasn't one for drinking games or gossip sessions, but the mention of his wife clearly piqued his attention. "Hermione's doing just fine, Zabini," Draco said smoothly, though his voice carried a sharp edge. "No need for your... colorful commentary."
Theo chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Come on, Draco. Surely you've got a story or two to share." He leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming with mischief. "How's married life treating you? Any fights? Or has Granger put you in your place already?"
Draco's lips twitched slightly, though whether in amusement or annoyance was hard to tell. "I don't kiss and tell, Nott," he replied coolly, though there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something unspoken but far from indifferent.
"Oh, I don't need the details," Theo said with a sly grin. "Just wondering if you're surviving. Granger can't be easy to live with, right? Brilliant, yes. But probably insufferable when it comes to leaving dirty socks around."
Draco's eyes narrowed, but his lips quirked upward ever so slightly. "Hermione is... efficient, let's say that. But she has her... moments." His voice softened a fraction, almost too subtle to catch, but his friends noticed.
"Efficient? That's what you're going with?" Blaise chuckled, shaking his head. "Merlin's beard, Malfoy, you're whipped."
Draco shot him a glare that could freeze fire, but the warmth behind it was undeniable. "Call it what you will, Zabini. At least I didn't marry someone who actively tried to hex me for half our school years."
He laughed, raising his glass in mock salute. "Fair enough, Malfoy. Fair enough."
The conversation lulled for a moment as they each took a sip from their drinks, the camaraderie between them settling like a familiar warmth. Despite the years that had passed since their days at Hogwarts, the bond they shared had only strengthened, deepened by the battles they'd fought, both literal and figurative.
Theo, his gaze softening, broke the comfortable silence. "You know, it's funny, sitting here with you two. We've come a long way from those brats at Hogwarts. Look at us now—husbands, fathers... responsible adults."
He snorted. "Speak for yourself, Nott."
Theo chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm serious. We've all changed, haven't we? For the better, I think."
Draco glanced at his friends, his expression softening as well, though he didn't voice the agreement that sat on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he raised his glass, offering a silent toast to the unspoken sentiment that lingered between them: they had indeed come a long way, and despite the odds, they had each found something worth holding onto.
Draco's face hardened as the tension between him and he spiked, the light-hearted banter of moments before fading fast. "Don't ever talk about my wife in that manner again," he growled, his voice low and dangerous, his grey eyes flashing with a fire that had been stoked far too easily. The air around their booth thickened with unease.
Theo leaned back slightly, eyeing Draco warily. Even he, ever the instigator, raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone. "Whoa, calm down, mate," he said with a smirk, though the edge in Draco's voice had clearly caught him off guard. "I was just having a laugh. No harm meant."
Draco's jaw clenched, his hand gripping the glass in front of him with a white-knuckled intensity. He took a deep breath, visibly reigning in his temper. "Well, we kissed…" he muttered begrudgingly, "a few times, but that's it."
His booming laughter filled the small, smoky pub once again, startling a pixie perched on a dusty shelf nearby. Its wings fluttered in a flurry of irritation before it darted off into the rafters. Blaise slapped the table, nearly spilling his drink, as he struggled to regain his composure. "Kissed?" he wheezed between bouts of laughter. "Are you serious, mate? That's not much! Merlin, Draco, for a bloke who fancies himself a ladies' man, you're about as smooth as a troll's backside."
Draco scowled, a flush creeping up his neck that the dim lighting of the pub did little to conceal. His eyes darted to the nearly empty glass in front of him, and he swirled the remnants of his Firewhiskey in an attempt to focus on something other than his booming laughter. "No shit, Zabini," he muttered, his voice filled with self-deprecation. "It's like living with a bloody firecracker that refuses to light the fuse."
The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. He sighed, shoulders slumping as he leaned back in his seat, the firewhiskey loosening his tongue. "Every day, I look at her—Hermione, with that fiery hair, those freckles..." His voice trailed off, eyes distant. "She's beautiful. But I'm terrified of making any move on her. She's... different. So, I'm stuck with wanking." He grimaced, as if realizing just how pathetic that sounded. His sigh was long, dramatic, the kind of sigh that could only come from someone hopelessly in over their head.
Theo, who had managed to keep his laughter at bay throughout Blaise's outburst, now shook his head in mock disappointment. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he eyed Draco with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "That's pathetic, Malfoy," he said, though his tone was more teasing than harsh. "Honestly, a bloke in your position needs a little more courage. Maybe a well-timed compliment, some candlelight... you know, show her the softer side of Draco Malfoy."
Draco shot him a dark look, his eyes narrowing. "Don't even suggest it, Nott," he snapped, though his voice held a trace of desperation beneath the irritation. "Candlelight? You've got to be joking. The love of my life would see right through that." He grabbed his glass again, slamming it down onto the table with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the pub and causing a few heads to turn.
"Easy there, Draco," he said, raising an eyebrow. "No need to break the place just because you're sexually frustrated."
Theo, the peacemaker, chuckled nervously and gestured to the bar. "Alright, alright. Let's calm down. Another round, anyone?"
Draco ignored the offer, pushing himself up from the booth with a frustrated huff. His friends watched him in silence as he stood, his movements stiff with agitation. "Where do you think you're going, Malfoy?" he called after him, his tone still laced with amusement.
"To get some air," Draco muttered under his breath, his voice tight. Without waiting for a response, he stormed out of the pub, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that echoed through the room.
Outside, the cool night air hit him like a slap to the face, a stark contrast to the warmth of the pub. He took a long, deep breath, letting the crispness of it fill his lungs and momentarily clear his head. The firewhiskey churned uncomfortably in his stomach, a reminder of just how much he'd already had to drink. He leaned against the wall of the pub, closing his eyes as he tried to steady himself.
He was right. The thought gnawed at him, even as he tried to push it away. I'm being a coward.
He hated admitting it, but there was no denying the truth of it. He had faced Dark wizards, battled Death Eaters, survived the war—but the thought of being vulnerable with Hermione Granger, of baring his heart and risking rejection, terrified him more than any curse ever could.
The sound of the pub door opening behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see him or Theo coming out to poke more fun at him. But to his surprise, it was Theo who stepped out into the cool night air, his expression uncharacteristically serious.
"You alright?" Theo asked, his voice softer than usual as he approached Draco.
Draco let out a long breath, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm fine. Just needed some air," he muttered, though the tension in his shoulders said otherwise.
Theo leaned against the wall next to him, shoving his hands into his pockets as he gazed up at the starry sky. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them comfortable in a way that only came with years of friendship.
"You know," Theo said after a long pause, "it's not the end of the world if you're nervous about her. Hermione's... well, she's different from most women. She's strong, smart. Intimidating, even. But she's not unapproachable."
Draco glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected seriousness of his tone. "Since when did you become the relationship expert?" he asked, his voice dry but not unkind.
Theo chuckled, shrugging. "I'm not. Trust me, I'm still figuring it out myself. But... Luna taught me something. You don't have to have it all figured out right away. Sometimes, you just need to take a step forward, even if you're terrified." He paused, his gaze meeting Draco's. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Draco huffed, though there was a trace of humor in his voice. "She could hex me into oblivion, that's what."
Theo laughed, shaking his head. "Somehow, I doubt that." He clapped Draco on the shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "You've faced worse odds, mate. Trust me on this one."
Draco considered his words, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosening ever so slightly. He wasn't sure what the future held, but maybe Theo was right. Maybe all he needed was to take that first step forward, even if his heart was pounding in his chest.
With a resigned sigh, he straightened up, his gaze steely with newfound determination. "Alright, let's get back in there before Blaise starts spreading more rumors."
Theo grinned, pushing off the wall to follow Draco back inside. "That's the spirit."
Drunk Italian Blaise was mean but always honest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blaise Zabini stumbled into his opulent home, the grand foyer dimly lit by the soft glow of enchanted sconces. His footsteps echoed off the polished marble floor as he leaned heavily against the door, barely managing to close it behind him. His tie was askew, shirt half-untucked, and the faint scent of Firewhiskey clung to him like a second skin.
With a lopsided grin, he threw his arms wide as if addressing the entire mansion. "GINNNYYYY!" His voice boomed through the house, bouncing off the high ceilings. He swayed slightly on his feet, eyes half-lidded but alight with drunken affection.
Ginny, who had been curled up on the living room couch reading, immediately perked up at the sound of her husband's voice. She sighed, closing her book and setting it aside. Here we go again, she thought. Blaise rarely got drunk, but when he did, it was a full-on spectacle. She rose to her feet just in time to see him stumble into the living room, his broad figure filling the doorway, and her heart softened despite the chaos he radiated.
"Oh, Merlin," she muttered, walking toward him with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised in concern. "What happened?"
He blinked at her, his dark eyes gleaming with unfiltered adoration. He swayed slightly on his feet before managing to focus on her. A slow, dopey grin spread across his face, and his words slurred together as he proclaimed, "You are the most beautiful, most... wonderful woman on this Earth, doll."
Her lips twitched in amusement, but she kept her expression neutral. She had seen this before—the over-the-top declarations, the drunken reverence. "Are you drunk?" she asked, though the answer was already obvious.
He let out a loud, unrestrained laugh that filled the room, his head tipping back dramatically. "Ha! Very much!" he confessed, throwing his hands up in surrender as if it were the greatest joke in the world. His balance faltered, and he nearly tipped forward, but Ginny caught him by the arm, steadying him.
"Alright, you big oaf, let's get you to bed," she said, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated. She wrapped an arm around his waist, trying to guide him toward the hallway, but Blaise wasn't having it.
"No, no, no," he protested, shaking his head vigorously, his words slurring even more. "I need... I need to tell you, baby He placed a hand on her shoulder, his movements exaggerated and clumsy, but his gaze was earnest, though glassy. "I need to tell you how much I love you. How... my life—" he paused, hiccupping loudly, "—my life revolves around you, Ginny Molly Weasley. You are my sun. My... my everything."
Her face softened at his words, even though they were being delivered through a drunken haze. She could see the truth behind the slurred speech and the glazed eyes. Despite the fact that Blaise could be infuriating, his love for her was undeniable, and in moments like this, even in his inebriated state, she could feel it wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
"Okay, baby," she said gently, patting his chest. "We'll talk about how much you love me tomorrow morning when you're not reeking of Firewhiskey. Right now, let's focus on getting you into the shower and then to bed, alright?"
He shook his head again, his expression adamant. "No, baby girl... you don't get it." He placed both hands on her shoulders this time, staring at her with the intensity of someone who thought he was delivering the most important message in the world. "You are... everything. My whole bloody universe. Without you, I'm—" He swayed dangerously to the side, but Ginny caught him, barely managing to keep him upright.
"You're going to be on the floor in a minute if you don't let me help you," she teased, though her tone was filled with affection. "Come on, let's get you to the shower."
But he, ever stubborn in his drunken state, continued, his voice rising dramatically. "I'm serious, Gin. I don't say it enough. You deserve to hear it every day, every bloody minute. You're the reason I wake up in the morning. You're the reason I... I fight so hard, even when it's shite."
His words trailed off into a soft mumble as his head dropped forward, leaning heavily against her shoulder. She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love. Even drunk out of his mind, Blaise Zabini was still the man who adored her, the man who would fight the world for her if she asked.
"I know, babes. I know," she whispered, her hand coming up to stroke the back of his head gently. "But if you don't let me get you into that shower right now, you're going to pass out on the floor, and I am not hauling your arse to bed."
He chuckled, a low, tired sound that rumbled against her. "You'd do it, though," he mumbled. "Because you love me."
She rolled her eyes, though her smile never faded. "Yeah, yeah. Come on, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."
With a great deal of effort, she managed to guide him down the hallway and into the bathroom, where she sat him on the edge of the tub. He swayed slightly, his eyes half-closed as she leaned over to turn on the water, letting it warm up.
"I can't believe I got so lucky," he murmured from behind her, his voice softer now, more genuine. "You're too good for me, you know that, right? You could've had anyone. Potter, maybe. Hell, he would've tried again if you gave him a second look. But you chose me."
She straightened up, turning to face him with a small, amused smile on her lips. "Are you seriously getting sentimental on me right now?" she teased, crossing her arms over her chest.
He blinked up at her, his expression sincere, despite the alcohol clouding his mind. "Yeah. I am. Because it's true." His hand reached out, grabbing hers and pulling her closer until she stood between his knees. He looked up at her with an intensity that sobered him for just a moment. "I love you, doll. Don't ever forget that. Even when I'm an arse, or when I'm too stubborn to say it. You're it for me. You're my forever."
Her heart clenched at his words. It was moments like this that reminded her why she had fallen for him in the first place. Underneath the swagger, the smirks, and the teasing, Blaise Zabini was a man who loved deeply, and he loved her with everything he had.
She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "I like you too, you idiot. Now, let's get you into that shower before you pass out."
Blaise grinned up at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he gave her hand a squeeze. "Only if you join me."
She laughed, shaking her head. "Not tonight, Zabini. Maybe tomorrow, if you behave."
With a groan of mock disappointment, he allowed her to help him undress, the promise of a shower and bed finally winning over his drunken proclamations of love. And as the warm water cascaded over him, washing away the scent of Firewhiskey and the remnants of the night, Blaise couldn't help but smile, knowing that no matter how hammered he got, no matter how many times he stumbled, she would always be there to catch him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Blaise blinked groggily, his head pounding from the night before, but unfortunately, his memories were crystal clear. His drunken declarations of love, the rambling speeches, the near-tears sentimentality—he remembered everything.
Ginny lay beside him, her fiery hair sprawled across the pillow, a serene smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Blaise swallowed, feeling a wave of awkwardness creep over him. Merlin, I really said all that, didn't I?
In a weak attempt at normalcy, he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Maybe if he acted casual enough, she wouldn't bring it up.
She stirred slightly, blinking her eyes open and turning her head toward him. Her lips curled into a smirk. "Good morning, lover boy," she teased, her voice light but laced with amusement.
Blaise closed his eyes and sighed inwardly. Yep, she's definitely bringing it up.
"Good morning, baby girl," he murmured, his voice still rough from sleep—and possibly embarrassment. After a brief pause, he added with as much dignity as he could muster, "I would like to apologize for my behavior last night."
Her smirk widened, but she feigned innocence. "Oh, it's okay, darling." She turned onto her side to face him fully, her hand resting on his chest. "Nothing happened."
His brows furrowed as he propped himself up slightly, the weight of the previous night's humiliation settling over him like a dark cloud. "But it happened," he insisted, a little too earnestly, his face warming with the mortifying realization. "I remember everything." His voice dropped to a low groan as he stared up at the ceiling. "I said... so many things."
Her eyebrows lifted, and she suppressed a laugh. "Blaise," she said, her tone light but playful, "nothing happened."
He turned his head toward her, his expression stricken. "You're lying." He groaned again, covering his face with his hands. "I remember telling you that you were my... my sun, Gin. My whole bloody universe. Who says that?"
Ginny couldn't hold it in any longer. She burst into a fit of giggles, her laughter filling the room. Blaise peeked through his fingers, mortified.
"Okay, yes, you were a bit... sentimental," she admitted between laughs, "but it was sweet, really. A little dramatic—" She paused, smirking. "—but sweet."
Blaise groaned louder, pulling the pillow over his face. "I'm never drinking again." His voice was muffled but full of shame.
She tugged the pillow away from him, leaning over to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "Relax, you idiot," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling warmly. "You might have been drunk, but I know you meant every word."
Blaise's face flushed, caught between embarrassment and something that felt dangerously close to vulnerability. He cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Well, yeah, I meant it. But there's a time and a place for grand declarations of love, and... drunk on Firewhiskey wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
She chuckled, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I don't know..." she teased, nudging him playfully. "I kind of like you when you're all sappy. Makes you a little less..." She paused, tapping her chin as if searching for the right word. "...Zabini."
He raised an eyebrow, half offended, half amused. "Less Zabini?"
"You know what I mean," she said, grinning. "Less mysterious, brooding assassin. More... lovesick puppy."
He cringed. "Great. Exactly the look I was going for."
She leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips, her laughter fading into something softer, more genuine. "Don't worry," she whispered against his lips. "I like both sides of you."
Blaise felt the tension leave his body as he kissed her back, though the awkwardness still lingered in the air like a fog that refused to fully lift. Pulling back, he sighed, his expression resigned. "But seriously... I'm never drinking again."
Ginny patted his cheek gently, her smile knowing. "We'll see how long that lasts."